Saving the Pigs and Last Days

Today begins the half days of school. It also begins the days I wish I was a high school teacher.

You see, they’ve been done for a week now, proctoring exams, easier schedule. They don’t use as much materials as us, so packing up a room is pretty simple.

Primary teachers?

Apparently memories and activities ramp up until the last possible moment. Today we have an assembly on summer reading programs. Tomorrow we have a concert. Then Wednesday is the last day.

I’ve got three lessons left in math to teach, and I am going to teach them, gosh darn it, because I’ll never have the opportunity again to say I’ve gotten through all six modules. You see, apparently instead of getting the half day this afternoon to pack, primary teachers have to go to training on a new math program (I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had to learn.) I’ve spent the last week trying to prep for the new phonics program I’ve been told I’m teaching next year as well.

These are the days I wish I chose High school, one subject to master and teach, proctoring and grading exams instead of keeping energy levels down to a quiet roar while still teaching and prepping for next year and packing and helping little ones deal emotionally with the fact they are leaving you while also dealing with having these little ones leave you as well.

That’s the hardest part.

They were four and five when I met them.

They barely recognized their name, couldn’t open a juice box, some never held a pencil before, and couldn’t count to ten. Now?

They are readers, writers, independent, friends… and we became a little family, with them even sometimes mistakenly calling me “mommy” in their little voices, in a way I haven’t heard since my own children said it that way. We’ve made applesauce, cranberry sauce, celebrated birthdays and holidays, laughed over farts and silly jokes, danced many times over the year, played and played and played, mourned the loss of pets and grandparents, painted, used our imaginations, and made memories.

So…

Looking back, maybe I don’t wish so much I was a high school teacher.

I’m sure being a teacher of someone in their last year of high school comes with its own set of frustrations, as well as great experiences. (I would totally chaperone prom and rock a sequin taffeta dress with poofy shoulder sleeves).

But I’ll take kindergarten any day. Being the first one to send them on their way is a blessing, as exhausting and frustrating as it can be at times.

I’m tired, as I had nightmares about a plane crashing on my street over and over and I had to keep running and trying to save the people while avoiding the explosions and fire. Not sure I want to look that dream meaning up. We went to the mall yesterday and got the kids what they need for camp, then food shopping, then joes game. So far, so good with the xeloda. It’s day four today, eight more to go in cycle one. I’ve been getting asked how long I have to take it.

Until it stops working.

Then it’s on to only IV chemos

Until those stop working.

Then that’s it.

Perhaps that’s why I had airplanes crashing in my dreams. My friend Marguerite at church showed me a book yesterday that was written about her husband who died in an airplane crash sixty years ago. She always wondered what his last moments were like. Wouldn’t you know, a stewardess survived and just released the book.

Sixty years later, Marguerite has gotten her answer.

I don’t understand why things happen or God’s timing. But I’m thankful she got her answer.

In church yesterday the sermon was about how Jesus cast out many demons from a man and sent the demons into nearby pigs, and the pigs then ran off a cliff and drowned in a river. The man had spent years wandering around tombs, unclothed, the crazy man of his town. Once he was healed, he asked Jesus if he could become one of his disciples and stay with him. Jesus told him no, to go back to his home, and tell everyone what God had done.

I sat there listening and realized that sermon was the same type of story I had just posted about the near death experience people, who saw the beauty of heaven but were told to go back and spread the word. It also could apply to me, as I pray and pray Jesus takes all the cancer cells out and says “Go forth, daughter. Your faith has made you well. Tell everyone and live the long life until it’s time for you to come home.” Although I would spare the pigs, and He could send the cancer cells into mosquitos or something.

Today I’ll teach, bring the kids to an assembly, drive to a math training for a few hours, then come home and rest. It looks like we may have a sunny day, which makes it three in a row.

It’s been months since we have three sunny days in a row. Ill try to bring my kids out to the garden for yoga.

May today be fruitful and healing and calm, and bring peace in the sunshine.

In Jesus’s name, amen.

Xoxo

Keri

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