No tags yet.
This weekend, I have been literally flat on my back with one of the weirdest sicknesses (cold...24-hour flu?) that I have had in a while. Just really achy, stuffy, and completely exhausted. I was almost convinced last night that I had the flu, because my body hurt so bad. But this morning I woke up feeling a lot less achy and ready to get out of the house. I went out and grabbed lunch with Andrew, and then I was completely worn out, so I came home and crashed.
The past few weeks have been tough for me. Back in October, I injured my hamsring about a week before my marathon. I knew I had hurt it, but I wasn’t about to tell anyone because I knew I wouldn’t be able to run the race I had trained months for. After the marathon, I kind of went into a running depression. I didn’t want to run anymore, at all. I started running low miles again in February with a group at school, on top of going to hot yoga about three times a week with friends. My hamstring began hurting so much that I couldn’t walk without a limp and it was sore to the touch. Luckily, a friend was able to take a look at it and tell me to stay off of it for a while. No running, no yoga.
So the past couple months I’ve been on the sidelines, learning to be an encourager as my 5k group trains on without me, instead of a leader. Following (or just plain not participating) has always been extremely difficult for me. My mom calls it “oldest child syndrome.”
Last month, I went to the doctor to have bloodwork done because I’ve been finding massive bruises on my legs. A student accidentally slid her chair into my thigh and it looked like I’d taken a hammer to the inside of my thigh. The only thing they came up with was thyroid issues, so I was put on medication for that.
This past week, I went to the eye doctor because my vision’s been super blurry lately. I was told my eyes hate my contacts now, given steroid drops, and told to switch to glasses for an undetermined amount of time.
Okay, so this sounds like a huge pity party, and I swear it’s not. It’s actually really hard for me to write about because I always think that nothing’s wrong with me. I hate the doctor, and I hate medicine. Hence why I ran on a strained hamstring for 4 months until someone told me to stop.
At this point in my life, just for a few days, I feel like God is saying, “Stop.” (Sidenote: I can’t even begin to tell you how overwhelming this year has been. Emily and I gave up our planning periods this year in the hopes of finding a third Spanish teacher, which looks like it will have been all for nothing, because unless something changes with school funding, we’ll be back to classes of 30+ next year. But that’s a story for another blog post.)
I just feel like in my hours of couch potato-ing this weekend, I’ve had time to just think.
Lately I’ve been reflecting on my time in Mexico almost five years ago. Three months of back-breaking work (okay, maybe not back-breaking...I remember thinking I’d be buff when I came back. Nope. Just fat and bearing the world’s most awesome farmer’s tan.) Three months of witnessing some of the hardest things I thought I’d ever witness. Three months of feeling like I actually had a purpose.
When I moved back to K-State that fall, I slipped into the deepest depression of my life. Dark nightmares that I would wake up from in tears. I can remember sitting in class, staring towards the front of the room, but not listening or seeing. Three months of therapy and I was kind of back to the old me (but I never truly would be).
Now, sitting here thinking this weekend. I have found a purpose. My husband, of course, who has bent over backwards to make me comfortable this weekend, and run to the store for my endless 7Up cravings. But my students. My students...who are SO needy, but one of the reasons I get out of bed to go to work every morning. I felt for so long like I had no purpose after I left Juarez. My classes are my purpose. My kids that go home hungry every weekend and come back hungry on Monday are my purpose. My kids that can’t focus because they’re so focused on their phones and iPads are my purpose. My kids that call me names, and cross their arms, and roll their eyes are my purpose. My kids that ask me for their missing work again are my purpose.
It feels good to finally be somewhere that I feel like I can serve. It’s taken me a while, but I’m getting there. And God is teaching me, quietly, but clearly, that this is where I belong. I’ve dreamt of Mexico a few times in the last week, and maybe I’ll end up there again someday. But I know my heart would break all over again if I left Valley. I seriously never thought I would love even the kids who probably hate me. But isn’t that what Jesus did?
"We love because he first loved us." - 1 John 4:19