I wrote this about a week ago, I consider it just a small story that maybe, possibly you wanted to hear. :)
This past week was not my best. Monday was a drag after returning at 2 am that morning from a long, stressful "vacation" (Yellowstone...gag) and the energy to expand my thoughts didn't collaborate well with my lack of sleep. My solution to this small endemic? Cut my Socratic Seminar class. Now, Socratic is interesting, but it's mentally exhausting because it's a discussion class. The ever growing feeds of thoughts were too much for my feeble mind so...I skipped class. I'd love to say that I did something awesome or rebellious while I should've been in class, but unfortunately, the truth is not always so prodigious. I felt so angry. My upsurge of illogical rage boiled like the insignificant hot springs we'd wasted time staring at whilst in Yellowstone National Park and I stormed out of the gutted bowling alley I so humbly call my school. I aimlessly wandered as I waited for time to pass. More influential than my rage was my impatience. After first period ended I went to the second half of socratic. I wasn't even entirely sure of all the reasons I was mad, I just knew I was. I continued the rest of my day in silence and refused to do my homework out of pure spite.
Tuesday was slightly more dramatic. I skipped first period Socratic again. I attended all of my regular classes, left my nightclasses early and went to mutual. At mutual we had a guest speaker that shared his tragic story about his wife dying of cancer, but the miracle of her giving birth to beautiful baby girl before passing. In all honesty, I was not as touched by the story as others. By no means do I mock it, for it is incredible, but I was not among those who were sobbing. My tears took root at a deeper level. In the midst of my effort to pay attention to the story, my pocket let loose a roar. Smiling that I'd caused a distraction, I pulled out my phone to see who demanded my attention. Long story short, my friend who's in the military came home from Afghanistan and didn't bother to tell me. That was slightly emotionally riveting. That night I thought things were finally starting to turn around, as if I was in control again. My confidence, however, was short lived. When I returned home I was met by the stress and pain that always seemed to control my life. I spent Tuesday night and early Wednesday morning (3:30 to be exact) crying as I aimlessly wandered the neighborhood. By the time school started I was exhausted. I was still extraordinarily upset as well and I went to the nursery located right next door to the school before I broke down and sobbed among the flowers. From 7:30 to 9:15, I bawled like an overprotective mother letting go of her baby on the first day of school. Needless to say, I was an emotional wreck. I blindly went to my next two class periods and took in none of the information taught. Fifth period came around and I chose not go. In my same spot, hidden from sight, I cried again. And so the day dragged on...I failed my chemistry test, got in trouble with my Socratic teacher for my absences and tardies, got in trouble with my Algebra II teacher for my lack of effort, and failed my Computer Technology test. As my weary mind tried to grasp the mere thought of how I was going to finish the day, a small impression boarded my hectic train of thought. "Go to seminary." I originally ignored it, thinking it'd be ridiculous to skip, yet another mandatory class for something that wouldn't even give me credits. The thought relentlessly came back, over and over, almost haunting me. As the impression continued to force its way into the more subconscious levels of my mind, I noticed I couldn't keep myself from straying into seminary. I eventually gave in. Missing the shuttle that would've taken me to Young Lawyers I walked to the seminary building only to be welcomed by a teacher who informed me that I required written permission to be in his class. Further dismayed, I carried my dulled body and mind back to the high school. With nothing left to lose nor anything worthy to give up, I offered up an earnest prayer. I was lost, confused, and didn't know what to do or where to go. Almost immediately after my fervent prayer, a newfound energy and motivation caused me to forge, yes, FORGE a note into seminary. Hopefully God will overlook that...afterall, it was His idea.
That day in seminary is the only time I've ever felt blessed by the opportunity of having seminary. In past years, each and every teacher has been far from accepting and Christ-like. Perhaps this year has more to offer than a failing student lacking a motive. Amidst my loss of faith and hope, I came to believe that perhaps God won't give up on me. I'm glad I listened to that ever so still, small voice.
