Ubi caritas, et amor, Deus ibi est.

Where love is, and compassion, there is God. Or is it, where God is, there is love and compassion? Which comes first? Do our loving actions call God to be present, or does God's presence make us loving and compassionate? Option A: Love first. This means that we are capable of love without God's help and He arrives to bless our loving actions - give us a pat on the back, so to speak. So, the burden for making the world a better place is ours. Option B: God first. God is omnipresent, according to most Christians, and He is love, so love is omnipresent. Ok. So, why do we read of people like Kony and places like Sudan, where the lack of love and compassion is so clear and sickening? Is the burden for making the world a better place God's and He has decided to take the day off? Or is it Option C? Knowing God and knowing love is not a human thing at all and it is impossible for us to do so without Him. So, unless we surrender to Him and His love, humans will not know His love. Therefore, there will be places and people who make it look like He is absent, because they are trying to run the show their way. And there are places and people who are conduits for His love and make it visible to others, because they have surrendered to Him and serve His kingdom. Thus, His kingdom comes on Earth as it is in Heaven? So, the burden for making the world a better place is God's, but he chooses to use human servants. I am leaning towards option C. Whether I'm right, I don't know. Whether others choose differently, I don't really care. I know one thing: I choose love.

Dreams!

We all live life hoping for more. Some of us are fortunate enough to get more. I have received so much and yet I hope for more. Why?

Here's why: I have much - people who love me, people I love, a good job, a nice flat, a nice car, a Kindle... The list is long. The very last item on the list is the problem, though. I have dreams.

This is not meant to be the unsatisfied rant of a spoilt brat. This is a statement of fact. I have much. I want more. Because what I have does not answer the call of my dreams. The job is good, but it's a job, not a way of life. I believe that one's work, that thing you do to fulfill your role in the grand scheme of things, should be something that you want to make a way of life, because you were born to live that way. I was not born to live this way. Being a teacher is noble and good and I am not bad at it, but it just ain't me.

(Note pause here)

As I wrote these first paragraphs, I had to pause, wondering where this is going. So, I took the time to go over some old posts. Methinks some of the things I started seeing during and shortly after Lent are becoming clearer. I know now that where I am now is the right place for me to be, but I am definitely on my way somewhere else. My role in the grand scheme of things is changing and my job is to work as hard as I can, both on the here-and-now and on the next step.

Wish me luck!

The Pink Chair

This is the pink chair in question.

On being a teacher.

So, teaching is described as the most stressful, but satisfying career in the world (If Oprah can be quoted as a source).

I have to say, I agree. But... Not today. Today I feel only the stress.

What makes a young, single woman decide to spend her waking hours parenting a whole bunch of other people's teenage daughters in a boarding house? Seriously! Just think about the hormone levels! Every broken nail, every laddered pair of stockings, everything is a Drama-with-a-capital-D!

At the same time, I spend my mornings trying to get the intricacies of the English language into the heads of a variety of equally hormonal other teenagers from ages 12 to 17. Usually fun, but on a Friday after lunch... Not so much.

I think Lawrence expressed it best:

Last Lesson of the Afternoon.

When will the bell ring, and end this weariness?
How long have they tugged the leash, and strained apart
My pack of unruly hounds: I cannot start
Them again on a quarry of knowledge they hate to hunt,
I can haul them and urge them no more.
No more can I endure to bear the brunt
Of the books that lie out on the desks: a full three score
Of several insults of blotted pages and scrawl
Of slovenly work that they have offered me.
I am sick, and tired more than any thrall
Upon the woodstacks working weariedly.


And shall I take
The last dear fuel and heap it on my soul
Till I rouse my will like a fire to consume
Their dross of indifference, and burn the scroll
Of their insults in punishment? - I will not!
I will not waste myself to embers for them,
Not all for them shall the fires of my life be hot,
For myself a heap of ashes of weariness, till sleep
Shall have raked the embers clear: I will keep
Some of my strength for myself, for if I should sell
It all for them, I should hate them -
- I will sit and wait for the bell.

D. H. Lawrence

Loving winter

I am a winter creature! Is there a scientific word for creatures that prefer to be active in winter, like winturnal? That's me!

After nine months of sweaty misery, I am suddenly productive, creative and happier than I've been in a long time. In the past week, I have reorganised my house, reorganised my workspace, started work on an artwork that is actually going somewhere and been smiling all the way, despite finding myself at the end of a terribly long term, swamped with work and having no end in sight.

At least I have a short holiday to look forward to. And I'm going to a cold place! Yay!

Better make the most of these short winter months before I succumb to another interminable summer of sweat and swelling limbs.

Aaargh!

Frustration levels are quite high up here in the mountains right now. The reality that somebody else's "bright" idea is causing me to have to put in extra hours on my day off is seriously interfering with my mojo today!

Only questions today.

I am having a tough time with Isaiah 54 today. God talks about how mighty He is and that He created everything, including that which destroys, and how He is in control of everything. At least, that is how I am reading it. But, it's not making sense to me. Why did He make evil and why does He allow it to flourish?

I consider myself lucky, compared to others. So many millions have never lived in peace, never eaten enough, never known a day without abuse. The list goes on. Yet, even my sheltered existence has not remained untouched by evil. (Yes, I am using the word, "evil", on purpose - that completely destructive thing that goes against everything good.) So, I am feeling a sense of despair.

Life can be so amazing! Why should it be marred in so many ways?