Life

Teaching Makes You…Teach

Sounds odd and obvious, right?  Teaching should make you teach.  I guess what I meant to say is teaching teaches you, or teaching makes you learn, or teaching isn’t for you in the sense that you’re teaching another, it’s FOR you.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt this is true among my own family.  As an uneducated (from an institution other than life) mother of two (three if you count my boy given up for adoption) I see that teaching is more for ME than anyone else.  This is why when asked to teach/speak in front of people other than my little urchins, I cringe.  Still not making sense?  I know I said that teaching would help me, right?  Basically I just shot myself in the foot.  Truth be told, speaking about anything other than the basics in life, I feel…non-credible, unreliable and certainly of no use.

In recent months though, God is speaking out to me, through many avenues, to speak up, speak out and…da-da-da-da…teach.  What can I teach, God?  I only know what I’ve lived, which yes, is a LOT in my short (no self-depricating pun intended) thirty-seven years.  Why me?  I get emotional, I get confused, I lose my train of thought, I sweat, I visibly shake and I can’t look anyone in the eyes, why me?  What could anyone learn from me, other than to make a mental note to self not to do or act like me?  UGH….  I know.   I know, I know, I know…I know what you said, I can hear it through this screen.  You said, “Why not you?”  Well guess what?!  I’m rolling my eyes in a juvenile way at you.  There isn’t an emoticon for the expression of confusion that’s written on my face.  The knitted brow upon my tiny forehead is screaming to get back into my dusty old shell.  It’s a comfy shell, adorned with mish-mesh art work and to-do notes– It’s a hollow place with a warming sun lamp to give me false light.   Let me sit here for awhile, Okay?  Let me bask in what used to be, so I can muster the strength to even consider such a proposition.  I’ll warn you of this one thing though, if I come out, you can’t say “I told you so,” okay?

You must know, I’m a squeaky, hard to grow kind of plant.  In recent years, I’ve required a stake in the ground next to me, demanded certain foods, and I’ve even made audible noises of pain and distress when I sprout a new leaf.  I’ve  often hung my head, even when the light has been brightly over me, but I’ve not forgotten, I just dream, think, and ponder.  Some say the empty time alone in my pot has been unhealthy, I don’t agree.  I believe God has and will grow my roots and stem to be ginormous.  I believe he’s potted me with space to grow.  I was not able to grow with a crowd, and God knew that.

 

 

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