Spring is in the air. It is 70 degrees and pretty sunny today. Leilani and I spent our morning visiting the Jr. Menehans, playing with Sophie at the playground while Vallie strolled with Elsa around the lake.
So thankful for this warm day. Although we have had a mild winter, I am still longing for true spring weather. Warm, the smell of dirt and fresh cut grass, flip flops and open windows... lemonade and gardening. Or the concept of gardening.
I am in classes again, taking Survey, which is the second to last class in my interpreting class. It has been a long almost 3 years away from it all. Strange to be the stranger, weird to feel out of my element as a student. Scary to realize that I should be capable of so much more at this point in the program. Calmed to know that the Lord got me into this class (unexpectedly, two weeks late) so He will teach me whatever it is I need to learn.
I have wanted to interpret since I was 8. I tailored my entire highschool education towards that goal. American Sign Language speaks to me. Wow, cheesy. But it does. I worship with my hands. I dance with my hands. I speak with my hands. But do I communicate? Am I an effective conduit? I want to think visually. To really "get it." To "THINK A-S-L" and to naturally understand the linguistics, grammar and culture involved. Basically I want the Lord to upload all I need to know instantly to my brain. Mostly because I am afraid I can't get it, or because I worry that in order to "get it" I must live a different kind of life.
When Mommy became who I am, I gave up a lot. I gave up a job that I liked (not a career, but a job, people and atmosphere I earned, laughed and did well in,) and for a while the education I wanted to have. I mentally gave up aspirations of being any sort of artist, and of ever having a career. Then God gave me my Dots and Lines, and now, He is giving me the opportunity to learn. Am I? Am I making the most of my opportunities?
Questions about ability, "good enough," should, shouldn'ts, coulds and what ifs swirl about in tangled knots. They are blown about, forgotten, remembered and silenced, but they always seem to come back.
But you know what? He is good. And He is always wooing. Am I listening? He is singing. Am I dancing? He is Perfect. And He is the Author of my perfection. Am I letting Him sculpt? He has promised to complete what He started. I am His and He is mine. He is my I AM.
Lots of swirling. I need more still. Worry pops up like weeds. I need to water my peace.
Spring is coming.