"I'd like to see you after school!" There was something about the tone of his voice that told me this was not a casual invitation. "Sir", I whimpered, "you just don't understand. I've got so much on my plate." "Oh, I understand" he said softly, "and that's exactly why you have to meet with me."
As I went to my next class, my mind was racing. The stress in my body was building. I felt like I was on a merry-go-round with now way to disembark.
Pressures were growing within my relationships. No one seemed satisfied with my performance these days. There was always something I left undone, or could have done, or that I should have done.
My classes were especially heavy this year. History reminded me of all that was wrong with my world. I saw governments in chaos, leaders without integrity or answers. Nations were rattling their proverbial 'sabers' in one another's face.
Social studies burdened my heart with the pain of mankind. People fighting against the elements that were running wild: Wildfires were consuming acres of forests; killer hurricanes and tsunami's; earthquakes in various places. To that add poverty, drugs and ever increasing violent crimes.
I looked to the arts to restore beauty to this life. Instead, a cacophony of noise greeted my ears. Poetry was best learned in something called 'Rap' and paintings were found on city walls done by spray paints. Violence and vulgarity permeates the songs of the day or the brushes of the artist.
My class in world religion almost overwhelmed me. Ancient religions worshipping creation or worse still, the forces of darkness, were being revived. While peoples were starving to death, animals are worshipped. In some cultures, while people pray and bow down at set times of day, many of their ilk are murdering, mutilating and terrorizing thousands of fellow countrymen and worship. Millions of others bow daily at the alter of 'Me, Myself and I'. They need no God; they took a vote at some point and firmly declared, "God is dead." In His place they put science, intellect, progress, economics and the study of the mind.
Finally, my classes for the day were over and I was exhausted. But the teacher was waiting for me! It was very latemaybe he had given up and gone home.
I approached his room somewhat reluctantly and noticed the light shining from under his door. I knocked lightly, and hearing his voice of acknowledgement, I entered in. "Sir, I'm sorry I'm so late but it's been such a busy, hectic day."
The Teacher got up from his desk and came toward me. He placed one hand on my shoulder and led me to a comfortable chair next to his. "Sit child," he said. "You look tired."
Maybe it was the quietness of the room or the softness of his voice, for the tenseness I had been feeling seemed to be draining from my body. He looked me in the eyes and held my gaze. I was almost hypnotized by the warmth and concern that was focused on me. In his eyes, I saw the wisdom of the ages.
"Child, I've taken notice of your countenance, and heard you pressured speech. I've observed you throughout your day rushing from place to place, task to task and person to person.
You came to this school of Higher Learning to prepare yourself for service in the Kingdom Of the King. It was never intended that you should be overwhelmed and discouraged by the lessons you were to learn. The King provided Me to be your instructor, your encourager. He intended Me to infuse you with power, strength and enablement, to interact with your environment and the people you find there. For this to be accomplished, you must be stillyou must listenyou must receive what I have to offer you."
From deep within me, a voice echoed:
"But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send in My name,
will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you."
I am a freelance writer and a retired nurse. I have 3 grown sons, 2 daughters-in-love and 5 grandchildren. My husband and I will celebrate our 48th anniversary in '08'. I became serious about writing after my retirement. My work has only been published on-line thus far.
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