It's June, and I was waiting for the inevitable speeding ticket.  I waited and waited, with my breath held. 

It never came, only a totalled car...

I'm trying to gather up all my things to pile in my car and take back to Wheaton.  It has been a good Christmas, not quite a White Christmas, but close.  It was downright balmy here in Normal on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  There was a stretch of about thirty minutes that the drizzle turned white and created a backdrop for ripping wrapping paper and opening boxes. 

One of my favorite presents was a framed picture of Katy (my sister) and me in northern France.  This summer we stayed one night in a bed and breakfast about a mile from the centuries-old monastery Mont Saint-Michel.  It is breathtaking; it is on an island when the tide comes in and surrounded by grazing sheep when the tide is low.  Being so close to the monastery, we walked to get there and on the way discovered that the tall golden grass along the walkway have thousands of clusters of buds on them.  When we got closer, though, we realized that the buds weren't buds, but snails that were clinging to the grass for life until the tide came in again.  In our examination of this unexpected form of life, unfortunately one of the snails became detached and we determined we would return him (I think him, but we couldn't find any gender notification) to the bank of a small stream right behind our inn.  To allay our guilt for having dislodged such a harmless creature, we dislodged another so it would have a friend.  And we gave them Spanish names and made them extremely arrogant.  We decided they wanted to be away from the other snail clusters because they found French snails tiresome.  Being the only two Spanish snails in the whole of Normandy, we knew that Juanita and Jorge would be glad to be several hundred yards away from the unpleasant masses.

So we entertained ourselves on a thirty minute walk.  The story had all sorts of twists and turns by the time the relocation was complete.  It is a good memory, and the picture I have is obviously right in the midst of our delightful concoction.

I hope you all had a Merry Christmas.

This looks familiar.  I have been here before. 

The semester is over.  Seniors are that much closer to graduation.  I am that much closer to smudging out my 'new teacher' label.  It's barely recognizable even now.  It is my theory that all temporary things are more precious because of their transience.  Childhood, college years, and those who die young.  But of course all things are temporary, so I must amend.  Those times that end before we realized they would be brief acquire a rosy glow--childhood and those who die young.  As soon as you are old enough to realize the rapidity of all things, time starts moving quickly.  When you are a child and ignorantly blissful, an hour seems like eternity.  When you are older and realize you must savor moments, a year seems like a day.  Thanks be to the eternal God for the sweet bright hope of eternity with Him.  We were made for eternity; time testifies this to our souls.

What a December day.  I have not done any Christmas shopping yet.  Tonight I am going to buy ski gear with Miss Henderson because we have decided to drive out to Colorado after Christmas. 

And the other thing I have to do tonight is keep my feet warm, because they are always cold!  Even with two pairs of socks, one of which is SmartWool, which makes my feet so big that I can't fit into my shoes.  They are still cold.  To all who read this, I bid you a sweet good night and a hopeful morning.

I wish I could ball up tiredness and throw it away in the trash.  And I wish I could train myself to get only four hours of sleep every night.  I told Miss Frazee that the other day and she yelled at me, told me I was going to make myself sick.  She's right, but oh how much life to live!  Four weeks of school are already in the past, and I know this year will pick me up in a wave and I will surf into summer once again.  I want to savor every moment.

Come, let us return to the Lord.  He has torn us into pieces, but he will heal us. 

I stare at this verse from Hosea every day when I teach.  It is a picture of perfect comfort.  Being broken and seeing your reparation.  Because if we were whole and strong, we would be fragile.  There would be a possibility of harm.  But when we are broken already by the very One who offers salve for our wounds, there is safety and peace.  It's one of my favorite verses.

To be quite honest, I am enjoying my classes this year.  I like my students, so much that it wells up inside of me and I have to smile.  I feel very blessed.  My new place is wonderful, I am able to walk just about everywhere I go--to church, to the store, to the library, to parks, downtown. 

I read the other day that the most prominent American characteristic is restlessness.  Restlessness!  If that's the case... welll...

We need students to come to New York City for Winterim.  It's going to be a rollicking good time, I guarantee it or money back (except for that last part.)  Come talk to me.  I am going to go watch girls volleyball play.  I have heard they're good.  Have a great weekend, all!