The Last Page

What do you say on the last page of your journal?

That square piece of temporal essence that holds so little, when there is so much to say.

I have to hand it to Him--He lead me to the end of this just-concluded season right as the paper was running out. The paper full of 2.5 years' worth of sorrow and joy. A book about growing up.

And I embrace this genesis.

I am in the middle of my second week of classes in my second year of teaching, and everything is different. I am confident. My students are quiet, studious even (maybe), and I am finally in authority over them, not just in theory, but in practice. I am humbled as I realize what a huge task there is before me to discipline these blooming souls--not to punish them, but to disciple them as young members of the Way. Disciples who watch me and all the other teachers every day and will make decisions about Christ and Christianity because of our example, because of what they saw lived out before them 180 days a year in the classroom.

Thank God for grace.

I now have my small business owner's license, and I am officially marketing my artwork. A possibility that was never really an option I believed in until this summer when a seed was planted and a dream grew and a plan blossomed and is now in seed.

When I pray, I feel the Holy Spirit's power within me--the power to change my heart, the power to say thank you when it's hard, the power to command the evil spirits that try to plague me to flee, because I am covered in blood--His blood, His life-giving beautiful blood.

And there is still love in my heart for him. An aching love. But a love that desires the best. Desires God's will.

And I know that all things work for the good of those who love God. All things.

All things.