I’m learning which ones are left-handed today, which ones are relaxed enough to smile at me mid-test, which ones bend to put mere inches between their noses and the page as if to somehow build a direct connection between the questions and the information in their minds, bypassing the necessary word-formation and handwriting.
As appropriate on the morning after the autumnal equinox, fall lies in a silver mist over the mown hayfields and glows where the sunrise shines in bars of light between the shadows of the trees. I found a witness to fall’s arrival in the snake which crossed the kitchen floor last night — in search, I suppose, of a place warmer than the great outdoors. (We returned him to his natural habitat, in case you’re worried.)
Further proof comes in the chorus of sniffles that accompanies my test-taking students: an addition to the expected noises of pencil-scratching and paper-turning which inspired me to bring my office Kleenex box into the classroom for them.
And this is life, the planned and the unplanned falling together, mounding up on this day and on that. Last Friday I was stung by a yellow jacket that crawled up my pant leg while I sat in a coffee shop, keeping an appointment with a student who never came. The unexpected can be painful, sometimes.
Other times, expectations are proved gloriously wrong, as on the mornings when I leave the house feeling friendless, and find myself welcomed and loved at my destination. My Savior continues to save: where I have no right to expect anything but enmity and death He gives me a love that has nothing to do with my worthiness, life everlasting.
©2014 by Stacy Nott