I try to post a new item every Monday. Twice now I didn’t get it done. I seriously doubt anyone has noticed, but if you have, maybe you’ll understand. My life is like most of yours—crazy. Good crazy at the moment, but crazy.

I’ve been posting things my students always seemed to like; however, the next two posts are from a devotion I wrote for the Ozark Christian College faulty. Like much that I write, it’s pretty transparent. I don’t mind that up to a point, not if it might provide insight or comfort to someone.

I got the title for this from Wordsworth’s great ode on immortality. I do love a “timely utterance,“ and something like writing in a journal has brought me comfort in the past, but there is something that has always been more helpful than that. That’s what I’m exploring in this devotion. If you need relief from an anxiety or heartache, I hope this will encourage you.

Kathy, a former student who has remained a part of my life for many years, gave me a Selah CD to thank me for some little something and also to celebrate a rather significant birthday. There’s a song on it, which I’ve been praying these days. It’s a testimony of praise for “The Faithful One.“

   I find no hope within to call my own,
   For I am frail of heart, my strength is gone.
   But deep within my soul is rising up a song
   Here in the comfort of the Faithful One.

   I walk a narrow road through valleys deep
   In search of higher ground on mountains steep.
   And though with feet unsure, I still keep pressing on,
   For I am guided by the Faithful One.

   Faithful, faithful to the end,
   My true and precious Friend.
   You have been faithful, faithful, so faithful to me.

My true and precious Friend is the reason I was able to teach for 31 years.

I went back to college when my girls were three and four and graduated at the top of my class at the age of thirty. I thought I was quite prepared to begin my teaching career, but when September rolled around and I stood before my classes, I ran into a serious problem. So serious I begged Tony to let me quit.

I had never heard this problem discussed in all my education classes, so it took me by surprise. From the first I enjoyed my students. My problem had nothing to do with liking my students, and it had nothing to do with discipline. My problem was I just didn’t know how to teach. Yes, it’s true. I didn’t know how to get what I knew out of my brain and into theirs.

Bummer.

One evening three weeks into the semester, Tony walked into our bedroom and saw me sitting cross legged on the bed staring at my book. He sat beside me.

“What the matter, Slick?“ he asked.

“I don’t know what to do.“

He was still teaching and understood teachers have a curriculum but can order its presentation any way they want. With English, at least at the time, there was a lot of freedom. He took my book and began leafing through it. “Why don’t you do this next?“

He had misunderstood what I had meant, but I answered his question anyway.

“I can’t.“

“How about this?“ he asked, pointing to a poetry unit.

“No,“ I sighed.

“This?“

I shook my head. “Please let me quit.“

“Teach till Christmas,“ he said. “Then you can quit.“

Of course, Tony knew if I made it until Christmas, I’d make it period. He also knew that Christmas might sound manageable to me. And it sort of did. I had to hold out only a few months.

“‘Til Christmas,“ I said, more question than statement.

But meantime I had to go back into that classroom and figure out what to do. I was so nervous I could hardly sleep. I’m quite sure sleep deprivation accounts for the last straw.

I’ll tell you about that unfortunate incident next week.