This week has been one of the more exhausting weeks of my adult life: it began with an accreditation visit, and I haven't really recovered. Actually, this week has been exhausting not because of the week itself, but because of all the weeks leading up to it.
I am still waiting to feel the happiness about a fairly successful accreditation visit. Part of the reason I am still waiting is that we have shifted to some of the policing parts of my job that I like least: who is letting their class go early, who is voicing emotions that should not be expressed to others, how to explain the need for more staffing. It is the grinding stuff that wears me out. It reminds me of how many of us can't rest in grace but need the harshness of law and judgment to feel comfortable.
Or maybe I'm reading theology where there is none. The lack of theology would help explain many a situation.
Yesterday I decided I needed to insert spots of joy into my week-end. I have plans to bake pumpkin cinnamon rolls. I will write something that brings me joy--I have written many accreditation documents so I deserve a different kind of writing.
I will take some time to enjoy the pumpkins on the porch. At work, I have been enjoying the pumpkins I bought for next week's pumpkin decorating station:
I even found the bewitching fabric remnant that I got a few years ago and set aside for myself:
And I couldn't resist this bit of whimsy (even though I was sad that I couldn't stay up until 8 p.m. on Tuesday to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown):
Let me also hope for some sleep this week-end. Part of my lack of joy and my irritability stems from deep exhaustion.
And I will also get some reading time in. On Wednesday, my copy of Tressie McMillan Cottom's Thick arrived and I consumed half of it on the spot. I will finish the book this week-end--the thought of doing that brings me joy, as does the actual reading.
but bestows favor on the humble
1 year ago
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