We'll call it Karma

This morning, I got off the phone after an enlightening and empowering conversation with my ideal grad school prospect, consumed another fantasy novel about dragons and pretty ladies with white hair, stood on the front porch of the cabin, and exhaled for as long as possible.

Even if I can't spew fire-breath like the dragons can, I still felt powerful. And if I had wings, I'd be tearing across the sky.

I screamed happily to the heavens, "GOD! HELLO! WHAT'S NEXT?"

Not an hour later, I received a telephone call from a friend up here asking if I wanted to do a long-term substitute teaching job until June, for the junior highers' English and History class.

I got off the phone, walked back to the balcony with my fists on my hips, and growled at the sky:

"Verry funny."

When I first heard about this prospective job, it was a week ago and I decided God and I weren't on speaking-terms, because I was angry at his little joke.

Now, I surrender. Because He kept bantering me, albeit gently, to get out of my own way, and realize that I have been presented with a golden opportunity to rock the hearts of children, when it's not too late to make an impact before they're launched into the world.

So, Wednesday morning, I go to observe the classroom and talk with the teacher whose place I would be taking (she's going on maternity leave).


My God is a great comedian. My God likes to throw me for a loop and see how I fare. He does it because He likes what crawls out the other end of the jungle-gym.

My God is a great comedian. And He'd rather make me laugh with His irony, than see me cry when I fail because I take my life into my own hands.
I'm no tragic hero; I am no fool. I'm no Desdemona.

I'm the mage that burns white fire from her palms; I'm the nymph peering at you from the tree.

Dream for me, Creator.
Sweet Jesus, make Your dreams: reality.