It’s a mad dash between trying to get the rebellious four-year-old to nap and dabbing on enough under-eye concealer to look presentable while finishing the imminently due assignment before dashing out the door. The crowded campus parking lot with narrow spots is easy to navigate compared to the skill it takes to delegate kids’ schedules in order to pull away from the fray and actually go to class.
I climb the final flight of stairs slightly huffing and make it to my seat with but a breath of time to spare. I look west out the picture windows that span the length of the classroom — foothills and trees and a bustling street, reminders of life and all that keeps breathing.
We do introductions, then go over the course syllabus for English 510: Literature and the Bible. “Now let’s dive into our first class activity,” the professor says. “Turn with me to Ezekiel chapter 37.”
He reads from The Message version a story about dry bones. God grabbed me. God’s Spirit took me up and set me down in the middle of an open plain strewn with bones.
I follow along on my Bible app, taking in the story to the cadence of the professor’s voice.
He stammers a bit but my eyes stay locked on the words. So I prophesied, just as he commanded me. Then breath entered them and they came alive!
I glance up and understand the cause of the professor’s pause . . .
I’m delighted to be posting at (in)courage today!