Still Learning

“When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.”

I am not sure why that phrase keeps running through my mind; it seems I am at a place in my life where there is something I need to learn.

Perhaps the lesson is in Deb’s post, and her words about how “we all live with a feeling of edginess and anxiety”, and experience of spending a few days alone where she has had the blessing of being able to eliminate distraction and just be.

Perhaps it is in the words of Lee Ambrose. I received her weekly Women’s Wise Words & A Week’s Worth of Writing Prompts email this morning and was struck by one paragraph. “What do you believe you are here on planet Earth to do? Where do you think you came to this conclusion? For how long have you held this belief? What have you done already to fulfill that belief? What do you have left to do in order to fulfill it?”

Perhaps it is in the season I find myself in where it is dark when I go to work in the morning, and dark when I come home in the late afternoon and it is easy to allow darkness invate my thoughts and emotions.

Perhaps it is in an inner prompting telling me to be still, be quiet, slow down and to remember that who I am is not just what I do and that I have a purpose and a higher calling.

Perhaps it is in the season of change that we are in where I work and the insecurity that manifests when one feels that the carpet has been jerked out from underneath that sense of stability that I crave.

I am tired: physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Sometimes, when we are at the end of ourselves we learn the most important lessons. One of the blessings of being almost fifty-two years of age is that I know that this season will not last and I will come through to the other side.

The challenge, still, is to learn the lessons that which this season of melancholy is meant to teach me.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
1 comment
  1. There is no honor greater for a writer than to have her words reach someone else in a meaningful way. Thank you for letting me know that.

    This line: “I am tired: physically, emotionally, and mentally.” tells me it’s a time for you to rest. I struggle with the darkness of this time of year as well, and am helped with the picture of wildflower seeds lying fallow, just being the spark that they are, until sun and warmth return.

    You are not alone in the darkness.

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