worry

On my way home from school I read Spencer Mountain Baptist Church's marquis. This week it exclaims "Worry is the misuse of imagination." Most of the time these bumper-sticker worthy slogans make me smirk or grimace. This one, however, got me thinking. I'd like to take it a step further: Worry is the abuse of imagination. Worry is a distortion of an amazing gift. Imagination is a manifestation of our humaness, our imago dei. Imagination provides so much delight and fun. Our capacity for language, story and abstraction are mirrored in no other facet of the natural world. Creativity is God's image on us in the same manner Caesar's was on the coin the Pharisee handed Jesus. We are God's.

Yet, I worry. Autonomy sucks joy out of life. It's as CSL says that God doesn't worry about our desires being too big but rather that they are too small. We're content with drink, sex and ambition in lieu of unending joy. Heck, I'd take CSL down a notch: I settle for a sense of security.

Tonight at small group we discussed more shattered dreams. But, what stood out to me was relinquishing control and diving into faith is a quotidian act. It sounds so sexy like quitting my job and moving to El Salvador, but it's probably a lot more like staying in my job, learning how to bite my tongue, and writing just because I enjoy it.

I've also realized that I enjoy planning and teaching Social Studies more than I do Language Arts. I was chatting with the Chief about this and pointed out the problem with Language Arts. It covers everything. She said she used to answer the question: "What do you teach?" with "Life." As somebody who finds laundry overwhelming, you can see why I might find "everything" daunting. This is good to figure out. Plus, I equate over analysis of poetry with vivisection. I know 7th grade and the rural school aren't the best fits for me, but I have no clue how or where to go next. No need to worry, right?