I'm going to New Mexico --
-- Driving there the week that begins with Labor Day, and setting up camp until at least May 31, 2007.
(This is for sure; I talked with the principal of the school today, and I'm as good as hired, or rather "accepted," since this is volunteer work.)
I'll be teaching 2nd or 3rd grade -- about 15 kids -- mostly of the Jicarilla Apache tribe -- at a Catholic elementary school called Saint Francis.
I'll be living with other volunteers, close to the school and parish, close to the main town of the Indian reservation, close to the south central border of Colorado, and close to NOTHING ELSE. This place is off the map, off the beaten track, and any other expression which here means "uh-oh, what have I done?!"
But I DO know what I've done. This isn't the easiest choice I might have made, but it is the right one.
When God calls you, He doesn't yell in your face. He plants a seed in your heart and grows it over time, weaving together your desires and talents and circumstances. His voice is subtle but irresistable, when we're listening. It's a whisper, a touch, a longing that can be pushed away temporarily but always returns.
I've reached the point where there are too many seeming coincidences, the tug in my heart is too strong, the opportunity too great, to say no.
My feeble protests haven't the strength to overrule my persistent conviction that this little school is where I need to go next.
So I'm going.
(This is for sure; I talked with the principal of the school today, and I'm as good as hired, or rather "accepted," since this is volunteer work.)
I'll be teaching 2nd or 3rd grade -- about 15 kids -- mostly of the Jicarilla Apache tribe -- at a Catholic elementary school called Saint Francis.
I'll be living with other volunteers, close to the school and parish, close to the main town of the Indian reservation, close to the south central border of Colorado, and close to NOTHING ELSE. This place is off the map, off the beaten track, and any other expression which here means "uh-oh, what have I done?!"
But I DO know what I've done. This isn't the easiest choice I might have made, but it is the right one.
When God calls you, He doesn't yell in your face. He plants a seed in your heart and grows it over time, weaving together your desires and talents and circumstances. His voice is subtle but irresistable, when we're listening. It's a whisper, a touch, a longing that can be pushed away temporarily but always returns.
I've reached the point where there are too many seeming coincidences, the tug in my heart is too strong, the opportunity too great, to say no.
My feeble protests haven't the strength to overrule my persistent conviction that this little school is where I need to go next.
So I'm going.