10

Finals.Shuffling feet.Busy hallways.Construction site.Boxes everywhere.Laptops flipped open.My last days of school this year. If I'm honest, I feel as if I blinked, and already a decade has gone by. Finished up my 10th year teaching. Just made tenure. Needless to divulge, I'm still in recovery.My raw sentiments reflect as if I was placed under the knife, an organ removed or repaired, and I'm just coming to from sedation. Symbolic wires and tubes invade my airways, groggy from the lengthy procedure, body aches and lethargy ensue.Just became a professor.Just graduated to English AP.International trip to promote education underway.A faith community glowing with an ember of an illustrious flicker.A Sisterhood I've always envisioned, they now surround me.A family I adore, children who call me blessed.So why do I feel so weighted? Heavy?? Disorganized in thought and posture.For years, I've counted victory for every accomplished class, task, act of service, and divine Calls answered.Unbeknownst to me, I'd end up feeling wasted, spent, and lifeless afterwards. Every. TIME.To be an activist, educator, a crusader for justice, and advocate for fundamental human rights is noble...so rewarding!!Yet, no one tells you, or put another way, really reveals how crappy you feel when the dust has settled, the school year is over, the plane has landed, and the protest sign is put away.Still body.No make-up.Isolation.Kickboxing with pessimism and despondency.Bankrupt of inspirational billows of grandeur and "change the world" exploits.Sleep.A hot shower.A hug.A meal not cooked by you.Prayers over your forehead.My immediate cravings.Lifting a million metaphoric bricks off my chest, in the silent grey shadows of the days and nights forthcoming, the Maker works tirelessly to snatch me from retirement and despair.Here's the part where perhaps you're waiting for me to list a few coping mechanisms for soldiers in the fight, in the trenches of world change. I'm tempted, but I'm not.Truth is, there is NO real list of steps that will ever take it all away. It's part of the price. The withdrawals from our life's accounts don't go without payment.No reimbursement from Grace's deposit? Of course. Never will you reach the negatives, but I gotta warn you, you'll more often than not end up in the single digits after it's all over.Self-care is vital, no essential, for any kind of reprieve.Exhaustion.Burnout.Compassion Fatigue.They are my faithful companions after every epic triumph on the battle fields of my life's work. I see them coming after every blood shed.I can't even run anymore. So I begin walking in the other direction. Towards a small mount that served as a bunker in the war. I slide in and see another figure, a calm and soothing Presence. He knows I'm coming.He pats His knees, beckoning me to lay on His lap, nestling my head as He strokes my tangled hair that clearly needs a deep cleanse.We never say much. He just lets me breathe, stare at the dirt walls, taking long slow breaths.No eloquent diction exchanged.No deep revelations I usually hunt for.No mapping out of the next humanitarian conquest. He just lets me lay there. Still shaking from the battle. Still shell-shocked from the work.I just keep breathing.He lets me come as I am.He'll let you come too. As you are.I'm supposed to save face. To keep this reputation of leadership and prestige amidst a circle.Now, I don't really care. Not anymore. I know who I am. I know the warrior I am. I illicit more strength in the honesty of disposition than the the cover-up of "No I'm ok, everything is great" fallacy.It's not...in the beginning aftermath. Yet, I'm happy to report you eventually leave the bunker. Not unscathed, but you return back to civilian life.Social justice is such a popular flavor today. We all wanta be the change the world seeks. As well we should. Our destiny relies on us finding our nitch. Future generations and the quality of the human condition are contingent on our courage, wherever we stand geographically.Yet, you've been warned. It's gonna suck after each battle, plan executed, and every task accomplished.Only for awhile.Even Jesus got spent and retreated after every major crusade. He was done, ova...finding His bunker.Wish I could tell you I'm completely rehabilitated in this instant. Still in His lap, still breathing.Yet, each day fuses in my sinew a extra dose of energy, stamina, reciprocity. He always reimburses for good works, and acts of service.10.A decade.Of A LOT of works.I'm obligated, we are all obliged to go another 10 more.Lord have mercy.Literally...