Oh, who am I kidding.
My biggest learning this year, so far, is that I shouldn't say things definitive like "I'm going to blog once a month," or "I'm going to Spain." or "I'll be returning to my present position for one more year.
Yup.
That's right.
More change.
I'm not backpacking across Spain right now. In fact, I haven't worn my back-pack since the last day of school. I'm sitting in my diningroom, counting my blessings, and being thankful for the life God has been preparing me for.
I'm also not returning to my old school for one more year, after all. The end of the year was rough. So rough, in fact, that it outweighed my enthusiasm for a fresh start with all those wonderful people I enjoyed working with. So, last week, I resigned my position. I have no idea what next year will look like (will I teach somewhere else? will I sub? will I do something entirely different?), and I'm quite nervous about it. I'm not prone to rash, impulsive decisions (STOP LAUGHING), so you must believe that this was carefully considered. I'm not ready to talk about it, yet.
So... since I'm not ready to talk about work, let's talk about Spain and adventures.
Why didn't I go?
My feet hurt.
I didn't train enough. Maybe. Or maybe there never was enough that I could have done. I officially have plantar facitis in one foot and arthritis in the ankle joint of the other. It was always a long shot.
An 18 mile hike in May - scheduled to be the first of many "full distance, full pack" training hikes on real TERRAIN (not just paved trails) - was a learning experience. I covered less than half the target distance. I could have pushed on (stubbornness IS one of my defining traits), but I'm glad I didn't. That night I hurt twice as bad as I expected. And the next morning. Into the next afternoon.
By the end of the day, I had to accept that if I couldn't "recover" in less than 24 hours AT HOME with ice and ibuprofen and helping hands all around, then I shouldn't be trying to do this day after day after day in another country.
So I pulled out of the trip. Sadly. I hate to disappoint - myself and the good friend who gave me the chance.
As I've had to tell everyone about the change in my summer plans, the two most popular replies were: "It wasn't meant to be," and "Well, there must be a reason you're staying here."
I believe that. Deeply. I know everything happens for a reason, and sometimes we're lucky enough to see what it might be. I've already had several affirmations that cancelling was the right choice. I got to celebrate my fella's birthday with him and see him spark when talking about his helicopter flight lesson (yay Groupon!). Today, the girls and I are having our first "just us" day. My Grandpa passed last week, and I was able to talk to my Mimia several times without navigating the complexities of international phone calls. I was able to meet my fella's Nanny last weekend for the first time, and build connections with the rest of his family. We've done home-stuff, and planned adventures with the kids. We'll even be able to visit my parents this summer (just a day trip, and just the two of us).
Oh, and I've been following the travel-blog of the trip leader (read it here) from my cozy, air-conditioned home. The adventure is amazing. The scenery is georgeous. The journey is grueling.
I made the right choice.
But a related, and very intriguing thought, was ... "well, if God knew I wasn't going to go, why did He let me get all fired up about it in the first place?"
Now, dodging the deeper theological questions of predestination, let me just say that I do believe that He, indeed, provided the opportunity.
Why?
Because it gave me motivation. It gave me a hobby. It gave me a lens to learn about Raleigh.
Because I thought I was going to Spain, I found a great foot doctor. He's been a great help.
Because I thought I was going to Spain, I had something to focus on outside of work. Teaching can consume you if you're not careful. Consume, like a dragon, and then spit you out.
Because I thought I was going to Spain, I spent most sunny afternoons exploring the local parks. There are a lot of them, and they are lovely.
One of the first things my fella ever knew about me was that I loved to travel. Oh, and that I dream big.
His girls met me at a park. Our first several "family dates" were walks around parks. The girls first knew me as someone who loved to be outside, and who would rather walk than sit.
Turns out, I'm not much of a hiker. But I have always loved walking, and being outdoors. And exploring.
There's kayaking at some of those georgeous parks around here. That's something I wanted to try for ages, but never made the time. Did it this summer. Loved it. Planning to do much more.
The dream of Spain was an important part of my transition into my new life. Which is interesting to ponder, theologically. Can you relate?
We speak about the mystery of God’s wisdom. It is a wisdom that has been hidden, which God had planned for our glory before the world began. -1Corinthians 2:7
