Be gracious if it kills you...

One of my very dearest friends in the whole wide world has spent the last week with me.  We have traveled all around Arizona, meeting friends and family and eating amazing food, experiencing awe-inspiring land forms and cloud formations, and spending lots of time having heart-to-hearts.  She is such a wonderful companion.  Tomorrow, to my dismay, she is on to the next leg of her journey to visit yet another of my dearest friends in the wide world, so I am also a little jealous that they will hang out without me!

My friend is also extremely gracious and understanding that my heart is obsessed and that I am attempting to be as sane as possible while having my heart do flips.  She is happy for me, because I am so enthusiastic about feeling the earliest symptoms of being head over heels.

The doctor and I have spoken every single day for over two weeks.  I look forward to seeing him this Monday and he made it clear that he is looking forward to getting together.  The effortlessness of our courtship is making my head spin; what could it mean?!  Does this have the potential to be everything I could imagine?  The most wonderful thing about all of this is that it feels mutual.  Every time I kick the proverbial ball into his court, my heart sinks into my stomach because I'm totally vulnerable.  Then, without having much time pass, he kicks the ball right back to me.

I've so long told myself that if something were really a good thing, I probably didn't deserve it.  Like accepting kindness and generosity from people when I really needed help...it felt like charity because I couldn't actually believe that they did it because they loved me.  I believed, for as long as I can possibly remember, that I was not actually loved or lovable.  I did not trust anyone to be kind to my face and behind my back, and I certainly entertained the idea that I was actually alone in the world.

Toby unfortunately contributed to this baggage because he could not promise to spend any time with me, only sporadic moments when he could not find something better to do with his time.  I was no priority for him and he made it very plain to me.  He refused to "promise" something he couldn't deliver, like actually behaving as though he was looking forward to seeing me or setting aside time in his schedule for me.  And we dated for the better half of six years.  I was not worth his time, that's how I interpreted that.

When the most recent dating experience came and went this past spring, I finally experienced being worth someone's time.  We both had hectic, busy schedules, but when I told him my free evenings, he made sure he kept that time open for me.  It was refreshing to be important enough to get a time slot.  Other things about this man became apparent and unappealing, relating mostly to his ignorance and deep-seated bias, but on the whole he treated me relatively well.

Now, the doctor asks me when he gets to see me again!  We've spent a week corresponding from separate cities, sharing sunsets and having all-day-long conversations, and he is genuinely interested in me.  Maybe my interest trumps his, but I'm trying hard to keep a lid on it so I don't do something hasty like announce our wedding date.  Of all people, I know his schedule is going to be difficult on him and most likely on me, since I will want to spend every waking moment in his presence, but he seems willing to share his free time after work with me and I will fall over myself to take him up on it.  Assuredly, once work wiggles its tendrils back into my life, we will have quite a bigger knot to loosen, but in the meantime, we can apply our respective schedules one layer at a time.

It's uncanny how well this is working out.  I shouldn't be so focused on it, but it is so exciting that I can't seem to sleep.

My online classes for the certification program are apparently going well though I wouldn't call it smoothly.  I realized in horror that I missed the deadlines for three consecutive assignments because I am simply inexperienced and ignorant to the online class format, so I assumed all hope was lost and I failed the class.  At least, I thought, I can probably re-use these assignments for the next time I take the course.  The syllabus clearly states no late work will be accepted.  In a mess of tears and shame, I wrote to my instructor to apologize for being completely inept and to explain why I had not submitted any assignments for weeks.  This same instructor is facilitating my second, more in-depth class, and I have received glowing feedback and  full credit for each of my punctual assignments therein.  Surely this counted in my favor, and my instructor responded to my email insisting that I not retake the class but instead accept an Incomplete grade until I can submit my assignments, because her goal as an instructor is to make me a better teacher.  I am beyond humbled by her grace and understanding, which I feel I do not deserve, this being entirely my mistake and oversight.  I have shed so much guilt-fueled tears today that my eyes were primed and ready to spurt out a fair amount of gratitude and humility tears.  I'm a weeper, it's true.  My heart is filled with water and it seeps out of my face.

Once I have delivered my darling friend to the airport, I will most certainly be plowing through my remaining three large assignments plus any and every ungraded reflection or discussion I can submit.  I have enjoyed and appreciated the insight afforded to me through these courses and I am confident they have already vastly improved the approach I will take in my next year of teaching.  I have learned so much already this summer.

I have been reminded that I am so blessed.  I have learned to have hope.