February 17, 2011

• Why I Cried Today

  On Tuesday and Wednesday of this week, I was woken up by my alarm, which was a nice surprise considering I had spent the past two weeks waking up about five minutes before it was supposed to go off, in a complete panic. We had a  nice Valentine’s Day, and then last night there was a big cigar festival here, so we went to that. Things were feeling a little more normal. 

  This morning, however, I woke up in a complete panic. Sweaty, heavy breathing, “oh no I have to get up”, panic. So I got up, went running, listened to some worship music and came back to the house. When I walked in, JD was still in bed, so of course, I think the worst. He has a migraine or is dead or something. Turns out, he just didn’t have a class until later, and was going to sleep in. So, I am stressing, to say the least. 

  Then I get to school, late, of course, because Jd had an “incident” and I had to drive the girls and I after waiting for him to decide to tell me go ahead. I get in my class, we are  hanging out and then comes in the substitute principal (the other one is out on maternity leave). She brings in the book we sign into everyday and opens to my page. She informs me that under no circumstance am I to sign in any color but black. I say “Okay” and sign my name for today in a black pen that I borrowed because I HATE BLACK PENS and only have blue in my school bag. She leaves the room, and then I cry. In front of my students, I cry about having to use a black pen. 

  Now, we all know it’s not really about the black pen. It’s more about two things in my head.

  Number one: I signed in with whatever I had on me all of last year, this included crayon, marker, purple pen, pink pen, pencil, and blood. Okay, not blood. No one ever said anything to me about this. I am quite sure this is not really a rule and is just this lady trying to assert some authority over the gringa. This happens sometimes to me here. People just want to one up me because I am white. 

  Number two: Sometimes I don’t even want to live in this country, and I take this calling that God has for me as some sort of prison sentence. This is more what the tears were from. After waking up panicked, getting yelled at while running, taking a freezing cold bucket shower, and putting on the uniform I am forced to wear, I am now not even allowed to use whatever color of ink I want. 

  So, while it may seem lame to some, I did cry today over black ink. 

  But more I cried because this place God has called me too, that I dreamed of for many years, is, at times, disappointing. And I cried because every part of my being wanted to say a big F.U. and write all over that stupid book in hot pink sharpie, but I knew that God put this person over me in authority and I can’t just go around acting like a turd. 

  Those were some big tears of frustration. And, so tomorrow, I will get up, sign my name in black ink, and be obedient to the call that God has on my life.

  Even if it annoys me. 

  And it will.

  • 8:40 pm
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