So much for my #Lent2011 promise to blog. At least I’ve blogged more regularly in Lent so far than I would have under normal circumstances.
I had hoped to offer a prayer or concluding though for each post which I omitted in my last entry. I suppose if I were to add a prayer at the end of that post it would be that God grants me the strength to face the trials in my life and the courage to face them with dignity, safe in the knowledge that I don’t need a mask or armour to go out into the world. I have all I need within myself.
I wish I had offered that prayer at the end of that blog post. I pray for that now. I am still facing trials. I am still hiding behind a mask.
I’ve had another rollercoaster week. Monday was spent at the other library I manage. It provided an opportunity to catch up with my colleague who is picking up the days I don’t work since I’ve started my PhD. We get on really well and she has been a fantastic support. I also conducted an info session with a client which is paradoxically energising yet draining. Energising in the sense that I find it thoroughly enjoyable and it feeds my passion to teach yet such sessions can really sap one’s energy. It was a long hot day and I had chosen to cook a meal that required my presence in a hot kitchen for a long period of time. So I followed in well worn footsteps and had me a
little substantial glass of sherry [right].
Tuesday was a day of triumph! Last Tuesday was the day of my first uni assignment in seven years…a seminar presentation on Grounded Theory. I didn’t expect to know my result for this presentation so soon but the lecturer came up to me in the break and told me that I had achieved a mark of 7…a High Distinction…the highest possible grade. I was absolutely blown away. Later discussions with friends and colleagues on Twitter, Facebook and in real life revealed that I was really the only one surprised by this result. It seems my family, friends and colleagues have more faith in my abilities than I do! It was a day worthy of a happy dance [left]. Tuesday was also my late father’s birthday. This result seemed like a perfect way to celebrate his memory. He is the original inspiration for my PhD. The topic has moved on from its first incarnation but I still like to consider that this work is dedicated to his memory. So that seven is for you, Dad.
What a difference a day makes! Wednesday was the pits. March 23 is not a nice day in my calendar. It is a sad day. It was my brother’s anniversary. Cancer took him from us too young. So the day began behind the eight ball. In fact, the day didn’t really recover. I had a meeting for work. I really hate meetings. Frankly, I’d prefer to sit on a hotplate than go to a meeting…there’s not much difference for me. When I finally got to work there were problems that needed attention. Interruptions. Distractions. Trivialities. All things which take me away from my purpose. I love to serve my clients. It’s why I became a librarian. I like to help people. I do not like to spend the afternoon on the phone to a technician sorting out faults that should never have occurred. I do not like to spend hours …<snip>… I have a litany of likes and dislikes that I could list here but professionalism prevents me from being too open. If you want to know more, get me drunk and you can cop an earful of what gets me riled up. I’m a chatty drunk.
I would have written off Wednesday completely had it not been for the efforts of my husband who performed the lion’s share of the work to move my desk from our shared computer room so that I could have an office all to myself to work on my research without distraction [left]. Thank you, Stevie. I really couldn’t have done it without you. Now I have a place of my own. My home within my home.
That brings me to today. I had plans for the day. I carried out about half the tasks I had intended so I suppose I should be thankful for that. Time seemed to pass rather quickly with very little to show for it. It was a strange day. Perhaps this music I’m listening to doesn’t help. I’m playing contemporary Christian music, some of which is a little melancholy and reflective…just like me [right]. So perhaps my prayer in this post can be the lyrics of The Peace and Love of God by Curtis Stephan & Shari Kurtenbach.
Be still and know that I am with you
Be still and know that I am here
Though your troubles might be many
I am always near
Be still and know that I will guide you
through the toils and the strife
Though inside you feel your dying,
I will bring new life
I’ll be your rock of refuge, your shelter from the storm,
A beacon in the darkness, the light that leads you home.
I’ll make a place within you, deep within your heart,
and you will know the peace and love of God.