An Absurd Contradiction of Adjectives

Dear Family,

I don’t know how long I’ll be able to write, tonight. But I did want to get a quick email sent off, before Sarah arrives on Monday. I know I won’t be writing at all while she’s here!!

I began level 5 two weeks ago, and was assigned the one teacher whom I’d most hoped to be able to avoid. She was my reading teacher, last semester, and I had written of her to my Naomi,
“I find her teaching style so abrasive that I totally shut down during reading class. I try to engage for the first five minutes or so, but I quickly become so stressed by her, that I implode. My thoughts begin to fall apart, and then I begin to panic, and suddenly my mind freezes. And there I am for the rest of the hour. I stumble through it in sort of a daze, trying not to listen to her voice, because it makes me feel chaotic, and hoping that I won't be called on to answer any questions. When the time comes for us to discuss amongst ourselves the passages that we've read, I try to appear enthusiastic, because it's demoralizing to be studying with someone who lacks interest in what's going on. But inside my heart is in my stomach, because I know that I'll have to go home and set aside more precious time to re-study on my own what I ought to have learned in that waisted hour of class.”
I had supposed that my chances of having her as a teacher two semesters in a row were pretty slim. But I was wrong. And now she teaches not only my reading class, but my grammar/speaking class as well. There no words to describe what a blow this was to me. On the first day, she walked into the room, and a cold dread settled in the pit of my stomach. The will to fight was utterly and completely extinguished. I felt like I’d had the breath knocked out of me, and I was suddenly exhausted and absolutely finished.
“I cannot think about any of my tomorrows with any amount of peace.” I journaled a few days later, “I fully expect to fail, and it’s only day three! It’s far too early to give up! But I think I have. My body and mind keep pressing forward, but my hear has lost courage. I’m trying not to let myself be discouraged, but it’s hard to rally myself for a strong start when there are such obstacles at the outset. I will pray about it this morning, and ask God to teach me to trust in Him.”
I did pray. And God met me. The funny thing is that I can’t remember any of that prayer. I don’t remember what I said, or what things He showed me. But I do know that I came away fully at rest, and with a renewed enthusiasm, and was able, with my whole heart, to later write,
“God’s promises are sure. I have nothing to fear, nothing to dread. Every tomorrow will display fresh evidences of His care. I have but to ‘sink into His fullness, and in trustful weakness lie.’ What a Father! What a Friend!”
For the last week and a half, from that time till now, my life has been the most absurd contradiction of adjectives. Class is difficult, and pointless. I came a hairs breadth away from making arrangements to remain here without continuing on with school. Once a week I stay home to make up on my own for everything I’m not learning in class. It’s ironic to me that I learn more when absent. But God has shown me, I think, that I’m not to diverge from what He has set before me, until He instructs me to do so. So I see myself retaking level five this spring.
But, contrary to circumstance, my heart feels light and carefree. It’s not difficult (and it should be!) for me to throw as much will into this as I would if I had a fighting chance. Rather, I feel the promise of life and the pleasure of honest effort. I enjoy waking up every morning, and laughing at the absurdities of my fish. I enjoy walking to class, in the crisp, cool out of doors. I enjoy being with my classmates and friends. I find that life is beautiful.
Also, I’ve been able to interact with my teacher outside of class quite a bit this semester (It’s random. I’ve never interacted with any of my other teachers outside of class.), and I find myself heartily appreciating her as a person. It doesn’t make school any less pointless, but it does make the class atmosphere lighter and more pleasant. I laugh at the absurdity of it.
God is good, is He not?

In essence, the topic of this email hasn’t hugely differed from my last email, has it? School. It’s always about school. That is my life, presently, so that is what I write of.

I’ll add some variety, before I sign off. I realize that I do so at the risk of loosing your interest, by further lengthening an already long email. But the story is a funny one, and I hope you’ll appreciate it. It’s a sketch of my fish that I wrote, some weeks back.
“Junior has been busily rearranging his tank all day. Just a few minutes ago I stopped studying to watch him for a bit. As soon as he noticed that my eye was on him, he totally feigned innocence. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and began to swim around in casual circles. He would have added a whistle to the general effect of unconcern, but I had surprised him red handed, and he had five or six un-whistle-around-able pebbles in his mouth.
I'm generally pretty lenient, and if he wants ten pebbles on the east side of his tank, and two hundred fifty on the west, I'll turn a blind eye. But he knows that I put my foot down when it comes to blocking off the filter. It was the later occupation in which had been employed, so I considered it a good sign that his conscience had smitten him.
I spoke to him coaxingly, offering a compromise: I promised that if he spit the stones out, I wouldn't fry him for dinner. He looked surprised that I could doubt his innocence, and continued flitting around in lazy circles, his gullet stuffed so full of stones that it was stretched transparent. So I laughed and went back to studying.
Fifteen minutes later, I glanced in his direction again, and saw that he was resting his heavy head on the bottom of the tank, still stubbornly holding onto that uncomfortable mouthful of pebbles. It occurred to me that I might persuade him to spit them out, if I could tempt him with something more tasty. So I shook a few flakes of food into the tank, and Junior went wild. He began chasing the flakes of food around, but he couldn't open his mouth wide enough to eat them without the pebbles popping out. So he'd catch at the edge of a flake with pursed out lips (fish do have lips) and, just hold it there, totally nonplussed. After a few seconds, he discovered that, if he went for minuscule particles of food, he could suck them in without moving his mouth. But, of course, that accomplished, he still couldn't swallow! To swallow would be the same as opening his mouth, only in the other direction! So there he sat, with one molecule of food and five stones in his mouth, as he longingly watched that hated filter suck up his beautiful, red dinner. His eyes were tortured, and even as I keeled over laughing, I felt pity.
I'll leave the room to make dinner, soon, and leave him to his privacy.
I love my demented fish.”

Thank you all for your emails and prayers.

With much love,
Elisabeth