The First day of school is supposed to be good. For some mythical reason, the first day has a defining way of determining how the rest of the school year may turn out. But my first day is not something I would even wish on an enemy. 😉 On a scale of badness, it ranks near a 10.
It all started with a simple cold.
On the night before classes, the dorm was abuzz. But this young lady felt slightly amuck.
Yes, I went to bed feeling slightly ill. And woke up 2 hours later decidedly uncomfortable. And stayed awake for the next 5 hours. Trying to sleep, but coveted rest evaded me.
At around 5;45, I managed to doze off. Only to wake an hour later for class. A cold shower didn’t really wake me up. The words from my devotions didn’t quite compute. Make up made me look a little fresher, but my brain felt heavy as mud.
Luckily, there was an hour break between 2 of my classes. I managed to fall asleep for about 20 minutes of that.
Somehow, I did not fall asleep in our college chapel. And my feet made their way to my 1 o’clock class.
I was looking forward to this class, it’s an elective. A theatre arts class on acting. But our intro lesson wasn’t too active, a lecture on the art form of acting. My tired hands managed a few notes, at one point I was sure it had been 45 minutes. I looked at the clock, it had barely passed the 15 mark.
Could my brain get any more muddled?
Enter French class. I settled unto my chair, vaguely writing the name of the class on my notebook. A voice spoke beside me, I turned. “Excuse me?”
“I said my name in French,” the chipper young man grinned, “Comment ca va?”
“Um,” my mind scrambled, “I don’t know any French.”
“I took French in high school, what did you take?”
“Spanish,” I mumbled, turning back to my notebook.
“Really? You speak Spanish?”
How little could I say to silence him?
“Not ‘a’, it’s male. So poco.” He continued cheerily, “Como esta? Mi nombre Caleb.”
I have never struggled that hard for words in my life. My brain swum, digging uselessly for Spanish files. Finally, I managed a weak response, “Sorry, I’m tired. Not getting anything right now.”
“Oh!” He continued, chipper as ever, “Spritsch du Deutsch?”
I blinked, “Uh, no.”
Silence, before he again spoke, “Ok. Do you speak English?”
Thankfully, the professor began before I could clobber this guy with my textbook. Wouldn’t want to get demerits for violence on the first day of class.
But seriously, when I finally was able to catch up on sleep, I was able to think about my day. Before getting to college, I had determined a theme for my semester. I want to fully rely on God. I’m very self-sufficient, and hate being dependent on anyone.
Sometimes this attitude is a deterrent in my relationship with God. But having a terrible, horrible, totally bad day reminded me of my desperate need for Jesus.
I had promised a freshman to have dinner together that evening. I was so tempted to text and beg for a different time, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. One, she was a freshman, and my cancellation would most likely leave her eating alone. And I had other dinner plans sketched out for other nights, and I wanted to leave time to devote to my new friend. Reshuffling her felt incredibly selfish, especially since my excuse was simply so I could take a nap.
So I prayed, “God I can’t do this. Please help me stay awake.” And God really did help me. All day, God helped me stay awake. In class. In required services. And even during a simple dinner.
In the end, I didn’t post any ‘first day of class’ pics. And I went to bed a whole lot earlier than normal.