Oh, dear. How I wish I could be warm and witty right now. How I wish I could impart more humor. How I wish my outlook on this week could be disposed toward something more sunny.
But the days standing between me and this weekend are worthy of only a sigh. I sit inside my colleague's office, 8-hour-day after 8-hour-day, evaluating the 70 students entrusted to our care, one slow half-hour at a time.
And yet, the patch of sky outside the window shines blue. A soft breeze taps the scrawny branches outside the office window against the large glass pane. Tap-tap-tap. What a seductive invitation to life outside these concrete walls!
But here I sit, dredging through hours of meetings, anticipating the turn toward my home at night, but a home only filled with boxes stuffed to the brim with books, CDs, movies, and clothes, and knowing the two days following my last Biola day already lay riddled with tasks: getting the car serviced for a 3,000-mile road trip, refilling important medical prescriptions, returning borrowed furniture, clearing a speeding ticket, and picking up final paychecks and medical paperwork.
In the meantime, the thought of a walk in that breeze with my sweetheart keeps me going. As of this Saturday night, all will finally be well. At this point, we just can't wait to uphold the following image forever:
So come, this Saturday evening, come!
Dear God, Thou art so good to me. Blessed be Your holy name forever.