I learned a lot last week.

They say that teachers are the best students. In that case, I'm doing pretty well for myself.
I not only single handedly led a class of squirming first graders who told the teacher they learned "Nothing" when I was teaching, but I learned how I'm feeling will erupt all over the place unless I take care of it sooner.
I also learned that these hard times are refining me and bringing me closer to God. I'm writing a good story for myself, according to Donald Miller.

It's interesting that in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, the only practical advice given about living a meaningful life is to find a job you like, enjoy your marriage, and obey God. It's as though God is saying, WRITE A GOOD STORY, TAKE SOMEBODY WITH YOU, AND LET ME HELP.

Before I learned about story, I was becoming a fatalist. I was starting to believe you couldn't find meaning in life because there wasn't any meaning to be found. But I don't believe that anymore...

I don't ever want to go back to believing life is meaningless. I know there are biochemical causes for some forms of depression, but I wish people who struggle against dark thoughts would risk their hopes on living a good story- by that I mean finding a team of people doing hard work for a noble cause, and joinng them. I think they'd be surprised at how soon their sad thoughts would dissipate, if for no other reason than they didn't have time to think them anymore. There would be too much work to do, too many scenes to write.

Although I've dealt with giving up, recently. I've become disillusioned with my part in the story and I don't know where I fit in. I don't know what my small piece can do to affect change. But it's a small jigsaw piece that the greater whole can't be complete without.

I think that this is when most people give up on their stories. They come out of college wanting to change the world, wanting to get married, wanting to have kids and change the way people buy office supplies. But they get into the middle and discover it was harder than they thought. They can't see the distant shore anymore, and they wonder if their paddling is moving them forward. None of the trees behind them are getting smaller and none of the trees ahead are getting bigger. They take it out on their spouses, and they go looking for an easier story.*

*Taken from A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Donald Miller (in italics) with my own insights interspersed.