New teacher Holly Bush of The Jesus Car might have appreciated this poem, which I wrote in 1991 and revised recently.
What a day I’ve had!
“Who wants to come to a pity party?” you say.
Then give me something to be happy about.
Make me forget
The gloppy spitballs found on the board.
Give me courage to face the class from you-know-where.
Make me believe
I’m cut out to be a teacher
So I won’t walk straight out the front door
Instead of doing hall duty.
“This is the day that the Lord hath made,
We will rejoice and be glad in it,”
Proclaims the plaque on my desk.
It’s only Monday, Lord–
Four more days away from rejoicing.
Today I just want some sympathy,
Just yesterday the preacher asked,
“Where does it say
God wills our days
To be problem-free?”
Then he laid it on the line:
“God’s will is for us to become
More like Jesus Christ.”
Could I become like Him
Without icky spitballs,
Those minor annoyances
That fine tune me
And pale in the midst
Of life’s cosmic crises?
Jesus, You learned obedience
Through what You suffered.
Did You heal with a headache,
Then rock-pillow Your head at night,
Trying to forget mercenary whines,
And Pharisee traps?
To the cosmic work that lay before You.
No, Lord, I can’t say I’m eager to sign up
For the fellowship of Your suffering.
Would my bumps and bruises even qualify?
The least I can do right now
As I press on
Is leave this petty pity party.