The story of the dramatic, loveable, redheaded orphan girl who wins the heart of Avonlea on Prince Edward Island has long been one of my favorite tales. I'm actually not a huge fan of the books (although I really can't say I've read all of them, so maybe that should be an unsupported and tested hypothesis), but I do so love the movies.
I'm laying in my bed t 11PM tonight, thinking about the fact that I meant to get to bed early tonight because I'm very, very tired and not feeling well, but I can't seem to settle my thoughts enough to sleep.
I gave 2 finals today and I'm mentally thinking about what I taught this quarter and what I SHOULD have taught this quarter, and feeling like what I did - which seemed like a good idea at the beginning of the quarter - wasn't enough or wasn't good enough. I'm also contemplating the fact that my student numbers dwindled these past few weeks, and I'm wondering how I failed to encourage them or support them or somehow get them through the end of the quarter. Only eight showed up today for their final.
Actually, on second thought, maybe I'm not like Anne. She always seemed pretty confident in her teaching. Maybe I'm relating more to Laura Ingalls Wilder. She didn't always know if what she'd taught was the right thing, or if how she'd handled students was the best way to do it.
But I am like Anne in the sense of letting my hopes build up too much and have them flop painfully around me.
I'm also relating to Anne tonight because of my wild imagination. Last night I dreamt I had murdered someone, blamed it on a small orphan child I was caring for, and eluded the police for awhile before my brother-in-law found out and turned me over to the authorities. Needless to say, my Mother was not very happy with me. I remember waking up about 4:30 this morning with an intense feeling of disgust toward what I had presumably done.
That sounds rather Anne-ish.
Perhaps most similar to Anne, though, is how she is loved by a good, strong, gentle man (the dashing Gilbert), and how she knows he loves her, but doesn't quite know what to do with it. Sometimes I feel that way about Gabe. I know he loves me and has an upright character and loves and honors and fears God. And sometimes I wonder if I love him back in the way I think he deserves to be loved. I wonder if I will ever understand and be able to just accept him for who he is, rather than having my imagination and ambitions constantly muddy up my perspectives. I wonder if I have the strength of will to handle being broken by God through a relationship of love and the selflessness and giving that it seems to demand. I wonder if I will ever understand and accept myself enough to begin understanding and accepting someone else. I wonder if I'll always feel the pit-of-my-stomach desire to go further than I've gone in whatever field of adventures I settle my eye on: travel or education or physical training or any number of other things. Or if I'll always find myself needing to restrain from those things and maintain close ties with Gabe. Is it one or the other? Gabe would support me - I believe that because I know how well he loves me - but would I support it in myself if I knew it was costing him to do it?
I think Anne called days like today when you spend more time thinking and wondering and fretting than you seemingly do functioning, "Jonah Days." Probably the best bet for me right now is to try to get some sleep.
Let's just hope I don't find myself in more dramatic of a nightmare than murder tonight!
