Why It's Nice to Be Reformed

. . . Admitting at the outset that I'm not as Reformed as some people. Whether that's good or bad, I won't pronounce.

But at this season of the year, it's nice to reflect that Christ is assuredly born, and He most certainly died for my sins and rose from the dead, whether or not I have my Christmas cards written and sent or my tree up or any of the cooking projects I planned completed. I don't have to make Christmas, I only have to receive it.

Which is good, because since subbing at Castellcoch* High School day before yesterday I am still exhausted. I highly suspect Mr. Chummy* the new principal was playing games with me. I got called in at the last minute to fill in for a teacher who had to be out in the morning, but when I arrived Mrs. Berlin* the school secretary said that assignment had been given to someone else. I was sent to sit in for one of the Learning Support teachers while she had a meeting with Mr. Chummy . . . then I cooled my heels in her room the next two periods waiting for the office to give me something real to do. A movie was going, but the kids were talking so loud you couldn't hear the dialog, the two LS teachers talked between themselves, and I sat there bored out of my gourd.

Lunch then, then no sitting down the rest of the day. Mrs. Berlin had me supervise three straight lunch periods, with all their noise. Beginning of 8th period, I'm back in the office, asking her if Mr. Chummy had come up with any class he wanted me to cover. There was a party that period for all the kids who'd escaped getting written up all semester, and they needed, I presumed, coverage for the kids who had to remain in the classrooms while the teachers accompanied the "good" kids to the gym.

"Oh!" says Mrs. Berlin. "Mr. Chummy didn't give you anything to do yet? He's in the gym, at the party. Go there and see where he wants you."

I duly went, and found him personally dishing up the ice cream. I repeated what Mrs. Berlin said, asking, "Where do you want me?"

"Here," he replied. "Mingle." All very nice, but it meant another hour on my feet. With doubled noise since they had a DJ blasting out music (not Christmas music, I remarked).

I was grimly amused to see that at least three kids I'd personally written up were there, all three of them Mr. Chummy's former 7th grade Science students and one of them a boy with a very ominous reputation in the teacher's lounge. I said nothing . . . but had to wonder if the reason he wanted me there was so I could see how little seriously he considers my disciplinary efforts.

But I was a good girl. And mingled. And smiled. And when it was over and I returned to the LS room for my coat, I was so drained I about slid down onto the floor and cried.

Crawled under the covers early Tuesday evening for a short nap and didn't get up till 7:30 yesterday morning. Shaky and nervous all day yesterday, and today I'm not much better. Don't think I'm getting the flu; haven't a scintilla of a fever. But I don't feel up to going out and running errands, I don't want to make candy; I'm just going to address the cards that're going to the friends I'll be seeing tomorrow and get to bed early.

And be glad that as nice as all the trimmings of the season are, they aren't some magic I have to perform to make Jesus live for me or in me.

Merry Christmas!