Between the Years

 It is a new year, and Christmas has passed.

As the end of the year approached, I felt disappointment more times than I expected. I was placed in charge of the Christmas party, and despite planning it weeks in advance, not a single teacher I work alongside chose to attend. Some said they were busy, yet they were fully aware of the event long before it happened. No one came except the people who work downstairs and the assistants who support us in the classroom.

They, too, have families to be with, just like everyone else, which makes the absence of others harder to justify in my mind. When I spoke with the manager, the response felt dismissive. It was reduced to comments about poor planning or timing, followed by repeated reassurance that “it’s okay, it happens.” But I know how to read people, and what I saw that day was not an environment I want to grow comfortable in.

I wanted to withdraw. I wanted to be alone.

My mother came to be with me, and that time was genuinely beautiful. But she had to return home, and I felt the weight of her departure deeply. I wish I could have gone back with her. I miss her more than I can easily explain, and since she left, I have not felt well here.

I love my home. I love my wife. I love this country. And yet, after these days, I do not feel comfortable. The country celebrated the New Year, but Christmas passed almost unnoticed. As a Christian, that affected me deeply. Even though I fall short and sin often, my belief stands firm. I would not trade it for any other belief, no matter how imperfect my walk may be.

I began this year emotionally heavy. I want to be a better educator. I want to be successful in my career. I want to grow. And yet, right now, I feel no desire to do anything. That lack of drive scares me.

I feel afraid.

I feel alone.

But I am writing this because I do not want to stay silent in that fear. I am here, even if unsteady. And perhaps that is the first honest step forward.

Lord,

I come to You without strength to offer

and without answers to give.

I come tired, disappointed, and unsure

of where I stand emotionally, even when I know where I stand in faith.

You saw the effort that went unseen.

You saw the room that stayed empty.

You saw the words spoken lightly

that landed heavily on my heart.

Nothing escaped You not the event, not the silence, not the disappointment.

I confess that I am struggling.

I miss my mother.

I miss the feeling of being at home.

I feel unsettled where I am, even though I know You placed me here for a reason.

I believe in You, Lord, even when I fail You.

I hold onto the cross even when my hands feel weak.

I do not ask to be perfect only to be guided, steadied, and refined.

If I cannot move forward with confidence,

then help me move forward with obedience.

If motivation is gone, let discipline carry me for now.

If joy is distant, let faith remain close.

Teach me how to grow without hardening.

Teach me how to lead without bitterness.

Teach me how to love without resentment.

And when I feel alone, remind me that You are still here, still working, still shaping something I cannot yet see.

Amen.

Poem: Between The Years

I stood between the years and felt the weight,

Not of what’s next, but all that’s left behind.

The lights grew dim, the songs arrived too late,

And questions pressed on heart and mind.

I planned with care, I showed up, stayed the course,

Prepared a place where joy was meant to stay.

But empty chairs replied without a voice,

And silence had the final say.

I nodded when they spoke and kept my face,

Though something cracked I could not mend.

Not anger just the quiet, heavy truth

That effort does not guarantee an end.

My mother came, a shelter in the storm,

A gentle space where love feels known.

Then she returned, and once again I learned

How far the heart can feel from home.

I love this land, the life I chose to live,

My wife, my faith, the path I walk each day.

Yet love allows the ache I still must give,

And leaves room for wishing I could stay.

So here I stand not strong, but still upright,

Not certain, yet I will not flee.

If growth begins with truth before the light,

Then let this moment shape in me.