Countdown Mode, or, remembering to be grateful still

Two weeks. I can stand anything for two weeks. Two weeks from today, I will be home, well-bundled up against the chilly air, chatting with my sisters and brother and parents and friends, sleeping past five o'clock, wearing my barn jeans (ha), and playing the piano.

As a rule, I abhor and despise being in countdown mode, but that is where I am. After collecting essays from every class, discovering unmarked vocabulary quizzes, losing a flash drive, and realizing I don't have the time to do all the things I want to do, my attitude has been marred by weariness and indifference. After decorating a Christmas tree with a family here, hearing a few extra Christmas songs, receiving my first gift of the year (thank you, sweet housemate), and making a plan to watch It's a Wonderful Life, my desire for home and my sentimentality regarding the holidays have become achingly strong. 

I will leave for home in two days short of two weeks; this means I still have two days short of two weeks to be here, to work, to serve, to teach, to help. I have to remember that there is much for which to praise God here. I have my students who feel free to talk about things that matter in my classroom. Several of the other women on campus have become dear friends, with whom I have been able to spend quality time over the past few weeks. There's a breeze that reaches my classroom and eases the heat. Tomorrow is a non-academic day at school for a school wide swimming competition (translation: early dismissal on a Friday. further translation: greatest gift to teachers). Truly I have no license to be discontent. 

So I will be grateful for each of the twelve days I have left here before the holiday. Twelve days!