Summer's officially winding down and, much of the country starts the transition between long, lazy days of summer and juggling the chaos of deadlines, frantic schedules, and extracurricular activities.

For me, I will jump into my 24th year in the classroom.

24 years of slow, sluggish days of recovery from the previous school year to the mach-3 craziness of a typical school day: a frazillion questions—some of which actually have something to do with the subject—as well as a litany of excuses, accommodation requests, apathy, and a cacophony of laughter directed at me because of something stupid I inadvertently or did.
Of course, it also comes meaningful and insightful classroom discussions, fond memories, and watching a light bulb come as a connection is made between the head and the heart.

I pray for many more school years to come.

Typically on the first day of school, the most frequent prompt that comes up is: what I did last summer.

This prompt produces a variety of responses, ranging from vacations, camping trips, swimming, tubing, fishing, and the county fair.

I’ve been thinking about this question a lot lately as well as what would be my answer.

All things considered, I had an eventful summer.
I embarked on another road trip, a budding impromptu tradition that takes me along American’s backroads exploring places I have never seen before. These annual road trips have become therapeutic for me.

The weekend after I returned, I went to my 40th High School Reunion, reliving old memories and seeing classmates I honestly thought I would have never seen again.

Next, my wife and I spent our 28th Anniversary exploring the old territorial capitol of Montana, Virginia City.

However, despite all of that activity, if I had to honestly define my summer, I would describe it as a time to heal.

This last spring, I lost my mother the same week my wife lost her job. It was a world turned upside-down.

In addition to the typical annual stress of teaching during a second semester, I had to be an emotional strength and encourager for my wife as we grieved the loss of my mother. We had to juggle a household that, for a time, dealt with a 60% income drop, a loss of insurance, and an uncertain future.

Now, I will emphatically state that God came through for us during that ordeal. He absolutely did.

However, those months also took a great toll on my being. I didn’t feel like myself at home or at work. My filters were down. My emotions were raw, shriveled and depleted. I was subdued and weak. I just wanted to crawl under a rock.

But the summer brought a time of restoration of heavy solitude. It brought with wonderful experiences alone, with my wife, and with God.

The teacher in Ecclesiastes writes of seasons in life:

“A time to be born and a time to die,
A time to plant and a time to uproot, A time to kill and a time to heal,
A time to tear down and a time to build, A time to weep and a time to laugh,
A time to mourn and a time to dance, A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, A time to search and a time to give up,
A time to keep and a time to throw away, A time to tear and a time to mend,
A time to be silent and a time to speak, A time to love and a time to hate,
A time for war and a time for peace.” (Ecclesiastes 3:2–8)

Life is filled with seasons. As much as we try, they are unavoidable. Frankly, it is easy to cling to God when life is wonderful; however, true spiritual growth comes when life isn't peachy.

We always enjoy mountain top experience; however, it is also important to remember that nothing grows on a mountain top. The rich, fertile soil lies in the valley.

It often seems superficial that use suffering to test us or to teach us a lesson. More often, he quietly sits with us in difficult seasons for us to cling to.

So what is the answer to that question asked in nearly every classroom in America? I healed.

My summer was a time for restoration, a time for healing.

In a matter of days, the school year kicks off and a new season begins.

And with the new year, when the next season arrives, my grip on God—with prayer and knowledge he is with me—remains tighter than ever.