Four weeks between coming here is a long time, much longer than I’d like.
But it’s a long time living, too, and when I sat down here on the kitchen stool, opened to this familiar online glow, I wasn’t quite sure what to tell you.
The 34 days of 2016 have brought with them 34 and more surprises, questions, lessons, and doubts, and I’ve been sinking deeper into the unpredictable, yet unquestionable certainty of His grace with every passing day.
The days feel like seconds, or decades, and Friday afternoon often finds me stumbling zombie-like through the twilight hours, until a second wind hits, or bedtime rolls around.
Two weeks ago, falling fast from the emotional and mental rollercoaster of another day at work, another day caring for, educating, challenging and being challenged by my little loves, I pulled stacks of papers to be graded from my desk, sliding them into my bookbag.
The top page slipped off the pile, falling in the casual, wafting way a single sheet of paper does. I bent to pick it up, and the name in the top corner caught my eye.
Bee.
No, I’ve no students named Bee. But one of my girls, whose needs, discipline, and very heart I have agonized and prayed over- I call her Bee.
I’ve no idea why, but it’s been months now. That’s just what I call her.
We’ve struggled, her and I. A child, growing slowly, almost imperceptibly and yet undeniably into a young woman, with all the ups and down, insecurities and thrills that adolescence provides.
Weeks ago, I sat across from her in the chapel, the rolling noise of dismissal rising all around us, and looked her in the eye.
You’re valuable.
You’re important.
You’re loved.
You don’t need to change so that people like you.
How you were made was on purpose- and it’s wonderful.
She sat, stoic, listening to me. I smiled, blinking the shine of tears from my own eyes, and patted her arm before I stepped away.
Slowly, the truth settled into her heart- and just as much into my own- and a peace grew in the classroom, at least between her and I.
But I didn’t know, I wasn’t sure, until I saw that paper, there on the floor.
I stood there in the glow of the Christmas lights, hot tears in my eyes.
She knew. Through the battles and the consequences, the stony face and the pep talks, she knew I loved her.
And maybe, just maybe, she liked me, too.
My job, this year, is my joy, my heartache, my battlefield and my harvest. The days are long, and yet a blink of an eye, and the weeks are barely a breath. But a moment like this- a nickname on a paper, a wordless, unintentional encouragement, is a kiss of grace, a downpour of grace, as I step forward, plod forward, run forward, into the days the Lord has before me.
I don’t know where I’ll be next year, don’t know the hearts God will place in my care then, but right now, I know exactly who He’s given me, and even that responsibility is such a grace.
Such a great grace.
~Natalia