Her alarm rings. It is Tuesday morning.
She drags herself into the kitchen for a cup of “awake.”
She is tired. Last night she worried about some of her students. But she finds her way to that familiar spot of refuge with the steaming cup, Bible, and journal.
As she prays, she asks God to forgive her for the lack of enthusiasm and the failure to remember those words of Scripture beyond a brief minute. Is she just going through the motions? Why didn’t God send her to be a missionary to China—or at least let her teach a Sunday School class? She wonders, when will she actually be used by God for His Kingdom work?
The caffeinated time with God is over, and it is on.
So much to do.
On the way out the door she grabs an extra sandwich and that sweater she found for Angela. Angela is going through a rough time at home and came to school without a sweater or lunch twice last week.
When she gets to school, there is a substitute in the room next door, so she sticks her head in and helps her find what she needs to do her job today.
The bell rings.
Fifth graders fill the hallway—some loud, some sullen, some excited, some just going through the motions. She notices the attitude of each student as she greets them with a smile, even the ones who, for whatever reason, really wish they were in the more popular teacher’s class today. She realizes that thought was from the enemy and shakes it off.
Some of today’s lessons go well, and some fall short. She makes a mental note of each student’s understanding and how to improve it tomorrow. New ideas and tried-and-true techniques mingle in her mind while she notices student interactions and heads off issues before they surface.
She dries tears, fixes wardrobe malfunctions, redirects the mean-girl group before they can go on the attack, and attends ARD meetings for her students with special needs. She also finds a moment to discreetly give Angela the sweater and sandwich.
Then she remembers—Tuesday means lunch duty. Sigh.
She helps open Capri Sun boxes, locates a missing lunch ticket, and strikes up a conversation with Sam, the lonely new boy. She quietly nudges one of her kindest students to include him.
The bell rings, and the afternoon continues.
It rings again. The class day is done. Next is bus duty. She smiles and waves at impatient parents in the long line of cars, stopping to tell Jesse’s mom what a great friend he was to the new boy today.
Finally, the workday is over. Blessed peace. She checks on the substitute again and thanks her for helping a coworker on baby leave.
Time to gather her things, stop at the store, and head home. She remembers she needs to cook extra tonight so she can send a meal to her sick mother-in-law. And she needs to check the spare bedroom—family is passing through tomorrow and will need a place to stay.
Dinner is finished. Dishes are done. She grades a few papers in front of the TV, puts them in her bag for tomorrow, and falls into bed for a well-deserved night’s sleep.
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The alarm rings. It is Wednesday morning.
She drags herself into the kitchen for a cup of “awake.”
She is tired. But she finds her way to that familiar spot of refuge with the steaming cup, Bible, and journal.
As she prays, she asks God to forgive her for the lack of enthusiasm and the failure to remember His Word beyond a brief minute. She talks to God about Angela and Sam. She asks again why He didn’t send her to be a missionary—or at least let her teach in a Christian school where she could share Bible stories and quote Scripture.
She wonders, When will I actually be used by God for His Kingdom work?
And somewhere between the prayer for Angela…
and the concern for Sam…
and the quiet obedience of showing up again…
the answer has already been given.
She is.
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“You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world.”
—Matthew 5:13–14
