Stay the Course
On June 15, 2016, I walked out of Potomac Falls High School
as a teacher for the last time. That
building had been my home away from home for the last eight years. In reality, between September and June, I
probably spent more waking hours there than in my own home. I learned how to be a teacher there. I learned how to teach everything from
solving equations in Algebra 1, Part 1, to limits in Precalculus. I learned how to care for students and how to
listen to them about matters from boyfriend/girlfriend drama, to choosing a college,
to truly horrendous situations going on at home. I learned how to navigate the alphabet soup
that is the public education system (IEPs, 504s, BIPs, and everything in
between). Thankfully, I had some amazing
co-workers to guide me, support me, encourage me, and listen to me vent when I
was having a bad day. In those eight
years, I had three different head principals, eight different assistant
principals, and a whole lot of co-workers.
It was definitely bittersweet leaving, but I think the
restlessness and, at times, the frustration I felt over the past few years were
all for a purpose. Maybe God, in His
infinite wisdom, knew that in my stubbornness I would have to feel so
uncomfortable where I was so that I would say yes when He called me to do something
else. I know that this new job with FCA
is something the Lord put in my path at the perfect time, but I have to admit
on some days it scares me. Teaching was
comfortable and familiar and safe. There
were extremely hard days, yes, but for the most part, I could handle that job
while leaning on my own understanding.
Women’s ministry? Not so
much. My introverted self is going to
need to tap into the power of the Holy Spirit on a daily basis to do this job
with excellence. But still, when God
calls you to get out of the boat, what other choice do you have? Besides, I don't want to just live a safe life. I want the full life that Jesus promises, storms and all. I just have to remember to keep my eyes fixed
on Jesus instead of the waves ahead. Thankfully, my Anchor holds within the veil.
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