In my dating life, there was irreverently one question that kept circulating: “Do you want kids someday?”
Much surprise of my counters, the answer was no, not really. I wanted to travel the world, bringing up the excuse that once I have a kid, my world would stop turning and it would be all about the child rather than what goals I had for myself.
If I had a kid, I wouldn’t be able to do what I wanted to do anymore, afford what I wanted to afford, or live the way I wanted to live. And, if I were completely honest with myself, I didn’t know if I could bare the heartache if I went to in for my doctor’s visit one day and there was no heartbeat on the other end of the ultra sound. It would crush me.
Overtime, my heart would soften when I would see a toddler laughing with their parents or smile at the babies that would blankly stare at me while waiting in line for coffee. As friends and family started families of their own, sharing their birthing stories, and, equally, their losses, my heart posture started to change.
Slowly, thoughts would come to my mind that a kid or two wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I would stare at myself in the mirror, pop my belly out, and think of what I would look like with a little me or a little Alan growing in my belly.
Silently, I started praying over what having a kid would look like, asking for God to prepare my heart for this next season of life, whenever He was ready for us to embark on that journey.
Patiently, I walked the silent walk unsure what this meant—I wasn’t ready for a kid! We aren’t even in a home yet, we just paid off our debts, and we were looking forward to traveling a whole lot more. So why was it that God was starting to shift my heart posture on kids?
When I lost my job, I started adding to the list of my silent prayers throughout the day, wishing and waiting for not only a child but a job that would allow an easy transition if I were to become pregnant someday. I prayed for a healthy body, and with that, a job that does not make me entirely drained at the end of each day allowing me to enjoy evenings with my family again. I placed my hands on my belly, praying for nourishment to prepare my body for what’s to come, and asked when the time was right, He would make it known to me.
Then, I asked God to use me to shine a light on others whatever that looked like in His eyes and I trusted Him to guide me with every step.
His footsteps led me to a classroom.
Not a big corporation.
Not a reception desk.
Not another research spreadsheet or to the Christian Influencer space on social media.
Not pregnant, much to my disappointment.
His steps led me to the elementary education system in my own community.
If this wasn’t be most 180-back flip-heel-kick kind of career shift I’ve ever made in my life I don’t know what was…me? In a classroom? I knew I was raised by an influential teacher, but I never saw myself stepping into the classrooms of the public education system. I was meant to be in front of a stage someday, sharing my testimony or presenting to major stakeholders about the percentages of the year. I was meant for groundbreaking findings or innovative ideas to implement into the newest marketing trends and campaigning.
Yet, when I asked God to use me, He sent me to elementary.
I asked Him to shine light on those who needed His love and He sent me to 4th grade.
I asked Him to use my voice to make an impact on others, and He gave me 6 classrooms.
I wanted to show God’s love and He sent me a single student who was bound and determined to not finish an assignment.
I prayed for children and He sent me 800 of them.
And the weight of that realization alone is enough for me to break down in tears.
No, I never saw myself in the classroom.
I never imagined a world where I would have to say “sit down and turn around” a million times in a day or go from social studies to math and math to science and science to english or heaven forbid have that look when a kid is acting up knowingly and turns to see if I caught them in the act.
I never thought I would answer a student’s question with their hand raised, sheepishly whispering, “I don’t understand the assignment” by slowly, silently, and patiently walking over to better explain in a way they can comprehend.
But God saw me and placed me where I needed to be. He heard my prayers and responded in the way that would work with His story, not my own. I prayed for kids and He sent me a school full of gifted, creative, Einstein worthy little brains full of so much imagination they don’t know where to store it all.
I’m able to serve with the heart posture of God’s love—slowly, patiently, and as quiet as a whisper. While the public education system does not allow one to openly discuss religion, I am able to get to school early, walk though the halls, settle into the morning with open palms and pray over each student I’ve interacted with by name. I’m able to pray over the strength of the teachers, the minds of the students, and the silent battles each one may face in the days to come.
And, in His timing, I have full faith that my prayers to have kids of my own someday will come to fruition.
But until that time comes, I am humbly loving on my 800 in a way only I know how—through the lens of God.
Simply Blooming Grace 