Two weeks after graduation from university, I married my best friend.
I was 22 years old, young and full of optimism. I wanted to build clientele of piano students, but I knew that would take time. So I decided I would sign up to substitute teach in five different school districts in the St. Louis area. I knew it would be a challenge in many ways–keeping order and discipline of the children/teens, thinking on my feet when walking into unknown classrooms with random lesson plans left behind, even just finding all the schools on the map and getting there on time. I was called for many subbing jobs around 6am, expected to be at school by 7:30 or 8.
Like my mother, I was gifted with clear skin, young-looking face, and slender body type, so I looked like I was still in high school. This would sometimes trip me up, since I did not carry a lot of authority by looks. However, I dove into my new part-time job with enthusiasm.
The more days I was called to substitute teach, the more I fell under both the appeal (high energy, adrenaline-producing interaction with kids whom I loved getting to know) and the stress (discipline, a school where the kids did not even respect the principal).
Some days were particularly bad. No one wanted to listen. I did not yet understand the climate of the one school (the one where the kids did not even respect the principal). I was frustrated, sad, and felt like I was failing. One day culminated in one student drawing an unflattering caricature of me, complete with an arrow in my back.
I held it all in and then cried on the way home.
But I kept thinking, But my husband loves me. It does not matter that these kids hate me. It does not matter that I failed today. I know who is important, and that is my best friend. The rest of those mean kids can just leave me alone, because my husband loves me dearly. I will run into his arms, and he will hug me, and we will have a nice supper and evening together.
This is how we are with God. Even if every last human being rejects us and we fail and we are despondent, we always have a place in God’s heart. We can always run home, broken and bruised, to God, where we are safe and loved.
Christa Upton Black Hills Picture Books Edgemont, SD 57735
