I'm being observed tomorrow. For those of you not accustomed to teacher-speak, I'll clue you in. Non-tenured teachers are watched like hawks while they are teaching at least 6 times during the year by supervisors who pick apart every thing you do. They like to point out things that you have no control over, such as, a student breezing into your room 10 minutes after the bell and giving you a high-five as if there's nothing wrong with his tardiness. (Because, if your supervisor wasn't here, there wouldn't be anything wrong with it since you sanctioned him a be-late-for-free pass as long as he handed in all of his homework). They glare at you from the back of the room, pausing to slowly write something lengthy down on their little yellow pads while you sweat and try not to swear, quizzing the kids on the main characters of "Animal Farm". Needless to say, I've been stressing about it all weekend. Every night since Friday as I've laid down to sleep, I've dreamt of my classroom and my students' faces slowly taking on my supervisors features-and laughing loudly-and cynically. Until tonight.

This evening I had the privilege of sitting around the kitchen table with two lovely ladies. We gabbed about all kinds of things from husbands to dishwashers to God, sharing stories and laughing, encouraging and edifying each other. We all seem to be in a season of waiting where the Lord seems to be trying to teach us to be patient. One of us has recently had to go back to her old job after an attempt to go into business for herself didn't quite turn out the way she expected, one of us has begun her own business and is just praying now for financial backers and practice space, and then there is me who is back in the classroom without a really clear idea as to why. We're all suspended in these spaces and, in hashing it out tonight, have realized that God is speaking to us clearly after all.
This year I've learned that nothing is successful without the Lord. That the word success, if not directly related to Him, is empty and meaningless. I've learned that if I spend all of my time writing the best lesson plans, stressing over classroom management and looking good in front of my supervisors then I have yet, again, missed the point. God has revealed to me through the words and laughter of these women that He has brought me back to the classroom to relearn some basic things. I love teenagers, I love to minister, I love writing and literature and I love music. I am completely called to do all of these things. That being the case, I am called to use those things wherever I am. Being, the classroom. But it doesn't stop there.
Deeper than that, He has taught me that when my supervisor thinks my lesson plan sucks, He still thinks I'm the greatest. That if the choice is between spending time with Him and doing extra school work, He wants me to choose Him. That if my kids walk all over me and wreck my classroom, but in their hearts, know truly and deeply that I love them, then I have done the best job I could have. I was really stressed out a few weeks ago as I was working on yet again, another lesson, when I heard God audibly say, " Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired of trying to be the best? Of trying to be perfect? Aren't you tired of having to worry about things? Give it up, Jen. Let me take care of it."
I'm slowly learning to let God take care of things. I'm slowly learning that being God's daughter means that He more than has my back-He wants me to be happy, healthy and totally in communion with Him. I want my only desire to seek more of Him. I cannot believe I'm learning how to do that in the very place that represented, what I thought to be, God's unfaithfulness. I may not have gotten down the whole "identity in Christ" thing yet, and I'm sure I'll still have butterflies tomorrow, but I'll sleep well tonight knowing that I have a Father-God who is smiling on me, who is proud of me and who loves me completely.