It started with the mist over the river this morning.

Then, singing my heart out on the drive to school… and realizing my voice has finally, fully, returned after dealing with laryngitis for over a week.

My little people smiled at me as they came in the doors, and “my” seventh graders cheerfully returned my “Good morning!” in a relaxed manner. Somewhere in the past few weeks, the relationships I fought for have been built with these children. It happened so gradually that I wasn’t aware until now that the battle isn’t quite as fierce anymore.

The teacher leading all-school devotions asked grade four to read a verse from the Bible. I held my breath but inwardly panicked. What if they wouldn’t find the reference, or couldn’t read the words, or wouldn’t make any sound at all in their nervousness? But in a few moments, I shared a smile of amusement with my co-teacher as they all read the correct verse – in a jumbled fashion, at varying speeds. And I wanted to just hold onto that feeling, there in the church, morning sunlight streaming in the windows, and my heart swelling with pride in my students. Golden.

My efforts to make math class exciting were rewarded with smiling enthusiasm as I compared learning a new concept to the preparation for a roller-coaster ride. “Now, when you open your book and see the lesson, it will feel new. But nothing will catch you by surprise, because we have done examples. I’ve told you what the ride will be like. You’re fully prepared to conquer this.”

After noon recess, we sat on our desks for storytime, laughing uncontrollably… the teachers who walked by our door probably questioned my ability to teach. But I was creating memories with these children. Abundant living isn’t always organized or routine-abiding.

Instead of creative writing, I had the thrill of teaching Christmas program songs. I couldn’t stop smiling the entire time. Who could, when playing your keyboard, swaying with the music, and surrounded by childish voices singing their best?

I spent the last portion of the day getting carried away on my favourite subject: writing. Today’s lesson was titled “Criteria for Opinion Writing,” and every one of the students was engaged. Possibly my dramatic enthusiasm appealed to their adolescent senses of humour, but hey, I had their attention and they all were absorbing the lesson!

The little girl who had her last day at school today sweetly told me all about the farewell party her class had for her. She seemed fine with leaving, her childish innocence shielding her from understanding the reality that she is will no longer see her friends here. So I forced lightheartedness into my voice, to match hers. Though sad, something about it all seemed so rich, so golden…

After school, there were the usual conversations with co-teachers: debriefing of our days, the serious concerns sprinkled liberally with humourous anecdotes. And with renewed surety, my heart whispered, “this is where I belong.”

I reflected on all of this on my drive home. The sun that I watched rise this morning, was now setting in a breathtaking display of colour. “Sunsets are proof that every day can end beautifully.” The familiar quote flashed into my mind, and my soul echoed “Amen.” Golden.

All of these moments were part of a very ordinary day. Yet each one was golden. Do we miss the gold dust that God sprinkles into our daily routines, giving them a heavenly shimmer?

“Lord, give me eyes of faith to see the golden hue Your Light shines onto my everyday. Transform my mundane duties into beautiful moments of abundant living, as I seek to glorify You in everything I do. Amen.”