Auntie, school teacher, serving God wherever He calls me.🤍 "Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you? Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant, too."
Like spots of moonlight softly illuminating my dark bedroom, grace filled moments filter through the clouds in my life.
Sustaining me.
My nephew’s innocent smile as he cuddles close to me.
A breathtaking sunset.
A chance meeting (in truth, it was divinely planned by God) with the very person I needed to talk to, and was too timid to reach out to… words of encouragement and understanding at just the right moment.
A hug that lets me know I’m not alone. Jesus has hands and feet to love me through the beautiful people in my life.
Heart to heart sharing with close friends who I’m blessed to work with every day.
A handmade card from a student with the message “You’re a great teacher.”
Laughing in a pile of leaves beside my co teacher as we’re buried alive by the efforts of our entire class…
A few days ago, I stood looking out over the ocean.
I could have watched those waves crash against the rocks for hours, but eventually I had to turn and leave.
There’s something about the ocean that always draws me in.
Maybe you’ve felt it too, when you hear the crash and see the spray… and something deep inside you resonates with those waves.
Life is a lot like that. Waves of confusion, heartbreak, and injustice, crash in on you without stopping… and sometimes you feel like you’re drowning in the sorrow of it all.
At Peggy’s Cove, signs warned of the danger of going onto the slippery, black rocks. Although I understood the purpose and necessity of posting those signs, I wondered why anyone with common sense would venture so near to the edge. I was quite content to enjoy the view from where I could relax, up on a nice solid rock.
It was obvious to me that being in those waves, being dashed against the rocky shoreline, would not be a good situation. The waves would also have lost their beauty and become terrifying, had I been in them.
Now, as I reflect on that scene several days later, I’m noticing some strong parallels to real life.
As a teacher, I realize that object lessons are a great way to help students grasp new concepts. (I should put effort into using more object lessons!😉)
As a student with God as my Master Teacher, however, I find myself struggling to remember the lessons He teaaches me.
Today as I looked back at photos from my travels, I realized why that photo spoke to me so much. It’s a snapshot of an object lesson God is trying to teach me.
He wants me to stay standing on the Rock – Himself.
Those waves crashing in are going to drown me if I focus on them and not my footing.
If I wander out closer to the edge, trying to get a better view and figure out the cause of each threatening wave… they’ll pull me in and under.
But they take on a sort of wild beauty when I view them in security from the vantage point of a Solid Rock.
Each wave that crashes against the rocks breaks up without harming me at all, because I sit safely way up above them.
No wave, no matter how forceful, can threaten me if I’m anchored on God.
“Soaring on wings through the starlit skies, leaving behind all the trouble and strife…”
The plane nosed upward, and suddenly I was in the air for the first time in my life!
After several seconds, my co teacher asked me when I plan to release the armrest on my seat…
So I rather sheepishly settled in to enjoy the trip. As if clutching my seat with both hands was going to ensure a safe landing this evening!
Isn’t that totally me in life, though? I’ve boarded this flight which is my lifetime, and I’m flying with “the Narrow Way” to the sunset at the end of the journey. Jesus is the pilot, and He can be trusted in that role.
I was all excited to “take off” when I gave my heart to God – to see what He was going to do in my life.
But then, when the speed or the angle feels extreme to me, I panic and hold on to anything I can, fighting for a semblance of control.
But I realized on that flight, as in real life… you gotta let go and trust the Pilot. Only then can you relax enough to enjoy the view. Even if you don’t see the outcome of your journey yet.
That flight was on Saturday. I was looking forward to flying back home today, and experiencing that “higher view” (see my last post) again.
Instead, we stood and watched our plane taxi away without us.
• Well. •
Let’s just say, that was not my best moment. We prayed in desperation, but God chose not to answer our plea to fly home this evening. We had to surrender that.
And I didn’t know how I could handle staying on the ground when everything in my soul wanted to re-experience the peace that came with the higher view. Somehow, it had been so easy to trust God when I was in the sky, realizing His greatness.
But soon, we saw God working. Suddenly, everything was coming back together again that had fallen apart.
We got another flight – for the next morning. We found a hotel room close by. And I nearly wept for joy at the sound of the helpful clerk on the other end of the line as she said that yes, they offer a free shuttle service… and we would be picked up in a couple of minutes!
I have never before sang “Hallelu, Hallellu, Praise Ye The Lord” with as much vigor as we did in that airport elevator after I hung up the phone.
We arrived at our hotel, an intense feeling of relief melting all the earlier tension away. I nearly floated down the hallway to our room!
Finally, we were ready to talk about what we had just come through. And began noticing blessings in the whole experience. God was looking out for us in so many ways. The hotel restaurant thankfully was open late, because as soon as our tension faded, we realized how hungry we were.
We went for supper and discovered they offered gluten free buns. Suddenly the menu had so many options. Praise God!
Our water glasses arrived. With plastic straws! Our patience would have struggled to deal with soggy paper straws by then. Suddenly, the stress turned into hysterical laughter.
So we couldn’t fly home… but we got an extra night in a nice hotel. And I am thankful for gluten free buns, plastic straws, a daylight flight landing to look forward to instead of arriving at night. The gift of laughter to release our emotions – much more enjoyable than the torrential tears which I fought to hold back at the airport.
And laughing there at that table, my faith in God stronger than before, I realized I was flying.
Once I let go of what I had wanted, and stopped fighting it, I could relax and enjoy the ride again. Trusting Jesus as the pilot of my life.
Really, who needs an airplane to soar high enough to find rest in God?
Thank you God, for coming to show Yourself to me right where I am. Thank You for meeting me here on the ground. Thank You for teaching my spirit to soar.
For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: for now we know in part; but then shall I know even as I also am known. 1 Corinthians 13:12 KJV
After years of wondering, the question was answered today: I enjoy traveling by air. A lot, actually.
Not because of the thrill of takeoff, or the impressive view (and certainly not the confined space). Oh, I loved the exhilarating feel of lifting off the ground. And seeing a miniature Niagara falls far, far beneath us was incredible.
But what I love about flying is something I never realized would be part of the experience, and that is this: having a perspective from a higher vantage point.
The huge airport terminal that we were somewhat intimidated to navigate on the ground became increasingly smaller as we lifted high above it.
Niagara Falls, which have always inspired in me a sense of awe at God’s greatness, were tiny. I saw the size of the majestic falls in relation to how much bigger this Earth is… and caught a glimpse of an even greater God than I had previously comprehended. Our Creator is AWESOME!
But what stood out to me the most was the mountains. I hardly recognized them as mountains at first – those tiny pointed bumps down there? Really? I studied them in fascination for a few moments, and pondered the fact that I could see all sides of each mountain. Those big mountains… appeared so little.
And in that moment I felt God whisper to my heart, “Thatis how I see your mountains.”
Wow! Clarity! Don’t you love when the Spirit comes and turns everyday, earthly moments into holy encounters?!
I took another good long look out the window. This time I noticed that one side of each mountain was dark and shadowed, while the opposite side was brilliantly bathed in the rays of the late afternoon sun.
The vantage point from the sky stripped those mountains of any ability to appear large or intimidating. The blend of shadows and light created a beautiful scene.
“And this… is God’s perspective of my mountains.”
1 Corinthians 13:12 gained new meaning on that plane. Our earth bound viewpoint allows us to know only in part… flying higher allowed me to see more… but only when I share God’s vantage point in Heaven will I be able to comprehend His greatness.
For now, I am thankful to have my feet back on solid ground, and my heart is at peace, trusting the Mighty God Who sees every detail of my little mountains.
Keep on climbing, My child. I see light on the other side.
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.”
After a few days of only very muddled thoughts, this distinctly clear phrase was highly welcome when it flashed into my mind.
I’ve spent the last week contemplating the meaning of surrender. Although life has taught me that surrrender is the only process which leads to true peace, it still doesn’t come easily.
What if I could live with the reckless abandon of a child throwing a little pink elephant way up into the air? Laughing in delight with no fear or concern for the elephants’ well being.
No hesitation. Letting go completely. Trusting Someone bigger to catch it.
Amid these swirling thoughts, the story of Abraham and Isaac has been impressed upon my heart with new meaning. What was God actually asking Abraham to do? Sacrifice Isaac – the child whom Abraham had longed for so many years. In this son all of his dreams were coming true… through this son God was to fulfill His promise to Abraham. And he was to be sacrificed?
Yet Abraham did exactly what God asked him to do. He began climbing that mountain to the place where he built an altar – and prepared to sacrifice his Isaac. He didn’t know the end of the story, as we do now, about how God would provide.
Abraham acted in what we as observers could label a “reckless abandon.” Or, true faith and unwavering trust in an unchanging God.
Sometimes life feels like we’ve been climbing up a mountain for a long time. We just want to experience the joy at the summit. But to reach the summit, we need to build that altar. Whatever your Isaac is that you’re holding on to: dreams for the future, pain from the past, desires or doubts… lay it down.
Because when your hands open up to let go, you are in a position to recieve what God is waiting to place into them.
Throw everything away with reckless abandon, trust God to take care of it, and prepare to live life with a mountaintop, victorious kind of joy.
“He has made everything beautiful in His time.” Ecclesiastes 3:11 NKJV
For the past three weeks, I have had a blue sticky note at the side of my classroom. The note was affixed to a jar containing a monarch chrysalis, and read: “Please, do not touch. A miracle is taking place before our eyes!”
A student had brought the caterpillar to school, much to the excitement of us all. Within a few days, it had munched an incredible amount of milkweed, then formed its chrysalis.
Google told me we would need to wait 10-14 days for our butterfly, an incredibly long time to my eager little people. And as you may have noted, the sticky note held its position in my classroom for three full weeks. Around the two-week mark, my students started doubting if we were really going to get a butterfly at all. I began humming the song “In His Time,” more frequently. I felt rather foolish as I would walk by the chrysalis singing, “In His time, in His time… He makes all things beautiful, in His time…” only to see students glancing at me with an odd expression on their faces.
Friends encouraged me not to give up, however; some late season caterpillars remain in their chrysalis until spring. They sense the need to wait until warmer weather returns before they emerge. The jar was positioned by my window, probably a rather cold location at night, so this idea seemed reasonable.
Well, today I unlocked my classroom and was met by a wave of warm, dusty smelling air. Evidently, the heat was turned on over the weekend, and all of the dust from my heater blew out with the first usage of the season. I crossed over to open a window for fresh air… and saw a dark blur against the lid of that jar.
I gasped. That chrysalis which I had resigned myself to hosting in grade 4 until spring, had opened at last! Apparently the warm air blasting from the heater felt like spring breezes to that chrysalis. The butterfly was not too happy in that jar… I removed the lid, but soon saw the damage was done. The butterfly had injured its wings trying to escape the jar, because no one had been there to let it out. It also was partially stuck in its chrysalis, rendering it unable to move freely.
Bracing myself, I prepared to explain this to my students as gently as possible. Thankfully, they accepted it well, and the beauty of the butterfly did cause great excitement in spite of the fact that it wasn’t what we hoped for.
The class voted to name this monarch “Fire.”
Now, I’m pondering the rich, heartbreaking beauty of this whole experience. We wait for things in life. We envision beautiful things and hope to experience them. We peer anxiously at the chrysalis, and although we cannot see what’s inside, the allure of mystery and the thrill of hope makes it appear beautiful.
Eventually, we start to question if God really is going to bring any beauty out of this after our waiting. Or if we’ll ever be done waiting. The milkweed in the jar has grown moldy… and it seems like that butterfly should be here by now.
Then finally, finally, that chrysalis breaks open. Our dreams are now faced with truth, and we watch with anticipation as the gift unfolds. What if it isn’t what we planned? What if that butterfly is crippled?
What if, like the broken wings on grade four’s monarch, my dreams are broken?
That butterfly is still beautiful. It demonstrated complete metamorphosis, and the students will remember that far better than if only I had taught them. The anticipation and awe each student has experienced because of it is not erased just because it is crippled. The intricate markings on its wings are there for us to enjoy. Can we see the beauty, in all our disappointment?
When our plans change, when our hopes unfold with broken wings and don’t soar to the heights we anticipated… can we find the beauty hidden in those circumstances? We waited so long. We hoped and prayed for weeks, months, or years. Then, the unknown is met with truth. If reality is not what we expected or dreamed of, does that mean God has not fulfilled His promise? Where is the good which He promised to bring out of all things?
Perhaps, there is another stage of metamorphosis to go through. Butterflies have only four; human souls can be tested so often on their journey to ever-increasing beauty. God is near us in our valleys. His Presence is felt more closely when we rely on Him for our strength. When we are broken, beauty is found even there: in the love Jesus showers on us.
Your dreams may not turn out like you longed for them to. But even broken wings contain a special kind of hidden beauty.
All day, I was feeling insignificant. I love my children, and truly enjoyed teaching them as usual. But somehow, my perspective was different.
Usually I view my occupation as an important mission. Perhaps because the newness has faded, possibly because I was having a tired Monday after a busy weekend… whatever the reason, today I wrestled with doubt whether my daily grind is really accomplishing anything of great value.
As my red pen danced over thirteen pages of spelling, and my mind automatically totaled deductions and calculated grades, I was struck by the fact that I have these pairs memorized. For example, 6 incorrect words × 4 points each = 24 points deducted. 24 points off & 76% are partners. This is my fourth year of marking spelling, and I no longer need to subtract in my head… I have the number pairs memorized, because I have repeated this task so often.
In truth, I actually enjoy checking. But today, I was struck by the seeming futility of it. The repetition. And suddenly, my thoughts became a swirling mess of,
“How much red ink have I used over the years? How many more hundreds of spelling words will I mark in my lifetime? And what is my purpose in doing this?”
The thought of spelling books piled up on my desk every Monday for years to come is a little depressing.
As I said, I enjoyed my day. I just felt rather insignificant.
And somehow, I couldn’t find the inspiration to check the language books, so I decided to leave them for tomorrow.
As I locked my classroom and headed out the door I exhaled. “Another day in. Impacting children. But unnoticed.”
I realized then that my perspective needed a shift. Jesus asks us to serve Him faithfully in the little things, and for His glory alone. I am simply His servant, and I don’t deserve to be lauded for anything I do. But that stubborn human nature of mine quietly whispered a longing… for just a hint of recognition.
I determined to rise above this silly notion and regain a positive mindset before I got home. And on that drive, God opened my eyes to see His goodness again.
Golden hour sunlight streamed across the landscape, bathing the crimson forests in a breathtaking splendor.
A flock of seagulls swirled overhead, silhouetted against the sky. Since I wasn’t trying to enjoy a picnic in solitude on the beach, I realized with surprise that they really are uniquely beautiful birds.
Just like that, my perspective shifted. It seemed as though God had sent that entire flock – there were literally hundreds – of seagulls, to teach me a lesson. I saw these birds which I’ve long been prejudiced against in the sunset’s light… and they became beautiful.
And my heart was lifted as I sensed the Spirit breathing His recognition of my day over me. God sees the little tasks I do. The things that seem so insignificant, so futile? God sees me do every one of those things.
If God sees them, they aren’t insignificant – not at all! They are part of the work He has called me to in His kingdom. Not every moment of teaching is a rewarding, fulfilling, heart warming experience. I need to labour in the little things, even though I live for the big moments of success.
Maybe the unnoticed, never ending cycle of checking books is like those pesky seagulls. Illuminated by the Sonlight, they’ll become beautiful.
All I need to do to see that is work for God’s favour alone. He Who called me to the task recognizes the little things I do, and rewards me with His smile of approval in every sunset.
Am I unworthy of recognition? Yes.
But is my work unnoticed? No. Not at all.
In God’s sight, every aspect of my work is significant enough to be worthy of His notice. And so, I will put my heart into each task I’m required to do tomorrow with new purpose, doing it “as unto the Lord.”
Not only when my heart is overflowing, but also when the joy is deepened with a tug,
With an ache hidden somewhere inside my heart.
Life is rich, not only when the laughter bubbles out with genuity from deep within my soul, but also when I smile, softly, through tears which no one sees.
Life is rich. Not only when things are clearly working out for good, but also when I choose to believe in hope.
Even when doubt questions why I should.
My life is rich when I, though my heart holds sorrow, choose to celebrate and share in someone else’s joy.
Life is also rich when in my own season of joy, I feel another’s pain.
Or in my loss, I am glad to see another’s gain.
Life in God’s will is incredibly rich.
When dreams are coming true. When tears are flowing. Even when my heart is filling with more emotions than I ever thought one person could have.
Life is rich when in the midst of my yearning for something, even when I don’t know what, I realize I am abundantly blessed. And I find myself feeling strangely filled, even though the ache is not gone.
Life becomes sweetly rich when I can smile through the tears and whisper, “I don’t understand, God, but I see and believe that You are good.”
I know richness, because this heart that now pours out a song of praise at His feet…
has known the silence of having no song at all.
My friend, life becomes rich when we learn to see God in all things,
In all circumstances.
Even when the confusion may make it appear as though He is not there, life is rich.
For even when you feel empty, there is richness to be found in knowing that Jesus will never leave you.
Oh, life has its hills and valleys. And I would love to make the journey easier for every struggling person I meet on the way. But when a life is lived in Christ, it becomes rich.
Beautifully rich.
The yearnings, the tears, that ache that never truly disappears – they’re all a part of it. They play an important role in this symphony called life.
Because the good times, the mountaintops, the high notes – they are appreciated much more with the low notes echoing to enhance the music.
Depth adds richness to music, and so do trials to life.
Gratitude is richer when the blessing is recieved after having experienced its absence.
No matter how dark it may seem, or how strong the ache is tonight… remember,
Jesus IS.
Jesus is beside you, loving you, never giving up on you.
And when Jesus is in you, and your life is being lived in Him, you will find this richness regardless of what you are facing.
Life with Jesus will cause you to experience the contrasting emotions of joy and sorrow, fulfillment and aching, but always an incredible peace.
For nothing could be richer than knowing that Jesus has chosen to fill your emptiness with His incredible riches: and even when life is a battleground, you will find your joy in knowing Who fights it for you.
Life can be rich. Beautifully, abundantly, unimaginably rich.
Join me as I walk this journey, singing the music Jesus places in my heart.
Notes from My Heartsong 