The highest compliment

A few months back, Priscilla Shirer spoke at one of our church's online services on Elijah. She talked specifically about how God led him to a brook, away from the chaos of life, to refresh him. And in that time of "quarantine", God sustained him in a very surprising way, with a raven--the most unlikely of birds. Her point in the message was that we should expect God to surprise us. And when we expect Him to, our spiritual senses are awake and are searching out those surprises. 

Ever since then, I have added one more request to my daily prayer journal. "God, surprise me today."

And almost every day, He does. 

Sometimes it's a compliment from another teacher. Other times it's a small gift from a friend. Finding something I needed to buy at a great price. Connecting with an old friend. Margin in my schedule that helped me make time for someone in need. A bag of clothes from a friend cleaning out her closet. A quick visit with my son. A gift card to Starbucks. A great conversation. Clarity of thought. An answer to a specific prayer.

Last week, I gave my kids a scavenger hunt type of assignment where they had to write, draw, or take a picture of things in a certain category. Like something that makes a beautiful noise, something that's useful, something that's their favorite color. One particular category was: Something that makes you feel safe. I noticed some kids were drawing their house or their family. Then one little boy came up to me with his computer and said, "Teacher, can I take a picture of you? You make me feel safe."

I smiled for his picture while my heart just melted. In that moment, I heard God say, "That's your surprise for today."

To be honest, I don't feel safe at school right now--not during this pandemic. The more the classes fill up, the harder it is to keep kids socially distant. Plus they keep making it in past the daily screener and somehow end up in my room with runny noses, headaches, sore throats, and coughs. If they're running a fever, they get sent home, If they're not, I'm stuck with them in my room, all day, with 14 other students, behind closed doors. They share their stories every day about going over to friends' houses, attending birthday parties without masks on, or having cousins over. And every story I read, I cringe just a little bit more. 

Then when the district adds more and more to our plate as if we aren't already stretched thin, the stress doesn't help my immune system. 

I've become the grouchy COVID police, constantly griping at my kids for getting too close to one another, constantly backing up when they get too close to me. Whether it's due to my own paranoia or not, I tell them my job is to keep them as safe as I can.

When that little boy asked to take my picture, I realized that my job is to keep kids as safe as I can, but my mission is to make kids feel as safe as I can. He truly paid me the highest compliment a student has ever given me. One that I will tuck inside my heart to pull out from time to time as discouragement rises. A reminder that God has me in school during a pandemic not just to do my job, but to fulfill a mission. 

To be a safe person, someone's safe place.