Happy Friday! This lovely morning I’m joining Lisa-Jo and the Five Minute Friday bunch. Today, everyone’s writing on the topic of true. Will you join me and read, write, or both for five (ish) minutes? Here’s how it works:
- Write for 5 minutes – no editing, no over-thinking, no backtracking.
- Invite others to join in.
- And then: go visit the person who linked up before you and drop them a note!
Turns out all I ever got from those minors (besides extra history and political science knowledge) was raised eyebrows and “why didn’t you just double major?” But that’s another story.
I got married and moved to Chicago a few weeks after graduation. Teaching jobs were slim pickins, but I got an offer from a school on the south side. In the hood. There’s really no getting around it; by any definition, it was the hood.
Terrified as I was to begin my teaching career in one of the roughest high schools in the Chicago public school system, I had a strong sense of God calling me there.
That and I didn’t get any other offers. And I figured if the girl who interviewed me (who was both smaller and whiter than me) could teach there, I probably could too.
It was always hard to describe my job to people. There didn’t seem to be the right words or enough words. Most days, I was too exhausted to use any words.
The crazy circumstances, combined with my own perfectionism and emotional sensitivity, made for one of the hardest years of my life.
It felt like I was working in a war zone.
Circumstances didn’t change much over the course of that first year, but thankfully, my perspective did.
I started drawing clearer lines between work and home life. I became aware that I had been finding too much of my identity in being a teacher. I realized I had believed that God was completely absent from my circumstances.
And then…I began to enjoy those precious kids more. As I stopped worrying about perfectly performing, I connected with them better. Over the course of that year and the next, they became very dear to my heart.
Yesterday, I read an article about my old school and the memories came flooding back.
But while I’m now in a different season of life, the lessons I learned nearly ten years ago on the south side of Chicago are strangely relevant to my roles as wife, mother, and keeper of my home:
Boundaries are good and healthy. I love what I get to do every day as a wife, mom, and homemaker, but those roles don’t completely define me. God is intimately acquainted with me and my circumstances; He is my ever-present help in time of need.
Which feels like pretty much all the time lately.
Confession: This was totally not written in five minutes. My need to reflect and process kind of took over. Thanks for sticking around! 🙂