God, that is.
Of course I know this. Of course I believe it, in my head and in my heart. But it doesn’t always make its way into my behavior and my attitudes.
You might recall, especially since I only wrote about it a few days ago, that I wasn’t all that thrilled about teaching the fifth graders at VBS this past week. I have a house full of stuff to pack, and the house is for sale so I have to somehow keep it neat in the midst of all the boxes, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
I was sure I didn’t have the time. And I was right, I didn’t. I came home each night exhausted, and woke up feeling pretty much the same. I got very little done last week as far as packing and cleaning goes.
But God knew what He was doing when He stuck me in the situation.
First, I got to know a great–though squirrely–group of eleven-year-olds. At church this morning, I kept hearing, “Hi, Miss Mandy!” from voices I’d been unfamiliar with only a week ago. And when I walked by one of the boys, who was with a friend that had not been in our class, he said “hello” and his friend said, “Who was that?” I had to grin when I heard, as I walked on, “She’s my teacher.”
Second, I got to know my co-teacher, a woman that I’ve met and spoken with briefly a few times since we moved here last year, but that was about it. From the first time I met her, there was some indefinable quality about her that made me want to be her friend. Perhaps that sounds lame, but I don’t know any other way to put it. I’m happy to report that she’s even more delightful than I expected. And I can now most confidently call her a friend. You don’t go a whole week dealing with goofy fifth graders without forming a special kind of bond.
Third, I got to worship every night (the VBS songs just get better and better). I got to reread Bible stories that I know backwards and forwards but somehow easily forget (the obedience of Mary and Joseph; the humility of John the Baptist; the struggle of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane; the courage unto death of the apostles; the sacrificial love of the early church).
Yes, in the midst of my whining and complaining and moping, even as I struggle and sweat and pant with all my labors, God is here, guiding me into situations that seem to be burdens and turn out to be blessings.
I’m so glad He knows what He’s doing.