I imagine the credits start rolling as I hit the I-90 bridge
across Lake Washington. The camera pulls out and my car gets lost with all the
others as NEEDTOBREATHE’s Keep Your Eyes Open socks you right in the gut. And
then you wonder, can anything ever compare to what you’ve just been a part of?
The obvious answer is no, but then again, who would have ever expected it in
the first place?
They told me I had ten days to decide. I sat in in the
courtyard of the Student Union on the University of Illinois campus. I had just
been offered a job. I only showed up that day to have a break from student
teaching. I had signed in and was ready to leave the job fair when I found a
circle of friends at its entrance. I listened to their experiences with several
prospective employers. Then Matt came over and joined the bunch. He was a
fellow secondary math hopeful. They asked me how it had been going. I told them
I was just there to sign in and leave. There was no one at the fair I was
interested in talking to—Seattle and Portland were not represented. Matt corrected me and said he just spoke to
Seattle, and they’re very nice. He asked if I wanted to go meet them. “Nahh, no
I’m not ready.” Four tries later, he grabbed my arm and dragged me over to
their table. I hate when people do that. He introduced me and then left.
And so there I was. Sitting in a booth, explaining on the
phone to my brother and dad what just happened. We couldn’t find out much about
the Highline School District. I tried to google pictures and news stories, but
what it really came down to was that I could be done with the search and no
longer have to worry about finding a job out west. I think I called on the
ninth day. The following June I was placed at Highline High School. I can’t
believe I did that.
I came out here with a cell phone. That’s it. I had to rent
time with computers at coffee shops to try and find target stores and
directions to school. What was I thinking? I only meant it to be two years, but
then God got involved. And you know very well, He writes the good stories. And
so I let Him. The next four years He trusted me with a group of kids that would
soon change the way I love, the way I look at myself, and the way I worship. He
trusted me with relationships that would change my adventure into my home. He
introduced me to people who would mold me in a permanent way—friends who spend
the day packing up your house and fitting it into a mini-van, kids who show up
just to help you clean, and family that welcomes you into their home even though
you woke them up very early in the morning.
These good people.
If I hadn’t left,
I never would have seen this. I never would have known what He is capable of
building. He trusted me with so much that maybe now I can trust Him a little
more. And I think that’s why I have to do this—why I have to leave.
There is love here. No doubt. It’s healed me. There is truth
here. It’s freed me. There is faith here. It’s mellowed me. But I’m ready to
feel awkward, pushed, and a little scared again. I’m ready to see what He’s
going to write this time.
