God Keeps His Promises

I loved teaching school.  The highlight of my days had always been teaching kids to read, but toward the end of my career I received training that allowed me to do a better and more expedient job. I had grown into my calling and I knew I was, at long last, making a real difference in the lives of children. But then budget cuts took the individualized program that had allowed me to be more effective than ever before at helping struggling readers, and while I wasn't fired, I was demoted to the status of test giver.  I dislike achievement tests, and to spend my days administering stressful tests rather than providing real help to kids broke my heart.  My mother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and I knew the Lord was leading me to a different calling.  

I struggled with this decision.  It took two years for me to accept that teaching was no longer the job God had for me.  During that time He gave me several promises that didn't seem likely to be fulfilled.  I saw a flower garden in my mind's eye and a drawing on a desk calendar by Mary Engelbreit resonated with me. The picture depicted a little lady wielding a garden spade and wearing a hat. I've always loved flowers but never had a green thumb and besides, I was sure I would never wear that hat.  Little did I know that in just a few years, an eye condition would require me to take precautions against bright sunlight, including a wide-brimmed hat!

God used that desk calendar once again when a photo of a young woman with blonde, curly hair holding a little yellow-haired baby touched my heart.  "There will be grandchildren," the Lord promised.  Being a grandmother was not yet on my radar  because my curly-headed daughter was still in college at the time and not yet married.  But still, grandchildren.  The thought brought a smile.  To hold and love a baby again!  

I finally took early retirement, and in a leave-taking that felt anticlimactic after 25 years of service, I walked out of my classroom for the last time. I entered immediately into fulltime caregiving for my Alzheimer's mom.  Including the time I provided part-time care for her before my retirement, I was her primary caregiver for nearly 16 years.  She died in 2020.  

With the advent of phone photos and my penchant for capturing moments of joy, I have abundant records of what happened next.  This morning as I walked in my flower garden, wearing my hat and snapping photos, I mused on the fact that a good portion of the zinnias in our overgrown garden have come up volunteer from just a couple of rows planted the first year after my retirement.  Without tending or planning, hundreds of the bright flowers have grown up across the grassy expanse of our neglected garden this summer.  I thought of Isaiah 49:21:  Then you will say in your heart, 'Who bore me these? I was bereaved and barren; I was exiled and rejected. Who brought these up? And a little further on in Isaiah 49:23: Then you will know that I am the Lord; those who hope in me will not be disappointed.  

I don't want to imply that my life now consists of a happy ever after in which I loll about in my flower garden with nary a care.  Happy ever after joy waits for us in Heaven, and although the Lord allows us  foretastes of that future joy, we can't have it to keep just yet. Even now our family is in the midst of navigating a number of stresses, but we are doing it together and with faith in the Lord's promises and provision.  

But I trust in your unfailing love;

    my heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing the Lord’s praise,

    for he has been good to me.

Psalm 13:5-6