The Lord Blessed Me That Year

by Sheri Bahn

It was another Monday.  Students trailed through the classroom door with half-open eyes, still tired from their weekend activities.  I find myself asking again: “Don’t these kids ever sleep over the weekend?” Isn’t the weekend a time for rest and recovery?  It sure is for me!  But the noises of Monday were always quieter because of that.  I guess I should be thankful for that.  

The Lord had blessed me with twenty third-graders that year.  It was 1995, only my second year of teaching (but it still is to date the largest class that I have ever taught).  I certainly had been blessed with quite a group.  They filled my thoughts and took every ounce of patience and love that I could muster. 

This group of ten boys and ten girls were such a smart group of kids yet were so diverse in their backgrounds and faith.  There was so much that these children had gone through in their young lives.  There was a girl from a broken family—father court ordered to stay away because of abuse.  Two girls who had been home-schooled until now, one who was dealing with a gravely ill mother who could no longer take care of her children.  (Her mother’s illness was making her feel as if she also was destined for illness her whole life).  There was another girl dealing with self-confidence issues because she was a bit over-weight.  Another dealing with neglect, another dealing with her mother’s live-in boyfriend…  The list went on.

The boys also carried with them their issues:  one dealing with a father in prison, one just barely able to read and write, one dealing with divorce, and, of course, the list goes on. 

Yes, the Lord blessed me that year. 

But with all of their baggage it truly was a great group of kids.  They were soft hearted, eager to learn, respectful, and faithful to each other.    

The school year was off to a great start.  This particular Monday was off to a great start too but quickly changed when I heard a student’s chair crash to the floor and I was reminded of Matthew.  Oh Matthew.  Lord I’m just not ready for him today!  Why Lord?  I glared at Matthew as he lay sprawled on the floor with a sheepish grin upon his face.  “Matthew, how many times have I asked you not to teeter on your chair?”  My days felt like trials because of Matthew.  I guess you could call him my “problem-student” because he certainly was a problem for me!  My nice-neat lesson plans were consistently interrupted by his talking, laughing, or just plain rudeness to me.   

As a young teacher it amazed me how just one student could make you want to stay in your warm cozy bed and never come to school again!   Oh, Matthew.  Why did God bless me with you in this class?  I don’t have time for your talking and your mean behavior—Billy needs help with his spelling.  Tami just ran to the bathroom throwing-up for the second time this week.  Damian hasn’t handed in his math paper for third time in the last week…. I, I just don’t have time for you!  Why did you ever leave the public school?!   

I quickly restored order to the giggling students and resumed my religion lesson.  I read about two sentences of the story of Noah when I was interrupted yet again by Matthew.  “This is just a story—this didn’t really happen.  Why are we reading this?”  I should have known that he wouldn’t have bothered to raise his hand.  He never did.  I prayed for patience and responded to his question.  I quickly realized that Matthew had never heard the entire account of Noah.  It wasn’t long before I realized that Matthew wasn’t too familiar with even the Christmas story.  That day I shut my teacher’s guide to my religion book and spoke from my heart.  God, give me the words I prayed.   

Our religion lessons began to follow that pattern each day.  I would begin with a nice neat lesson plan and end two hours later with our books unwritten in!  Matthew just had too many questions that he wanted answers for then and there.   

But something amazing was beginning to happen in our classroom.  The student’s who had heard these familiar Bible stories before began to see them through Matthew’s eyes.  They began to see his excitement upon hearing for the first time that God loved him and died for him.  And I, too, felt the wonder of the Holy Spirit in that room as I watched what HE did to Matthew’s heart.   

Matthew was a changed person by the end of our school year together.  Oh sure, he still teetered on his chair and interrupted class with his talking, but now he had the peace that comes only from our Father in heaven.  It showed in the way he interacted with his classmates and it even showed in his schoolwork.   Matthew had heard those Bible accounts during our time together and the Holy Spirit had worked in his heart.  Matthew was a Christian.  

Matthew wasn’t the only one moved by the Spirit that school year.  The students and I also saw what God did for Matthew and our own faith was strengthened.  The class became stronger and united.  And in spite of that begin the most troubled group of kids I’ve been blessed to work with, they did the most amazing things.  They performed at the Mall of America—a full musical program on their own.  They wrote testimonies of their faith and sent them a broad, they did class projects and shared them with younger classes, and they did service projects for kids in need.  I have yet to have a class that can match them. 

Yes, the Lord blessed me that year.   

Well, as all classes do, they went on to the next grade.  Life continued as usual.  A new class, a new school year.  But being a Lutheran school teacher was taking its toll on me.  I was feeling stressed, over-worked, and under-paid.   By the end of the next school year I was seriously questioning my decision to go into church work.  I was thinking that the grass was greener over in the public schools—more prep time, less responsibility with extra jobs, and more pay.    

Summer came.  Time to regroup.  Time to look for another job.   

Sometime during that summer, I can’t remember when, I received a phone call that changed my life.  Matthew had died, I was told, and would I please gather my students together and sing for his funeral which would be in two days. 

            Matthew had died.  My first thoughts were not how or where or when—my first thought was “Wow!”  I sank to my kitchen chair and just said to the Lord “Wow—You did it, Lord.  You got the message of salvation to that problem student of mine just in time.—You did it Lord…and you used me.  That is what it’s all about!” 

            What a humbling experience that was.  God knew Matthew ‘s time would be coming soon.  You see, he had always suffered from intensive migraine headaches that the doctors couldn’t understand.  I remember on several occasions sending him home from school because his head pain was so severe he couldn’t stand to open his eyes.   Matthew had died of a brain anurism.  Only the Lord knew.  The Lord wanted Matthew with him…and he used a young inexperienced teacher like me to do it.   

            My students did sing for Matthew’s funeral and they sang from their hearts.  They knew with full confidence that Matthew was in heaven with his Lord and Savior or “partying in heaven” (as Matthew liked to say).  It was a day of celebration for us. 

            That day I went home and threw away every newspaper that I had been looking at and every public school application that I had been filling out.  The Lord had woken me up that day and sharply reminded me why I was a Lutheran School teacher.  That’s what it’s all about… 

            Yes, the Lord blessed me that year.           Thank You, Lord.