Gillham Girls.

To my baby sister, on the day before her wedding:

I don't remember the day you were born. I do know I was 2 years, 2 months, and 9 days old. I have been told I was very sick, but was quite curious of this thing people called my "sister." So, probably despite Mom's better judgement, I met you in the hospital room. Shortly thereafter, Mom says I asked for you to return to her womb because you really threw a kink in life as I had known it. Don't worry--clearly Mom told me no. She also said no when I asked if we could leave you with Grandma when we took our first Norman shopping trip after you came along. She told me you were ours. We had to keep you and take you with us. This sister thing was hard for a 2 year old. 

Something changed drastically along the way. At age 2 (I was 4), you were quite the biter with a mouthful of chompers. You would dig into my arms and leave bruises that would make a grown person wince. Mom tried to break you of this terrible habit in a variety of ways. You're Mack--stubborn as all get out. You didn't give it up easy. The last time you bit me, she didn't spank you. She didn't put you in time out. Nope. Just like any amazing mom would do, she pulled your arm over to MY mouth and told me to bite you back. 

I couldn't. 

You'd left marks and bruises on me for months on end. I'd never retaliated. Mom was asking me to this time to show you how bad it hurt. I wouldn't. I couldn't imagine causing you pain. (Mom did it for me--thankfully. It worked--you never bit me again!)

That was the theme of our growing up. You'd pick a fight with me, for instance--the one time you grabbed my ponytail for no apparent reason while I was minding my own business and cleaning out the dishwasher. I quickly gained the upper hand, but wouldn't hurt you back. I hustled out to the salon to inform mom that you started it and I chose not to finish it. 

Do you know how many times I took spankings because I fought Mom and Dad to NOT give you well-deserved ones?! That'd be about HALF of all the ones I ever received. I'll also point out you never took ONE for me. That was okay. It was my calling as the older sister--unconditionally love and protect baby sister at all costs, even if she's wrong, no matter who I'm up against. 

I think I've done a fantastic job, minus the one time I made YOU ride on the back of the elephant in Africa. You were braver than me. I knew Mary the Elephant wouldn't hurt you--you're an animal whisperer. 

Tomorrow, (now I'm crying) I will pass my job on to the only guy I'd willingly give it to. I liked Zane from the very beginning, before you knew he existed and all throughout the lie of, "we're just friends," you fed everyone. When he declared his undying love for you at what seemed a poor time, I was thrilled. He valiantly pursued your heart and I quickly knew you would be his wife. 

Just as I would like to think I've done for you the last 23 years, he makes you more Mack. And Mack is the best thing you could be. He makes you laugh the same way I have--even when I would make fun of it. (Scream, laugh, snort, AND repeat). He gives you a better run for your money in your stubborn state than I EVER did. (He'll definitely need to keep that up). He forgives you immediately. He cheers you up. He calms your fears. He protects you. He prays for you. He points you to Jesus. And he will become your husband tomorrow evening. 

I'll probably bawl my eyes out as I stand beside you. They won't be sad tears. They'll be happy tears. I'll be reminiscing on every moment up to this point and thanking the Lord I've had a front row seat and a role to play in preparing you for the moment as your MOH, your sister, your roommate, and your best friend. I'll be praying that Zane realizes the weight of such a calling to protect and love you. I know he'll do the best job. 

No matter the change in our last names, we'll always be "The Gillham Girls!"

I love you, Mackenzie Leigh Deviney. 

Oh. I almost forgot something. You are SUCH a COUGAR! ;)

Foster Care.

For numerous reasons, I have grown up afraid of it, afraid of them. They were in it. 

They were kids at school, siblings in church, and the people who lived down the street from my best friend in elementary. They were always around, but sadly, I never found myself entering their world. It was unknown. And unknown is scary. Since I am one to cry when fish or turtles die, I am NOT one for unexpected goodbyes. They could just leave; they could disappear with absolutely no explanation.

There has been a day or two during work when I can hear my dad’s voice repeating what he said to me when I told him and mom I planned to major in early childhood education...

“Madison, you can’t take them all home with you.” 

A small part of my heart said, “Why not?” 

The other part of my heart said, “Dad, do not worry. I’m too scared to enter into THAT world. I always have been.”

Nearly two years in the classroom, I can say I have only experienced one moment where my heart broke into a million pieces over one of them. The fear of the unknown and the goodbye kept me from investing in, caring for, and loving on them before. Until an unexpected goodbye happened…a goodbye I did not even know about until it had already taken place. I had told them I would see them tomorrow, but I would not. I did not know my goodbye would be forever. Tears flowed for weeks on end. I cried for months at the mention of their name. I cried myself to sleep for a week straight because I could not figure out what I could do for them. Then, the Lord told me to be still. I finally made myself still and He gently whispered, “You introduced My kind of love. You did your part. Continue on.” What I feared the most was over. Though it deeply hurt, it was the first time I allowed myself to not ignore their situation as a whole, but enter right into their mess and distress.

“We can’t let the fear of loving a child that might leave us deter us; we must let the fear of a child never knowing our love drive us.” ~Jason Johnson

Adoption is not always the answer for them. No, it is usually always more difficult of a process than that. If it was a simple process, I can assure you my husband and I would already have a house full. Unfortunately, foster care is much more complicated. After several months or years, sometimes one party says reunify; another says terminate rights. What the system sees as a success can quickly become a failure that begins the entire process all over. These poor children are stuck in a limbo for a large portion of their lives. They move from home to home. They did not ask for it. They find themselves in the system because of others' poor choices. Situations are nasty. Stories are heartbreaking.

Children in the system, though, should not be what I had made them out to be. A little girl who calls me “My Nadi” is opening my eyes to all things foster care and has been for roughly four months now (I am by no means close to an expert). Ryan and I are not her foster parents. We are just two people that bounce in and out of her foster parents’ home because they happen to be my sweet family that live 8.2 miles up the road. If there is one thing I have learned by knowing this precious princess and her brother, it is that a person does not have to become a foster parent to be involved in foster care. You just have to care; you wholeheartedly care for the children in the system. (If you feel at all interested or led to foster care, though, please check into Oklahoma Fosters or the child protective services in your state).

Why enter into their mess and distress? Why not run for the hills out of fear? Why not remain indifferent? The main reason—Someone entered directly into our distress 2,000 years ago to offer hope. Except our messy situation was our own fault. We had been living in an open rebellion against God for thousands of years. Jesus came as the Redeemer. Jesus rescued us. The cost? Giving up His life on the cross as the ultimate sacrifice for all of humanity’s sin. Jesus came to heal what was broken—the relationship between man and Almighty God. He invests in, cares for, loves on, and enters into the world of all those who repent.

Foster care brings hope.

Foster care exists to mend relationships. 

Foster care helps rescue children from danger. 

Foster care begins the healing of what is broken. 

Foster care reflects Christ's love.
Foster care is a sacrifice. 

The sacrifice can be great or small.

The sacrifice can be giving up your comfortable life to foster.
The sacrifice can be saying goodbye unexpectedly.

The sacrifice can be offering babysitting or grocery shopping to foster parents. 

The sacrifice can be granting extra patience to the foster child in your classroom.

The sacrifice can be laying down all pride to ride a motorized cow around the entire mall with a 3 year old. 

Whatever the sacrifice, it is indeed worth it. Jesus thought we were worth entering into the world for. I know He thinks foster children are worth entering into their world, also. 

He showed me by introducing a princess named “Z.”

"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after widows and orphans in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." James 1:27. (emphasis added)

Relentless Pursuit.

Knock, knock, knock.

I looked around the room at all of the invited guests in my apartment playing a board game that evening.

“Who could that possibly be? It must be a neighbor,” I said as I got up to answer my door.

Opened door.

Shock. Anger. Frustration. Confusion.

Why does he keep doing this? Doesn’t he get it?

“What part of GET out and STAY out of my life do you not understand?” I yelled quite forcefully and slammed the door shut. I fought back hot tears and sat back down in the floor. All eyes were set on me.

“WHOSE TURN IS IT?!”

Two weeks later I was on his porch, holding an unwanted Christmas present to return. It was unwanted because of the sender. I wanted to keep my absolutely adorable houndstooth pair of rain boots. But I could not. He HAD to learn. Surely he would become tired of my persistent rejections.

Door opened. No words. Just shoved rain boots in his arms and left.

Letters, donuts, Sonic, and flowers that greeted me at the door for weeks on end would be tossed immediately in the trash can. (Except the donuts and Sonic. This college girl had to eat).

My dad called and asked, “Why are you being so hard on him, Madison?”

I thought for several minutes: Why am I doing this to him? His pursuit is unlike anything I had ever seen. 

“Dad, he’s ruining my plans, my future, my life as I know and love it.”

“I like him. He brings you donuts. You need to eat a little more. You’re looking rough.” 
(Gee, thanks, Dad!)

“If I say yes to something just one time, Dad, I’ll never be able to tell him no again.”

Roughly ten months after that conversation, I found myself staring at the most beautiful ring from the most amazing guy, who was wrapping up the relentless pursuit by asking me to change all my plans, my future, and my life for him. Instead of saying no for the 5,743^rd time, I smiled with tears running down my face and screamed, “YES!”

Now that you know that happened you might think a lot less of me. And you should think a whole lot more of Ryan. We have been married for nearly 3 years now and I still apologize at least once a week for my cruelty towards him during that time all because I was not yielding to the pursuit. Ryan could have given up and stopped at any point, but he chose not to.

Ryan's pursuit of me then (and now) reflects the Lord's pursuit of my heart and soul for my whole life. The Lord graciously, faithfully, and lovingly pursues me day in and day out, regardless of me.

I grew up in church with godly parents at home teaching me about Jesus. I remember exactly where I was when I realized I was a sinner, repented, and trusted in Christ for my salvation. God’s pursuit up to that point was glorious. All the blessings He gave me through my family, Sunday school teachers, and the drama he used on a specific Sunday evening to put it all together shows His sovereignty. God’s first pursuit stirred my heart to see the need of a Savior. 

But the gospel did not stop there in my life. It does not just stop at the time of repentance. The Holy Spirit came in that moment to dwell in a 6 year old’s soul for the rest of eternity. And the journey began.

Elementary. Junior high. High School. College. Work. Friends. Family. Change. Growth. Life. It happens. Life happens.

Ugly. Dark. Worldly. Temptations. Rebellion. Hypocrisy. Pride. Sin. It creeps in. 

But God.

Just like He orchestrated the moments perfectly for me to become apart of the Redeemed, He continues throughout the journey. He watches. He listens. He sees. He knows. He reaches in. He woos. He pursues. He loves. He does not stop. He does not give up. He never lets go. He never tires.

So often I get in the way. Just like I did with Ryan. 

No, no. That is not my plan. That is not what I had pictured. That is not what I had in mind. That is not the way it should go. 

Yet, God continues to pursue my heart. Sometimes He whispers. Sometimes He shouts. Sometimes He uses His Word. Sometimes He uses my shortcomings. Sometimes He uses children's books. Sometimes He uses sunrises. Sometimes He uses flowers. Sometimes He uses experiences. Sometimes He uses memories. Sometimes He uses people. He always uses something to captivate my attention with Himself.

God is relentless in His pursuit of my soul. He is relentless in showing His glory. He is relentless in reminding me who I am in Him, where I should be, and what I am to do. Even when I say no again and again, when I do not understand, when I do not want to listen, when I run in the opposite direction, when I am afraid to say yes, He does not leave me there. In spite of myself, He continues. Praise the Lord!

His graciousness is exceeding. His love is unconditional. His faithfulness is unfathomable. His pursuit is relentlessly beautiful. 

"There is none like you among the gods, O Lord, nor are there any works like yours. All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, O Lord, and shall glorify your name. For you are great and do wondrous things; you alone are God. Teach me your way, O LORD, that I may walk in your truth; unite my heart to fear your name. I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name forever. For great is your steadfast love toward me; you have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol. 

You, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness."

(Psalm 86:8-13,15)

Happy 50th Birthday, Daddy!

The Super Bowl is not the only thing turning 50 this week. My amazing father turns 50 today! I wanted to celebrate the monumental day with a few words about my daddy. 

My mom would say it was love at first sight. And she is probably right. I have thought my dad hung the moon as early as I can remember. I was “Daddy’s girl” from the very beginning. Even though he has only known me for 26 years, I have known him my entire life. He was the first man to hold me in his arms, he was the first man to tell me he loved me, and he was the first man I ever loved. 

Dad made me chocolate milk every single morning until I was about 8 years old. He left for a men’s retreat once, which was probably the first time I remember him not being at home with Mom, Mack, and me. Truth is, Mom could have made it better than Dad, but I was not drinking it. That was our thing. I have not had a glass of milk since. I am telling you, our bond is tight. One non-Dad-made cup of milk and I have never looked at milk the same again. With our strong bond, he shared his passions for sports, the farm, and Jesus with me. 

My love of sports came directly from Kerry. Well, not all sports are created equal. There is football, basketball, and track, but mostly football. NASCAR and golf are used strictly on Sundays to create a better environment for a nap. Saturday afternoons were spent watching college football and playing basketball on our gravel driveway. He was my biggest encourager all through school with sports—spending extra hours in the gym to teach me how to shoot in the trees (tall girls—I sometimes played post at 5’3”), taking me to run and jump at the track on the weekends, and always making sure I remembered sports were not the most important thing in life.

Despite what some may think upon meeting me, I take the title “farm girl” seriously thanks to Ol’ Kerry. We checked cows together nearly every morning that I did not have to go to school. Dad let me steer the truck in neutral while he kicked hay off the back, and he never made me open a fence. Given the opportunity, I would gladly choose to sit on the arm of a tractor chair just to hear him hum as he worked the ground or baled hay. My most cherished memories come from riding in the farm truck with him from Grandma and Grandpa’s house back to ours, listening to him sing songs from his Promise Keepers soundtrack that was always in the cassette player: “If the Lord had not been on our side, all our enemies would’ve swallowed us alive. They would have swept over us. If the Lord, if the Lord, if the Lord had not been on our side.”

That leads me to my most favorite part about Kerry Gillham—he is not just my dad. He is my brother in Christ. He is the one who told me who Jesus is. He is the one who showed me how to live life as a follower of Christ. Dad is so gracious—even in the difficult times of growing up, he showed me Jesus's love, grace, and mercy. He seriously is the most humble person I know. He showed me what it looks like for a man to love his wife as Christ loves the Church. He set the standard high as a tangible example of a man after God. As I grow older (and he does, too, like 50 years old), I see the blessing of him being my earthly father become sweeter and sweeter. I thank my Heavenly Father for such a blessing.

Dad, thank you for everything you have done for me. You are seriously one of my most favorite people on the planet! Thanks for being your goofy self. Most importantly, thank you for sharing the Gospel with me at a young age and living it out as an example for all to see. Your influence on my life and others’ lives for the last 50 years is incredible. I am thrilled to watch how the Lord will use you in the next 50 to come. I am SUPER grateful to call YOU mine! 

Happy 50^th birthday, Daddy! I love you forever!

Trinity.

Dearest Trinity,

I walked into the doors of your gathering place for the first time nearly five years ago on August 8, 2010. I came to you as a little, typical church girl, only missing church a handful of times throughout my life. With that type of background comes a certain number of usual experiences. I had seen the worst kinds of hurt within the walls of a church building affect those near and dear to my heart, and I had lived the lifestyle that comes with a ritualistic routine of attending church every Wednesday and twice on Sundays, being whoever I wanted to be the rest of the time. 

Before jumping to any sort of conclusions, I was still a “good kid.” Looking back, I know there is so much more to the daily walk of a Christian than how I lived from age 6 to 17.  At age 17, God shook my idea of church and a Christian life up by moving us to another church about 20 miles away from home. Bless my parents’ hearts; I fought them to a nasty end. I realize now that I was only fighting the discomfort of the needed growth that I knew should take place. Really, God was using that country church to prepare me for my five years with you. He shook up my life, just a little bit, to break me out of the same ol’, same ol’ and desire more.

Then, I met y’all. Instantly, Trinity became the place I would call home for the rest of my adult life. You became my family. The church was real, open, loving, and most of all, gospel-centered. You created an environment that this little church girl was unfamiliar with—whether that was at the worship gathering, prayer meeting, Sunday lunch, Christmas parties, or in the middle of Downtown Diner. For the first time, I was truly experiencing the church being the people, not the building where they meet.

Words are not adequate in explaining how God has used you to shape me into who I am today and who I will be until He calls me home. Trinity has definitely had an eternal impact on my soul. You have shown me the lasting importance of the gospel and preaching it to myself each and every minute of each and every day. You have cultivated a love for the Word that I had not enjoyed before. You created a place for me to use my gifts by teaching Sunday School for three and a half years. You fueled my passions of caring for the orphans around the world. You walked with me through the worst and best times of life, maybe not even knowing. Your love and grace allowed me to be open and honest. You always pointed me to Jesus.

Having had the amazing opportunity of worshipping, living in community, and being apart of the faith family for the last five years, I know Trinity is familiar with transitions. People come, and people go. As Ryan and I prepare to go in a couple of weeks, I felt led to try to put into words my abundant thanks for all you have been to me. God has used Trinity in mighty, glorious ways, and He will continue doing so, even with little church girls, like me.

“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1:3-6.

Love always,

Madison Russ

Unstained.

Let’s just cut to the chase. This world is full of pollution. Wait, wait, wait. My post today will not be about the damaging effects of smog, litter, or hairspray (I do think God has called us to take care of the world we live in, but it is not the most important issue). No, this post is about an even worse type of pollution that fills the world and has since Genesis 3: sin.

Every day I am reminded of the disgustingness of sin. I cannot open social media, drive down the road, watch television, or step off my front porch without seeing open rebellion against God. It is disheartening and discouraging to my soul, whose citizenship is elsewhere (Philippians 3:20).

Where does the Christian fit into this world? If we speak out against this pollution, we are labeled as close-minded, bigoted, and irrelevant. If we agree, we are literally at odds with our own souls, the Bible, and God, who is our ultimate authority. If we stand silent, we are doing a disservice to the lost.

James 1:27 says, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” I have written a post over the first half of this verse, but today I would like to focus on the last half. “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this…to keep oneself unstained from the world.”

Unstained. Whoa. Another version says, “to keep oneself from being polluted from the world.” This pollution seems so prevalent, though, especially with the immediate access we hold to the entire world that is usually within an arm’s length. It seems as if there is no point to abstain from what the world says we should accept, what the world says is okay, what the world says is accepted by our God.

My least favorite introduction to people’s posts on social media about “controversial” issues always begins with something like, “I am a Christian, but…(insert something blatantly against God's word).” No, NO, NOOO! I can just picture that person wearing a brand new white shirt while beginning that statement. The written junk that follows the word “but” is always mind-boggling to me. By the end of the thought, I can imagine the shirt no longer being white as snow, but full of the worst kinds of stains. They have allowed the world to contradict the Word that should hold supreme control on our opinions and responses to the pollution. We are not the authorities. We cannot make up the rules as we would wish. (Otherwise, I would ignore the sin of withholding forgiveness as discussed here).

Followers of Christ hold the cure to the pollution, to sin, to eternal separation from God. We should hold it out, instead of lowering God’s standards to please the polluters only for a short while.

Sin is hated by God, all sin—everything from a lie to murder. (Psalm 5:4-6)

Sin separates us from the Holy God for all of eternity. (Revelation 21:8)

We are all sinners. If we break one law, we are guilty of breaking it all. (Romans 3:23, James 2:10)

In our own strength, we have no chance of recovery. (1 Corinthians 6:9-10)

(And this is where I really like the word “but”).

But God sent His own Son to redeem.  (1 Corinthians 6:11)

To redeem means to buy with a price. (Romans 5:8; 1 Corinthians 6:20)

Jesus did that by dying on the cross and taking on the sins of the world. (Matthew 27:50-55)

That’s not the end of the story, though…

He died, was buried, and rose again—conquering death for all of eternity. (Luke 24:1-8)

Those who put their trust in Him are reconciled to God, marked with the Holy Spirit. (Romans 5:11, Titus 3:3-7)

The sons and daughters then carry that message of reconciliation to the world. (2 Corinthians 5:14-20)

I would highly recommend looking at those scriptures. That, my friends, is the gospel. The gospel is what each of us must hold fast to in our own lives, proclaim wholeheartedly to our neighbors, and use to remain unstained from the world. When we do not speak out against homosexuality, gossiping, bitterness, racism, murder, etc., we are withholding truth that leads to the eternal remedy to sin. We are lying to the lost, allowing them to believe they are okay. We are withholding Love--the ultimate Love that will win. His name is Jesus.

1. "Living for Jesus, a life that is true,
2. Striving to please Him in all that I do;
3. Yielding allegiance, glad-hearted and free,
4. This is the pathway of blessing for me.
5. 
   
6. Living for Jesus, who died in my place,
7. Bearing on Calvary my sin and disgrace;
8. Such love constrains me to answer His call,
9. Follow His leading and give Him my all.

Living for Jesus, wherever I am,

Doing each duty in His holy Name;

Willing to suffer affliction and loss,

Deeming each trial a part of my cross.

Living for Jesus through earth's little while,

My dearest treasure, the light of His smile;

Seeking the lost ones He died to redeem,

Bringing the weary to find rest in Him.

O Jesus, Lord and Savior, I give myself to Thee,

For Thou, in Thy atonement, didst give Thyself for me;

I own no other master, my heart shall be Thy throne;

My life I give, henceforth to live, O Christ for Thee alone."

Sole Purpose.

Valentine's Day marked six months into my first year of being a teacher (and when I first began typing this blog...time has gotten away from me, but decided today it needed to be shared); I am now ten days shy of nine months and the completion of my first year. I think I have experienced about all I can--the good, the bad, the fun, and the not so fun. I have learned thousands of lessons, reflected on many situations, made tons of decisions, and had several epiphanies on my purpose as an educator. One of those epiphanies has been stirring around my heart since the AHA! moment occurred. I would say it is my main purpose in the education field. Something so profound, if I recall it in every moment and practice it as my sole purpose each and every day, it will always keep me from simply being just "a teacher".

As early as Kindergarten, I remember being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I would simply respond, "A teacher." I could not give anyone a reason for my choice. I had no exact purpose behind the plan. No one in my family was in the education field. I had only been in school for less than a year, but that was what I desired to be. 

There were only three times I thought I was going to change my mind. The first time was in fourth grade. My cousin was graduating from high school and was headed to pharmacy school. I wanted to be exactly like him and someone said something about lots of money. When I found out about all the math and science in my future, I quickly ran back to "a teacher" (no one told me about those lovely elementary math courses at SWOSU).

In high school I deviated from the plan by saying I wanted to go into the medical field. I do not do blood. I do not do puke. I do not do snot. I do not do waste of any kind. (I know, I know. I will have to handle it one day in my classroom and in my own home; the Lord will have to give me the strength is all I can say). After passing out from watching a video of an incident I would potentially deal with in the medical field, I went back to the plan of being "a teacher."

I had a quarter life crisis in the middle of my college years. I changed my major for a whole two weeks to social work because I did not think being "a teacher" was enough. God, in His great faithfulness, put me back on track a couple of weeks before I found out my college was no longer offering a social work degree. That was the end of second-guessing my career choice. I had run out of time. I was going to be “a teacher.”

Looking back, even as far back as fourth grade, I chose another career that the world would deem more meaningful, more important, or more significant. Deep down, I knew that was an incorrect assumption. I knew being “a teacher” had an essential purpose—even if I could not adequately put it into words. After all, teachers do FAR more than just teach. I had seen it first hand. 

As a follower of Christ, I know I am called to ministry--no matter what occupation I have. My mission field happens to be an elementary school in rural Oklahoma. Of all things Christians possess to share and show to the world, the greatest is love.

Had my wedding been normal and not in the middle of a tornado, the familiar love passage would have probably been read. Although, this passage of scripture is not just for the husband and wife. It is for everyday life—including in my workplace, my classroom. (I will be the first to say I am the furthest from perfection in exhibiting this real love to my students. This post is for me more than anyone).

Love is patient and kind…even when I did not receive the amount of sleep I needed, a child is ruining my lesson plan, and the Kindergartener inside of me wants to call names back and throw a fit in the middle of the rug. 

Love does not envy or boast...even when my children failed that test and the teacher’s class next door rocked it, or when my children were perfect all morning. Chances are, it had NOTHING to do with me (and just wait until afternoon).

Love is not arrogant or rude…even when that whole day went just as expected or I have repeated myself one thousand times in the first two minutes.

Love does not insist on its own way…even when it would be easier to go on and pretend they all are listening and understand. I may just need to stop and listen.

Love is not irritable or resentful…even if this is the fifth time to say that kid’s name and it is only 8:20am. I must wipe the slate clean every second.

Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth…even when it is hard to discipline. I cannot leave a child where they are; I must teach them the right way.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.

When a teacher shows this real love in the classroom, the children thrive. They know someone will fight for them, believe in them, wish the best for them, and never give up on them. The children will recognize the teacher will ALWAYS love them, even when they are no longer in that classroom.

During my undergraduate studies, a person in the education field tried to convince me that loving children is matter-of-factly not a reason to pursue a degree in education. My argument is when you mean the kind of love discussed in 1 Corinthians 13, there is absolutely no better reason to pursue a career as “a teacher.”

If I have the best classroom management skills, perfectly elaborate and efficient lesson plans, the highest test scores, and countless professional development hours but have not love, I am nothing. My students and I gain nothing. Love is a teacher’s sole purpose.

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends." 

1 Corinthians 13:1-8.