My name is Teacher

When I was a little girl I had a favorite shirt. It was my first choice because it felt good. I don't even remember what it looked like, although it was on the tshirt side. I wore it for days. Days. I don't know how I got away with it. And when it started getting really noticeable, I would turn it inside out and wear it more. I think that is a telling detail of many of us. We don't like change.
But change is good. It causes me to decide on the priority of things. It allows me to consider what is really important and what is not so important. When a favorite mug meets its maker by shattering on the tile floor I am sad. But then I realize how many other fun mugs I have in my cupboard that I like a lot.
However, other changes can carry way more weight. For instance, a growing child will shock me when a birthday comes and they are not in my class anymore. I have one of those. I have several, but Brayden has been with me since he was 2.

There were many Sunday School days when he was my only student. And last spring when he declared that "next birthday imo be 6!" my heart sank. He is my charming sweet boy that never calls me Miss Mary Ellen or Mary Ellen or anything else except Teacher. That is my name now. Brayden blessed me with the title and all other students have followed in his stead. I am Teacher and I am very proud of this name. I have indeed earned it. What's even crazier is I was Brayden's mommy's Teacher too. I remember her beautiful brown eyes and pretty blond hair and sweet smile. Sometimes Brayden and now his brother Noah smiles with their mommy's smile. I love the reminder. I remember when she sat up at the Christmas play so tall and sang so sweetly all alone in her first solo with the microphone up to her mouth and I cried. I remember when she left my class too. And I cried then.
Now I am crying again. I don't want Brayden to grow but I do. I can't imagine how his mommy and daddy are feeling. I just know how I do. I want him to stay in my class forever, but the time has come for him to move on.
I have felt this way so many times and quite frankly I am sick of it. Yes, sick. These beautiful babies grace my world and I am so fortunate as to be the one that wipes their noses and make them laugh and they make me laugh. I watch as they learn to hold a crayon and sing a new song. I beam when I hear them say their abc's and watch them write their name. I see their pride when they remember the lesson from last week and remember how wonderful Jesus' love is for us. I never want them to forget it and I think somehow if they stayed in my class just maybe they would never forget it. That's silly. Of course they will remember. Many more are standing in line to teach them and walk with them and love on them. I just want it be me.
So don't forget me Brayden. Remember who Moses is and remember how he was so brave so you can be too. And remember Zaccheus and David and when God made what because you know now. I know others will help you remember and of course Mommy and Daddy will too. I will certainly not forget what we have learned together.
So go to the next stage precious boy and learn more and more and more. And always when you see me remember, my name is Teacher.