They are my people.

I teach English. High school English. In a high school. A public high school. A HUGE public high school.

Last year, I taught English, too. High school English. In a high school. A private high school. A tiny private high school.

When I made the change this year (involuntarily), I was afraid. I wasn't "good enough" to teach at a HUGE public high school. I needed to be in my tiny private high school, where it was quiet and comfortable and encouraging and family. I wasn't ready. I wasn't capable. I wasn't comfortable.

You've heard it before, though. "God doesn't call the qualified, he qualifies the called."

I stepped one foot in front of the other and pushed out of my tiny comfort zone into the HUGE unknown, and guess what found?

I found people...young people...who need someone.  I began to realize that at the HUGE public high school, there are lots and lots of people that feel tiny. Every day. People who don't know that they're loved. Ever. People who need to know they've got a chance. That they can be somebody. That they can BE.

I found a place that breaks my heart. Every day, EVERY day, my heart breaks for my students. THEY are broken.  They are hurting. They are what the world would consider "damaged goods."

They are BEAUTIFUL, amazing people. They are bright in so many different ways. They are kind and gentle and loving. They are loud and rowdy. They are timid and tearful. They are passionate and compassionate. They are talented. They are creative. They are funny. They are remarkable.

They are worth it.

They are my people.

They are my mission.

I was placed in this HUGE public high school, at this time and place in history, for a reason.

YOU were put where you are, right now, this minute, at this place and time in history, for a reason.

YOU are somebody to somebody. I promise. You've been given a mission. If you haven't yet found it, FIND it. Seek it out. Ask God to show you why He's put you here, where you are now. Ask Him to turn your eyes to where they need to look.  There's a mission field right in front of you.

When you find it, you'll know.  It may be the hardest job you'll ever do, looking into the face of heartbreak every single day, perhaps. But you'll find it. And you'll put one foot in front of the other. And you'll walk right out of comfort. And you'll know. You'll know.

They are worth it.

They are worth it.

They are worth it.