King's Daughter's Kitchen

Imagine me on weekday mornings, teaching at the head of my senior British Literature classes. I have a whiteboard marker in one hand and a double-sized coffee mug in the other. The class is fully engaged in a grammar activity at the start of every day. I wear a genuine smile for a correct answer, or a no-nonsense teacherface when needed. I wear a tight updo hairstyle and zero makeup. I change sweaters when I arrive each morning like Fred Rogers, and walk the professional walk wherever I go, except for the House of God.  

On Sundays and Wednesdays, I smile with genuine, lasting joy. I look forward to shaking hands with my brothers and hugging my sisters before the service starts. So, I arrive a little early. Then, the praise music starts. I wish every student I ever teach or taught could see and feel what it’s like to accept and praise Jesus without caring what anybody else thinks. I believe they would have a completely different picture of me if they saw me worshipping with an open heart. I wonder if they would join me with my voice singing or praying, my body standing in His honor, my arms raised, my eyes closed, my feet jumping, tears streaming down my face, and my hair falling out of place. Where and when the Holy Spirit moves, that’s my kind of exercise. This me, the me who smiles and hugs, and this me who moves and praises and jumps in worship to the King is in here every day.