Today on the mountain, I watched it raining in my backyard while there was no rain at all in my front yard. The sun was shining through the fog. The cows were grazing in the front pasture. If I moved, maybe it would have all stopped. So, I stayed still. It rained like this for minutes in the back. The sun gazed bright on the cows. The rain stopped. The sun bathed everything. 

A few weeks ago, I was an elementary school teacher. I had served as a Children’s minister and then a missionary where my work often overlapped with local schools. I was called to work in public schools. I became a substitute, then a tutor, then I earned my teaching degree through a lateral entry program. I taught kids who needed a good teacher. They depended on me for far more than academics. A student whose dad went to jail in the night needed my black cozy chair for a nap the next day. I poured out my heart for the children I taught. Teaching was my new ministry.

I taught through deaths in my family, through COVID, through surgery, through a lockdown due to an actual shooting within our school zone (the Sheriff Deputies examined my classroom door for bullet fragments), and through the Big Ugly that put both of my children in the hospital.

Teaching is a ministry of stamina and dedication. In the profession, there is a phrase often echoed, “Find your WHY.” I knew my “WHY?” I was called by God to help children and families. In this new phase of my life, this calling kept me going on hard days, on scary days, on days when I didn’t think I could keep going. I loved my job and I kept going well in a hard profession.

Until I couldn’t. 

We moved to the mountains. It had always been our dream. Our boys have flown the nest, we found jobs. We moved. I started the school year.

Everything felt off. The supports I had in place in my old district were gone. More depended on me. Truthfully, more has been piling on for teachers every year. My husband, who works as a chaplain, was making more money than me, but I left for work before him and was home after him. I always had work with me at home. It was getting worse with the move. I was having a hard time getting everything done. My anxiety was through the roof. 

My nineteen year old son, Owen, asked me if I had seen the hummingbird at our house. I hadn’t. I hadn’t had time to see anything but work. 

After a weekend of tears and panic attacks, I quit my teaching job. All those traumatic times I had taught through caught up with me. There was no way to find “balance” or “self-care” without walking away. 

I don’t know what’s next. I do have faith that there is something good. I had time to  sit outside and meet my hummingbird. I can see miracles like rain in the backyard and sun in the front.

Sometimes, we need everything to stop so we can see and hear all of those things we have been missing. I cared for other people’s children so very much. I’m grieving that loss. I almost lost myself. I’m a precious child too. I thank God for reminding me.

“After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.” ~1 Kings 19:12

Melanie Storie is a writer, minister, and educator who lives in the NC mountains.