Recently, I said a final goodbye. “Goodbye, 2nd graders! Goodbye, colleagues! Goodbye, Lampeter Elementary!” After 27 years in the classroom, I am officially retired. I should feel excited, rejuvenated, and free—right? Yet I find myself wondering why I don’t feel any of these things.
When people ask who I am, I always answer, “I am a teacher.” It wasn’t just what I did; it felt like who I was. Parents entrusted me with their most precious gifts, their children, and I never took that trust lightly. It is a sacred responsibility to help shape young hearts and minds during an important season of life.
WHO AM I NOW?
But when I closed the classroom door for the last time, I found myself questioning my identity. “If I am no longer doing what I have always done, then who am I?” That question lingers in my heart, yet God is gently reminding me that teaching may have been my calling, but it was never my identity.
Galatians 2:20 gives words to this truth: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” My identity is not defined by a classroom, a job title, or 27 years of service. My identity is found in Jesus Christ alone.
MY IDENTITY HAS NEVER CHANGED
1 Peter 2:9 strengthens that truth: “But you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God’s very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light.” Before I was ever a teacher, I was God’s child. During my years in the classroom, I was God’s child. And now, in retirement, I remain God’s child. That identity has never changed.
HE WILL SUSTAIN ME IN EVERY SEASON
Isaiah 46:4 speaks directly into this new season of life: “I will be your God throughout your lifetime—until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you.” Just as parents entrusted me with their children for 180 days each year, I can entrust my life and future into the hands of my Heavenly Father. He made me, He carries me through every season, and He will sustain me forever.
God is reminding me that being a teacher was my profession, but it was never my identity. Jobs change, seasons shift, and roles come to an end, but belonging to Christ never changes.
Perhaps what feels like a “goodbye” is really a “hello”—hello to a new chapter, a new season, and a deeper walk with Christ. What in your own life might God be turning a goodbye into a hello?