The Littlest Servant

I never thought an 8-year old would have such a profound effect on my life. I never dreamed of being nearly graduated from college then suddenly wanting to change career paths. I didn’t foresee God stepping in and using children to teach me. Of course, God tends to work in my life in ways I would never expect and at times I can never predict. I’m getting used to just going along for the ride.

I went into my senior year of college dreading my senior capstone. I thought it was an incredibly stupid class, requiring us to pay more money to do free work in a field that has nothing to do with our future lives. I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong in my life.

Every essay I read for this class brought things to my attention I had never given much thought to. Perhaps I just didn’t want to think about them. That way I could stay safe and comfortable in my life and with my faith in a Jesus I didn’t fully understand. With each passing week, I was confronted more and more with a choice: Jesus, or comfort. This choice burned within me because I knew which one I should choose, but that path meant working toward something I may never achieve, every single day for the rest of my life. It meant trying to make change and live the radical way Jesus did, and not treat my life with the taken-for-granted complacency I had become so accustomed to. It terrified me, because I didn’t know how to do it. To be honest, I still don’t.

The 8-year old that changed my life was present though all of this. She was there, helping God change me, once a week for three hours. And that was it. That was all it took. It wasn’t only this little girl herself who changed me, but what she represented. She had a childlike innocence that I loved with a real intelligent mind and a bit of an idea of who she was. She negotiated and didn’t take no for an answer, which as her teacher made my job difficult, but secretly I was proud of her for that. It will serve her well when she gets out into the world. Perhaps the reason she affected me so much was because she embodied what I wanted my children to be like, and what I wanted to help nurture in all of God’s children. Isn’t it funny how we get so frustrated at those kids who are different, stubborn, independent, smart-asses and yet deep-down that’s how we want them to turn out as adults?

The first time I met her, she reminded me to much of myself when I was her age that I had to laugh. It was because of this girl that the things I was learning stuck. She made the choice more real for me, showing me that it wasn’t just myself at stake. This little girl depended on that choice, as did all the kids in my class. I wanted so badly to make a lasting effect on her, to give her some kind of tool to help her cope with the future. I was insecure and not independent and didn’t know who I was when I was younger, and I made mistakes because of it that I regretted deeply for a long time. When I looked at her, I felt this desire to impart the lessons I had learned on her so that she would be better prepared than I was, so she wouldn’t make the same mistakes I had. I wanted her to make different, better mistakes. I wanted her to think back on her life, and remember that one teacher she had that truly made a difference.

And then it hit me. I knew I had to do something, to make a difference in children’s lives. I always knew God had given me this gift of teaching and a heart for children; why hadn’t I thought of this before? I needed to be a teacher!

I also know that I needed to be different. I needed to shine the light Jesus had given me into the lives of others, especially “the least of these.” He taught me the importance of that, and gave me a practical lesson in how to do it, when he put me in the midst of these kids, especially this little girl.

My heart changed. It grew three sizes and poured out more love than it took in. It learned tiny steps forward are better than standing still. Even if you don’t know where you’re going or you don’t think you’re making a difference, keep moving forward.

On the very last day the little girl stuck by my side, even at recess. Then she wrote me a letter telling me to have fun and keep being me. It was like God was telling me, “Well done, my good and faithful servant” through the pencil of one of his littlest servants.

Thank you, Marissa.

~ Nikita Collier