By Ann Farabee

As a student in a classroom of 4th graders, recess would finally arrive. Our teacher would choose captains for the kickball teams, often based off who was yelling out their name the loudest. I never raised my hand, and certainly never yelled, “Me! Me! Me!”

The captains would then choose their team.

I was always chosen last.

My kickball skillset included one strategy. Connect my foot to the huge red ball when it was rolled to me. Yes, sometimes I missed it. Sometimes, I kicked the ball mightily, and it would creep toward the pitcher, as I barreled toward first base. The pitcher would pick up the ball and hit me with it. I was an easy out.

In today’s world, my mother would have signed me up for kickball lessons after school, so I could improve, but I just had to deal with my ineptness on my own.

Did I try? Yes.

Did I give it my everything? Yes.

Was that enough? No.

I had zero athleticism.

The torturous daily kickball games continued. Finally, one day, my teacher came to my rescue as she called out my name. As I ran toward her, I saw a brand new red ink pen and a stack of papers. She had chosen me to grade the spelling tests! My teaching career had begun.

That year of lacking kickball skills brought about the opportunity for me to grade papers for the teacher each day. Grading papers each day brought about God putting a desire in my heart to have a teaching career.

No, the kickball skillset made up of knowledge, ability, and experience — kicking, throwing, catching, running the bases, rolling the ball — was not my area of giftedness.

Sitting on the grassy hill at the edge of the playground grading papers for my teacher with her red pen was much better!

Not even once would I have been able to envision my 40-year teaching career that was to come, where my students played kickball often. Guess who got to roll the ball then?

God knew the plans he had for me — to give me hope and a future — by putting that desire for a teaching career in my heart.

God’s handprints are on our lives from the beginning.

As a skinny, short, non-athletic little girl on that playground, God was doing a great work in my heart. He was preparing my steps and setting my path for my future.

He guided my teacher to hand me that red pen. I guess I was not the last one chosen after all.

John 15:16 says, “You did not choose me, but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain.”

Hang on to that promise, my friends. He chose us and He appointed us. Our fruit will remain!

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.