“Pay attention to the people God puts in your path if you want to discern what God is up to in your life.”

—Henri Nouwen

The first time I read this quote, I laughed out loud. Because if I’m discerning God’s activity in my life by the people in my path, then apparently God wants me to grow through a steady stream of rambunctious, ornery, and enthusiastic students!

In my 25+ years of teaching, I’ve learned to appreciate the laughter, chaos, and unpredictability that come with working with young people. But moving to Hungary and teaching English in Hungarian Baptist schools has added new layers to my calling—and new questions too. I’ve often been told I’m students’ favorite teacher. That warms my heart. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes wonder if all the joy and laughter in my classroom mean I’m not taken seriously—or worse, not a “good” teacher.

This year, though, something is shifting. Through the practice of contemplative prayer, I’m learning to meet each moment and each person with less judgment and more presence. I’m practicing acceptance: of students, of situations, of myself. That doesn’t mean I don’t still get angry when a student lets a curse word fly in English—because I do! But Larry, my ever-patient husband and ministry partner, reminds me to listen with “umpire ears,” letting the inconsequential shouts for attention pass by without throwing the whole game into chaos. I only need to throw someone out every once in a while. And even then, grace is never far behind.

Larry has been my greatest encourager in the classroom. When I’m overwhelmed or second-guessing everything after a tough day, he grounds me. He helps me see that my style—joyful, open-hearted, occasionally chaotic—isn’t a liability. It’s a gift. I don’t have to be like the more serious, stricter teachers. I don’t need to change my nature to fit someone else’s idea of what a teacher should be.

Once a week, we visit a local thermal bath—a beloved Hungarian tradition and an important part of our soul care. These natural hot springs are a place of rest, recovery, and reflection for us. Every time I sink into the steaming mineral water, I half-joke, “Ok, I’ll stay.” Because yes, some days teaching is hard enough to make me want to quit. But in those quiet moments, surrounded by palm trees and soft echoes, I find the strength to keep showing up. I remember why I’m here.

Not long ago, during one of those spa visits, I was reflecting on my teaching style—how I’m not the tall, stoic pine tree kind of teacher, but something else entirely. I felt the Holy Spirit whisper: You’re a palm tree. Fun. Tropical. Flexible. A touch of joy in what can be a gray season for students. A holiday in their day. And maybe that’s exactly what God wants me to be.

So I’ll stay. I’ll keep showing up, palm tree and all. Because I believe God is in these classrooms, in these messy moments, in these loud and lovely students. And maybe, just maybe, He’s using this joyful chaos to shape not only them—but me too.