"I don't need you"

My heart broke this morning.

And, the truth is, I think part of it will stay broken with the reality that set in.

We make the daily announcements for our school from my classroom every morning, and my advanced broadcast students are the ones who lead them. I have to punch in a code to access the PA system, and one of my students started typing it in on her own this morning. (She's one of my most responsible students, so the fact that she knows the code doesn't make me nervous that she will abuse it in any way.) I jokingly scolded her for taking over, and then she said six words that were like a dagger piercing into my heart:

"It's OK. I don't need you."

They still need me sometimes.

As soon as announcements were over, I of course slightly dramatized things and made a speech about how I had already become an antiquated figure in her life, even though I've been teaching her for four years. I was just giving her a hard time, but then truth—sad truth—started to surface: at some point, my students really won't need me anymore.

I wanted to cry.

As a teacher, it's fun to see students grow from the time they are awkward and nervous little freshmen to when they become confident and strong young adults who are ready to take on the new adventures they are about to face. Because I'm the broadcast teacher, and my classes produce the show that airs for our entire school, my students have the opportunity to be part of the program for all four years. And that makes it even harder when they get closer to leaving.

Or when they tell you they don't need you.

I started thinking about how when we're kids we need our parents so much, but we start to try to be on our own more and more as we grow up. This is actually a good thing, because you don't want to be in a Failure to Launch situation. It's certainly beneficial for us, but I have never really thought about how hard it can be for parents to get the feeling that they are no longer needed by their children. It's got to hurt.

I've noticed my parents love it when they get the opportunity to help me out, and I guess I understand why more now than I ever have. They like being needed. I've mentioned countless times how they are at all of my races, and my dad really values being in charge of my bag and making sure I am ready to go before I hit the start line. I think he really appreciated it when I visited them after the Houston half marathon and talked about how stressful it was running such a big race and having to deal with bag check, etc. without my parents there to make sure there were no worries. I'm not a helpless baby, but every once in a while it's nice to have someone take care of you.

And it's nice to care for others.

When my students leave here, they obviously aren't going to need my help anymore, but I can hope that the things they've learned in my class—especially the life lessons—will guide them in becoming the greatest people they can be. And I suppose that's what most parents have to do when their kids finally move out and begin new adventures elsewhere. Our helplessness has to fade.

But our need for Jesus never will.

He's the one thing in life that we really can't just turn to and say, "I don't need you." While we are prone to grow up and become independent, we can always count on Him being there for us no matter what age we reach. Because, no matter how much we want to tell ourselves we can, the truth is that we can actually do nothing all on our own. And it's not a good idea to try.

So, while I may not be needed by my students forever, I can take comfort in the fact that Someone wants to be needed by me every day.

And it is music to His ears when we say, "I need you."