By Sandra Bost
I have a vivid memory from fourth grade circa 1981. I pull it out whenever I’m trying to break the ice with students or answer one of those dreaded “tell us something about yourself that nobody knows” polls during a faculty meet and greet. Once you hear it, you’ll understand why my colleagues wonder if I’m okay. (The jury is still out on that one.) It’s been a year since I shared it here, so I thought it was time for a retelling.
It was recess on a perfectly sunny day at Liberty School in Calhoun, Georgia. I was sliding down the big silver slide on the playground, eating chocolate pudding in a can (if you know you know), all while singing “John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt” with the enthusiasm of a kid who believed–deep in her soul–that the entire playground needed this performance. As I neared the bottom, I took a bite of pudding just before belting out the word “Schmidt.”
In that sacred childhood moment, I learned two very important lessons:
1- Momma was right, you should not talk–or sing–with your mouthful.
2- Chocolate pudding burns coming out of your nose in ways science still can’t fully explain.
Liberty was special to me. Once a week, I went there with some of my best friends as part of our gifted program. It was my safe place–my creative refuge–my break from trying so hard to “fit” everywhere else. Inside that old rock schoolhouse, it was okay to be “too much.” We were loud, curious, imaginative, and quirky–and no one minded.
In my regular classroom, fitting in was…harder. Sure I had straight As in the academic areas, but my conduct grade. Well. Let’s just say it told a different story. “Sandra talks too much,” “Sandra annoys others,” “Sandra daydreams.”
None of it was entirely untrue. But those words didn’t tell the whole story. However, even though they were not the bulk of the words written in the beautiful, cursive penmanship of my teachers, they were the ones my heart focused on.
I started trying to shrink myself. I learned to quiet down. To stay in line. To not be “too much.” And eventually, I absorbed a belief that–who I really am is annoying–who I really am is too much.
It was not until years later that I let a different set of red-lettered comments take root in my heart and guard my mind. The red letters of Jesus in the New Testament began to mean more to me than report card comments–or the whispers of the enemy of my mind–telling me that I was too much.
This week, I had the opportunity to cheer on a group of seniors that I taught as 9th and 10th graders. I haven’t seen them since I started teaching online in 2024. I was so excited to go to Jacksonville State to cheer them on in the Elite 8. I knew I would see the band members, cheerleaders, athletes, and lots of familiar faces I once saw everyday for two years, and I couldn’t wait.
Once I got to the coliseum, though, I heard the familiar whispers of the liar telling me, “Here you go again–being too much. You don’t even teach there anymore. Why did you come? Tone it down.”
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Honestly, at 54, so many years removed from those report card comments–SO much of God’s Word hidden in my heart–I could still feel the insecurity and instinct to hide. But then, Matthew 5:16 pushed through: “In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in Heaven” (ESV).
Jesus didn’t say, “Hide your light so people won’t be uncomfortable.” He didn’t say, “Tone it down so you don’t annoy anyone.” He said, “Shine.”
Shine anyway. Shine on purpose. Shine when you’re scared. Shine for God’s glory, not people’s approval.
So that is what I tried to do. I cheered. I laughed. I walked over to the student section–smiling and afraid. And, just like that, I was greeted by precious shouts of, “Mrs. Bost!” “I miss you!” So, I smiled brighter. Cried a little. Hugged tighter. And let the Light of Jesus shine.
I don’t always get this right. Sometimes I still shrink. Sometimes I still assume I’m an annoyance. Sometimes I still try to become less of who God made me. But, I’m learning to recognize the enemy’s old lie–and replace it with Jesus’s truth.
If you’ve ever believed the lie that you’re “too much,” or “not enough,” or “out of place,” listen to The Message paraphrase of Matthew 5:14-16:
“…You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this…I’m putting you on a light stand…be generous with your life. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God…”
Even if your light feels a little messy or chocolate-splattered (even snorted) at times, let it shine! The world needs the brightness God put inside of you–exactly as you are!
Shine on! (And sing with your mouthful if you must!)
Jesus (and me) are cheering for you!
