Well… it is done.
I have submitted my resume and cover letter for a potential new job, one that combines the gifts God has given me with 32 years of experience. And let me tell you, it was no small task. My old resume? Lost somewhere on an old flash drive or hard drive from a few devices ago. So I started from the very beginning. From scratch. A flashback to a lifetime ago.
There was something surreal about seeing my life laid out on paper…32 years of education and experience. My work life, anyway. Line by line, role by role, it brought back memories. Some sweet, some difficult. It made me proud. These accomplishments have shaped me, refined me, and, in many ways, defined me.
Maybe they shouldn’t define me as much as they have but I’ve always been goal-oriented, always looking toward the next mountain to climb, the next thing to conquer.
And then, in the middle of all of this reflection, a humbling (and slightly hilarious) reality check. Mini Me said, “My teacher hasn’t even been alive for 32 years!” She made sure I knew it! Loud and clear.
As I filled in names of past supervisors and references, I found myself walking back through conversations long tucked away. Some with my graduate school mentor. I could almost see her again, sitting across from that younger version of me, an energetic, optimistic young teacher who truly believed she could change the world.
And maybe, in small ways, I did!
Because as I looked over every position, every transition, every unexpected turn, I could see something so much bigger than a career path. I could see God’s hand. In the hard decisions. In the closed doors. In the leaps of faith. In the moments I didn’t understand at the time. He already knew the ending when I was just standing at the beginning.
What a blessing to say “I’ve lived an extraordinary life, not because it was perfect, but because it was purposeful.”
And yet, as I typed and reflected, I was reminded of something even more important. So much of who I am isn’t even on that resume. Becoming a wife. Becoming a mother. Being a daughter. Being a friend.
Those roles might show up in a short answer on an application, tucked into a line or two, but they are not bullet points. They are not measurable achievements. Yet they are the greatest gifts. They are the truest parts of who I am. They are where love is lived out daily in the ordinary, in the unseen, in the moments that will never make it onto paper but matter the most.
Lately, I’ve also been singing in the requiem choir at funerals, and our pastor reads the obituary of the deceased. Maybe that’s why my mind has been lingering here, thinking about legacy, about a life lived. And with a sweet young friend currently on hospice, that reflection feels even closer, more real.
But what is really important? As a Lutheran, I know this truth deep in my soul: My place in heaven is not defined by anything on that resume. Not the titles. Not the accomplishments. Not the years of service. Not even the good works done in His name.
This life, this faith, is not about works. It’s about Jesus! Yes, I strive to glorify God in all that I do. Yes, my faith has grown and my outreach has expanded. But none of those things earn me anything when it comes to eternity. Only one thing matters. Jesus. His sacrifice. His love. His suffering on the cross.
And as we walk through this Easter season, I can’t help but return to His final words: “It is finished.” (John 19:30) It is done. Not “almost done.” Not “keep striving.” Not “earn your way.” Done. Complete. Finished.
The work that truly saves, the work that truly matters was never mine to accomplish. It was His.
So my resume is done. But more importantly, the greatest work of all has already been completed for me. And because of that, I am free. Free to work. Free to serve. Free to love. Free to be a wife, a mother, a daughter, and a friend. No need to earn anything because I already have everything in Him.
All glory to God.
Noteworthy Mommy 