Grace for the Shift

Lately, God has been speaking to me through numbers. I know that might sound a little strange, but it has been happening often. I’ll look up at the clock or see a sign, and the same set of numbers will appear again and again throughout the day. It’s as if God Himself is flashing a neon sign in front of me, whispering, “I’m trying to tell you something. Come and spend time with Me.”

Today, the number was 555. Over time, I’ve learned that the number five in Scripture represents grace, goodness, and divine favor. It’s often tied to seasons of change—moments when God is ushering us into something new or giving us the strength to handle transition. Seeing that number felt like God’s gentle reminder that His grace is sufficient, that He’s giving me grace for the shift I’m in right now. And oh, how I have needed that grace.

Recently, I sat in a meeting with my case manager, principal, and assistant principal. As they spoke, I heard the words that made my heart sink: “We need your help supporting the 3rd and 4th grade cluster students while a teacher is on medical leave.” My stomach dropped. I smiled on the outside, but inside, my heart whispered, “Lord, please take this cup from me.” I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t feel equipped or ready. I never envisioned myself teaching nonverbal students or working with children who had severe disabilities. That type of classroom always felt beyond my reach—too demanding, too intense. I had convinced myself I wasn’t patient enough, nurturing enough, or consistent enough to handle that sacred responsibility.

But even as I resisted, deep down I knew this was God’s will. And that realization broke me. I wanted to say no, but I could feel His quiet insistence in my spirit—this is where I’m sending you. As I sat with those emotions, I began to realize that my resistance wasn’t just about the assignment itself. God gently showed me that my fear was rooted in something much deeper: my own past pain.

Years ago, as a new mother raising a child with a disability, I lived in survival mode. I loved my son deeply, but the constant challenges left me feeling like I was failing him. I didn’t always understand his needs, and I often felt helpless trying to meet them. That season stretched me in ways I didn’t ask for—it stripped me of pride, deepened my patience, and forced me to grow in love and endurance. Still, when I finally came out of it, I told myself I never wanted to go through anything like that again.

And yet, here I was—being led right back into a setting that mirrored that old pain. But this time, God reminded me that I am not the same woman I was back then. I have changed. I’ve matured, healed, and gained wisdom through those past experiences. The woman walking into that cluster classroom is not walking in with fear alone but with grace—His grace.

It’s not easy. Every day stretches me. But I feel God’s presence in the middle of it all, reminding me that this is not punishment—it’s purpose. He’s using this season to bring about more healing, not just for the students I serve, but for me too. What once felt like a wound He is now using as a well—a source of empathy, compassion, and strength I didn’t know I still carried.

So when I see the number 555 flash before me, I take it as a holy reminder: His grace truly is sufficient. He’s giving me grace for this new assignment, grace for the shift, and grace to see that I’m not who I used to be. I can step forward, not in fear, but in trust—knowing that even in transitions I didn’t choose, God is still writing redemption into my story.

And maybe, that’s what He’s doing in yours too.