God really does hide things ( fortunately)
Waiting for the exam . November 1985. Dressed in a skirt and blouse that were pretty but comfortable, I waited to be called in to do my exam for my Speech and Drama teaching letters. I was nervous. Never a comfortable ‘up front’ person, I realised the examiner had the power to give – or withhold – my future plans. I’d had my fill of classroom teaching after that last year teaching teenagers, including boys who were there only because the law forbade them to leave. So I’d picked up my drama studies, hoping to teach individuals or small groups. The door opened. ‘Mrs Jones is ready for you now, Jeanette,’ the lady in charge told me. I walked in as confidently as I could. My program. I’d chosen several pieces to fit the criteria, including a poem I particularly loved, The Flower by George Herbert. That old metaphysical poem expressed exactly what I’d been feeling in my relationship with God lately, so I could say it with heart-felt expression. The examiner. What