one to be imperfect in the Sullivan house-hold, just to remind her that not everything could line up under her checklist of expectations. Everything didnât have order and logic. Godâs order often came without explanation.
Hannah had taught Tory to lean on God more than she ever had beforeâ¦to lower her expectationsâ¦to exult in the unexpected.
Still she longed to know that Hannah would walk, talk, learnâ¦That she would live a happy life without daily battles to functionâ¦That she would develop and grow and progress to her full potential.
The truth was, she wanted everything for Hannah that she wanted for her other two children. But Hannah had challenges that Spencer and Brittany would never have. She always would. But Tory considered it a miracle that the baby had come this far when just a few months ago she hadnât believed she would ever even sit up alone. She knew the walking wouldnât come for a while yet, maybe even a year or two, but the fact that Hannah tried to pull up now gave her great hope.
A knock sounded on the classroom door, and Mary Ann Shelton, the director of the school, stuck her head in. âWhat are you guys doing here so late? Itâs after five.â
âMy fault,â Melissa said. âI had a dentist appointment this afternoon and had to reschedule Hannah.â
Mary Ann came into the room. âIâm just glad I ran into you, Tory. I was going to call you. Can I talk to you in my office for a minute?â
Tory smirked at Melissa as she got up from the floor and dusted off her pants. âOh, boy. Hannah hasnât been cutting class again, has she? Is that why Iâm being called to the principalâs office?â
Mary Ann laughed. âNo, I just wanted to talk to you about a job weâve had that just came open.â
Tory couldnât imagine what a job opening had to do with her. Mary Ann knew that raising Hannah took up every moment of her time.
But the director led her into her office and sat down behind her desk. Tory sank onto the plush easy chair, feeling as if she had forgotten something important. She realized she had never been in here without Hannah on her lap.
âSo whatâs this about a job?â Tory asked.
Mary Annâs eyes inspired excitement, whether she talked about school tuition or the janitorial staff. âWeâve had an opening for a part-time teacherâs assistant in the older childrenâs class, ages six to nine, and I was thinking that maybe you would be interested.â
Tory frowned. âOh, I donât know, Mary Ann. I havenât really thought about getting a job. Iâm so busy at home with Hannah.â
âWell, thatâs just it.â Mary Ann set her hands palms-down on the desk. âYou could bring Hannah with you and she could play in the nursery while you work with the older kids. I thought it would be an encouragement for you to see how these older children are learning. And I can tell from watching you with Hannah that youâd be a godsend for these children as well.â
Tory had never considered working with the older kids, but the truth was, she spent a lot of time standing outside the door of that classroom, peering through the window at those older kids who could walk and dance and talk and sing.
âYou wouldnât have to do any planning or preparation. Linda, our teacher in that room, would do all that. Youâd just help two mornings a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Iâve gotten another parent to commit to three mornings, and we have a couple of teenagers who help in the afternoons.â
âTwo mornings a week,â Tory repeated. âThat wouldnât be so bad. Might even be fun.â
âAnd of course, it wouldnât interfere with Hannahâs class.â Mary Ann caught her breath. âOh, I forgot. It pays too. I donât want you to think itâs a volunteer position. And it might be good for Hannah