Easy Like: A Friday Link Up

A Writing exercise: The challenge? Write for five minutes on the given topic. This week the code word is "EASY"

Go.

It's so easy to say words. To write words. To give sage words of wisdom. Easy.

It's fully something else to sit in the middle of those words and live them.
"I am patient. Maybe I am not the most patient person, but I trust God to do what he is gonna do."

I say.
At the same time I feel

"Uh Hello, Lord. Here I am. Any second you are going to notice me down here, yes? I stepped out. You said do this thing. 'Offer your words. Step that toe in the water. Hit this rock with your staff. Trust' and I have. So. Know what I mean? I'm being patient. So hurry up, huh?"

When I am honest, I am not the first girl at all. I am 100% the second girl. But I am willing to keep fighting. I am leaning in and keeping my eyes up to the hills. Where the wind whips and the mountains shake and the storms rage, but God shows up in the whispers. I will lean in to the whispers.

STOP

~Nonsense

It's Just That I Am So Humble

Being humble is one of those catch 22 words in religion. You can't be that guy that says, "I'm so humble. I am the most humble guy I know." Because then you aren't humble at all.

No one wants to listen to the guy that's all, "I am so bad. I can't do anything right. I can't even look you in the eye as you point out that you like my hair because it's so ugly." It's all moot anyway because deep down you're thinking how awesome you like your hair for reals.

I have always warred with my motives, and since I don't exactly suffer from low self esteem, humility for me always feels like a far away glowing orb. Some intangible thing I am always chasing.

I know it's good. I know what God says about it.

"He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

And here is where I sit. God has told me. Why can't I stand where He says? Why are these two scenarios on humility my only options? Probably because I skip to Micah 6:8 and skim right over the verses that precede and follow it.

"Does the LORD take delight in thousands of rams, In ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I present my firstborn for my rebellious acts, The fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? 8He has told you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you But to do justice, to love kindness, And to walk humbly with your God?"

I hear what he's saying. All these things are petty. He doesn't want my petty. 

When I allow these verses to sink in, I see what he really wants. Not false modesty. Not self-depracation. He wants me to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly. I can be small without being invisible. I can be last without being nothing. God will take these tiny steps of DO and LOVE and walk them out in my life. 

He will translate them into a humble example to my children. Because I am a mom. Some of you are mamas. Some are daddies. Some are aunties, and uncles, and grandmas or grandpas.

Remember that first minute, holding that new little peanut. So perfect and pure and new? And our hearts were rocked and brought down 100 notches, and in that minute we knew the only thing that mattered was that little baby and how to love it the very best. That's the place.

That's the way we are to approach every single person because this is how God looks at each of us.

Heaven knows how often I have taken the road of offended. God knows how much further I need to go, but he also knows how hard I am trying. 

I am so completely a work in progress.

~Nonsense

Teenager Book Reads

I read. A lot. And I read teen-lit because I love it. Writers of teen books have to be exceptional writers because teenagers have way more free time options than the good ole days. 

"You want me to put down my phone? This better be worth it!" 

And they are. So whether you're looking for a good read for a teenager, or you realize you are worth exceptional authorship here are a few recommendations. 

Oh Francine, Francine Rivers. There is a real life challenge in each of her fiction books. She throws a mean gauntlet. This is a trilogy. Read it. 

Another trilogy worth your time. The average human is known to read these books in three days once they come to the realization that showers, food, and others mean nothing compared to Katniss! Solidarity sister. 

This book may be life changing for a girl who struggles with her identity. So. You know. All girls. I'm hoping to use it in a book club with a group of high school girls at my church. It's a non-fiction. Well played, Laura. 

Currently listening to this book. For years I refused to look this book in the eye. Creepy girl levitating? No thanks. But I saw it's going to be a movie soon, and I had a road trip. so. I looked it straight in the eye. With my eye. And took a leap. 

I'm so glad I did. The story so far is riveting. I listen in my bed when my husband thinks I'm sleeping. I mean, he's fine with it. Or I assume so because he's snoring when it's happening. 

The only problem with that is the laughing. I have laughed out loud several times. The main character is a 16 year old boy who has an Olympic level of sarcasm and whit. Out loud laughter. The audiobook is great. 

Here are a few books on my "To Read" list. 

Anyone read these last three? Have any favorites on your list?

Happy reading! 

~Nonsense

My girl!

My most and least favorite hashtag of this year is #izzygoestocollege. My girl is in her senior year, and while I feel as sense of accomplishment that she's grown into an incredibly cool kid, I can't help feeling that I worked really hard on this kid!! Now she's just going to take all that learnin and leave me? With four more who haven't arrived yet!!?

Gah. Rude vicious cycles. Well I plan to soak her up and pour into her every single second she's around.

Let's see. She's almost 18. And it's April. Carry the one, and five. That gives me about ten minutes where she will actually be around to tell her everything I have forgotten or failed to mention in her previous 18 years. And those ten minutes will probably separated into 45 second increments. 

One skill I want her to take with her is how to quit a job properly, followed with updating her resume/work history paperwork. 

She's been working at a local grocery store. Picture the quintessential first job. Menial labor. Random schedules. Sometimes you show up on pay day only to hear, "uh. Yah. Sorry, but the pay checks never showed up. Try again Monday." :/ 

This week, she got the blessed phone call saying she is Starbucks' newest and cutest barista. Well. They said something along those lines. The point is, Baby Girl got herself a big girl job where she's sure to meet her paycheck actually ON payday. 

As parents, it's important to give our kids the right ideas when it comes to quitting a job. We rehearsed. I gave her some ideas, and she fretted and bit her fingernails. 

"When should I give my notice??"

"Since you've got a yes for the job, and you have to give two weeks' notice, just do it on your next shift."

Then we talked strategy. 

"When you get in there, look for a good time- end of the shift or beginning. Start with a thank you for the work and for giving you this chance to get your feet wet with your first job. Tell them you you need a job you can take with you to college and fits your schedule better. Don't drag it out."

And just like that, she did it. She was so brave. I was so proud. 

The second part of this is for her benefit for years to come. Teach your kids to update they're resumes immediately with contact information, dates, names, phone numbers and addresses. How many times have you been applying for a job and you haven't a clue of the time frame for some job or another? Or the name of your supervisor- forget about it. 

Five years from now she will have four year's worth of college in her brain. She won't remember this. She won't even know she needs it until she goes to apply for another job! 

Do your kids a favor and have them collect this information while it's still milling around in their brain. 

She's not even far enough along to create a resume. Hers looks more like a simple Word document with the goods. I'll send it with her on her computer when she goes. 

Setting our kids up for success can feel like an overwhelming task. Handling these bite sized pieces makes us feel like we can actually move that mountain a smidgeon. 

~ Nonsense

I Can't Relate

I was taught how to read my Bible. It's a learned skill. One I've definitely not mastered, but the point is there are ways to approach scripture to help us get the most out of our time.

One strategy is to read a passage and ask yourself, "Self. Who do you relate to most in this story?" And then you answer. Maybe keep it in your mind or journal. Keep the crazy at bay.

Too often, I relate to all the wrong people.

Take the story of Adam and Eve in the garden. They have all they need and more because they often get face time with God. God gives them some rules. One rule. They break it and react in true human form. Finger pointing.

God: Where are you?
Valley Boy Adam: OMG THIS WOMAN YOU GAVE ME. She tempted me with FRUIT. ugh!
God: What's this I hear?
Valley Girl Eve: Oh Gag me. This guy. (eye rolls) That stupid serpent made me do it. I am SOOO over this.
(none of these words are really in the Bible.)

They never take blame. They never own up. And I imagine them sounding a whole lot like my children when they were preschool aged. Except I would walk away letting them duke it out while I put myself in time out. God probably handled it better. I said it all quietly so they wouldn't notice, giving me more time to hide.

It's the hiding that gets me. In the hiding is where my identity becomes muddled. Because in the story of Adam and Eve, I relate most to Adam and Eve.

When I've said or done something wrong, my instinct is to figure out who made me do it. Even when it's my own mouth trying to be funny, but I've crossed a line and been funny at the expense of someone's feelings. I say things like, "They made it too easy." I blame them for my jerk of a mouth. I relate to all the wrong people in the stories.

In this picture, I find the same is true. On a recent field trip with 26 fifth-graders, I saw this little guy. Look at him. He's a fighter. Look how dry that ground is. Look how void of life his surroundings are. Craggy rocks and arid dust. An almost barren land with little to offer. 

My students were elbow deep in the Truckee River when I looked over and noticed this little loner. 

"Look at you!" I thought. What an image of contrast. Is my life like this little flower? Am I a fighter in a tough world? Then the thoughts.
"Maybe I am more like this ground. Maybe I relate more to the dusty surroundings more than the flower. Why?"
Possibly because I am dehydrated. Just like this earth.

Jesus said, "But whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life." 

I want to relate to the best parts of life. The loving parts, the giving parts, the less hurried parts. I want to look back and feel content and satisfied, not unsettled and thirsty. I want to read a Bible story and relate to Joshua, not the wimpies that ran back from the Promised Land shaking in their boots. Most importantly, I want never to use the best gift God has given me (my words) as weapons. 

But it won't happen without a little work on my end. I know what I need to do. Where do you find your thirst quenched? 

Stay strong, little roots.
~ Nonsense

WHOLE: Linking Up

How it works:

To participate in Five Minute Friday, all you have to do is write for five minutes on the word of the week, post your words on your own blog, and link up the post here (via the InLinkz button at the bottom of the post). Be sure to add the actual permalink to your specific post, and not your blog’s homepage (e.g. http://katemotaung.com/five-minute-friday/ and not just katemotaung.com).

This Week's word? 

WHOLE:

GO

This morning I could scarcely eat a whole banana. I was sick the past few weeks and the effects won't seem to release me. It's not all bad. Not eating a whole meal helps a girl fit into her skinny jeans a tiny bit better. Except, now I am left thinking ridiculous thoughts like, "Why are these so baggy? What if I lost all the muscles I've been earning at the gym? Who even goes a whole day without eating a banana? Should I buy new pants?" 


My inner dialogue takes two paths. I'm either running from one lane of nonsensical thoughts, or I am fighting. The fighting makes me exhausted, but the more time I spend in the nonsense, the more I find I am facing the fight of my life. Inevitably, I begin to think of my identity. My motivations for who I am and how I live. 

This has always been the enemy's greatest fixation in my life. What do I do in those times? Sometimes, I turn on music to drown him out. Sometimes I give in and believe his crap. But every once in a while, I remember who God says I am. 

He says, "You are whole. Because of me and what I did, you get to be whole. Why won't you take it?"

How does a girl even answer that question?

STOP

Why Tacos

My brother and his wife started inviting people over on Tuesdays for tacos a decade or so ago. There's a nice ring to it. I'm a words girl, so I'll support many alliterations with even thinking deeply on it. 

We liked the idea, because. Come on. It's tacos. So we took over where they left off. We pack them in- kids, teens, hangry college students, single moms, and the occasional curious parent. We welcome the gamut. 

It's become our ministry- the tacos. Well, it's much less about the tacos and a lot more about the kids. Our kids and their kids. The kids who seem to have no adults. Or the ones who need to see what life can be. Even the ones who need to see we are the same in some ways. 

Don't get hung up on why this won't work. It's not complex. We clean up, but we don't kill ourselves over that. I'm a full-time teacher. I ain't got time for fretting. 

We cook. We laugh. We eat. We clean. We get to know our teenagers' friends. We sit by a fire some nights. Others we play a game. Tonight was nacho Tuesday, so obviously we watched Nacho Libre and practiced our luchador skills. Obviously. 

We get feedback. It's not always intentional and sometimes it's just overheard between kids, but it reminds us we are on the right track. Loving God and loving others. Tacos. Simple. 

One kid said, "My favorite time of the month is taco Tuesday."

Another asked, "Why did your husband come in and kiss you when he got home?" 

"Your family is so weird. You all just talk and hang out?"

"Dude. This chicken is legit!"

"I like this. I like being here."

I could dive deep into the stories behind these kids, but we remember what that time was like, right? Our own parents were insane and didn't understand us. It took someone else to knock some sense into us (even if it sounded remarkably similar to our parents' message). 

Our kids need people. Some kids will spend a lifetime lost without some intentional people to set a crazy example of taking a minute to love their spouse through a hug and kiss when they arrive home. 

Some kids need to see a dad discipline with love or interact with his daughter like it's easy. 

This is what we have to offer: family dynamic and tacos. 

You have something, too. Maybe it is tacos. Maybe it's art or sports or music. Maybe you have coffee and some young kid just popped in your mind and you just know she needs to talk. Whatever you have, share it. Make a difference with the simplest tools. 

#letthemeattacos

Winner Alert

Caution: We have a winner in our midst. Melaroo has won her choice of coffee mug. Here is her story:

... My favorite snow day memory is from my first snow day ever. I grew up in warm climates--Louisiana, Southern California, Hawaii, Texas, Vegas --so this whole snow thing was so far from my radar, I didn't even really know that "snow days" were a thing. 
So after going through some challenging times, we decided that our family needed to relocate, and, like the super intelligent people we are, we decided to move our family cross-country to the state of Virginia. In the middle of winter. ��
This was a difficult time for us, as we didn't know anyone, had no income, and were all struggling with loneliness and sadness because we missed our home and friends and family. I was so worried about the boys and scared that I had ruined everything for them. 
We woke up one morning in our tiny apartment to see snow EVERYWHERE outside and somehow knew we had to stay in for the day. Neither of us really knew how to drive in it and geez Louise, it was cold. 
So, we made food and snacks and hot chocolate, and snuggled on the couch with my boys, watching the Sound of Music on tv. Later on, the boys excitedly went outside to play and, as I watched them through the window, I saw how happy they were, and i remember thinking that God had given me this tiny gift, this little snow day of peace and happiness, in the midst of the thundering chaos of my life. He reminded me that He loves my boys more than I do. He reassured me that my kids were going to be happy again and that they were going to be okay. 
So that's my story. But other than that, I hate the snow


Thank you to everyone who joined the competition. We have another giveaway coming soon.

A Classic Tale

::flasback segment::

Layla Grace-6 monthish
Eli-18months-ish
Isabelle-4 ish
Me-the day I turned grey

It's a day like any other. We have errands to run. One including the grocery store.

We stroll into Albertson's, oh so unsuspecting. I have Eli and Layla squeeezed into the front seat normally meant for one. They are rigged, two legs in one hole and a baby blanket wedged to one side. Isabelle is walking.
I have my calculator, my list, and we are all set with goodies from the cold drink aisle. I do the usual patrolling.
"Don't take that off the shelf."
"Don't lick the cart."
Stuff like that.
About an hour or more into it we are in the home stretch with only about three aisles to go. I am at the butcher counter getting steaks for dinner. (ah the good wife) ::pat pat pat::

Suddenly, out of my apron wearing day dream, I notice a cold something or other ::drip drip drop::

What is that? ::drip::

I bend to see milk splattering under my cart.::drop::

Quite a bit of it.

"what? how did that happen?" ::drip drop::

"Elijah, what did you do?" And this is where, if he could speak, he would tell me he ate through the milk carton. Right through the plastic.
Good grief, what a mess.

I wiggle closer to the lobster tank where they provide you with free paper towels--for the dive I suppose. As it turns out they are equally handy for almost-two-year-olds.

So I get my steaks and turn around just in time to notice Layla has gnawed herself a little snack. This one is made of a different variety- same animal. Her preference is raw hamburger.

Through my disgust and her wailings of injustice, I manage to dig as much as possible out of her mouth, left wondering how much she actually ate. ew.

I notice a convenient trash receptacle nearby and deposit the remnants of her snack into the can. Just as I do my hand gets snagged on the lid. It is one of those big metal cans with the teeter tottery lids.

Life is now in slow motion. teeter, totter, teeeeetter, toooooottterrr.

The kids are crying, the butcher woman is agasp, chest heaving, and my eyes are wide as the trash can lid flies up, up, up into the air.

And me? I am spider man as I look around me, taking it all in.
Only then does the display catch my eye.

"Hello. I hadn't noticed you before."

I make a mental registry of everything as it all comes crashing to the ground. No, not paper towels, that would be too easy. I see can openers, corkscrews, wire baskets, salt and pepper shakers, thermomoters, anything metal a grocery store would carry.

Yes, it is all on this very special, metal itself, display. And it too is on the floor. All it's guts splayed for passersby.

(You know what always amazes me? how everything gets so quiet when a terrible loud noise happens.)

It feels like hours pass. Days maybe.

Isabelle is the first to speak-- and I quote "NO WAY THAT JUST HAPPENED!"
I am still too shocked to say anything. Silence.

The butcher lady comes close, places her hands on my shoulders, and says, "Just go, honey. I will take care of everything."
So I do.
I unload my children and we leave the grocery store. Grocery cart full and dripping. The Good Wife steaks warming. My reputation circling the drain.

And in my best Alex Trebek voice:
"Why dont the Brewer kids go to the grocery store?"

#advicefromthemotheroffive Save yourselves

A Giveaway: Because No Reason

Because Sunday was Easter and sunny and beautiful.

Because Monday brought us five inches of snow.

Because Tuesdays aren't only for tacos.

Because there's always room for coffee.

Because sometimes we need to be reminded that we have superhero powers hidden in our smiles.

Or maybe because I love you readers just so much it makes my heart wanna give.

I am giving away a coffee mug. For your coffee, tea, cereal, soup, or hot sauce holder.

Choose between these two:

To enter, simply leave me an answer to my question. Put your thinker on, it's deep.

And sign up for emails over there on my sidebar, so I have a way of contacting you when you win.*

What's your favorite snowed in or stuck in the house memory with your family?

Good Luck! Winner announce one week from today.

Blessings,
Nonsense At Its Finest

* Those of you on phones will need to scroll to the bottom of this post and touch "web version". Then you'll find my sidebar. We are working on these technical difficulties. 

Saturday

I imagine it was quiet. Everywhere they went. There were everyday street sounds, people selling in the market, noisy animals, and crying. No. Wailing. Of course there was wailing.

But I have a feeling those noises felt a million miles away to believers. Men that had immediately left their family fishing business on the side of a sandy shore to follow Him. Women that had given an expensive bottle of perfume in the opportunity to anoint The Lord. Men that had so easily betrayed Him with a gesture meant to show love and commitment: a kiss. 

As if in a well, those sounds would have been way off, blocked by the confusion, defeat, the devastation that seemed to stop up their ears. "This can't be. We JUST had dinner with Him. There is still so much to do. This can't be" rolling over and over in their minds. Where our logic and sight fight each other for the upper hand. Where our subconscious tries hard to convince us we are stuck in a nightmare, Friday never happened. 

But we know better. We simply don't know where to go from here. 

Praise for Friday. Praise to Jesus for choosing me and my shame even before I was born. Praise to God's plan to make a way, so now I can go right to the source. He knows my name. He has always known my name. 

 Praise the promise that reminds me that my tears may be many, my confusion and struggles great. 

But Joy. 

Joy

Comes

In

The

Morning. 

Thank you, Jesus. Everyday, help me to live my life as a thank you drawing others to you and giving you all the glory. 

Maybe I Do Need Another Coffee Mug

It's been maybe more than once that my husband has said, "do we really need another coffee mug?" 

It's been 20 years. Today is our 20th anniversary, and while it's really been a wonderful 20 years, when he talks crazy like that I begin to wonder if he knows me at all. 

Uh, hello. How do I pass up a mug that so resembles my father? Takes me back to listening to vinyls in our garage recording studio. Strobe light all. Strobing? 

And wasn't it actually my husband who said my next tattoo should be a black heart? I believe his words were "get it somewhere in the open, so people know what to expect."

And I've got hobbies. Is that a crime? 

Don't worry, friends. I'm not a quitter. I won't give up this fight. 

I solemnly swear I'm up to no good. 

~ Nonsense

To the Biscuit That Tried to Do Me In

Dear biscuit, 

Two years ago, when I discovered I was allergic to you, I thought I had seen the last of us. I know, I can't even blame you. We broke up. You honored my words. I sought you out. 

It was a moment of weakness. I needed to take some pain meds given to me by my dentist. It was a moment of weakness, but there you were. I smelled you floating around the parking lot outside of Popeyes- minding your own business. But you may as well have been Lloyd Christmas from Dumb and Dumber, bent over at the bar, putting out the vibe in your blue leisure suit. 

Your buttery, salty aroma drew me in. I tried to make light of the effects I knew you would have on me. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time, we could be close, and I would only have a small tickle in my throat or itchy ears. 

But, no. You came with a side of gravy. Wheat. Filled. Gravy. I caved. I slathered you. Dipped you. Savored every. Last. Bit. I told myself it was just this once. 

I can't do this anymore. 

It's over. You hurt too good. I took my chances and let down my guard to let you in. And how do you repay me? A sinus infection, two ear infections, and two ruptured eardrums. 

Oh, biscuit. How could you? Wheat is for jerks. Please, just let me go. Make it a clean break. I need to make a new life for myself. 

I'll always love you. 

Sincerely, 

A Sucker For Flaky Crusts

PS I can't quit you. Tell Donut I say, "hello". He'll know what it means. 

Kicked By a Mule

"It's the most amazing thing. She falls in a well, and her eyes go crossed. She gets kicked by a mule, and her eyes aren't crossed anymore!"

Ah, the insight that comes from Classic movies. There is a chance I need to throw myself down a well. Maybe that will shake me up enough to get my head on straight. It's one of those perfect storms of busy in my life, but there's nothing left to take out. I'm down to a few things: food, writing deadline, my family, homework, work, sleep, and maybe cleaning. And pants. Ok FINE. I'll put on pants. And coffee. 

Coffee goes in the food category for some people. For me it's in a subcategory with oxygen. 

I still have Bible study once a week. I'm something like 23 weeks into something like 35 weeks of Revelation. This is my time. My time down here. (See what I did there? Goonies never say die) 

I could cut this and have my Monday evenings back, but it's been pretty powerful. And I could skip a lot of it, but I want the notes. The notes are my favorite part. So, for now, I'll remain. Because cutting off a group of feisty old ladies who pray for you, seems poorly timed when you're going through so much. 

My writing conference is in two Wednesdays. It will be a lot of work while I'm there, but at least I'll have a beautiful view. Don't worry. I'll share pictures.

Lord, please let their coffee be good. Amen.  

You Can't Do That

How many times have you been told, "You can't do that"? I don't mean you've been told no, I mean you've been told you can't when you feel you actually can. We go through school, relationships, jobs, challenges and we are faced now and then with people who speak too quickly or off the cuff. 

Growing up, I was part of a less than middle class neighborhood. Less than poor by many American standards. My schools were rough as we began each morning with a trip through metal detectors. You couldn't even get into a football game without a bag check and a pat down. You could feel the abuse so vivid in the souls of fellow students, but you didn't dare ask how that black eye came to be. If only we had just the parents to fear, but gangs were the majority in our world. Drive by shootings weren't rare. Gang rapes were common enough that the neighborhood didn't shut down when we heard of one. It was safer not to know. 

It was heavy enough that I knew I needed to shove it off as soon as possible. I would not stay here and raise a family. I was 7 when I chose Jesus instead of my circumstances. I was in 7th grade when I realized something wasn't right with my surroundings. 

I remember going to my counselor and asking to be put in a higher math class: I was college bound. Even he thought I was crazy. He said in an attempt to joke, "you're a bit too stupid for that kind of class." I left his office and made an appointment with the principal. "Give me a new counselor. I won't work with him anymore." 

As a teacher now, I can't even imagine what the office said about me when I left. I felt like I stood up to that guy, but they never moved me into the harder math class. I didn't press the issue because, in truth, he had shaken my confidence. So much so that I had to take an anti-math anxiety class in college. I sweet talked my way through high school math classes to get Ds. I didn't realize how much I needed this counselor. In his awful plan and hateful words, he shaped me. Rather God used that crap to shape me into something stronger. 

In high school, a girl said, "let's start a Bible club." I'll be honest. It seemed like a strange club, but I like the Bible and I like a good fight, so when I heard that she was told "You can't" by our principal, I got a lawyer. I was 14. I knew a lawyer from church and his office was downtown next to our school. I made an appt with him and started a petition. I took a notebook full of notes, went to the library to research a few court cases on his recommendation, and seriously thought about becoming a lawyer. Once my signatures were collected, I took my evidence to the principal. He asked the secretary to stay in the meeting as a witness. I asked to have my history teacher present as my witness. (I didn't even know what that meant). I won. He agreed that if I agreed not to be too religious that I could have my club. And could my lawyer please stop calling him? Sure. :) no problem, sir. The Bible club ended up being great. Read a little scripture. Do acts of kindness around the school. Good choice Mr. Brusa. You really were my favorite principal. Sorry my lawyer had to get involved. Thank you for telling me "you can't". I wouldn't be where I am without you. 

Tomorrow, I am going to teach at my church. It's a mile and a half outside my comfort zone, so probably exactly where I am supposed to be. As I've been reading and researching about Nehemiah, I am emotionally tied to him more when I read about these three men who made his work miserable. They kept up the incessant rant of "you can't, Nehemiah". They threatened him and his family. They came at him with swords.

 It's amazing to me, his response. Nehemiah and his men (and women) didn't walk away from this challenge. Instead they continued working, hammer in one hand and a sword in the other. Literally. 

This is the kind of faith I want. When someone tells me, "you can't" I want to pick up my sword and continue working. I want to remember who God says I am and to whom I belong. There are just so many things I truly cannot accomplish. Alone I'm nothing. But, "I can do all things through Christ Jesus who gives me strength" and I can stand firm on the promise that "He works all things together for his glory." "Whom shall I fear?" Certainly not some middle school counselor.