Beautiful

Wheat Grass, Fire Cider (my mom's anti-sickness p otion) and Liquid Ch lorophyl l in Nutchella Milk. This is what I attempted to drink wh en I was getting sick last week. IT. WAS. DISGU STING. Why does g ood m edicine have to be so ... unpleasant ? So I guess I have another opportunity to be really vulnerable here, and reveal that I still need a lot of work done on my character.  Recently, I made a choice without thinking about how it would look from the outside or how it would affect others. I have a problem with either thinking too much about a decision, or not thinking enough. This time, I didn't think enough. I gave the wrong impression, all the while convinced I had good motives. I was self-decieved, and I'm very ashamed that could happen to me. I thought I knew myself better; I thought I was more mature. It's very unsettling to see your own sinfulness, to say the least. Pride hurts, an awful lot. But instead of just admitting that I made a mistak...

I am seriously thinking about ending my blog and social media accounts. I'll explain: In more fully realizing my own sinfulness, I'm really disgusted with making anything about myself public, whether in writing or photos. I'm learning that I can't really trust what I think or say, because I am very likely to be self-decieved, and I certainly want to take the focus off of my sinful self.  I have decided to serve Christ, and I do not see that writing or posting about myself is accomplishing that goal in any way.  Also, if you, as a reader, are having your own life adventure and seeking Christ, you really wouldn't have the time to read about me. I want you to live in your own reality, not mine. I need use the time that I think about how to share myself with others for thinking about how to share Jesus instead. If the only reason that I write is to publish my thoughts, my experiences, I don't see the point other than that it would feed pride for me and ...

Please, notice me! I pull in to the parking lot just as the music ends, and turn the key. The engine purrs to a stop. I look up to see one of my students and his father walking to the front door of the school. The dad has his arm around his son's shoulder, and they are talking happily. They pause at the door. The dad hugs and kisses his son, and then the son walks in the door while the dad turns around and returns to his beat up car. This is a ritual I have seen many mornings; in fact, it has happened every morning for the past few years this student has come to FSCS. The love between the father and son is so obvious, it's touching. I climb out of my car and gather up my computer bag, lunch bag, and cell phone. As I walk up to the school building, a tiny little first grader who has also just arrived runs ahead of me and courteously opens the door. "Thank you, honey!" I exclaim. "You're such a gentleman!" He dimples and hurries to his clas...