New

Many things are new in this land. I don't mean your land. I mean our land. "This land" is what Sam calls any happenings that affect him.

New job.

New church because of new job.

New family dynamic.

New shoes. Well I hope so.

New hours.

New relationships.

New.

It's all new. It will take me a bit to pull myself up from my Bootstrap's bootstraps, but with new comes hope. I like hope. It could have been my middle name. I might decide it's my code name and wear a super girl shirt with an H in the center. I could rock it. Lets just agree and move on.

My official title is Children's Ministry and Preschool Director at Hillside Foursquare Church. Because of the nature of the job, we will be switching churches to be in that community.

We started back today. It ruled. They had pastries and coffee during the service and nachos after. Come eat. Come drink. Come nacho.

Our dynamic changes because my kids currently attend the private school I work at. But that discount doesn't extend to no employees, and that's ok. For the past six months I have had the desire to homeschool again. So, we are going to. DID YOU HEAR ME FRIENDS!! I get to homeschool my babies. Who aren't actually babies at all, but they are mine. And being their mom is the best job a girl can have after being The Man's wife. Best. Just the best.
So I registered the four youngest in K12- an online public school. We dominated that program about two years ago like O'Doyle rules the woods. Izzy will stay in her program in the IB school she is at and represent the Brewers from there.
I'll devote three-four hours a day to my kids' education instead of the current nine. Nine hours on school is silly. I am all done with that.
New shoes? I see a Goodwill trip in my future.
New hours. I am required to be on campus for 25 hours each week. What I do with that time is up to me a long as I am getting my work done and our teachers feel valued and are learning still. That's my job. To give them opportunities to grow.
Instead of the schedule I keep now, 44 hours per week, I will cut that nearly in half
Dear Lord, you are so good to me. Thank you for my family and my church and the chance to serve them. Help me not to screw it up. Amen.

Oh. And this picture? This is my daughter hugging redemption. God is amazing. Tell your friends.

The Rules Should Apply To Everyone

Tonight I taught a class of seriously awesome adults. Every Wednesday and Thursday, for a few hours, I trade in my kindergarten hat, my wife hat, my mamma hat for an adult basic education hat. That's a big hat. I teach English as a second language to a group of people who are anxious to learn. They work harder than most people I know. They are rad.*
I asked them to be confident in themselves and the direction they are heading. And as I spoke the words, I realized these same rules need to apply to me too.
It's so easy to give advice. It's so easy to stand on the outside and know what someone else should do. But we are kidding ourselves when we say we are confident or that we KNOW how we would act in a situation we have never been in.
Sometimes God says move. Even when it doesn't make a ton of sense, God says move, and we have the choice to listen. But we have the choice to stand still and ignore him.
This time I am going to move. Both feet.
One

Two

Three

Dive.

*i love the word "rad". One time when my brother and I were in middle school, we were at a family picnic. A cousin or some same aged relative ran up to my brother and said, "you're rad." He smirked like she wasn't telling him something new.
Another obscure relative of the tween age came up and said the same thing. "You're rad" and then giggled hysterically before running off.
My brother turned to me and stared at my face, imparting the wisdom of a knowing man. "These girls see my greatness" his eyes seemed to say.
Finally, a voice of reason showed up in the form of a ten year old. She giggled like the others, but this time she said," do you know what R.A.D. Means?"
Of course we do. And we said so.
Her: no. It stands for retarded African dog.
Me: bwahahahaha. Oh. My side.

Linking Up With a Gypsy: Brave

Brave: start:

I want to be brave, really. Sometimes I stand at the edge of the diving board (theoretically of course because I scarce know how to swim in the deep end) and let my toes hang over. I stand and practice bending my knees. Arms up. But I just look. That isn't being brave. That's planning to be brave, but planning to be brave isn't brave either.

When God speaks, and you stand, and God speaks, and you take a step with your eyes squeezed shut, and God speaks, and you peak through the squint, and God speaks, and you reach your hands out in an opened position, and God speaks, and you feel the weight lift off, and God speaks, and you open one eye, and God speaks, and you open the other eye, and God speaks, and you step forward with more surety, and God speaks, and you stand tall, and God speaks, and you pick up the pace, and God speaks, and your heart feels poundy, and God speaks, but you do it anyway, and God speaks, and you realize you are running toward His voice not looking left or right or down, only up because everything else is too terrifying. That's brave.
Stop.

Directions:
Write for five minutes with no editing or over thinking. Just write on the given topic.

Full disclosure: I didn't know how to spell surety. I looked it up after my five minutes was up. I was way off.

Anything:Day1

Our book club has begun. Officially. I love the atmosphere at Starbucks. My hazelnut latte wasn't too bad either. The best part though was being there with my teen. She is cool and loves Jesus. People these days don't tend to enjoy kids being involved in church activities that aren't explicitly kid activities. It's too much of a soup pot. No, church these days prefers segregated soup. So, in keeping with my wild thing side, and our mandate to disciple other generations, I invited teens.
She added plenty to the conversation, and even spoke some truth like a champ.

This week, for those of you who are joining us, we are reading the first five chapters. That is about 25 pages. Maybe less. Order your book on amazon now. Do it. Do it!

Our bookstores here have been bought right out. I know because I bought izzy the last one.

In a few days, I will post some interesting questions. I'd love to hear your answers to them. Meanwhile. Be blessed

Anything

Jennie Allen wrote a book that is jacking up my boundaries, my ease. I have spent a year in a job I have thoroughly enjoyed, but if I am honest, I haven't loved everything else.

My house? Train wreck.

My kids? They could give Oscar the Grouch a run for his grumpy money.

My husband? I almost don't recognize him, but lets leave his mustache out of this.

My hair? No. Too soon to talk about this one.

I don't know why we honeymoonize everything. I looked at the wrong things when I thought going to work full-time was no big deal. As it turns out, I didn't get to stop being a full-time wife or a full-time mom when I became a full-time teacher. Instead, I went from strict priorities to "if I could just find a minute to drink some water or exercise or snuggle my babies".

This life is getting stupider by the nano second and I have no one to blame but myself.

I haven't worked out in a month. I don't have time.

It's been weeks since I wrote in The Book. I don't have time.

Bible reading? Here and there, but I am so tired I can't convince my eyes to stay open at the same time.

Confession: I haven't washed my sheets within this month. I know I need to. But, you guessed it. I don't have time.

I want to be radical. I want to follow Jesus and mean it. I want to be willing to say ANYTHING when Jesus whispers "Shontell, I see you. What will you do for me?"

If I am tired, I want a life to be changed because of it.

If I am drained, I want salvation to be the cause.

A quote from Anything, " from this point on things are changing. I am living for the moment when I will face you. I want to get to heaven out of breath, having willingly done anything that you -God of the universe-ask…anything."

Amen.
"Praise The Lord. Holy Crap"-Ellie Grace

Linking Up With The Gypsy

Type for five minutes flat without editing on one topic. Today, that topic is Friend:

Go

My friends, the girl in the PNW and the other girl currently living in Vegas, keep me company all day long. I like it. Tonight, the southern most friend sent news that her contractions were getting closer together. Now, normally we group text, the three of us, and it's all a lot of nonsense (which I am clearly a fan of) but this is real news. After I get off of work, I check in with them only to find they have left me the present of no less than 50 texts. usually more like 75. Can you even imagine how many we will generate if one of this tri-fecta is in labor!!? I am only slightly excited.

That's a lie I just made up myself. So, friend. Right now. I ode to you and your new little peanut. We will be praying. I will be sleeping restlessly. I will be dying to know if my baby birthday guess was right. (I chose the last week of April). Word to your mother.

Stop.

In my bed

My belly feels like there is a rock sitting in it. I blame the coffee. It was super strong. So naturally I drank two cups with a sugary muffin on the side. Why do I do it? In the wise words of Dr. Seuss, " don't ask me, go ask your mother".

Tonight is family night. We celebrate Mondays by giving it a funny name and watching the Cosby Show. Taco Tuesday doesn't work because we already have Partridge Family guitar Tuesdays. So instead we have Taco Tuesday Monday. It's the same really. Only different. I can't explain things.

I just know I want my belly ache to quit so I can eat spicy rice with a substitute of ground turkey for beef. And I want zero negative repercussions. Which have nothing whatsoever to do with percussions. It should. But it doesn't. I can't explain it anymore than I can explain why my heater keeps coming on when the thermostat clearly reads OFF in big offensive letters or why they keep making Land Before Time movies.

It's not like we didn't like the first one. It was great really. It's just that maybe it's time to let that one go. There are other story lines. Step to as to writing one.

My stomach is making funny gurgling noises. I think I am hungry. Don't try to make sense of me. Just love me through it and make me a sandwich. With a banana on the side. And a bottle of water. And a Kit Kat.

Happy Earth Day

I love the Earth. I really do, but this holiday is so obscure. We teach it in school. Usually we plant things. Which I think I will do with my students tomorrow, but I sort of feel like Ricky Bobby on Talladega Nights when he is giving his first interview and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. His race was brilliant. Well played. Fast even. But what comes next?? I hear you Ricky.
I guess we could talk about how to take care of the Earth, but kindergarteners aren't supposed to learn about recycling and what not. That's a first grade lesson. I don't want to steal that teacher's thunder.
Maybe we will talk about words that rhyme with earth. Worth. Firth. Birth. Ew. That got awkward fast.
Ok. I have no choice. I am running short on time, and it's clearly an emergency situation. I will have to hang out on Pinterest during church.
Anyone else find themselves in this situation? No?? Just me?? Hmm.