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Right in the Middle

“Sometimes you can’t get warm until you admit that you’re cold in the first place.” Sarah Jakes They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. They never disclose the fact that you will take that first step many times in your life. I’m only 31 and square one is, well, a familiar pace. Now, this is not going to be one of those posts recounting years of pain. This is actually more about unexpected triumphs. You see, after 31 years in the game, I “admitted that I was cold.” These days, I’m pretty warm inside.  I recently spoke with a friend of mine from college. There was a point in my life when she was my person. I told her every secret and I laid all of my brokenness out for her to see. It was terrifying. I was broken in so many places and pieces that I had no clue where to begin to heal. At some point, I started at square one. My childhood. Beautiful and painful. I’m sure in a previous blog I’ve exposed all of that, so I won’t do it here. Just know, in my journe
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Dr. JK...The Principal We Need

"A boss has the title, a Leader has the people." Simon Sinek My career as a teacher has been a challenging one, and not because of my colleagues, my students, or their parents. Many know that it took a while to pass the Math Praxis. I never gave in; partly because of my will to succeed, but mostly due to the encouragement of my leader, Dr. Carolyn Jackson-King. The woman that hired me and then fought for me to stay.  My second day of teaching 4th grade at Orr Elementary, I walked into her office, and told her I needed to resign. It was a truth joke. I laughed and I cried. I was NOT READY. I had started my certification program, I was studying for the praxis, and I was teaching one of the most notorious groups of students to ever grace the walls of that building. While that group made me who I am as a teacher, my principal gave me every tool I needed to even come close to the educator they deserved. Over the years, I believe that I have grown as a teacher. It is clear
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A Mothers Prayer

Last week I was sitting across from my nail tech (check her out, @nailzbynisey) and I was on the phone with a friend. She was telling my about her son who is acting out. And the week before, I sat in that same chair listening to my cousin who was having trouble with her teenage daughter who had been acting out. Nisey looked at me and said, “So are you the child whisperer?” I laughed. Apparently, there’s some truth to her words. After thinking about it, I’ve been having several conversations about children and their relationship with their parents. Specifically, with their mothers. Here’s why. Several years ago, a couple weeks before my 23 rd birthday, my mother and I got into the biggest fight of my life. Mind you, I was always a pretty quiet and respectful child. I did whatever my mother asked and when she asked. Then I got grown. Or at least I thought I was. I had a car, a car note, a pretty decent job for someone my age and I didn’t have a single bill to pay. Yet, I have NO
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Why Do Christians Shoot Their Wounded?

           I attended one of the most amazing bible colleges money could pay for. I have a very expensive degree in biblical education that I only use to debate with my friends who also attended bible college and for my personal studies. Every now and then I feel the bible geek in me creep into random conversations and most are stunned. Like the day a close friend of mine texted saying she heard an elderly woman say, “God don’t bless mess.” It was a group chat and everyone laughed. I mean, it was funny. But then I went on a rant…             “I really despise sayings like that. That’s not even biblically sound because I mean, who isn’t a mess. And who are you to tell me that God won’t bless me because I am broken. This is why people don’t go to church or trust in the Lord. Because of dumb sayings like that. I am a mess and somehow I keep waking up with breath in my lungs. That’s a blessing.”             Well, these are not the friends that attended bible college with me so t
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Living in the Silence

When I think about my childhood, I realize that I grew up in the silence. There was always something going on around me. Parents arguing, family fussing; you know the assumed amount of disfunction. So I made it a point to live beneath the noise. I found peace within myself. I made myself shy and I only talked to my imaginary friend. Yes. I had an imaginary friend. Let my mother tell it, she was concerned for my well-being. She sought counsel for my state of mind. She was informed that I was normal and just going through a phase.  Her name was Grace. And to add to the insanity occuring in my household, Grace had a seat at the dinner table nightly. I remember my stepfather coming home and sitting in her seat. I let out a cry and explained that he had squished her. While my mother cringed, my stepfather politely apologized and chose another chair. Another time, my mom had fallen asleep watching tv and I must have been bored because I caused a huge scene. I ran out into the livin
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