Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Walking back to the bus, a check, a copy of the slavage release, and a licence plate in hand, I found it odd that a big metal machine could be so easily reduced to a few slips of paper and a metal plate.
Being a music teacher, I feel like I'm on stage all day. I spend my days singing or dancing or conducting or doing something wierd or some combination of the above. I also spend my days killing my vocal cords. I don't have specific voice training, which I think is a large part of the problem. (I'm looking into voice and breath instruction from a speech-language pathologist.) For the last two and a half months, however, I've felt as if I am constantly on the verge of losing my voice. It just feels strained all the time. Prompted my my union telling me that they'd buy me an FM system (basically a wireless mic) if I had a reccommendation from a specialist and the fact that I don't want to do more damage to my voice, I made an appointment.
Other than two quick visits to a walk in clinic after my car accident, I haven't been to a doctor in probably nine years (yes, I know, bad me!), so this whole "specialist" deal was rather new for me. It was so cool! [Those of you who don't like inside-of-the-body stories can skip to the next paragraph] In order to check my vocal cords, the doc first sprayed some freezing goop ("freezing goop" being the technical word for it) up my nose and down my throat, then sent me to the waiting room for a few minutes while it took effect. What a bizarre sensation to have one side of the inside of your nose go numb! He called me back into a different room with all kinds of crazy equipment in it and told me what he was about to do. Um, ok. GULP. He handed me a mirror so I could see the monitor behind me, then took a long skinny tube with a light and a camera on the end of it and threaded it up my nose and down into my throat, "to avoid the gagger, which is your tongue." He gave quite an animated running commentary. I would have laughed, but, well, I was told to keep my mouth shut and I had a tube up my nose. "Ok, so here's the inside of your nose... whup! Around the corner... there's your epiglotis [at which point I swallowed! Flap flap!]... and here we are at you vocal cords!" He told me to say a few different sounds, and I got to see how they moved back and forth. It was so strange to know that that was MY body I was seeing on the screen!
Apparently my vocal cords are slightly bowed and don't touch completely when they're at rest, which may account for the strain I'm feeling, but there are no nodules/bumps. I'm relieved to find out I haven't damaged my voice (I was beginning to wonder). Hopefully this voice training will help make a difference.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Snow is quite the rarity in Vancouver. We usually get a few days of wet, slushy, sloppy muck that tries to pass itself off as snow in January or maybe February, and that's about it. It's only even goodfor playing in while it's falling. It rarely sticks around longer than a few days before it starts to rain again. As a kid, it was always a novelty. In school, as soon as the first student spoted a snowflake, the whole class would have their noses pressed to the window and would be cheering, "It's snowing! It's snowing!" Full of hope, everyone, whether they expressed it or not, wondered, "Will school be cancelled tomorrow?"
Everyone laughs at us Vancouverites. Three inches of snow basically shuts the whole city down. Five inches, and look out. No one's going anywhere, except maybe to the local park for some toboganning. But you just don't understand Vancouver snow until you've experienced it. It's a slushy, slippery MESS.
Vancouverites might complain about snow, but I love it! As I sit and look out my window watching the big fat flakes come down, illuminated by the neighbours patio light, I feel a sense of calm. Snow seems to have a nostalgic feeling to it, and a softness. But that's not all. For me, every time a few flakes fall, I'm still that little kid full of glee: It's snowing!!! It's snowing!!!
Snow! In Vancouver! In NOVEMBER! That's crazy talk.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
A friend of mine is in his senior year and is coming to the end of the term. I was talking to him on MSN tonight as he was struggling with a number of English Lit papers - one on Milton's Paradise Lost and another on Chaucer's Cantebury Tales. Just for fun, I took out my Norton Anthology and looked up Paradise Lost. I studied it briefly in second year, but that was a long time ago now! My friend asked me some of the questions he needed to write on, and it made me realize how far removed from university life I've become.
These days I'm not challenged to think critically in my job in the same way that I was at university. Granted, there are a whole lot of other pressures in my job to deal with, and I don't miss the papers and the midterms, that's for sure! But in a way, I miss that depth of study and discussion. I don't feel as sharp as I used to. (Yes, yes, I'm sure I'll get all kinds of jokes about that comment! Hardy har har! ;-) I think I need to start looking for ways to give my brain a better workout!
What do you do to stay sharp?
I'm still tweaking my template (on a tester blog first!), and thought I had finally gotten it right, till a friend told me it was horribly mangled when viewed in Firefox. Anybody care to check out my test site and help me fix my HTML? Apparently the bottom is all messy and the title image is off center. Thanks!
Saturday, November 26, 2005
I can not imagine myself living away from the water. There's something about spending time on the beach that renews me. It's at the ocean that I often feel much closer to God than I do anywhere else.
I grew up no more than a 10 minute walk (usually much less) to four different beaches. First, there was the main beach at Deep Cove. We'd often go there in the summer to swim and year round to just goof around. Even as a child I was struck by the beauty there. I did a painting or a drawing one time in grade 5 or grade 6 of the view from Deep Cove. I loved it. My teacher loved it, too, and asked me if she could keep it. I wish I still had it.
About a five minute walk away from my house was my favourite place to go swimming. It didn't really have a name, I don't think. We called it the secret beach. There was a little path between the back yard of one house and the side yard of another that would take you to a rickety set of wooden stairs. It looked like you were walking through someone's yard to get there. The beach was small - maybe only thirty feet of sand and broken shells worn smooth by the waves - and it was nestled in between the rock retaining walls surrounding the waterfront homes on either side. The best times to go swimming there was when the tide was either way in or way out. That way, we didn't have to step all over the barnacle-covered rocks as we eased our bodies into the cold water. There seemed to be a strip of those nasty barnacles right at the mid-tide level. We'd often come home with tiny cuts all over our feet, but it didn't matter. There was great swimming at the secret beach.
Down at the end of my street, there was a little public dock. Right in front of the dock there was (is!) a small island with a house on it. Sometimes we'd swim to the island when the tide was low. That dock was my haven as a teenager. If ever I was upset and needed to get away, I'd go down there. The early morning or dusk were my favourite times: a mist hung over the water and the light was still grey around me. It was quiet and calm, and every now and then, if you were lucky, you might see a seal pop his head up off in the distance. I would often go there to meet with God.
Over the years, there have been countless encounters between me and the ocean. Snuggling up on the beach on New Year's Day with an old boyfriend... watching the summer sun slip behind the horizon at Birch Bay and remembering how my grandma loved to do the same when she was still alive... watching pods of killer whales swim alongside the boat up in Port McNeil... gathering with hundreds of thousands of people to watch the offshore fireworks competitions in Vancouver every summer... silently paddling from bay to bay in a kayak, watching the shore glide past... going for longs walks with worship music playing on my discman, feeling God's presence with me as I walk... looking out at the forever horizon down on the Oregon Coast or at Long Beach, with the waves crashing in and feeling so small... crouching at the shore to listen to the sound of tiny pebbles rolling over each other as the water eased in and out, in and out...
Most of all, the ocean reminds me of God and his faithfulness. It's steady and unchanging. It's where I often get a better perspective on my life. It's where I can block other things out and just focus on Him. I definitely need to spend more time at the water's edge.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Then the weekend comes. Because he's a good friend, he's always a part of the crowd I see every weekend. The beginning of August was the last time there was an A-free weekend. Just the week after I was telling him how great it is when a guy offers to do the dishes for me, he does the dishes. Or the week after I was telling him one of the things that an old boyfriend did that really impressed me was offer to drive me home even when it was way far out of his way, he makes a way-out-of-the-way trip to drive me home. The girl-brain in me so wants to see things like this as a "sign," but I know better. He's just that kind of guy. He'd do it for anyone. This, unfortunately, just adds to his attractiveness.
Each weekend, as I get to know him more and more, all that mental effort I made during the week gets thrown right out the window.
Once again, I melt into a sappy, sentimental mess.
I absolutely HATE first term report cards! I only have to give letter grades to classroom teachers for the first term - no comments, thank goodness, and only to the intermediate teachers. That cuts the reporting down somewhat from 680 students to about 300. But the music program doesn't even get going till about October (it takes that long to settle schedules!), which at the best of times, only gives me about six 40 minute periods in which to teach and evaluate my students. Then we may miss classes because of holidays, professional days, or assemblies. I only see each class once a week, and my schedule is jam full. I have no spare periods. So if a kid is sick the day I do the evaluations, how do I get a mark for them?? And to boot, this year, teachers were on strike for two weeks in October. Suuure, I can give a mark that's actually based on anything. Yeah right! Arg!
But, they're done, letter grades are based on at least the student's ability to read the rhythms we've been working on, if not more. I'll have much more to draw on next term, but that's when I get to start making comments. I have to say, reporting is one aspect of my job that I don't particularily like!
BUT, it's done, and there's only three weeks till Christmas vacation! YAY! May the countdown begin.....
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
In any case, welcome to my new and hopefully improved site! It's a little more "me" than my old site. I hope you enjoy! Leave a comment to say hello (or to tell me if there's any formatting problems!)!
Sunday, November 20, 2005
I've been fighting that feeling lately - ok, for the last four and a half years - in regard to relationships. It's not an overwhelming feeling, more of a slight melancholy wondering that surfaces every now and then.
When B and I broke up back in 2001, we both knew it was a good thing. We simply weren't headed towards marriage, and it would be foolish to continue as if we were. We have remained friends even still, through him getting married and now having a baby. It's good.
Of course, there were reasons why we weren't headed towards marriage. I had mine, he had his. But every now and again, that nasty, lying little voice sneaks up on me: "B is an amazing guy. [Which is true]. You broke up because there were things he saw in you that he could not live with. If you had been ___ or done ___ you might still be together."
Now logically, I know that in part, the first half of that statement is true. We both saw things in each other that we decided we couldn't live with- not horrible things, just incompatibilities. But when that voice speaks, although it's never said directly, it's always implied that I just wasn't "good enough." Every now and then that feeling returns, particularly when things don't work out with someone I'm interested in or I'm starting to see. It can be the most illogical thought in the world - most of the guys I've had near relationships with this year, while they're good people, have had issues I'm just not willing to deal with in a relationship. They're all growing people, dealing with their baggage. I just don't want that many bags in my relationship. Because they're such good people, and have a lot to offer, and are working through their stuff (as am I, don't get me wrong - just look at the topic of this post!), I was willing to wait and see if maybe there was a possibility of a relationship anyway (deep down I knew there wasn't). Each time, however, they guy was the one to pull the plug.
There's that voice again: "See, you're just not good enough."
I know that that's a lie. I know that God knows there's someone for me who will be just the right one to compliment my strengths and my weaknesses, and for whom I can do the same. I also know it's not some mystical destiny thing - one soul separated at the beginning of time and when we meet, the two halves will come together and we will be complete. A relationship takes two people who are complete on their own first, and it's a choice, and takes work. However, I also think that God directs us to better choices.
These days, I have a friend who seems to be everything I have ever wanted in a man. I don't say that lightly. The specifics I won't get into here, but I admire his character, respect his opinion, think we share the same major goals, and never tire of talking and hanging out with him. He's the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and out. I have known him for about a year, and have become close friends with him over the last three or four months. He is amazing.
And every now and then, I worry if I'm good enough.
Yeah, that doesn't come as a surprise... Yes, I'd like you to bag up all my personal belongings that were in the car and send them to my nearest claims center, please and thank you... $3500 damage just on the big stuff alone, not to mention anything they might find when they open it up? Wow!... Yah, parts are expensive... So someone will call me later this week with the value of the car?... Any guesses what that'll be?... ok, I'll send along receipts of all the work I've had done on it recently... ok, thanks for letting me know... yes, you have a good day, too... thank you... bye.
When I got the call, I found that I was actually kind of sad. I realized that smashed in the intersection was the last time I'd ever see my car. No 'last goodbye.' Isn't that crazy? For heaven's sake, it wasn't a person! I guess it's more the shock of losing it like that. It would be a different story if I had sold it. (Which, now that it was actually working properly - for the most part - I was considering doing. Bah!)
It's funny how attatched we get to our stuff. You'd think from all my ranting and raving about my car that I hated the thing. It was quirky. Irritating at times when yet another thing broke, yes, I'll give you that. But honestly, it was a good source of stories. It always got me from point A to point B. It was basically my first car, other than a car I had for six months in university for a job.
To the Beastmobile: Rest in Peace.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
I woke up yesterday morning with a raging sore throat. I've been having problems with my voice lately (I'm an elementary school music teacher!) and some days are worse than others. I was gonig to call in sick today to give my battered and abused vocal cords a rest, but I had nothing, zip, zero, nada prepared, and it's just cruel and unusual punishment to call a TOC (teacher on call) into the chaos that is my day without having anything at all left for him/her, especially since I don't often get a sub who can read music. So I decided to head on in anyway, and just try to talk less/sing more quietly. Ha! Right.
The good news is that, because my throat woke me up earlier than I usually get up, I had plenty of time to get ready and head off to work. I hopped in the now not-so-hated Beastmobile.
[ Side note: I can't believe I haven't blogged about this yet, but my car is actually shifting into drive RIGHT AWAY now!!! No more 17 minutes of waiting or multiple engine revs to have it ka-CHUNK into gear with a violent lurch. My dad found a miracle goop-additive for transmissions called Bi-Tron. It actually brought MY BEASTMOBILE back from near death!!! It's no less than a miracle, let me tell you!!! So, I've actually been quite fond of my car these days. This is the first time since I've owned it (2.5 years) that I haven't had to wait or slam it into gear before I can drive! No kidding, there is at most a 2 second delay now between shifing and it clicking (not clunking!) into gear. I've been thinking that, "Quick! Now's the time to sell the beast while it's actually working, and before anythig else blows on it!" ]
Off I went on my trying-to-be-merry way. It was about 8am, and I was waiting to turn left at a major intersection. There was another car in front of me, also waiting to turn. Both of us were in the intersection. The light turned yellow, and one car went through, pushing the light. The light turned red. THe car in front of me turned, and me, grimacing at being in the intersection on such a red light, began to turn as well, when WHAM!
Some dopus (notice my restraint in my word choice there?) decided that he was just in TOO much of a hurry to stop for that RED light, so he ran it. Only problem was, I was in the intersection, trying to get out of the way of the very-soon-to-be oncoming traffic. I had started to turn, saw him coming and slammed on my brakes, but it was too late. We collided front driver's side to front driver's side.
The bumper was busted off, the front panel smashed in over the wheel, the lights and grill all punched in and broken... The crash was even enough to dislodge the signal light on the OTHER side of the car! I limped my car off to the side of the road, the sound of metal against the wheel and the bumper dragging on the ground making me cringe.
I walked back over to the other side of the street where the other driver was, watching the busy rush hour traffic drive over and obliterate pieces of my car still left in the intersection. Hands shaking like they've never shaken before, I exchanged information and asked a guy waiting for the bus to be a witness. The other driver said he was going through a yellow light. Yeah, I don't think so, buddy.
I called school to say I'd be late. Tow trucks came and towed away both cars. By the time I got to work and had dealt with ICBC (insurance comapny), I had missed my first 2 classes. Word sure travels fast! Two of my grade 5 students who were supposed to be in my first class saw me as I came in and asked if I had been in a car accident. Whaa?
Anyway, classes 3 and 4 I plopped in front of a video (hey! It was in French AND music-related, so I don't feel so bad about it!) while I wrote out a plan for a TOC for the afternoon. After I dismissed the kids, I ran around and got the VCR moved, picked a non-French movie for the afternoon classes, photocopied worksheets, picked up marking I was going to do at home, made sure someone was going to the union meeting I was supposed to go to, showed my TOC the three different rooms she had to go to in the afternoon, made sure she understood what she was doing, THEN, I went home. (For heaven's sake, why can't I just go, "Hey, I was in a car accident, and I wasn't even gonna come to work today cause I"m SICK, so I'm outta here!") By the way, as far as I can tell, physically I'm fine. I'm a little bit stiff, but I don't think that's anything major. Yes, I've seen a doctor, and I'm keeping a close eye on how I feel these next few days.
I'm still waiting to hear from ICBC about liability. It's dicy, cause I was turning left, and even though the guy ran a very red light, ICBC doesn't like to fault people driving straight over people turning left. Also, I'm betting that my car is going to be a write-off. I would be very surprised if they decided to fix it. I jsut hope I get something decent for it, cause I reeeally can't afford a new (or new-to-me) car right now. Nor can I afford the $250 "Crash responsibility charge" (what a crock that is) or the spike in my insurance rates if they find it to be my fault. *SIGH*
Today (the day after the accident), I got a ride to work with another teacher, and as we went through the intersection where the accident happened, there was my licence plate out on the road, crumpled and beat up from 24 hours worth of traffic rolling over it, totally unaware of how that discarded piece of metal represented the worst day I've had in a very, very long time.
Life is not all bad, though, cause once home and settled a bit, I lit some candles, put on some jazz, poured myself a glass of wine, and got some marking out of the way. My friend Dave came over later for dinner, a guitar "jam session" and some good conversation. It was just what I needed after that crazy day. I'm so grateful for a good friend like that.
My poor car. It's been broken into, stolen, hit and run'ed, and now smashed. I can't say it's had a very good day either. Yipes.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
I was out at some friends' place tonight, and it was about 1am when I left with my friends Shaun and Sarah. We were parked side by side in the lot. When I got to my car, I noticed that the interior lights were on. "Oh, shoot, I left my lights on! Guys, wait up, I might need a jump." Yup, I did.
Thanks, God, for the parking spot right next to my friends!
Out come my jumper cables, and in the pouring rain, we connect them. Just as we're getting them hooked up, a tow truck pulls up. "Hey, you guys call BCAA [B.C. Automobile Assotiation]?" Uh, nope. "Oh, OK, well there must be someone else around here..." We scan the parking lot. It's empty, except for us and one other car near the far end. He drives down there.
Thanks, God, for a mechanic showing up 'randomly' in the middle of the night just as I think my car is dead!
I try the ignition. A weak little "ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh-ruh" comes from the open hood, but the car doesn't start. We try a few more times. Nothing. I still have lights and radio, so we don't think it's the battery. Stupid piece of crap car! This JUST happened at the beginning of October. Now again? Unfortunately neither I nor my friends are members, but in keeping with my "Hey, it never hurts to ask!" policy, I decide to run over to the BCAA guy and see if he can at least come look and give an opinion. He comes over once he's dealt with the other car.
Thanks, God, for the BCAA guy having pity on us and helping even though we're not members!
We try the ignition again. Ruh-ruh-ruh. The BCAA guy confirms that it's definitely a dead battery, and not something else.
Thanks, God, for it not being something worse!
He gives us a few tips and we try a few things, then decide to try my friends' cables. He's determined that mine are faulty, or just can't handle enough power or something. Funny, now that I think about it, I've never been able to jump my car with those cables. Huh. (Note to self: buy new jumper cables.) We hook up Shaun and Sarah's cables.
Thanks, God, for friends who have better jumper cables than I do (and who would drive me home if it came to that, even though I live a 20 min drive away, and they only live basically down the street.)
We let it charge for a minute, then I try the ignition again. VVRRROOOM! Yippee!!!
Saturday, November 12, 2005
I won for tackiest! Tacky?!?! TACKY?!?! Geesh! These people don't know glamour when they see it! Click the picture for more photos...
Excuse me??? You're leaving an ADVERTISEMENT on my ANSWERING machine? Hello?
Automated telemarketing technology is geting smarter and smarter, allowing comanies to annoy prospective clients more and more. These recordings even know to start after the "beep." (I wish the automated library "Your requested book is in" system knew how to do that.)
But even more than knowing to wait for the beep, some sytems even know my NAME. It's civic election time here in BC, and I got a PERSONAL phone call from the outgoing mayor of Vancouver left on my phone. "Hello Hillary. This is Mayor Larry Campbell. I'd like to urge you to vote for my colleague Jim Green...yadda yadda yadda"
You nkow, ads on TV, in the newspaper, billboards, fine. I've even resigned myself to 15 minutes of ads (not previews, ADS) before a movie. But advertisements left on my answering machine???
I call Trashbusters and told them to remove my phone number from their call out list immediately. Funny, I seem to recall doing that a few months ago when they did the same thing. I also told them that I will never EVER use their service because of the way they advertise. RAR!
Oh, and while I'm on this rant, let's talk about the 40 foot high, 150 foot long billboard barge Nike put up to be paraded back and forth in the water off all of Vancouver's beaches this summer. WHAT? Are you kidding me? Vancouver is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. What sunbather wants thier view of mountains and ocean obstructed by a great huge honking black Nike Billboard??? UG-LY!
And there you have it, my Saturday rant.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
While I didn't have the poofy hair, I *WAS* captured on film being, um, uncomfortable with the low neckline of my dress. I had never worn anything that low, and form MY vantage point I could see my bra. Periodically I would check to see if anyone else could see it too. What I did'nt realize was how obvious that "subtle check" was to everyone else. And to the camera.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Do you still have some of the toys you had as a kid? In my blog reading, I was reminded of Popples, those furry creatures that could roll themselves into their very own built in pouch. I still have mine. I loved his bright orange "fur" and green hair. I never could fit him fully into his pouch. There was always ears anda green tuft poking up out of the pouch. *GRIN*
I still have my Cabbage Patch Kid, too. Her name is Nadia, or at least that's what her birth certificate said. I remember when they were sooo popular that mommies would elbow eachotehr and knock eachother down in the stores just to get one. I don't think MY mommy did any elbowing, but I got one anyway! When my grandparents went travelling (to Thailand?) they brought back the dress that she's wearing. And those red smudes on her feet? Those were from when I was playing with some play make-up (or maybe mom's real makeup?) and for some reason decided to leave lip prints on her feet. The red line on her mouth was a felt pen serving as lipstick. I don't know why I didn't just use mom's lipstick there, too!
The third long lost toy in the series is Lamby. My aunt gave him (her?) to me when I was a baby. When you wound it up, it's head would move in circles and it played "Mary Had A Little Lamb." You can tell by the state of it's fur and thread coming off his nose that he was well loved.
Fourth and finally, I used to have a Glowworm. That one's long gone, though, you'll have to just settle for this Google'd picture. It's face lit up when you hugged it. I liked to fall asleep each night hugging the glowworm, the warm light of it's face scaring away all the monsters under the bed.
Some days I'd just like to go back to being a kid. Favourite toys and snuggling under clean laundry fresh from the dryer... that was the life!
Saturday, November 05, 2005
I was baking cookies this morning, and had most of them put away, but the last four that didn't fit on the tray were cooling on my kitchen table. I was at the computer when I heard a sound in my kitchen. I looked, and couldn't believe my eyes! There was an intruder! I yelled and waved my arms around and scared him off, but I had seen him lurking around earlier in the morning, so I figured he'd be back. I grabbed my camera and moved to the couch to try and catch him in the act. Sure enough, a few minutes later he was back. He looked right at me, came inside, and made off with what he had been eyeing all morning!!! Right in broad daylight!
Unfortunately I didn't get a shot of the thief on top of my table with a giant chocolate chip cookie hanging out of his mouth. You'll just have to use your imagination!
What a little stinker!
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
I don't think I have ever said that. My friends all think I'm nuts cause I don't really go kooky over a guy at first sight. I guess I'm just one for whom attraction is based on knowing a person first. A guy can be thought of as a 'hottie' (wow, I hate that term!) by scads of people, but unless I know him and know his character, MEH. Honestly, I wouldn't give much of a second look.
Now someone I get along with, can be both silly and serious with, and know his character to be one of integrity, maturity, faith, goofiness, and fun... that's a different story. It's those things that will attract me to someone. Beauty of character, if you will.
Of course, it doesn't hurt that he's beautiful on the outside, too!
A week and a half later, Jane pulls me aside and asks if I had gotten that thing she put in my bag. Whoops! I don't use that bag that often, so I had forgotten about it. I checked when I got home, but found nothing that wasn't mine. Could she have put it in the wrong bag? I called her and she explained where it was - in an obscure pocket I forgot was even there. The next day I checked the bag, and found what she had left there.
I pulled out a great big wad of cash!!!
I immediately called her to ask, "What the HECK?!?!" She just laughed. "I've been working all of October, and you haven't. It's three days of strike pay!" (For those who don't know, teachers in BC were on strike for two weeks in October, and because it was deemed an illegal strike, the union was not allowed to even give us our $50 a day of strike pay. Needless to say, things have been a little tight.)
Oh. My. Goodness. It's not like she's rolling in money. She's a single girl like me, just plugging away. That was a big sacrifice for her. I won't lie, tears were shed on my part. God is constantly surprising me with his undererved favour.
I tell you, God never ceases to amaze me in making it SO obvious that he will provide for me. Some of you might remember the two similar stories from back when I was in my first two months of working as a Teacher on Call (I'll have to blog those one day, too. The one still gives me goosebumps!).
He is so good!