Teacher Burnout, Explained Five Years Later

Me, as recently as 2012. pic.twitter.com/P4SiAPRjqa

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) March 16, 2017

Five years ago, I did something that only a handful of people saw coming:

I left the classroom.

Not quite me when I handed in the grade book in 2012, but similar effect. 

Of course, there are days when I somewhat miss it yet there are days when I feel like I thumbed my nose at what was supposed to be my calling. I’ll also acknowledge the fact that I was an imperfect educator and never could play the political games well – or at all. I would like to think that of the students I taught over the years, many of whom have moved forward to being productive citizens of the world although we all know a few of them are (or were) making a living as professional athletes and creating their imprints in that fashion. That matters more to me than some award or backhanded compliment paid by the local politicians who would visit our campus only to vote against any legislation to improve our lots, stringing more layers of red tape and the conditional temptation of government dollars to teach in a more specific manner.

So…why else did I get out of the kid biz?

As much as I loved my students, I absolutely dreaded standardized testing and absentee parents/guardians who only showed up for game days or when the student was about to be suspended for a few days. For those who think teachers have it made working Monday through Friday nine months of the year with every holiday off, they also fail to consider the professional development days are usually during those holidays off while their sons or daughters are at home. While I’m at it, let us not discount the fact that homework has to be graded in a reasonably timely period; for many of us, we spend most evenings and weekends tweaking lesson plans to fit classroom dynamics (if they don’t understand it, you have to do something else to convey your point) atop of the grudge work of analyzing short answer quizzes for letter grades. More often than not, life simply gets in the way – not everyone has a home life conducive to academic success meaning the disruptions at home would trail the students to school the following day. For example, an amazing young lady may have had to stay awake late caring for her younger siblings after school while mom has to work evenings or the graveyard shift, or a promising young man who is routinely bullied by his classmates is forced to make a choice between selling drugs to put bread on the table or find a different way home daily to keep from getting beaten up after school. That burden alone is emotionally taxing on him yet he isolates himself from the larger picture as a defense mechanism!

Then you have those students who you pour gallons of effort into who invariably do something so baffling that it even shocks you.

It wasn’t because of the students that I left – after investing at minimum fifty-five minutes per day for 36 weeks they were why I kept coming back day in and day out. You could also say I needed the check (very true), but I also somehow developed a relationship with many of them not limited to writing recommendation letters for summer camps and colleges; helping them navigate the inequalities they saw on-campus without blowing up and doing the rashly violent thing; explaining why their attention was more important to me than the cell phone I took away from them during class and returned at the end of the period; sharing parts of my lunch period and food from the McDonald’s around the corner with them once they found out that I hadn’t eaten cafeteria food since elementary school; and even poking fun of myself. Playing Earth, Wind & Fire every morning before first period also helped set a dynamic that everyone mattered and at the very least would be respected as individuals in a world that demanded conformity. I did not drive back and forth to Jacksonville for fun. It was because I genuinely believed in each and every student and (mostly) enjoyed the staff I worked with as I would pick their brains about best practices and have someone to lean on if I had additional questions.

The forty-five minute commute was no problem. However, the politics were a load of bullshit and everyone knew it; when school board members could pick and choose for their own unruly children and wield unnecessary power over the public learning institutions, serving the greater good of 18,000-plus* students was effectively a spectacle and audition for higher office. Ditto for the inconsistencies of the administrations with principals being transferred mid-year and vastly warring ideologies.

*Reduce that number from 18K after the Jacksonville-North Pulaski School District separated itself from PCSSD a year ago to get today’s numbers. Titan supporters legitimately had a real taxation without representation issue which they were able to resolve. I’m not an expert in demographics, but having a place to hang a hat on to call home outweighed what eventually became being a satellite community that paid for everyone else’s projects with nothing coming back home.

All of you knew I had a second job for the first five years I moved back to Arkansas. Here’s more about what drove me bonkers about it and how it affected me as an educator.

That second job was at Wal-Mart. For the first two years in the home store, I had a store manager who was vested in everyone’s success and understood that being an overnight stocker was only a steppingstone to the next level – or whenever I finally paid off debts. He wanted me to enter the ranks of the salaried management yet my heart was in saving the world one kid at a time, to quote myself. Because my mom was one of his top-performing department managers and of my own background (I worked for him in college at the store across town during the summer, and he was aware of my predicament), we made a verbal agreement that I could leave early in the mornings to shower and prepare for my day in the classroom if my area was taken care of; otherwise, I had to suffer in morning rush hour traffic between the gym and school.

Two years later, I transferred to a different store and a culture where the majority of the store felt as if their positions were an inherent privilege to hold and outsiders were looked upon with scorn regardless of work ethic. I won’t discuss the then-store manager (who has since retired), but he was not a fan of my prior agreement; instead, he wanted a do-boy with no desire to advance as much as someone who could really stock shelves to capacity without showing an ounce of greater ambition. 

Over the next three years I tried to balance the career with the job with mixed results:  I wasn’t giving it my all at school, and often I found myself sleeping in the breakroom as I graded homework at work. To compound that, my eternally optimism left via free agency and pessimism took its place on the high block; instead of cheerfully facilitating the learning process, I was irritated by the least of things:  EdLine and student discipline. I couldn’t teach the way I wanted to, the preparation had simply gone kaput, and my sour attitude began rubbing off on colleagues.  In other words, the frustration was real.

I needed a break before I broke down and ended up in the mental asylum.

I was working eighty-five hours per week and the time I needed off from the night gig (teacher prep and conferences, regular Sundays off, and my vacation requests granted) were met with guffaws and sadistic assistant managers who scheduled me anyway or denied vacation simply because it meant they had to cover my area for two different weeks during the summers. Understand I did not take off from that job during the school year, yet my time sheets were blocked constantly. The commute wasn’t getting old but I was finding myself falling asleep driving home from class or napping as I stood next to a pallet of Ol’ Roy dog food.  

I was burning the candle at both ends and by the time I realized it, it was too late.

I had surrendered my twenties trying to make a fistful of dollars, and during that decade I had forgotten how to live versus simply existing to go to work and come home. I knew I didn’t want to repeat that same mantra in my thirties or beyond, so I had to make a decision:  I needed to 1) choose which path I had the greater passion for and stick with it; 2) continue working the same 85 hours per week and sleep all day each Sunday; or 3) breakaway and follow a different path altogether.

I chose option #3 and have lived with it for the last five years.

I quit both jobs in a ten-day period, if that’s what you expected – or not.

It’s not perfect and at this point, I don’t even know if I would even want perfect especially if it involved rush hour traffic, limp lunches or racist coworkers. I have learned how to toil anonymously each night and whenever I have a free moment, I know to police my own time without being bound to artificial deadlines and angry bosses. Aside from the money (in truth, it is marginally better than what I made teaching but the flexibility within this job’s schedule is a boon as the father of an active toddler), spending twelve hours nightly in the control room alone has also freed up buckets of creativity in addition to providing the opportunity to plan out and execute my next move. Hopefully, I won’t remain in this chair for the next twenty years; I might as well prepare myself to be in position for the next great step in my life.

I did love teaching English until I didn’t, and once I made that discovery it was time to move on. I’m not even sure I would want to come back to the classroom – by the time I completed the recertification process, I would be 41 years old. My main trepidation has been what if I don’t like it after going through the trouble and money to return to the classroom?  I don’t want to feel like I’ve wasted two years and $2,400 for something that won’t pan out; consequently, if I don’t try, I’ll never know if it is the calling or just a way to make a living. While the experience was invaluable, I feel like I would crawl in a corner and cry all day if I ended up going back in after such a hiatus and that would be the biggest shame of all. 

Welcome to the United States of Indoors

I guess because my daughter isn’t quite school-age yet and from the observations I’ve made the days we go outside to walk through our neighborhood, we really don’t see kids playing outside anymore after school. I hope I’m wrong about that as I am only seeing my side of the loop, but the only times I really see children playing (aside from Caeli) are if our across-the-street neighbors bring their two angels out to play with her in the mud puddles after a rain or when they want to play basketball. 

So, what happened?

We evolved into the Unites States of Indoors. You read that correctly.

Is this what subdivision life is all about, moms and dads spending all day away from home working to pay a mortgage for homes that mostly lie dormant while the kids are at school or daycare learning and when the munchkins come home, they either are shuttled from one extracurricular activity to the next or hamstrung to the privacy fence lined backyard? What happens when they get home and have nothing to do?

I think I know what happened:  Because we parents hear about the kidnappings on the news and social media, we become mama and daddy bears and overprotect our cubs. Combine that with the influence modern technology has on our lives and we see that our children live in the United States of Indoors:  safe from danger yet innocuous to a world that demands problem-solving skills and teamwork. Because my daughter is an only child, Caeli still has to learn how to play with her own peers because the day will come when she will show her own independence away from daddy and mommy carrying or holding her hand. Hopefully that’s no time soon; I personally treasure every second I can have with my baby bear and she makes me feel like a superhero. I guess we can chalk that one up to genetics:  With the 6’ in height I am blessed with, I guess that seems like a giant to her significantly smaller frame.

Whose fault is this? I’ll lie on the grenade and take the blame for my child, but she’s 2.

What about the rest of the kids in the neighborhood, many of which I rarely see except at the bus stop?

I suppose that our electronic toys are intended to distract us from the larger problems this world presents, but what happens when those conflicts enter our children’s television shows and games or safe spaces where kids can be themselves?

I took my daughter to therapy a few weeks ago. Normally I would sit in the lobby and catch up on reading emails or edit blog postings as I am so averse to doing these days, but this particular day was strange for the simple reason I had to leave for a quick trip to the Wal-Mart across the interstate to replace a tire on my wife’s car. What made it so strange is the preteen boy (I’d assume he is ten years of age) walking around the lobby preaching right-wing talking points with no regard of the parents or other children surrounding him. Of course, living in this part of the state, I expect Info Wars or Fox News to receive serious airplay except for one thing:  The child was quoting Alex Jones line-by-line from his iPod pacing frantically! Certainly my politics (I am centrist in nature except when it concerns education and black civil rights/history, and then you’ll get my full opinions with evidence supporting my arguments) do not agree with any of the hatred he was spitting out that day; it also makes me wonder what kind of worldview his parents have instilled in him and how much of that is their own blind blatant bigotry. Once I picked up mini-me, the idea that our children are cooped up indoors all day long and pacified with electronic toys as entertainment began to percolate and it honestly bothered me. I know I’m guilty of turning on Netflix or popping in one of the Nick Jr. DVDs we have purchased to keep Caeli occupied as I do in-house errands, but there are times when both of us are indoors instead of enjoying the sunlight and playing in the yard or swinging and sliding at the city parks.

Remember me saying I am a curator of Caeli’s memories? That includes going outside to play whether or not a jungle gym has been built in the backyard.

Of course, the benefits of children playing outdoors outweigh the disadvantages. For one, they learn the intricacies of drinking water from the garden hose. No child should be so sheltered that when the time comes to screw off the nozzle to gulp what amounts to a sip of water she finds herself banging on the back door for a bottle of Dasani! If the water supply is legit, then kids get to learn that vital life skill; otherwise, they adapt to whatever bottled water (see:  Flint, Mound Bayou, etc.) is available during playtime. A second advantage in playing outside is the inevitable suntan (in Springhill Manor) - out in Friendship, we just got blacker. The last sentence underscores a difference in growing up in a predominantly black neighborhood versus raising a child in a significantly whiter subdivision as do some of the differences in my childhood versus what I am able to afford for Caeli today. We’re not wealthy by any means and that book deal for Dad Chronicles hasn’t happened, so you sacrifice a bit so your progeny can have a better head start to life or at the very least, a perceived easier time through childhood.  If you got tired, you found a tree to rest underneath – your ass still wasn’t coming inside regardless of the temperature in fear of the rising light bill and overworked air conditioner. The final advantage of having children play outside is they get an appreciation of the environment:  birds, flies, pets, and of course, making friends beyond the children they live next door to or across the street from. Up to a certain age, it is obviously best to supervise their own play yet keeping them indoors all of the time stifles untapped creativity not limited to made up games, imaginary friends, and the very real idea of the boogeyman underneath the bed who wants to eat them.

Being #DGProper on a rainy day in Helena for the #freemanplayground opening with #CaeliStrong pic.twitter.com/j7z01bJc1z

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) May 16, 2017

We all want the best for our children and sometimes we become overprotective mama and daddy bears; consequently, keeping them indoors all of the time stunts their growth like vegetables that spend the entire season next to the kitchen windowsill instead of spreading out in the garden and being exposed to sunlight, rain, and strong winds.

How Hell Broke Loose Worldwide Before and Since September 11

What was the primary driver in the global upheaval worldwide leading to September 11 and continues to this day?

This is a particularly tough question I was asked for so many answers can be right and as the reader examines the query, he or she may think they have the absolute correct response only to realize it comes across as a simplistic answer to a complex problem. Someone who considers himself politically conservative is going to think it through differently from his liberal counterpart; for the centrists among us, we have to decipher through both sides of fluff to find a concrete reply.  

I think the rise of misinformation, or what we consider today as fake news, as the catalyst for how hell has broken loose since September 11, 2001. For most of us, suicide bombers were a figment of the imagination and/or something that belonged somewhere else far away. How could someone feel so hopeless in his life station that for a dowry, he’d kill himself and take a large number of innocent souls with him? It’s what we’ve tried to reasonably grasp since that fateful day nearly sixteen years ago. We are now cognizant of Saudi Arabia-based al-Jazeera showing news that was a bit too real for our eyes and as its American channel ceased from cable news a year ago, the violence there still has not stopped. I can easily blame the major media (CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox, etc.) for keeping us blind and almost entitled to a Teflon Don mentality that because we are the United States of America, no one would dare try to touch us. As conflict happened worldwide in Afghanistan, Iraq, Kosovo, Kuwait, Sudan, and so forth, we looked at it passively because that kind of stuff happened so far away from us. Men who have been displaced in a world that has left them behind need a culprit for their pitiful lots in the world, and many of them blame the West for their problems as the world surrounding them became increasingly secular and portrays them as a bunch of traveling nomads who are holding a grip to a false religion that resembles more of a cult to our eyes than what Islam really stands for. As the times change, their yearn for a simpler misogynistic period (like America in some aspects, if not the whiter ones) outweighs their interrupted traditional way of life; combine that with how quickly information moves and the blatant and covert imperialism America continues to this date and the sheer destitute of their situations, no wonder these young men act out and radicalized into extremism.

Fundamental religion does that to people – and Christians are not exempt from this fact. Proof that comes from the rise of the Religious Right; their original fight was not against abortion, but they saw (and some still view it as such) school integration as the unifying cause to rally around. Think about all of the lily-white private schools that opened throughout the South during the 1960s and early 1970s, many of which receive federal dollars thanks to state legislatures which allowed for “academies” to exist.

Until September 11, Americans were simply misled by the media with implicit help from the government. Once those planes hit the Twin Towers at 8:46 am, the Pentagon, and that field in Pennsylvania, we were jolted into a different circumstance of being not only the world’s policeman but also directly feeling the pain so many have suffered from for so long.  Because we have been insulated from anything possibly happening on our own shores for so long, it was a complete shock to see a bad movie come to life and more to witness three thousand people lose their lives such as the man who jumped out of a window only holding his dog or those who were trapped in elevators and stairways as the buildings crashed to the ground. I don’t know about anyone else, but those photographs are still tough to view even to this date.  

In other words, the families or larger corporate groups that own the media organizations are the ones that control the slant of how it is presented to the masses and they are to be either praised or blamed in the pursuit not of accurate but of having the breaking news. We live in a world where speed really matters more than the actual truth, and depending on the news source, a retraction more than likely of a falsehood will be merely swept under the rug or scrubbed from a news cycle and website. 

Spiritual Doctrinal Views, Explained in Detail

My doctrinal views on sin; salvation; the Bible; the church; the church’s mission program; the officers of the church; beliefs and practice of stewardship; evangelistic and missionary commitments; commitment to the Lordship of Jesus Christ in my life.

Regarding sin, none of us are righteous. Paul writes in Romans 3:10 that “none of us are righteous, no, not one:” as he pronounces the world guilty before God of sin. He further cites verse 23 “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;” to remind us that no one is perfect and that we’ve all failed at one point or another in our lifetimes and will continue to do so either through commission or omission. The idea of original sin is derived from Genesis 3 after Adam eats the forbidden fruit and attempts to hide from an omnipotent God courtesy of the guilt he has felt. His sin – and subsequent expulsion from the Garden of Eden – was passed on to all of us, an unwanted inheritance. Even David gets into the act of acknowledging sin in Psalm 51:5 when he confesses to being “shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.” This statement does not specify if he was conceived in the Puritanical tradition by married parents, but because of iniquities that predated him, he was born into sin. However, he was not condemned to a life of sin.

Salvation is not a trinket we receive for being so good rather it is the daily saving of our souls from certain death. It is an absolute benefit only from God (Psalm 68:20). While we cannot work our way into heaven, God works in us daily “both to will and to do of his good pleasure” as evidenced in Philippians 2:12-13 and reiterated in our servanthood in Ephesians 6:5.

The Bible is “given by the inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness: That the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works” (2 Timothy 3:16-17). Since it came from God, it cannot be anything else but perfect. Some of the people inspired to transcribe His word include Moses, Ezra, David, Solomon, Isaiah, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Peter, Paul, and Timothy. John 1:1 also states “in the beginning was the Word, the Word was with God, and the Word was God”.

The church is not the physical four walls where we congregate at minimum once a week; it is the whole collection of us. Its primary mission is a soul saving one that introduces men to God through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of His only son Jesus Christ that whoever believes in Him shall not die a spiritual death instead enjoys everlasting life (John 3:16).

In Acts 6:1-7, the church only calls for two officers:  the pastor and the deacon. The pastor teaches while the deacon serves. No other positions are necessary for God’s campaign. In addition, the deacon must be qualified per 1 Timothy 3:8-13 as grave; presenters of one consistent message even as the tenor has to fit differing groups for a clear understanding; sober minded; not solely pursuit of earthly wealth; and holds the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience.

A good steward is one who serves faithfully in this order:  the Lord, the pastor, the church. He or she is willing to do the necessary work as tasks are determined – or even forecasted. Matthew 9:37 reminds us that the harvest truly is plenteous but the laborers are few as an indictment that not everyone who wants the title is willing to roll up his or her sleeves to do the work. He or she also gives a tenth not only of finances, but also time (where I have personally fallen short) and visibility to others as an example of someone who is trying to live what thus saith the Lord.

Evangelistic and missionary commitments are sharing Jesus in spoken and written word along with daily deeds and making the necessary sacrifices to ensure a successful ministry – even if that means losing sleep, in my case. This also includes visiting the sick and shut-ins as well as making contact with those who have either fallen by the wayside or chosen a different direction reassuring them that God is a loving God and no problem is too great for Him to solve. However, just because I am not waving a “Look at me!” arrow does not mean I am not actively following His commandments. Introverted personalities such as mine tend to revel in the background; not everyone is desirous of being seen, as that can sometimes be misconstrued as Pharisee behavior.

My commitment to the Lordship of Jesus Christ is dying daily for Him to the extent:  I am crucified with Christ nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me. – Galatians 2:20

That daily death also includes maintaining the appropriate familial hierarchy:  God, Jesus, husband, wife, child in that order (Colossians 3:18-21). Note what happened to Ahab when he let Jezebel do the decision-making and leading in their kingdom for the importance of why God demands such accountability for husbands.

Beyond dying daily, Romans 12:1-2 implore me to be a living sacrifice, holy, and acceptable unto God which is a reasonable service not to conform to the ways of this world rather a transformation of the renewal of the mind that I may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God. 

Babe, I Think We’ll Be Okay

I quit my job today.

I haven’t physically written my notice yet as there are a few things I have to square away before I make my exit one of public news, but the feeling is mutual. I’m sorry I haven’t told you how I felt sooner since we’ve been seeing less of each other (thanks, work) but that is soon to change. It’ll be a welcomed relief to be at home at night yet I’ll be quite apprehensive of how home life is supposed to function. You know it’s been years since I’ve had a normal work schedule and I have some concern about micro aggressions that come with going to work (and coming home) in the same day with the same sunlight such as rush hour traffic and office politics. Again, you know I’ve worked either swing or the graveyard shift for the majority of my adult life – this obviously includes our entire dating relationship and marriage – so bear with me as I get adapted to a significant life change.

I think the only reasons why I haven’t made this happen sooner have been 1) health insurance for the family and 2) I don’t know how I would make it after toiling in a monotonous state for the past decade. We both know I’ve never really been much of a people-person and often too willing to go rouge for no other reason than to show the Man that he can be defied. Aside from becoming bored so stinking easily and the fact that merely surviving just isn’t cutting the mustard around here anymore, I don’t think I have anything else to prove at this role. Attendance? Come on, I’ve only missed one day in the last five years; it’s not exactly like the appraisals and raises have come annually nor am I appreciated beyond a trinket or backhanded compliment here and there.

I don’t know what my next more entails but it certainly has to be better than this dead-end on the wagon wheel of my working life. Ten years of working overnights has inflicted more damage than I could’ve ever expected.

In all honesty, I think we’ll be okay solely because of our faith in God.

I’m tired of having to tell our friends and family not to count us in their lives because I have to work this weekend.

Even with a couple of days off during those alternating weeks, it still feels like I haven’t gotten rest – and my health is beginning to show it.

I guess it would be one thing if the loot was enough to justify the conditions we reside in, but missing our child grow up is not an option.

I’ve never really cared for the job beyond the paycheck and even then, it was for the five minutes to figure out how quickly bills ate up two weeks’ of hard work in the control room.

No one expects to stay in one spot for five years only to remain the low man on the totem pole, but that seems to have occurred in this case. If there was a legitimate path toward advancement, I’m certain I would have taken it by now; despite how easy the job has become, ain’t no future in sitting on my bum staring at seven monitors and answering mundane questions about the materials received and run nightly.

Officially, this isn’t an “Eff You, I’m out” letter. That one is on a different flash drive than the one I prefer to use.

I mentally checked out at least two years ago and my body is finally following suit.

I quit my job today – and I know we’ll be okay.

Food Ministry, One Year Later

April 15 marked our one-year anniversary of the Mount Zion Missionary Baptist Church food pantry, and overall, it’s been an honor and a blessing alike to not only serve Saline County but also a privilege to lead as the coordinator. For the struggles we’ve endured throughout the year such as sourcing a location and not casting the proverbial net so far, deep, and wide, I truly appreciate all of you for who you are, whom you belong to, and what you have brought to the table. I also want to give a huge thank you to the leadership team and congregation alike for believing in what God has commissioned us to do in an era when people can easily keep their Saturday mornings to themselves and instead we’ve given of ourselves for a minimum of four hours per month trying to be that little light many of you have heard me reference during the Praise Service prayer.

It would be too easy to shout out all of the volunteers who regularly come out to support yet someone would be offended if I messed around and forgot a name (hey, Armstrong has a hundred thoughts at one time and can get sidetracked – forgive me). Thank you to all who have donated good food from their own cabinets and pantries as well as purchased items from the grocery stores during the week!

This fiscal year (January 1 - December 31) is going to present fresh opportunities and equally new challenges, so let us all continue to stay in prayer for not only one other but also this ministry to grow exponentially in His will. Moving forward, I know there are a few things I’ve been meaning to do and this also concerns both of our lieutenants in the spiritual army:  As we feed physical food, consider that for some people we are the only example of God they see during a given week. Be vigilant of what we say, our expressions, and always respect the applicants for we must not allow for our own prejudices get in the way of Kingdom building nor would we wish for a lawsuit in this litigious environment or any harm that can sully our names and reputations either as individuals or MZMBC as a collective unit. Monitoring the foods’ expiration dates (presently, we only deal with dry goods) is of the utmost importance and we also need to keep in mind this idea:  Would you eat the food in this box or can if it looked any kind of way? Presentation still means a lot, and we all know how some folks like to talk.

Are there still rules? Of course – applicants still have to bring a driver’s license or valid ID card and a utility bill from his or her current residence with one order per household. What that means is no double-dipping. While we do not have a set limit on visits, we cannot afford to be Momma and Daddy regarding how food is distributed. A list of pantries is available online and is included with each order; at the current date Saline County has seventeen pantries and food banks. One would surmise that out of nearly one hundred churches around here that we would have that part taken care of, but Jesus reminds us that the harvest is plenteous but the laborers are few in Matthew 9:37. Everyone has a gift and an innate ability to do something as we are all part of one body in Christ, so let us pursue that present with gusto!

In related news, I am looking for someone exceptional who is more at ease than me at soliciting donations from local grocery stores to make the phone calls and finally completing the applications for the Arkansas Food Bank and Feeding America, among other places. I know I’m a monster with logistics, but some of the little things get overlooked by grand visions of the big picture. Another wish is to begin preparing annual reports for compliance purposes upon member or prospective donor/volunteer request; hence, the volunteer list we leave out the Sunday morning before our drives.

If I don’t reiterate myself, thank you once again for who you are, whom you belong to, and what you are doing in the effort to advance Kingdom building in a me-first world that looks at us a bit strange for being different in following this Scripture below:

This is My commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you. John 15:12

What Should I Buy Next?

As much as I love my 2001 Escape and fairly nonexistent commute of thirteen miles to and from work, the car has 203,000 miles on the odometer. It has done the job for our family and would love to keep it until the wheels fall off – and then, we’ll just put them back on – the time has come for something a bit bigger for a growing toddler. I’m not big on another crossover nor do I want to get beaten across the head every time I have to buy fuel but I won’t rule out the right one. I’d also like to have a tow hitch to haul a burgeoning small business trailer as well as kid supplies (stroller, toddler bag, toys, etc.) and a backup camera is mandatory at our price point. That being said, I have a list of vehicles that I think may work for the three of us within a $35,000 budget:

Ford Escape

Trim Level: Titanium with 2.0T Ecoboost

Pros: Brand loyalty to the Blue Oval (best of the three Fords I’ve owned), camera, tow hitch available

Cons: Ford dealers tend to be a-holes with service, 2.0T Ecoboost concerns specifically replacing turbo

Nissan Frontier

Trim Level: Pro-4X crew cab

Pros: Value, proven dependability, tow hitch, available camera

Cons: Kid may outgrow the truck before she turns 5, dismal MPG

Lexus IS350

Trim: Base (the F is another level of pricing and more than the house payment)

Pros: I can keep the Escape, bulletproof reliability, standard camera

Cons: Price, rare but expensive Lexus maintenance, not installing a hitch on a sedan

GMC Canyon

Trim: SLE crew cab

Pros: New technology with decent MPG, tow hitch, standard camera

Cons: Kid may outgrow the truck before she turns 5, SLT/Denali pricing

Acura TSX wagon

Trim: Standard, not sure if Acura made a Type-S in this variant

Pros: Camera, standout in a crowd of anonymity, high value content

Cons: Finding one equipped with V6 is difficult at best, unlikely to find w/tow hitch, eventual Acura maintenance

Wild Card: GMC Sierra

Trim: SLT crew cab (Denali ONLY at the right price and less than 100,000 miles WITH extended warranty)

Pros: Tight turning radius, standard tow hitch and backup camera, roomy

Cons: Those MPGs even in a period of low fuel prices, pricey if not careful

In a dream world, I’d take a (preferably black) E60 BMW M5 with the V10 but have you seen the costs of engine/belts/VANOS/SMG transmission maintenance? I would have to sell naming rights for my next three kids – sorry, I’m one and done like college basketball players – my daughter is perfect. Why mess with that?