Punchy Protagonist

There is currently a post ciruculating around the agriculture community on Facebook, some of which I am a frequent browser of. It reads: To the women raising cattle for butcher, but cuddling a wet, struggling newborn calf, that’s covered in afterbirth, inside their pickup truck.   To the women who believe in God and the word, but also believe that everyone has a right to love who they want.   To the women who aren’t trying to prove they can do anything a man can do, but genuinely enjoy pushing themselves to conquer any challenge.   To the women with broken and chipped nails, but still have painted on red polish.   To the women giving immunizations and administering medicine, but still believe in the healing powers of stones and plants.   To the women always dressing up for the occasion, wearing yesterday’s curls, blue jeans, and the heels of cowboy boots.   To the women busting their knuckles and callusing their palms, but still wearing their ...

Today was the first Sunday for the new pastor at the church I attend. It also marks the first time that church has had a female pastor in its 167 year history. It also marks the first time I have attended a church with a female pastor. She was positive, straight-forward, and spoke as if God’s love naturally poured out of her. For the first time in a while, my heart felt light in church.  For the first time in a while, I felt comfortable in the pew and content after the service. For the first time in a while, I saw a person in the pulpit that I felt I could talk to without judgement, even with uncomfortable topics. And that was just after one sermon. So, naturally after that revelation, I decide to post a little message of my own. Today’s post is brought to you by the letter F...for Feminism. I was raised by a family of strong women and by men who did not try to silence or squelch them. I was raised by men and women that told me that I, as a woman, could be anything I wanted to b...

I am not necessarily an Ozzy Osbourne fan, but I have always liked Crazy Train. And that particular portion of the lyrics is pretty much how I have felt for the past couple of weeks. I have so many things going on in my head at any given moment, and there have been times where I am convinced that I am not-so-slowly losing my mind. So, in true crazy train fashion, I had about four different ideas for blog posts floating around in my head at different times during the past week. So, for the sake of so many things, I will combine all those many reflections into one big bundle of organized chaos. I have always been someone that speaks her mind. I come from a long line of women on both sides of my family that speak their minds and both my parents have always encouraged it out of me. I have learned in my 28 years that there are times to keep your opinions to yourself and there are times that you have to get it out before it eats you alive from the inside out. There is a lot to be said to k...

In the past week, events have shaken the small-town school where I teach.  It involved fresh-behind-the-wheel aged kids doing things they were too young to do. It involved a flat-line-riddled trip to the hospital for two of my students, all because of something they can now buy in the vape shops that seem to be taking over the area. It was dangerous, it was foolish, and it was scary.  When I heard the news, a knot formed in my throat and in my chest. These were students that ask how my day is. These were students that do their work, ask me questions, and look like whipped puppies if I have to get onto them.These were not just kids I deal with as part of my job. These were not just kids from my town. These were my kids.  One came back to class today. I was sitting in my chair working on lessons for the next week when I felt two thin and slightly weaker arms around my shoulders. He said "I'm back today!" as he hugged me. Some days I wonder if I am in the righ...

I have heard the phrase "nothing is sacred anymore" a lot lately, and I agree. There are things in life that should not be posted on social media for the entire world to see, comment on, and screenshot. Our private lives are put on public display because that has somehow become the norm. We now live in a society where even our president is more worried about tweeting than his constituency and where selfie filters are more important than self care. I have snickered before at the ridiculous ideas of things like funeral selfies and graveside Instagram posts. Honestly, I never thought I would witness such a thing. Sadly, that is no longer true. This past weekend I attended the funeral of a wonderful woman that led a noble life. She was not related to me, but you would never know it.  She was funny, bright, and talented to say the least and, as the preacher noted, the full church was a testament to how many people loved her and how many lives she touched.  My parents have been f...

As I sit behind the computer in my classroom, awaiting that last bell of Friday afternoon as anxiously as my students are, it is a slight time of reflection. I have gotten several bits of news this week of famous people that died, and I am in mourning, selfishly, for my childhood as I realize that I hold a connection to each of these figures. I have never met them nor shaken their hands, and yet they have all impacted my life in some way. Their essences and auras hold memories for me, which I now contemplate on as the clock ticks ever closer to the time when I get to shed my teacher persona and be a regular human for a couple of days. Roy Clark Roy Clark was a gem of a talented man, which I did not realize until I was older. When I was younger, I spent many hours rolling my eyes when my father would speak of Hee Haw, of which Roy was a robust host. At the time, I saw shows like Hee Haw as outdated and musicians like Roy Clark to be outdated. As I grew up, out of my stubborn teenage ...

I haven't written in a while. No stories, no blog posts, not even any creative ideas for ten-minute plays that will never come to be. Most people would think that writer's block stems from not knowing what to write...which is accurate, or not having anything to write about....which, in my case, is not accurate. The case is not that I have nothing to write about, it is that I have too much to write about. I am trying to learn that even the parts of life that I become impatient with end up being part of the beautiful journey that is my existence.  You see, as I have probably written before, patience is not something God blessed me with an abundance of. And, now more than ever probably, I have been reminded of the exact thing. That my timing for things is not always necessarily the best timing, and that just because I am ready for something does not mean everyone involved is or that it is the right time for it to happen. However, sometimes being ready for something that you ar...