No-Bake Pumpkin Spice Icebox Cake
I mouthed the words to worship songs instead of singing until I was about 15 years old. I wasn’t being disrespectful. I’d simply learned at an early age that my singing voice was terrible (dashing my baby hopes of being a pop star like Jem) and it seemed jerky to subject God to that. I mean, He’s GOD and He’s listening to a choir of who knows how many angels, the worship of people who can sing all over the world . . . and then there’s me. Lip-syncing was the only reasonable decision.
No-Bake Coconut Icebox Cake
Since I started my teaching career at a low-income, inner city school, I’ve been on a journey to understand my own privilege. I’m a white, middle-class Christian in a place and time when that identity confers benefits on me that I didn’t need to work for. It’s not my fault, per se, but then again this isn’t about blame: it’s about educating myself, making the inequities transparent, and being purposeful about correcting them. It’s not my fault the system is flawed, but if I ignore it and continue to profit from it, I’m complicit. That doesn’t sit well with me.