Category: Lent

Lent

Healing Through Faith: A Journey Back to God

Alexandra Diane

This past Lenten season I gave up social media, like I have for the last six years, and every year it is a much needed detox. Usually, I spend those 40 days writing new blog posts, which are automatically shared to my social pages. This year, however, this year I stepped even further back. I didn’t want to wonder if my posts were getting engagement or if I was earning new followers. Life was too busy at the moment and it wasn’t just even then. Since about August, I have been playing unpaid therapist for two of my childhood friends. Around the same time, two of my childhood friends came to me with problems in their marriages. One ‌husband of 18 years cheated while the other husband succumbed to his addiction and broke sobriety. While each man responded differently, the one doubling down on his infidelity and the other breaking down to his wife and seeking help. However, in both cases, both women were left broken.

While the heartbreak came from two different situations; they both talked about healing through faith. Both of them grew up Catholic; as they grew up, their faith journeys took them in directions in life. My friend, whose husband is in recovery, has been church hopping trying to find the one whose message resonates with her soul. Their devotion to Christ being what connected her and to her husband in the beginning. The other had lost their way and was searching her way back but was nervous about how structured the Catholic Church was. Though she was searching for a new home, she felt lost in how many types of churches that are available in South Florida. It didn’t help that her soon to be ex-husband was weaponizing faith. She felt lost and broken, and anytime he gave a snarky response, he would manipulate teachings from the bible to fit his narrative. 

We sent text messages back and forth every single day. Because let’s be so for real, while we love each other and I have known them both since the single digits, life does not allow for in person friendships unless the universe aligns perfectly. But I noticed a pattern. Not just with them, but with other friends in my life. We were all searching for healing, either from our past or from the chaos of everyday life. Most of us would get lost in our phones trying to escape or ignore the pain that was etched into our souls. 

Then I received two messages. The first “I have a big bible at work and I spend like 20 minutes a day reading it now. Trying to get to know God for myself. Not just through sermons” And a few days later, “I’m finding out that the more routinely I open the Bible, the more I want to. Feels foreign to me.”

This sent me on a hunt. I searched through Amazon and other sites looking for a journal or book to buy them to help them through their problems. But they both kept telling me what they found felt like homework overload, surface level with no guidance, or they were being talked down to. And to top it off, none of the subjects were hitting the pain they were looking to heal. So I made my own. 

I went back through our texts and saw the same issues over and over again. They both felt since they had stepped away from the church in their early adult years that God no longer saw them. With love, sometimes they felt as if their past haunted them. That their actions made them unworthy of God’s love or anyone else’s. The biggest thing was trust. They both had their trust broken by men who were supposed to be their protectors. I wanted them to know that even though trust was betrayed; it wasn’t lost everywhere else. 

For my friend whose husband stepped out of their marriage, she is full of so much pain, hurt, and confusion. She doesn’t know what to do with all her feelings. They are eating at her soul, and as much as she vents to me and other friends, she can’t let go. Because of this, I focused on surrendering and letting feelings go to God. Even to me, that idea sounds impossible because I, as do they, love to be in control of everything. Asking them to let go while I find it hard seems unfair, but I know that’s what we all need to do. 

Surrendering to God leaves you open and vulnerable. Which leaves you asking who you are. And if you are truly trying to turn a new leaf, you are developing a new identity. One where you are trying your best to pick peace over anxiety. That also feels like an impossible task, and one that most of us will revisit time and time again. Because while the theory of it sounds amazing, the practice of it is ongoing. 

I knew that once they had broken down their walls; they needed to be rebuilt. So for the second half of the journal, I focused on finding joy and strength in God. For most of us; we allow our fear to control us. When fear takes over, it’s easy to miss what God has in store. We all have fears that we have missed our purpose in life. But once we survive the hard seasons, we can be thankful. It strengthens us…..or gives us a dark sense of humor, but either win win 🙂 

When I finished their individual journals, I got this text: “Honestly, looking at these pages, you made this specific to my anxieties and I am so damn touched.”

I did just that. I made them both for each friend, tailoring it to their deepest fears and anxieties. But that’s when I knew I needed to make one for the public. Because we are not unique in our pain and suffering. We are not the only ones who become lost and sometimes feel like apps and other journals out there are ‌too much. I hope if anyone buys this journal; it will help them heal and bring them closer to God. I am not perfect. I will work on it every single day to be closer to my creator, and I hope if anything this helps you find peace. 

IF you are interested in picking up the journal, A Quiet walk with God, it can be found on amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/0999704354

Lent, Writing

Teaching is a work of heart: How One Teacher Transformed My Professional Journey.

Alexandra Diane

Who was your most influential teacher? Why?

This is the easiest answer. For the last twenty years, Earle Wright has quietly shaped the broadcast and production professional world. Our TV club’s Google Classroom claims we’re here for world domination, and with so many Wright grads in the workforce, it seems as if he’s succeeded in that mission.

Instead of writing something new, I’ll just share the letter of recommendation I wrote for my mentor and now colleague, Earle Wright.

I have had the privilege of knowing Earle since my time as a student at Dwyer High School from 2001 to 2005, where he first served as my TV production teacher. Throughout my career, Earle has been an invaluable mentor, shaping not only my career path into broadcasting but also inspiring my journey into teaching.

Earle has dedicated his career to shaping the future of broadcast journalism. Since joining Seminole Ridge High School in 2005, he has transformed the TV Production Academy into one of the most respected programs in the state. His commitment to excellence is unparalleled, and he holds all his students to a professional standard that often exceeds what I’ve encountered in my decade of professional experience. It’s not uncommon for his students’ work to rival that of college graduates, setting them apart in the competitive field of broadcast journalism.

I’ve seen firsthand the impact Wright’s teaching has had on countless students. When I worked at CBS 12, I knew that if a resume came across the News Director’s desk with “Seminole Ridge High School” on it, it would be moved to the top of the pile. The caliber of students coming from his program is unmatched, and it’s a reputation that has spread far beyond South Florida. Seminole Ridge alumni can be found in newsrooms and production studios across the country.

Wright’s influence extends far beyond his classroom. Even twenty years later, he continues to be my mentor, and I lean on his expertise and guidance to this day. Our partnership in mentoring future journalists and filmmakers has been mutually beneficial, helping me grow as a professional and educator. But his impact doesn’t stop there. Earle is the go-to person in the district for advice and support, always making himself available to help ensure that all schools in Palm Beach County have the resources they need to thrive. Whether it’s answering emails, phone calls, or texts, Wright’s dedication to helping educators and students in every corner of the district is unwavering.

While the FSPA State Teacher of the Year Award is dedicated to recognizing excellence in journalism education for one year, it is impossible to ignore the lasting impact Earle Wright has had on his students, colleagues, and the field of journalism as a whole. His contributions and mentorship go beyond a single year of recognition, and I firmly believe he deserves this honor for the profound, lasting difference he has made over the past two decades.

Lent, Writing

Inkful Wishes

Alexandra Diane

What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?

What tattoo do you want and where would you put it?

I already have four tattoos. A quill and ink on my right rib, a Celtic Cross on my left, and two blue swallows, the one on the left is holding a Tudor Rose and the other holds a royal sceptre. All are in color except for my largest, the quill and ink, those were done with black and gray tattoo. I have an entire Pinterest board decided to new designs I would like to cover my arms in. However, that’s where they have stayed for the last decade. 

When I received my quill and ink in 2014, I didn’t know I would have such a lull between designs. I thought after I settled in Brazil I would find a new artist. But I didn’t have time to put in the research before I returned to Florida. After returning, I had to get my life in order. Which meant being a responsible adult and allocating my money elsewhere. Being responsible sucks because it’s been a decade and my Pinterest board keeps growing and my skin is still ink free. 

If it wasn’t for responsibilities, I would ink on about three unique pieces.  One dedicated to my children, one for my passion for the ocean and swimming, and the third for a special reason. 

The one for my children I am still working on. I know there would be a cute cartoon field mouse, with a bow on its ear, holding a flower, with a little bee buzzing nearby. The little mouse/flower for Adelyn and a bee for Bb. Now my problem is working in Mark. His favorite animal is a penguin. But I’m not sure how to work a penguin into a design with a field mouse and a bumblebee. I could have the field mouse standing in front of a baseball, make the entire scene a little spring moment, but I just don’t know yet. I want to be certain before inking something permanently to my body.

The second design, one that I have wanted for years and have lived on my Pinterest board since the beginning, is an inside forearm piece. The design is very different from the four I already have. It is predominantly a line work or fine lined mermaid tail. Above the tail would be the tip of the wave that would swirl around the tail and end in an anchor. The ocean has played such a pivotal role in my life. From swimming to surfing, I have felt more at home in the water. Now my daughter has the same passion. The mermaid would be for both of us. 

My last design would be a black and gray realism style of a compass surrounded by a rope that is knotted into a heart. The compass holds a special meaning for my husband and me. We have always said our lights have guided us out of the darkness. I have thought about a lighthouse but I don’t have space to dedicate to what I would like to have. A compass and heart would grace the cap of one of my shoulders. I think it would go on the right side since my mermaid tail would be on the left. 

But responsibilities exist and until I feel more comfortable with everything all my designs will live in my heart. Which is fine by me because summer is right around the corner. Getting ink in Florida during the summer is like being grounded. You can’t go swimming, you are not supposed to have fresh ink in the sun, and you don’t want to scratch the peeling design. All of which are highlighted in the summer. Kids will want to go to the ocean and the pool. Wearing anything besides short-sleeved shirts is asking for heat stroke and all that humidity will make you sweat and itch. 

So I shall wait for winter to revisit my inkful wishes. 

Lent

Lessons from My Lenten Journey: Reducing Negativity

Alexandra Diane

What strategies do you use to cope with negative feelings?

Giving up social media for Lent has become a tradition. In a life long ago, I would have given up drinking and meat. But I learned my iron is far too low to continue along that path. Drinking faded away. With three kids and teaching, one would think I would drink more, but facing all these little gremlins with a hangover is not an option. So social media is one of my last vices. That and cursing. 

My Lenten season started before the official date. In February I laid in bed doom scrolling. Videos of thin, fit women surrounded by their children in perfect houses filled one of my algorithms. My others were filled with writers who were getting signed by publishers or talking about finishing their last novel. I couldn’t riot in my bed any longer and deleted all the apps. 

I don’t know why I get a sense of relief whenever I remove the apps from my phone. It’s not like I delete my accounts. I can still login on a web browser and do so on my laptop. But login in on my phone is just too clunky to operate. I went about two weeks before we headed out to STN in Tampa. The apps were only added back in so I could post student photos showing them meeting deadlines and having fun as teens. But as soon as the bus headed out of Tampa, the apps were gone again. 

Since removing social media has become almost easy, I added another challenge. To give up cursing. This vice has been one that I have held onto for a long time. Growing up cursing was something my dad did. Sentence enhancers, he called them. My mom only used them when she was beyond angry with us. I don’t know what was so enticing about it, but cursing made me feel different. 

I was able to express my feelings when my words would fail me. Sometimes when I was in pain, a certain four letter F word was the only thing that could capture what I was going through. But at some point I started using them in everyday conversation. When I was younger, leaving the words out was easier, but as I got older, it became more of a conscious decision to not use the curse words. 

I read somewhere once that an honest man cusses because he’s not thinking about what he says, he’s just speaking from the heart. For me, it’s the truth. If I have to censor myself, then I’m not only thinking about what four-letter words not to say, I am also altering whatever it is I am about to say. I might soften my tone or even the entire thought altogether. But when the words fly from my mouth, sometimes vicious, it’s the truth. 

And for a long time I didn’t care what my words did to people. Because I unleashed my venom only when deserved. If I unleashed my verbal tirade on you, it’s because you probably wronged me. But now, as a mother, I don’t have that luxury. I have to be careful with what I say because I can damage the Little mind that is listening to what I’m saying. 

When Adelyn was small, she would correct me. Telling me “Mommy those are bad words.” It would catch me off guard because at that point in my life I became so numb to those sentence enhancers I didn’t even realize I was using them. She would ask me what certain words meant and why people used them in song. Mind you, she was about 3 or 4, far too smart for her age. 

I should have stopped then, but I didn’t curb my tongue. It wasn’t until Bb started talking did I contemplate making a change. Bennett is the definition of a parrot baby. If he idolizes you, he not only does he repeat what you say, but he also mimics the tone. He heard me say the F word so many times when I would drop something or stub my toe that if he did the same he would curse. 

Do you know how hard it is not to laugh when a 2-year-old drops his binky and goes “Oh fuck!” 

It is extremely difficult. 

And I am finding the difficulty is not just in not laughing. I haven’t gone a full day without swearing. My use of the words has gotten better. I have decreased the amount by a thousand percent. However, there are days when my temper has gotten the best of me and the words fly. I am holding myself to my goal and I would like to say by the end of Lent, I will be able to abstain from swearing. 

I never put much thought into how the words I use influenced my mental state. I thought not feeding the social media monster was enough. But since the Lenten Season has begun, I have felt lighter. It could be because I’m no longer in the rat race trying to keep up with what everyone is doing. Or it could be because I am not allowing toxic words to influence my emotions. 

There seems to be a theme here, the detox of negativity. 

I should keep it up after Easter. 

Lent

Confronting Body Dysmorphia in Your 30s and 40s

Alexandra Diane

Body dysmorphia sucks. It was obnoxious in my teenage years, nearly crippling in my twenties and as my 30s ended, I’m finding new and interesting ways to dislike the way I look. As 40 creeps up, I’m understanding why women go under the knife and inject things in their faces. Because the things that I dislike about myself now are still thinking I’m too fat (not giving myself any grace because I’ve had two children and had a car accident in my back and body don’t work the same way) and now learning all new fun ways to dislike my face. 

Most mornings when I wake up I don’t even put on my glasses, it’s just better that way. I won’t wear makeup because after I get used to hiding all my imperfections, it’ll take me weeks to months to look at myself without criticizing my appearance. I guess my natural resting bitch faces are catching up with me and all the lines are getting deeper. That doesn’t help that. I definitely scowl most of my days at work because of the dumb things my freshmen do. Captions leave marks. 

It’s probably also why I give up social media so often during lunch. Besides the mind rot of Doom, scrolling and picking apart every aspect of my life because it doesn’t What influences are filming and staging. I just look at other women who have multiple kids and all this free time to exercise. I keep telling myself maybe when B is older I will do it again. But the reality is I just need to find the time to work at myself again. 

And even when I get the time, things are going to be different. My body is different. How it holds extra water, weight, and fat is different. After having Adelyn, things returned to normal, but after Bennett, everything’s lingering. I don’t know if that has to do with having a boy or a girl. But I have seen so many other women that just look like they’ve never had kids before. 

I know this is a first world problem and vain to a core, but it’s an ongoing battle. 

One this month I’m losing.

We got these cool jerseys for our competition team and I accidentally ordered a medium. I didn’t think any big deal of it until I saw a picture of me standing next to the rest of my high school girls. And because my chest is so large, I looked pregnant all over again. That was a spiraling moment for me. It didn’t matter that once I pinned the jersey back; it fit just fine. No, every single thought was “you’re fat, you’re old.” 

Like when did old jump into my mental abuse. Not one bit of me feels old. Maybe it’s creeping into my thoughts as the calendar keeps peeling away. We have less than 50 school days left and the kids that are graduating this year of my graduation clones. I’m ‘05 and they are ‘25. I’ve always enjoyed this thought and never really felt old. I just thought it was cool. And then I took that picture and wished I could erase myself from it.

As I write this, I am more annoyed with myself. It’s all dumb thoughts. Thoughts that I never seem to beat. 

My body dysmorphia stems from a deeply unhealthy place. Celiac kept me under 100 lbs for most of my life. Doctors say my healthy weight should be between 110 and 115, and I’m 127. Not that much of a difference, but my body just feels wrong with all this extra weight. I regained my post-baby weight (135 pounds) and spent six months wanting to avoid people. I started working out and I felt good again, however, I got sick and everything stopped. 

Getting back into that routine is going to be a necessary evil; sacrificing time with the baby or with my husband is the only thing that will make my brain okay with what my the way my body looks. 

So cheers to being nearly 39 and still battling the same stupid thoughts from twenty years ago. 

Lent

Day 37: STN: Closing Time

Alexandra Diane

During the first night of STN, we celebrated our awards. Seminole Ridge took home two third place and one second place awards. This is nothing to scoff at. Our kids worked their asses off this year. The news kids far more than the film kids. As we waited our turn to take pictures on the stage, the DJ began playing closing time. Part of me wanted to yell at him because one we earned our time to take this picture and two, the song isn’t about the bar closing. It’s about a chapter of the songwriter’s life ending. He was becoming a father and welcoming his baby girl into his life. But as I thought about that, I couldn’t think of a more appropriate song.

My students who are graduating this year are closing a giant chapter in their life. In three short months, a large portion of the thirty students I chaperoned will be heading off to college, while others will attend vocational school. But it doesn’t matter where their future is. They all have the same thing in front of them. The world is for them to take.

 I saw students that have screwed around for most of the year create an amazing news package. And with all honesty, I really wanted to smack them. Their work was professional. In all honesty, it surpassed some of the news packages that aired on the news station where I worked. I just wish they put the same effort into my film class as they did during this competition. Unfortunately, they didn’t even earn an honorable mention. 

Another pair of students that I watched worked took home honorable mention. Watching somebody who is usually a goofball transform into a professional was astounding. To see him work as a photographer like I have seen other seasoned photographer’s work gave me hope. He listened to everything his partner asked him. He never once changed her story, but he provided her with ideas about how the camera should be placed. But the moment the shoot was over, he went back to being a goofball. Which is pretty appropo for a photog. You should see what type of hungry fiends they turn into during the political season. No pizza is safe. 

Some of our young female journalists did not make the cut to place this year. And my heart breaks for them because this was their last year to win. In the past, our school brought home a truckload of awards. However, the judges were different this year. They critiqued much harder than the previous years. Even the board of directors, who is a friend of my co teacher, said that this year’s winners were quarters of a point off from those who didn’t place.

That’s amazing and depressing all at once. The bar has been raised and we need to work harder. That means that the sophomores that we brought with us are going to have to work three times as hard as those that are graduating this year. My juniors had a hunger as we flew home to Florida. They know the work that they have to put into it. Some sophomores seemed to not care while others showed a passion and a drive that is going to make them placed in the years to come. 

Unfortunately, judging is not everything that held us down. We shot ourselves in the foot from the beginning. Our vlog team kept fighting. And by the time they could finally sort things out and put egos aside, they wasted far too much time. It wasn’t just in California that they battled it out. Who would be on camera and who wouldn’t? They wasted a bunch of time back home, given the chance to practice. Aside from them, our film team was green. Not just age wise, but experience. Part of the fault is mine. This was my first time in a major competition, so I did not know what to expect. Two of our seniors, this was also their first time. And while we had someone experienced on our team, jealousy and anxiety overtook their ability to perform. The student also lost my trust. Sadly, this student got caught up in gossip and started a rumor of their own. They claimed that our strongest editor wasn’t skilled in their own right, but I did the work for them. 

This rumor was nothing more than utter nonsense. That student has heard me say time and time again, “if I wanted to edit I wouldn’t be teaching.” Which is 100% the truth. It’s just sad that I have gone out of my way for this student and in a moment of weakness, they had to bring down someone on their team. What’s even worse is I heard it on an accidental recording and that student lied to my face when confronted. 

But I will not let this moment or our lack of awards bring us down in the future. 

In the next two years, we have an advantage. Instead of Long Beach, California, we’re going to be in Tampa Bay, Florida. It’s just a quick drive across the state and one that we will scout out locations. One that we know the history of the city and all its dirty secrets. However, we’re not the only ones with the advantage. Over 200 awards were given out in Long Beach, California, with more than half awarded to students living in southeast Florida. Every single one of those schools has the same opportunity as we do. And I know a bunch of schools will take advantage of that opportunity.

So now, as closing time plays on my radio, all I can think of is that the chapter is closed. The point where we could take home award after award is over. Students from across the country, and now internationally, have come to compete. Our students have to step up. But I have 100% know that our kids are competitive. They have a drive needed to win. And for those students graduating, becoming young adults, they are going to do amazing things.

So who are we?! 

Hawks!!! 

Lent

Day 24: Lip Dub

Alexandra Diane

What is the last thing you learned?

I am absolutely exhausted. Today I participated in our school wide lip dub. Holy shit, was that fun. It reminded me why I love working in production. The energy everyone brings to performance can not be matched. Even working through tech problems. They are stressful, but it’s like my brain feeds off of it. I love watching all the pieces fall into place when the world seems against it. My mentor, Mr. Wright, started producing lip dubs in 2014 and I have always wondered how they could produce a high-quality video. Well, now I know. 

Today was insane. If you check out my Instagram reels, you can see some of the behind-the-scenes footage from organized chaos. This production was months in the making. Wright spent months sending out emails to the school, ensuring that all clubs and sports were included. Everyone had the chance to submit a song of their choice. Some people slept on this chance and were not happy with the song selected for them. But it wasn’t just up to my mentor. The film club and SGA were a critical part in selecting music and comedic bits throughout the lip dub. 

Late days and missed lunches were in abundance. My mentor would walk the path that we would take, mapping out everything to time the music just right. In the weeks leading up to today, he emailed out the final audio mix. He held rehearsals to prepare students for the parts they were supposed to lip sync. Even with all this preparation, problems arose. 

The day before the event, we found out that some students were upset about their song selection. We didn’t know they were upset until a teacher overheard students discussing their plans to protest. They would not sing the song that was picked for them by SGA. The club was called women leaders of tomorrow or something along those lines. Remember how I said they’d had months to pick out a song and weeks to listen to the music? The day before the production is not the day to complain. Their complaint was that they were in the cafeteria, and that the song that was selected for them was called stir fry. Apparently, they found this sexist saying “women were being put in the kitchen.” The problem was that they weren’t the only people in the cafeteria. The cafeteria is an enormous space. They shared the scene with multiple language honor societies and wrestling. Thankfully, there was no protest.

We ran through the first part of the lip dub three times. But production even started, students were outside for close to 45 minutes. They were setting up the inflatable helmet that the football players were going to run out of. The Cheerleaders were practicing their stunts, and the band was preparing to play their instruments. Our principal even did a skit in the beginning that was a callback to the year previous and a meme that one of our seniors created when he was a junior last year. It’s a lot of fun to see the student body work. The reason it took so long for us to start was that there were multiple people who weren’t in the correct place. The people who were supposed to be singing were missing, and certain academies just weren’t ready.

When we finally started, it was incredible to witness everything. We did the skit again and then the music seamlessly flowed into the senior class’s lip sync. That’s when the controlled chaos began. After the senior section, they broke apart and were running to their next locations. Football players magically appeared in the helmet. Some showed up in the cafeteria as a part of the national honor society in, or wrestling and flag football. From the cafeteria, we had the next set of singers hop on golf carts and head towards part of JROTC where they were doing the raiders rope bridge event. That went into the step team and the BSU. And straight into JROTC followed by automotive and into construction. We did this three times and every time things got better and tighter. Despite a few minor errors, witnessing the high school kids wholeheartedly engage in their tasks and show professionalism was the most enjoyable aspect of my day.

After that, there was a small break when everybody reset and moved on to phase 3. We recorded Phase 2 earlier because it was complicated. But understanding the match cutting that’s going along with it and how it’s going to flow. Here is the final product! I would love everybody to see the hard work of all these students, teachers and administrators.

After Wright walked phase three and made sure everybody was ready, filming began. I’m pretty sure the universe just wanted to test us today because we had complications in all the strangest ways possible. We almost got done with the first take and something happened in biotech and we had to reshoot. We did a race golf cart scene with our principal and the superintendent of the school board. It was amazing and fantastic until the Osmo’s battery died. This is something that’s never happened in the years of production. We had a group of boys infiltrate the basketball scene and the basketball players could not hear the music, so they didn’t know what to lip sync. Finally, we had 11 minutes left until lunch and we were doing our very last take. We were told that the superintendent had left, and we were going to have to figure out how to match cuts into that scene. But then the universe gave us a break.

When my mentor came out of the soccer scene and the superintendent was in the rival golf cart. The amount of pressure that was lifted off of his shoulders for editing was astronomical. There was a bit of delay in recording, but not much that anybody would truly notice. We got through the softball scene, SGA and basketball. We went through medical and biotech and finally finished phase 3.

Phase 4 was when everybody went to the courtyard. This was utter chaos. The original plan was to have all the students spell out the word hawk. That did not happen. We also still had to record the IT room and the drone room. There was a bit of a pause as we organized the students and went into IT to ask them if they were ready.

Wright moved from using the Osmo to filming with a drone. That meant we had to do another walkthrough just to understand what the framing was and the pacing for the drone. After completing the walkthrough, they sent me outside to assist the students in ensuring that the outside was prepared. Everyone was clueless about what they were doing. Because of course. After a swift talk from Wright to the students, everything proceeded without a hitch. We had two takes, and both were fantastic.

The day was chaotic. Everything happened between 8:00 a.m. and 11:45 in the morning. But it was wonderful. It epitomized everything I love about our industry. Showcasing our students and our school. We let the world know how well our administration works with our students and how our teachers communicate with our student body. This is something that other schools try to reproduce and they can’t do it. And I think a lot of that has to do with the social structure within the school itself. It’s not just the fact that Mr. Wright has been doing this for 14 years and has mastered the experience. It’s all the work that goes into it. The students’ effort to ensure this is an amazing production is commendable.

My favorite part about the whole thing was a surprise. Our 9th grade guidance counselor had a baby a few months ago. Her husband is the baseball coach and while we were preparing to do phase 3, I saw her holding this little tiny infant. He was wearing a baseball jersey. It was adorable. My absolute favorite thing was watching the senior baseball boys holding this little nugget. They tenderly held him while singing, showing their love for their sport, their coach and their coach’s wife. This is the stuff that needs to be shown. This is what people need to understand what makes a successful school. It’s not just about grades. It’s about the atmosphere in the social dynamic that is produced. 

Lent

Day 23: About the Beach

Alexandra Diane

Write about the beach: Your favorite memory of a trip, what you love, what you hate. Would you live on the coast if you could, or is it better just for a visit?

I never knew you had to exfoliate your feet when I was younger. The reason is that I spent so much time at the beach that the sand took care of it for me. Growing up I was blonde with dark roots, tanned for as much as a pale girl could get. When I would sweat, I smelled like ocean water. I was as close as I could to being a mermaid.

In college, everything changed. Growing up, I could go to the beach for free. The idea of paying for parking was, and still is, ridiculous. In Boca, they had very limited free parking. Now I had to have money to go to the beach. The beach was supposed to be the only place I could go when I was broke. Where I didn’t feel pressured into spending money. Instead of going to surf or hang out with friends like I did in my youth, most of the people now wanted to drink. Sometimes they would play games. However, something was just different. A trip to the beach was just a side stop in the day instead of being the whole day. Going to the beach felt more like a chore than it did as a relaxing escape from life. 

When I moved to the mountains of Brazil, I realized how much I missed living near the ocean. Even though I spent less time at the beach, the option was always there. But in the mountains, I was five hours away from the closest beach. It felt like someone took a part of my soul, knowing I couldn’t escape there whenever I wanted. 

My stint in Brazil was short and the first place my best friend took me after landing was the beach. During the flight, I knew my marriage was over. I had not wanted to admit it to myself, but sitting there watching the waves break on the shore, I could focus on everything that happened on my sixth month journey. There is just something about the sun and sand that washes away the pain.

While I was adjusting to my life back home, I took advantage of going to the beach every day. It was fall, and the air was crisp. The waves were building and even though I had part of my life out of storage, I never picked up my surfboards. I would sit on the sand and write. My friends and I would head to the beach at night. Running around in the shore break. Some nights, we were crazy enough to swim with the sharks. Not actually with them, but growing up in Florida, you knew the sharks were more active at night. 

Autumn at the beach has become my favorite time of year. It rejuvenates my soul and fills me with hope. While most people are mourning the loss of warmer weather, I relish in the cool breeze. The biggest reason behind this is autumn at the beach is the first time my husband kissed me. We had been spending more time together. One evening we were sitting near the pier at sunset talking. Eventually, we were both quiet. You could feel the tension. Out of nowhere he asked, “Can I kiss you?” and I laughed, saying, “Don’t ask, just do it.” 

Lent, Short Stories

Day 21: Not Wonderland

Alexandra Diane

This had to be illegal. It was completely dark, and Brooke just climbed over two chain-link fences. That’s two more than she ever climbed over in her life. Surely people only did that on television. But here she was with a flashlight in her hand, following a white rabbit. Who was she? Alice?

No, she wasn’t Alice, and this definitely wasn’t wonderland. Unless everyone who lost the head to the queen of hearts was buried here. The small rabbit darted across the graveyard. It bounced between headstones, nibbling flowers left for loved ones, only to stop in front of the mausoleum.

“Where are you going, little bunny?” Brooke asked, peeking from behind a tree. 

The steps glowed as the rabbit hopped up to the door, each paw glowing the same color. Scared to move, Brooke kept still as possible. She had been following the rabbit for the last six hours after it escaped from her professor’s laboratory. Until this magic moment, she did not know why her professor was so under that it escaped. All it did was poop all over the lab and eat power cords. If anything, the rabbit’s escape was a blessing. At least it was to this broke college student. Who could afford to replace 80 dollar cables every other week? 

With at least a decade’s worth of grime encrusted on the track, the door of the mausoleum creaked open. Silently, Brooke prayed the door wouldn’t shut before she got there. She couldn’t see a handle or a lock from where she stood. From all appearances, the mausoleum seemed sealed. 

As if the universe heard her prayer, the door became stuck in the grime as it tried to close. Brooke raced from her hiding spot. Her heart pounded. She could hear the door almost freeing itself. Brooke slid in just in time as the door slammed shut. 

The years of dust overpowered Brooke’s need for stealth. She coughed and gagged trying to catch her breath. And to make things worse… Her flashlight died. 

Thankfully, whoever designed this house of the dead loved the moon. A rich glow poured in from the constellation windows that lined the ceiling. Brooke looked all over for the rabbit, but only found a large marble pedestal holding a black onyx coffin. Creeping around the coffin, Brooke saw tracks in the dust swooping out in a crescent pattern. However, there was no way a five-pound bunny would have been able to move the heavy coffin. 

Brooke dropped to the ground. If the rabbit could activate whatever trip device moved the coffin, it would have to be on the floor. Brooke looked around for any sign of an unlevel tile, a button, a clue of some kind.

“Nothing better eat me,” she muttered to herself as her hand traced along the foot of the pedestal. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

As she stood, her foot slipped on the dust, and she kicked the pedestal. Brooke desperately grasped for something to soften her fall, but there was nothing, not even the floor. The title had disappeared. Brooke plummeted into the darkness. Her screams echoing against the walls. 

“What a horrible way to die.” Brooke thought. “Alone, afraid, body mangled, where no one will ever find me.”

 But the sounds of crashing waves drowned her fears, replacing them with new ones. Brooke’s arms waved wildly by her side. Water meant she had to get her body in the correct position. If she wanted to avoid breaking any bones or knock herself out, Brooke had to enter the water with her toes pointed at a 45-degree angle, legs closed, and arms secured to her side. Drown was not the way she planned on dying. But Brooke was in the dark in more ways than one. She didn’t know how much time she had. 

The sound grew closer. Brooke had stopped screaming long ago. She didn’t need her mouth hanging open to catch a mouth full of water. But that didn’t stop her from thinking how dead that rabbit was if it survived the fall. The salty mist stuck to her face. Quickly, she drew her arms to her side and pointed her toes. A wave crashed over head dragging her deeper under the water. Brooke tumbled under wave after wave, unable to tell which way was up. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen and her eyes stung. She wanted to shut them to make the pain go away. As her vision blurred, four bright lights darted through the water. The rabbit. 

 Brooke kicked after the vexing bunny, finally breaking the surface, only to be smacked in the face by another wave. But a breath of soggy air was better than death. Brooked gasped, treading water. Every muscle burned, but that meant she was alive. A wave pushed her forward. Or where she thought forward would be. Where did she fall? Maybe this was wonderland after all.

The sky, or ground covering, wherever she was, was still dark. However, there was a faint glow in the distance. With a bit of salt oxygen in her lungs, Brooke paddled forward, hoping she was heading in the same direction as the phosphorescent rabbit. 

Waves crashed harder as the horizon came into view. A sharp and dangerous reef was under Brooke. She protected her head as she dove with the waves. She felt like a dolphin, only there was no joy in her dives, only survival. A few times, panic set in her when kelp wrapped around her ankles. Brooke thought maybe a giant squid or octopus had attacked her. Only she had seen no living creature in the water aside from the troublesome bunny here and there. 

At last her feet met the sea floor. Exhausted, she wasn’t sure if she should try standing, fearful that once she stopped swimming, she’d be unable to start again. Brooke was having a hard time making out the land ahead of her. She could see trees, but the waves still swallowed the beach. Finally, she stood. Waves broke on shore and gently receded. Satisfied that the shore wasn’t covered in rocks, she rode in the waves instead of swimming. 

The final wave brought Brooke ashore. Laying in the shore break, Brooke started laughing. What had her life become? All she wanted to do was earn extra credit by finding the stupid rabbit. Not go on some wild adventure where the sand glistened. 

Brooke rolled over. With her face close to the sand, she discovered it wasn’t the typical sand she had spent a lifetime looking at. Instead of being tan and white, these were particles of black, green, red, purple and blues. Sitting up, she scooped a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers. They felt like tiny little gem stones. But why didn’t they scratch her more than the sand at home did? 

A vine trailed down the beach from the dunes, ending in front of Brooke. She trudged her way to the plant, only to find that it, too, was not normal. It possessed the flexibility of a plant, yet the strength of emeralds. Brooke stranded her eyes towards the forest ahead of her. That’s when she saw all the palms on the palm trees glistened like the sand. A breeze floated from the sea and into the forest. All the trees sounded like delicate wind chimes.

Another breeze blew, this time it caressed her face and whispered. “We’ve been waiting for you Brooke.”

Brooke’s eyes widened. There at the edge of the forest were a group of soldiers clad in gleaming armor. And in the arms of the leader was the illuminated rabbit. 

Lent

Day 22: Faith & Marriage

Alexandra Diane

What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

One of the most annoying things that I encounter has to deal with my faith. I understand that it is typical to ask about someone’s spouse after discovering their faith. However, what is the most belittling is when people find out my husband is an atheist. The first thing most people ask is, “He still lets you go to church?” or “Does he let your children go with you?” Like hold up, wait a minute. When did 2024 turn into the 1950s where the husband dictates what the family does? 

Marriage is a partnership, not a dictatorship. I’ve heard of people who are in Jewish / Christian marriages and when people find out about that, they ask, “Do you celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas?” No one is discussing someone limiting anyone’s beliefs. I’m uncertain whether it’s my husband or atheism itself that drives people to ask such questions. 

My daughter and I attend church regularly. She is a part of the faith formation and will take her first communion in a year or so. My stepson would be a part of his confirmation class if the other household would take him to his Wednesday class. We didn’t bring up the topic of him attending Wednesday classes, even though his mom was okay with him getting baptized. So he never started the classes. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t attend church. He does, when baseball doesn’t intervene. So that’s kind of limited. 

But back to my husband and my children’s faith.

When we got together, Tyler knew I was a Catholic. We talked about how I find peace in my faith and we have talked endlessly about why he lost his. Witnessing people murder each other in the name of their God can really do wonders on a person. However, faith wasn’t a big thing for him growing up. For my childhood, my mom took me to church and my dad worked. Even if he didn’t work, he was Catholic and my mom was raising us as Presbyterian. It didn’t cause any problems in our household. We weren’t orthodox and my mom took us so we could learn from people who were more experienced in the faith. So this way of raising children was very familiar to me. 

My husband has been by my side through all three of our children’s baptisms. In truth he was the one who pushed me through my postpartum depression and reminded me to set up the baptism dates. He is also the one who will tease me and call me a bad catholic or heathen when I choose sleep over going to mass. Tyler knows my faith is important to me and when I falter in going to church, he is there to support me. 

I sometimes question whether my husband is genuinely an atheist rather than an agnostic. Someone who can’t put a name to their faith. I have caught Tyler a few times talking about the unexplained. Maybe the universe has been more involved in our lives than he believed. I have seen him break down and denounce God with a passion when he lost his dog far sooner than we ever expected to lose her. You don’t do that unless you have faith to lose. 

What I don’t understand is how perplexed people are that someone who is an atheist would allow his significant other to raise their children with faith. It is absurd that someone so certain in their belief of nothing would be scared by someone’s belief in something. It just makes me value my relationship with my husband more. The way he empowers my faith, that we have civil discussions about things and that he has never once tried to stop me from sharing what I value with our children. 

As our children get older, they will leave the house and have the same opportunities I did. They can choose to stick with the religion they grew up with, or convert into something else. Maybe their life will take them on the same path as their father and something might make them lose their faith. That’ll make me sad, but they will be adults in charge of their own spiritual journey. I just want to give them the tools for that journey.