Well hello there, blog readers. It's been a while, has it not?

Since most of you are my Facebook friends, I am rather certain that most of most of you have been waiting for me to update with a particularly special post.

So I'll get straight to it and oblige that request as best as I can. The following few posts will be the short version. Do note that there may be things I won't disclose here, as a blog is still too public a space for certain details. Maybe if you ask me privately, I may answer. ;)

And here it is - part one of the unfolding story. Enjoy the read!
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It is a truth universally acknowledged that a girl of 11 or 12 can give complete attention to a lesson for only so long a time. Especially when there is something else worth equal, if not more, attention.

It was that usual time, when I was ushered to Children's Church - more commonly known as Sunday School - with the rest of the kids. The reader should note that as much as I was unfortunate enough to be categorized a kid, I was but a senior, a class above those young immature ones. So it was only right that I was part of the most rambunctious group for Bible lesson.

We didn't always have the same teacher every week. In fact, the older ones - I believe they were called teenagers - were often given this most privileged opportunity of guiding us firsthand. On that particular day, a teen of 16 or 17 was granted that privilege. His name was not unfamiliar, but that's about all I knew of him.

Being the good child that I was, I tuned my ears to that one message from God I could bring home to change my life forever. And as I continued to focus on the teen speaking, one thing did stand out. It was a light bulb moment, a moment that should be as radical as any audible calling from God.

Wow he's cute.


Again, this writer wish to reiterate that I was always the attentive kind. So yes, even as I noticed the teen make light jokes to break the ice, while trying to maintain some sense of quiet, while diligently going through the lesson with us, I did go home learning something more about my Lord and Saviour.

I simply blame age for not remembering now what that something was.

But the teacher of that lesson I most certainly remembered.