“I’m Not a Teacher” — Why Your Children Still Need You, Not Just the School.”

It’s a phrase I hear often from parents: “I’m not a teacher. That’s what schools are for, my children need to be taught by the school.”

On the surface, it makes sense. Schools have trained teachers, curriculum, and classrooms set up for learning. But here’s the truth: while schools play an important role, they are not the only place where children learn and they are not the most influential place either.

Parents Are Their Child’s First and Lasting Teachers

Before any school ever enters the picture, children learn from their parents. They learn how to talk, how to walk, how to share, and how to handle frustration. Long after graduation, they continue learning by watching how parents manage relationships, money, handle conflict, and pursue goals.

So even if you don’t see yourself as a “teacher,” your children are constantly learning from you. In fact, they’ll remember your example more than most school lessons.

Schools Teach Academics. Parents Teach Life.

Yes, schools cover math, reading, science, and history. But some of the most important lessons like patience, kindness, resilience, integrity are all taught at home. These values are caught, not taught, and kids pick them up by watching how you live.

Your words, your tone, your actions these all combined becomes part of their education.

Learning Doesn’t Stop at the School Door

Even if your children attend school, your involvement matters. Research shows that when parents stay engaged in reading at home, asking questions about schoolwork, showing interest in their child’s progress. Those students perform better academically and socially.

One study found that students with involved parents were more likely to earn higher grades, have better behavior, and graduate on time compared to peers whose parents were less engaged. (U.S. Department of Education)

You Don’t Have to Be “The Teacher” to Teach

The good news? You don’t need to run a classroom or give lectures. Teaching at home often looks simple:

• Reading a bedtime story.

• Letting your child help cook dinner and measure ingredients.

• Talking through a tough decision and explaining your thought process.

• Praising effort, not just results.

These little moments shape who your children become, just as much, if not more, than a formal lesson at school.

Final Thought

Schools are important, yes. Teachers do an incredible job, yes. But your role as a parent is irreplaceable. You don’t need a degree to teach your kids. You just need to be present, intentional, and willing.

So the next time you think, “I’m not a teacher. My children need to be taught by the school,” remember this: schools may teach lessons, but you teach life. And that is the kind of education your child will carry forever.

 Inner Beauty Inspires Change

Physical beauty can catch the eye, but inner beauty can change hearts. A compassionate word, a thoughtful action, a sincere smile — these things have the power to lift someone’s day, ease pain, and even inspire transformation. The world doesn’t need more perfect faces; it needs more beautiful souls.

In the end, our impact on the world and the people around us comes down to the kind of person we are. Our looks may open doors, but it’s our character that keeps them open. By nurturing our inner beauty, we don’t just enhance ourselves — we uplift others, create deeper connections, and live more meaningful lives.

So, the next time you look in the mirror, remember: your worth isn’t defined by your reflection. It’s defined by your heart, your actions, and the love you give to the world.

Because when all is said and done, beauty that comes from within will always shine the brightest.

Whispers of Liberty

Freedom, a whisper in the wind, A boundless sky where dreams extend. It’s the flight of a bird, untamed and bold, A story of courage, forever told.

It lives in the artist’s brush, unrestrained, in the poet’s words, by no rule enchained. It’s the laughter of children, wild and free. A melody sung for all to see.

For some, a battle fought and won, a rising sun after a long night’s run. For others, a breath, a simple choice, to find and lift their own true voice.

It’s the right to choose, to grow, to be, unfettered, vibrant, gloriously. A precious gift, a sacred trust, to hold, to cherish, and adjust.

So let its spirit fill the air, a beacon bright beyond compare. For in its light, our souls can bloom, dispelling shadows, chasing gloom.

~ Krstyn Nguyn

The Quiet Strength: A Father’s Sacrifice

As we celebrate Father’s Day, I find myself thinking not only about the love fathers give but the sacrifices they make in silence. This poem is for every father who traded dreams for duty, comfort for care, and ease for effort, all without asking for recognition.

The Quiet Strength

(A Poem on a Father’s Sacrifice)

He wakes before the morning light, While dreams still dance in silent flight. His coffee cool, his back is sore, Yet still, he steps outside the door.

He wears a smile, though bills run deep, He holds his doubts and never weeps. With every mile and every chore, He gives a little then some more.

That coat he wore was from last year, His boots are cracked from wear and tear. But still, he saves for shoes and books, while hiding pain behind soft looks.

He mends the bike, he paints the wall, He answers every late night call. And though his hands are rough and worn, They are gentle when his child’s heart is torn.

He won’t speak much of dreams denied, Of youthful hopes that slipped or died. He gave them up without a sound, To keep his family safe and sound.

You’ll never hear him boast or plead, He simply sees a growing need. And fills it with a steady grace. A quiet strength, a selfless face.

A Father’s Love, Measured in Silence

A father’s sacrifice isn’t always poetic at first glance. It’s in the unnoticed things: staying late at work, fixing what’s broken, missing the game to work overtime, saying “I’m fine” when he’s not. It’s in the choices he makes without applause, every one a brick laid in the foundation of his children’s future.

So today, may we honor that quiet strength.

Not just with gifts or cards, but with understanding. Not just with words, but with presence. And not just today but every day.

Happy Father’s Day.

— Written with gratitude, and for my own father too.

When Jesus Can Die for Me, I Can Live for Him

There are some truths that strike the heart so deeply, they leave us forever changed. One of those truths is this: If Jesus could die for me, then I can live for Him.

Let that sink in.

Jesus didn’t just die for the world. He died for me. For you. He gave up His life, His comfort, His throne in heaven, to take on the weight of my sin and shame. And not because I deserved it, but because He loved me even when I was far from Him.

When I reflect on the brutality of the cross and the love that held Him there, I realize how small my daily excuses are. Jesus didn’t hesitate. He didn’t say, “Let me think about it,” or “Only if they change first.” He saw my brokenness and chose to pay the price anyway.

So how can I respond?

I can live for Him.

Not out of guilt, but out of gratitude.

Not to earn His love, but because I already have it.

Living for Jesus doesn’t mean I’ll be perfect. It means I’ll be willing. Willing to surrender. Willing to love. Willing to obey even when it’s hard. Willing to follow where He leads, to speak truth in love, and to walk with humility and compassion.

It means my life becomes a thank you letter to the One who gave everything for me.

It means:

    •    Choosing grace over grudges

    •    Extending mercy because I’ve received mercy

    •    Saying no to sin, not because I’m strong, but because He gives me strength

    •    Trusting Him in the valleys and giving Him glory on the mountaintops

    •    Reflecting His love in how I treat others

Jesus didn’t just die to give me a ticket to heaven. He died to give me abundant, purposeful, joy filled life here and now. And if He could carry the cross for me, I can carry mine for Him.

So today, I choose to live for the One who died for me.

Not perfectly.

But faithfully.

Because love like His deserves my everything.

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, thank You for dying for me when I didn’t deserve it. Help me to live for You, not just in the big moments, but in the small, quiet choices of everyday life. Let my life reflect Your love. Strengthen me to follow You, to serve You, and to honor You with everything I am. Amen.

“I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” — Galatians 2:20

The Quiet Power of a Mother’s Patience and Love

There is a kind of strength that doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t roar or demand recognition. It waits. It listens. It STAYS. That is the strength of a mother’s patience, woven seamlessly into the fabric of her love.

A mother’s patience is not passive. It is active, intentional, and deeply rooted in love. It’s in the hundredth time she ties a shoelace for small hands that still fumble. It’s in the way she answers the same question again and again sometimes with a sigh, but always with PRESENCE. It’s in her gentle reminders, her quiet redirections, her unwavering belief that growth takes time.

Patience in motherhood is often invisible. It hides in the moments no one sees the long, slow exhale before she chooses kindness over frustration. The sleepless nights when she rocks a feverish child, even though she’s exhausted herself. The countless times she steps aside to let her child try, fail, and try again, resisting the urge to fix everything right away.

This patience is love in motion. It’s not about perfection it’s about staying soft when the world feels hard. It’s choosing to meet tantrums with calm, questions with answers, and distance with open arms.

There are days when her patience runs thin, when love looks more like endurance than grace. And yet, even then, she shows up. She chooses to love in the long stretches of ordinary days, in the repetition of routine, in the slow, steady nurturing that shapes a life.

Over the years, a child may not remember every word spoken or every rule enforced, but they will remember how she made them feel. They will carry the echo of her patience the safe space it created, the room it gave them to become who they are.

A mother’s patience teaches us that love isn’t just about big moments or grand gestures. It’s in the waiting. In the quiet. In the everyday choice to love without condition, to give without keeping score, to believe in someone, even when they’re still figuring things out.

To every mother who has stood still in the storm, who has paused her own needs to meet someone else’s, who has loved in the long, slow way that only mothers can, we see you. Your patience is not weakness. It is POWER. And it is one of the purest forms of love there is.

Thank you for your unwavering grace. Thank you for showing us what love looks like when it is patient, and what patience looks like when it is love.

The Importance of Time: Why Every Moment Counts

Time is one of the most valuable resources we have and yet, it’s the one we most often take for granted. Unlike money, possessions, or power, time is finite. Once a second ticks by, it’s gone forever. No amount of effort, wealth, or influence can buy back a moment lost.

1. Time Is Irreplaceable

You can recover from financial losses, rebuild relationships, or regain strength after setbacks. But time? Once it’s gone, it’s gone. This makes how we choose to spend our time one of the most important decisions we make every day. The people we give our time to, the work we focus on, and even the distractions we entertain all of it adds up to how we live our lives.

2. Time Shapes Priorities

When we understand the value of time, we begin to live with greater intention. It prompts us to ask meaningful questions:

• What truly matters to me?

• Am I spending my time on things that align with my goals and values?

• Who do I want to invest my time in?

Recognizing that our time is limited encourages us to focus on what’s essential and let go of what isn’t.

3. Time Drives Progress

All growth, whether personal or professional, is rooted in how we use our time. Learning a new skill, building a business, nurturing relationships these all require consistent investment over time. The more wisely we use our hours and days, the faster we move toward our goals.

4. Time Brings Perspective

Time also brings clarity. A challenge that seems overwhelming today might feel manageable in a week, a month, or a year. Taking the long view helps us be more patient, more thoughtful, and less reactive. It reminds us that setbacks are temporary and that every moment is part of a bigger story.

5. Time Is the Foundation of Legacy

Ultimately, how we spend our time defines who we are. Not our titles or possessions, but how we lived, what we created, and how we treated others. Our legacy is built one moment at a time.

Final Thoughts

We all get the same 24 hours in a day. The difference lies in how we choose to use them. Time is not just a measure of seconds or hours it’s the fabric of our lives. The sooner we recognize its importance, the more empowered we are to live fully, purposefully, and meaningfully.

So today, pause and ask yourself: Am I spending my time in a way that reflects what matters most to me?

Because in the end, how we spend our time will define our lives.

The Quiet Power of Forgiveness

Forgiveness is one of the hardest things we’re asked to do and one of the most freeing.

It doesn’t mean forgetting.

It doesn’t mean excusing what hurt us.

It means choosing to release the grip that pain has on our hearts.

Forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves.

It says: This no longer controls me. I choose peace over bitterness.

Sometimes we have to forgive others.

Sometimes we have to forgive ourselves.

Both are brave. Both take time.

But in the end, forgiveness isn’t weakness.

It’s strength wrapped in grace.

And healing often begins right there in the quiet moment when we decide to choose to forgive them for all that they have done right.

Imperfect Motherhood, Unshakable Love

There are days when I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything I said and did as a mom and it’s not in a proud, gold star way. I think about the raised voice, the rushed goodbye, the forgotten snack, the missed moment. Some days, motherhood doesn’t feel like the beautiful, magical experience it’s supposed to be. It just feels like failure.

No one really prepares you for that part. We hear so much about the joys of motherhood, the miracle of it, the unconditional love and yes, all of that exists. But so does the exhaustion, the doubt, and the guilt that creeps in when you feel like you’re not getting it right.

For me, failure in motherhood doesn’t come with big dramatic moments. It’s more like a slow drip. It’s the pile of laundry I keep stepping over. It’s the eye roll from my child that stings more than it should. It’s the forgotten permission slip, the long screen time, the short temper that surprises even me. It’s those tiny cracks that make me wonder if I’m doing enough or worse, if I am enough.

And then there’s the comparison game. I scroll through social media and see perfect bento box lunches, spotless homes, calm smiles. I see moms who seem to be thriving, glowing, doing crafts at 8 a.m. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to survive the morning routine without losing my patience. It’s hard not to feel like I’m falling behind, like I’m the only one fumbling through this.

I think what hurts the most on those hard days is how lonely it feels. Like I’m the only mom yelling into the void, wishing I could rewind the day and be gentler, more present, more of everything. But I know I’m not alone. I know there are other moms out there who sit in their cars after drop-off and cry. Who love their children deeply but are drowning in the mental load. Who wake up determined to do better, only to fall into the same cycle.

Sometimes I ask myself, Why does this feel so hard? Shouldn’t love be enough? But the truth is, love isn’t the issue. I love my children fiercely. The problem is the pressure of external and internal to be perfect. To never mess up. To raise kind, brilliant, happy kids while also maintaining some version of my own identity, career, relationships, and sanity.

But here’s what I’m learning: Feeling like a failure doesn’t make me one. It means I care. It means I want to be better. It means I’m aware of my impact, and I’m trying even if I stumble.

On the days when I feel like I’m failing, I remind myself that motherhood isn’t about getting it all right. It’s about showing up. It’s about apologizing when I get it wrong. It’s about listening, even when I’m tired. It’s about loving through the mess, the tantrums, the awkward growing pains (mine and theirs).

Some of the most powerful moments I’ve had as a mother came not from doing it perfectly, but from owning my mistakes and trying again. From sitting beside my child and saying, “I’m sorry I yelled. I was overwhelmed. I’m working on it.” And watching them respond with no judgment, but with understanding. Because kids don’t need perfect moms. They need real ones.

So, if you’re reading this and you’ve had one of those days (or weeks, or months), let me say this: You are not alone. You are not a bad mom. You are human. And your imperfect, messy, real love is more than enough.

Motherhood will never be flawless. But maybe that’s not the goal. Maybe the goal is to be present, to grow, to forgive ourselves as much as we forgive our children. And to remember that even on the days we feel like we’re failing, we’re still showing up. And that matters more than we think.

Ctrl + Alt + Del

In the digital age, the universal keyboard command “Ctrl + Alt + Del” is equal with rebooting a frozen computer, shutting down malfunctioning programs, and regaining control. This powerful triad of keys offers a compelling metaphor for navigating the complexities of modern life, suggesting that sometimes, to move forward, we must initiate a fundamental reset. To “Ctrl + Alt + Del” your life is to take intentional, decisive action to reassert concern, recalibrate your direction, and clear away the mental and emotional clutter that hinders your progress.

The first key, Ctrl (Control), speaks to the fundamental human need for agency. In an increasingly fast-paced and interconnected world, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed, like a program running in the background without our conscious input. We might find ourselves on autopilot, driven by external expectations, ingrained habits, or societal pressures. To apply “Ctrl” to our lives is to consciously reclaim the driver’s seat. It means identifying the areas where we’ve conceded control – perhaps in our schedules, our relationships, our finances, or even our thoughts. It’s about recognizing that while we cannot control every external circumstance, we can control our reactions, our choices, and our mindset. This initial step demands self-awareness and an honest assessment of where our power has been relinquished.

Next comes Alt (Alter), the command to change. Once we’ve identified what we need to control, the “Alt” key prompts us to actively alter our approach. This isn’t about minor tweaks; it’s about making fundamental shifts in our perspectives, behaviors, and priorities. If a career path is leading to burnout, “Alt” might mean exploring entirely new fields or restructuring our work-life balance. If relationships are draining, “Alt” could involve setting healthier boundaries or re-evaluating who deserves our energy. Altering requires courage, a willingness to challenge the status quo, and the humility to admit that our previous strategies might no longer be serving us. It’s about experimenting with new ways of thinking and being, embracing flexibility, and stepping outside the familiar, even if it feels uncomfortable.

Finally, Del (Delete) signifies the crucial act of letting go. Just as a frozen application needs to be terminated to restore system functionality, aspects of our lives can become “stuck” and drag us down. This might include negative self-talk, toxic relationships, unproductive habits, limiting beliefs, or even physical clutter that weighs on our minds. The “Del” command encourages us to ruthlessly identify and remove these detrimental elements. It’s a process of decluttering not just our physical spaces, but our mental and emotional landscapes. Deleting can be painful; it often involves grieving what was or confronting difficult truths. However, it’s a necessary liberation, creating space for new growth, healthier connections, and a lighter, more authentic existence.

The beauty of “Ctrl + Alt + Del” as a life metaphor lies in its iterative nature. A computer isn’t “fixed” permanently after one reboot; it requires ongoing maintenance and occasional restarts. Similarly, our lives are fluid, and the need for control, alteration, and deletion will recur. It’s a continuous process of self-assessment and recalibration. By embracing this powerful trio, we empower ourselves to interrupt cycles of stagnation, proactively address challenges, and consistently strive for a life that is not merely endured, but consciously designed and lived with purpose. It’s a reminder that even when things feel overwhelming, we always hold the keys to a fresh start.