A New Beginning: Trusting the Pillar That Holds Me
- kimberly748
- Feb 28
- 3 min read
Two weeks ago, I received a text that changed everything:
"Today was your last day at Creighton Elementary. You must clean out your room this afternoon, leave all school technology, keys, and your badge in your classroom. If you cannot retrieve your belongings today, you will need to pick them up at the district office tomorrow. Please leave with professionalism and let me know when you have completed the requested items."
Just like that—seven months of dedication, endurance, and sacrifice dismissed in a single message. The reality? I had uncovered systemic violations at my school, and in an “at-will” state like Arizona, calling out wrongdoing comes at a price. I became the scapegoat, the higher-paid employee with the credentials, the one they needed to cut loose to cover their tracks.
For seven months, I endured the most toxic work environment I have ever experienced. I was targeted weekly, criticized relentlessly, and yet—I showed up. I stayed for my students. I watched them bounce between classrooms, stripped of consistency, and I stood as their steady ground when nothing else was. I fought through pain, my hip screaming as I searched for answers, but I showed up anyway. My class grew from 28 to 35, with no extra support, only extra criticism. And the day I finally stood my ground, refusing to turn a blind eye to the district’s negligence, the response was swift: retaliation and release.
Then came the real valley. Unemployment. Fear. The looming question of how I would keep my home, how I would survive. And as if life wanted to test my endurance further, a letter from the state of Montana landed in my mailbox with a massive tax bill due in less than a month. My credit score began to sink again, and just when I thought I had reached my threshold, the one person I believed in—the one who promised to walk this road with me—chose to critique my struggle rather than hold space for it.
"You should have never said anything.""Your actions were irresponsible.""You need to seek help for your financial mess."
His words landed hard. But in that moment, I realized something profound: I am not the one who needs saving. And certainly not by a man who sits behind bars, instructing me on responsibility while he justifies the choices that put him there. I have spent my life facing storms, learning, growing, and becoming. I am not defined by a financial stumble, nor am I bound by the mistakes of my past. I am more than capable of rescuing myself.
And even more than that—I am not alone.
Because my God is faithful.
He has been whispering to me these past two weeks, reminding me to turn my face back to Him. The world may see a setback, but He is calling it a redirection. I listened to a podcast from Tim Ross and Preston Morrison, where they spoke about how, in times of prosperity, God sometimes taps us on the shoulder and says, “Let’s go.” And I felt it in my soul.
This is not the end. This is the beginning.
I have walked through dark days, but the Light cannot be extinguished. I have been stripped of security, but I have not been stripped of purpose. The valley may feel long, but my steps are ordered, and I am not afraid to take them.
So today, I pick up my shovel and begin to dig—dig for the water of life that is already before me, waiting in the ripe field of God’s blessings. I will start small, knowing that little by little, a little becomes a lot. I may feel scared, but I am leaning into His plan, not my own.
Because He has never failed me before. And He will not fail me now.
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