No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) Read Online Free PDF Page A

calamity imaginable. Let Momma tell it, everyone would be
alive today if they’d just stayed at the house.
    “That’s like a one in a
million chance, Millicent,” I reasoned.
    “Well, somebody’s got to be
the one, right?” she said, wagging an authoritative finger.
    “Well if you think I’m the
one, you wanna go buy me some lottery tickets?” I teased.
    “No, ma’am,” she declined
with a smile. “But I will go get you some ice at least.”
    “Thank you, Millicent.”
    The bag of ice sat against my
foot all morning as I sat across from Jerry Ringhauser, a hulking, jowly man, who
was the campus principal. He and I met alongside academic department heads to
conduct teacher interviews for the few remaining unstaffed positions. Being so
late in the summer, the pickings were slim. The top graduates had jobs lined up
before they even walked across the stage. What we had left was a group of
people who’d majored in something unmarketable, couldn’t get a job right after
graduating and were scrambling for a way to start making their first student
loan payments. In other words, candidates for whom teaching was “plan C”.
    Nonetheless, we needed
teachers as much as the applicants needed jobs. As we questioned each potential
employee, I silently asked the Holy Spirit to help us ask the right questions
and give discernment about which ones might actually be falling right into
their destinies, despite the fact that teaching wasn’t first on their agenda.
    But what if I hadn’t been
there? What if I had been at home taking care of Zoe and Seth and missed the
opportunity to hear from the Lord about something as serious as choosing a
remedial reading teacher for my struggling students who would probably end up
dropping out of school without the right help? My work at Plainview is as
important as Peaches’ work at home, isn’t it?
    “Mrs. Brown, do you have any
more questions?” Jerry asked abruptly. That was our pre-arranged cue to end the
interview.
    “No. I think we’ve heard
enough to make a decision,” I said in a phone operator’s tone, standing so that
the applicant got the hint. “We’ll be in touch with you in the next few weeks.”
    The interviewee, Lyndsie
Adams, shook everyone’s hand and promptly left the conference room. Jerry and I
talked with Mrs. Sedian about the interview for a short while. None of us
wanted Lyndsie on our staff. She was too sarcastic. Borderline obnoxious. We had
enough of those on the roster already.
    Mrs. Sedian, who had just
used up one of her precious summer days to interview for her English department,
grabbed her purse. “Call me when you get the next interview scheduled.”
    “We’ll keep looking,” I
assured her as she left the room. “And thanks for coming in.”
    “No worries. If we don’t hire
the right person, it’ll mean more work for me in the long run. I’m glad to help
now.”
    Mrs. Sedian had barely shut
the door good when Jerry sighed, “This is going to be one rough school year.”
He tilted back in his chair and covered his lips with a fist. I’d been working
with Jerry for three years. He was a man of relatively few words. When he
spoke, he meant business.
    “Why do you say so?” I asked.
Not because I didn’t have an idea, but because I valued Jerry’s perspective. He
was the only person to whom I didn’t mind losing my bid for the top position at
the district’s premier school.
    “Six brand spankin’ new
teachers. Ranier didn’t retire, which only means he’ll cause more trouble
than ever because he doesn’t want to be here. Fielder’s going to be out on
maternity leave almost as soon as we start,” he listed. I really had forgotten
about Mickey Fielder, the head officer of security. She was a small woman with
a giant attitude who kept kids twice her size in check.
    On top of personnel issues
was the fact that the state had changed the mandatory testing requirements.
Again.
    “Just be prepared,” he
warned, rising from the