Believer in Jesus Christ. Lucky wife. Blessed mother. In-love-with-the-grandchildren Boo. Unworthy of my blessings but eternally grateful for all of them!

Joined May 2013
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Complete.
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Brooke Wyant retweeted
Hard coaching without relationship produces resentment. Relationship without hard coaching produces entitlement. The sweet spot is a player who knows you love them and knows you will not lower the bar for them.
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The joy of coaching is knowing you made a difference without ever needing any credit. @daleyeahcheer
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Even on my darkest days, I am abundantly blessed.
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When so many said we did stand a chance, our commitment to “til the end of time” stood strong. That’s because vows matter within the covenant of marriage. Here’s to walking into the next quarter of a century with your hand holding mine! @Coach_Wyant
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Listen! I don’t know why we call it a “hidden agenda” anymore. People…. It’s glaringly obvious! #asformeandmyhouse
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She has no idea just how lucky she is to be Pops’ girl! @Coach_Wyant 💝👴🏼💝👧🏼💝
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Gals, find you a guy who finds eternal purpose in making sure his first text to his wife each day is a prayer over her life. @Coach_Wyant
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18 Dec 2025
What a lucky girl I am to get the opportunity to coach these kiddos!
Merry Christmas ♥️🤍 Dale Yeah Cheer
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Take. The. Freaking. Screens. From. Our. Kids. As a 30-year tenured teacher, what I am seeing is atrocious. Take the freaking screens away. Let them be kids. Let them play. Let them fail. Let them learn. Let them become social again minus the screens. Take. Them. Away.
For generations, kids had three worlds: 1. Home 2. School 3. A third place; the park, the field, the neighborhood, the church gym, the rec center. That third place is where kids learned: • how to solve problems without an adult • how to read emotions and faces • how to handle conflict • how to lose • how to make friends • how to negotiate and compromise • how to sit with frustration • how to just be a kid But today? Most kids' third place is a screen. A screen doesn’t teach boundaries. A screen doesn’t teach emotional regulation. A screen doesn’t teach cooperation or conflict skills. A screen doesn’t teach patience or self-control. So all the social and emotional skills kids used to practice before they walked into school… they have to learn inside school now. And that’s why: behavior feels different attention feels different emotions feel bigger classroom management is tougher. This isn’t a “kids these days” problem. It’s a cultural shift. When the third place disappears, childhood changes. And schools end up carrying what the community used to teach. Until kids get their third place back, we’re going to keep seeing the fallout
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This Christmas….. 🎄
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The heavens do not whisper design. They shout it. God created both the sun & moon in perfect size, distance & purpose, placing them exactly where they are to be so that life on Earth could thrive. Creation is not an accident. It is the deliberate work of our mighty God.
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27 Nov 2025
“Thanksgiving begins when we see every circumstance—good or painful—as coming from the loving hand of a sovereign God.” John McArthur
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16 Nov 2025
This is fantastic!
Wise words “My name’s Frank. I’m 64, a retired electrician. Forty-two years I spent running wires through houses, fixing breakers, making sure people had light in their kitchens and heat in their winters. Never once did anyone ask me where I went to college. Mostly, they just wanted to know if I could get the power back on before their ice cream melted. Last May, I was at my granddaughter Emily’s school career day. You know the drill — doctors, lawyers, a software guy in a slick suit talking about “scaling startups.” I was the only one there with a tool belt and work boots. When it was my turn, I told the kids, “I don’t have a degree. I’ve never sat in a lecture hall. But I’ve wired schools, hospitals, and your principal’s house. And when the hospital generator failed during a snowstorm in ’98, I was the one in the basement with a flashlight, keeping the lights on for newborn babies upstairs.” The kids leaned forward. They had questions — real ones. “How do you fix stuff in the dark?” “Do you make a lot of money?” “Do you ever get zapped?” (Yes, once, and it’ll curl your hair.) When the bell rang, one boy hung back. Small kid, freckles, hoodie too big for him. He mumbled, “My uncle’s a plumber. People laugh at him ’cause he didn’t finish high school. But… he’s the only one in the family who can fix anything.” I looked that boy in the eye and said, “Kid, your uncle’s a hero. When your toilet overflows at midnight, Harvard ain’t sending anyone. A plumber is.” Here’s the thing nobody told me when I was young — the world doesn’t run without tradespeople. You can have all the engineers you want, but if nobody builds the house, wires the power, or lays the pipes, those blueprints just sit in a drawer. We’ve made it sound like trades are what you do if you can’t go to college, instead of a path you choose because you like working with your hands, solving problems, and seeing your work stand solid for decades. Four years after high school, some kids walk away with diplomas. Others walk away with zero debt, a union card, and a skill they can take anywhere in the world. And guess what? When your furnace dies in January, it’s not the diploma that saves you. A few weeks ago, that same freckled kid’s mom stopped me at the grocery store. She said, “You probably don’t remember, but you told my son trades are important. He’s shadowing his uncle this summer. First time I’ve seen him excited about anything in years.” That’s the part we forget — for some kids, knowing their path is respected changes everything. It’s not about “just” fixing wires or pipes. It’s about pride. Purpose. The kind that sticks with you long after the job’s done. So next time you meet a teenager, don’t just ask, “Where are you going to college?” Ask, “What’s your plan?” And if they say, “I’m learning to weld,” or “I’m starting an apprenticeship,” smile big and say, “That’s fantastic. We’re going to need you.” Because we will. More than ever. And when the lights go out, you’ll be glad they showed up.”
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Brooke Wyant retweeted
For nine months, my wife, Brooklyn, carried our baby boy. And for nine months, we lived in a place between hope and heartbreak. Early in the pregnancy, we learned something was terribly wrong. Around the three- to four-month mark, doctors told us our son had severe hydrocephalus — fluid building so rapidly in his brain that it pushed everything aside. They used to call it “water on the brain,” but the simplicity of the name didn’t soften the reality. We were eventually referred to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, where some of the best fetal specialists in the country met with us. And they gave us the kind of news no parent is ever prepared to hear. His condition was so severe, so extreme, that they stopped measuring. There was no point, they said. The MRI images were devastating. We were told there was a greater than 90% chance our son would either: • Die shortly after birth, or • Survive with such profound cognitive impairment that life — real life — would not be possible. We sat through meetings no parent should ever sit through. Conversations about breathing tubes. About how long to try. About the moment we might have to make the decision to let him go. Brooklyn moved to Cincinnati to be close to the hospital. I drove back and forth — working, caring for our daughters Sophie and Lily, and trying to keep our home standing while our world felt like it was falling apart. Then came July 8th. Just 15 minutes before Brooklyn’s C-section, we sat with doctors again and discussed when — not if — we might have to remove life support and let our son go to heaven. I don’t have words for that kind of pain. And then — Charlie Edward Schnarr entered this world crying. A strong, loud, defiant cry. The most beautiful sound I have ever heard. He stayed in the NICU until yesterday… and now we are home. Together. Holding him. Loving him. Watching him breathe. Watching him live. He has mild ventricular enlargement we will keep an eye on — but otherwise? He is thriving. Eating. Wiggling. Yawning. Gripping our fingers. Looking around at a world that was never supposed to be his. The doctors have no explanation. They said his brain somehow cleared the blockage on its own — something none of them have seen in a case this severe. The word that kept echoing through the NICU from seasoned nurses and top specialists was the same: “Miracle.” “Divine intervention.” They said it. Not us. We know thousands of people — family, friends, coworkers, strangers — were praying for our son. I believe with everything in me that God heard those prayers. That He placed His hand on Charlie. That He said, not this one. I will spend the rest of my life thanking Him. To every person who prayed for us — every text, every message, every whispered intention — thank you. You carried us when we were too exhausted to carry ourselves. Prayer is real. God is real. And miracles… they still happen. With a full and grateful heart, —Nick
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Rain, rain didn’t go away. ☔️ But guess who won to play for another day? 🏈 @RHS_WarriorsFB @daleyeahcheer #winningweather
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The work was finished at Calvary. Your body broken, so mine is now complete My testimony of faith will be because of Christ, there's a miracle in me.
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