Monthly Archives: August 2016

Acceptance: Cornbread Catastrophe -By Karla

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Not Your Everyday Decoration

The second Sunday of August is deemed as a decoration day, a special occasion for our family. I sometimes explain these gatherings with a more familiar term known as family reunions, but at a church. Like many small towns in the South, our churches are often adjacent to a cemetery. Once a year, the tradition is to assemble at the church for a service. We bring flowers to decorate the graves of loved ones, honoring them and their influences in our lives. Three summer Sundays I find myself weaving the roads toward where my heart always resides, Fannin County.

A Little Too Busy

Being busy with the beginning-of-the-year school preparations, I had not been to the grocery store in a while, but  concluded that I had the ingredients to make the family popular cornbread salad. On Saturday evening, I shook the cornmeal into the bowl and added the oil. Reaching in the refrigerator, I frowned, noticing all I had was almond milk. Oh well, this will have to do. The liquid flowed into the cornmeal mixture. Realizing I  had reached the point in life when I can not beat myself up for having to use the wrong kind of milk to make cornbread. I smiled proudly, and anticipated sneaking a few bites when I took it out of the oven.

Cooling it as long as my taste buds would allow, I popped in a small bite into my mouth.

Hmmm…Something is not right! What is that?

I reached for the carton hoping it was not out-of-date when I noticed the words, “coconut almond milk”! Now, I love coconut, but not in a cornbread. How could I have not seen the picture of the freshly cut coconut on the milk? To my serious dismay, I fed some of it to the dogs, who did not seem to mind the added fruity flavor.

Consoling Myself

I went to bed feeling quite defeated. I consoled myself glad that I am the new me because the old me would have beaten myself up for messing up the only recipe I had the ingredients to make.

For so many years, I tried to be perfect. Please do not get me wrong; I knew I wasn’t. But, I somehow felt I needed to be flawless to be accepted and loved. I am not really sure where those feelings came from since I had an unconditionally loving mom, but the anxiety that accompanied my imperfections was real and not healthy for me.

Saved when I was eleven, I learned many things about Christ over the years, but during the last seven years, I have really began to mature spiritually. Carving out a daily time to read my Bible and having prayer time has made a huge difference in my life. I don’t understand how God transformed me, but He has. Now, ninety percent of the time I am totally fine with the goofy mess I am. And when I do forget the other ten percent, I try to remind myself that God created me, and He does not make mistakes.

I decided to pick up some fried chicken on the way over the mountain. However, when I got to the grocery store, they did not have any ready. So, I picked up some potato salad, which no one ate!

The Bright Side

Note to self: While it may be perfectly acceptable to bring store-bought fried chicken to our decoration dinners, don’t bother getting any store bought potato salad. It won’t get eaten. Just come on emptied-handed; you’ll be just as loved!

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Southern Dialect: Summer Mouth -By Donna

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As an elementary teacher, the end of summer and the onset of a new school year means change. Shoes must be worn at all times and no more tank tops and shorts for my daily outfit . I must apply makeup everyday, not just on Sundays. And oh how awful to return to setting the alarm clock for 5:30 in the morning! But the most difficult adjustment is getting rid of my “summer mouth”.

 In June and July, I talk differently. However, “summer mouth” is not appropriate for little ears. While student teaching my senior year in college, I discovered it was not acceptable. The first time my professor observed me he stated, “You can’t talk like that,” 

Really! I can’t talk like that? Tell that to my daddy. When you grow up listening to it your entire life, it is going to rub off on you. 

However, the first day of teaching, I realized Dr. Walker was right. As I stood in front of my students and addressed them, a cute, blond, curly-headed little girl’s eyes widened! “Bo-wees! Bo-wees! What’s a bo-wee?” I looked at her in shock. Everyone knows what a Bo-wee is. Don’t they? Girls and bo-wees! As a result of her comment, I watch what I say.

After eighteen years of teaching, I have mastered the summer mouth transformation. It’s as easy as turning off a light switch. “We ain’t gonna do that” becomes “We will not do that.”, “What in tarnation are ya’ll doin’” turns into “What are you two doing?”, and “Reckon we best get goin’ ’cause it’s fixin’ ta come a ‘show’r” translates to “We better go because it is about to rain.”

Southern Dialect

Each year gets easier because along the way, I have lost a lot of my southern dialect and slang. When you spend hours each day teaching phonics, it’s important to say it right, or shall I say “correctly”. As my professor warned, “No more extra syllables in words, no more exaggerated long vowels, and no more dropping the g on –ing.”  

But I treasure the sound of the south. It is a part of my heritage and my family. Summer mouth reminds me of those I no longer hear talk, like my grandparents. However, if you want to hear what the old South sounds like, my daddy is your man. And I quote, “Well, Golly bum, Isa tryin’ tu put that thang in that there bucket, and I swanny if it didn’t get stuck, and I like ta never got it out.”

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Menopause: Air Tip to the Rescue

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Menopause

I seem to be right in the middle of menopause. Hopefully, I am in the middle; at least that would indicate I have a chance of seeing light at the end of the tunnel

Since I cannot take medicines to help, I find myself in the midst of an internal combustion often. Honestly, how discreetly can a woman take ice from her glass in the middle of a restaurant and rub those cold cubes around their neck and up and down their arms. Yes, I get some strange looks. 

Menopausal Brain

A women’s brain can also have a lack on concentration during menopausal. Recently, I stood at a convenience store buying a toothbrush. The day seemed longer than others, and I couldn’t focus. The cashier asked if I noticed the price on another tube from the shelf.

Hot Flash

A flash coming on was like a wild fire spreading through my body. My eyes fixated on the enormous galvanized bucket located by the checkout counter. It was loaded with huge pieces of ice with floating, cold sodas. But to my burning body, all I could see was immediate relief! I envisioned sticking my hand in the frost for a second to douse my flaming insides.

Although tempted, I envisioned a scene in which the store manager was looking around to see if there was a wet t-shirt contest going on somewhere near.

Once home, I realized I had forgotten  the toothbrush on the counter and had to drive back to get it.

The following day was not any better. Sitting in the dentist chair, tilted so low my head was near the floor, I felt another flash coming on.

Geez! Really! Not here! I breathed deeply. It’s mind over matter, Karla. You’ve got this. Really, you do! Come on, it is probably going to pass soon….

“I’ve gotta sit up, now!” I blurted as my body vaulted upward.

“Are you okay?” She inquired in alarm, trying to jerk her hand with metal equipment out of my way

Totally embarrassed by my tsunami of heat and spontaneous sunburn, I blurted. “I’m….I’m fine. It’s just a hot flash,” I managed to say.

Handing me a Dixie cup, I guzzled water. I knew, embarrassed or not, it had to be done. That’s when I stuck my fingers inside and began flicking water onto my neck and arms.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she tried to smile.

“I think I will be in just a minute.”

Then it happened, the moment of peace.

Her face lit up as the idea hit her. She took her electronic air spout and commenced blowing the refreshing blast all around my head! She was awesome. 

Air Tip to the Rescue

In the twenty remaining minutes, she sporadically sprayed me with the invigorating, chilly blast between scraping, flossing, and shining my teeth.

As I left, she smiled. “I will have to admit this is the first time I had used the air-sprayer in this manner.”

“Well, after I leave, and I do mean after, feel free to share your secret with all the hygienists everywhere!”

I left the building with a fluffy, eighties, hair-blown look and a wonderful new reason for a lady of my age to visit the dentist!

“

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Count Your Blessings -By Donna

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baby pic“I’m sorry; you will need to go ahead and get a burial plot for your daughter.” Those were the words spoken to the father of a four-month-old baby girl. She had been born with a rare aorta deformity. Her aorta had grown normally, then split in half, grown around her esophagus and back together, making a complete ring. As her esophagus had grown, the ring tightened around it causing her difficulty swallowing and breathing.

Surgery was the only option. This type of surgery wasn’t common in 1966 and had never been done on an infant this young. Despite the odds, the operation was scheduled and photographers were present to document the event for medical books and journals. After the delicate procedure was performed, the doctor’s outlook was grim. “She will not live.” The father and his wife took their three-year-old son into the baby’s hospital room so he could say goodbye to his little sister.

Proud to be Fifty

Three weeks ago on July 17, 2016, this baby girl turned 50 years old! Fifty is a major milestone in birthdays. Turning 50 often results in surprise parties, a midlife crisis and being categorized as “over the hill”. I know many women that dread the big five-o and others who won’t tell their age. I can honestly say, I’m proud to be fifty! Did my daddy buy my burial plot? Absolutely not! My parents prayed and trusted God. They had a praying church family, praying extended family and praying friends. Despite the fact many people were praying, there was no guarantee I would live. They were aware that sometimes God’s way of healing someone is to bring them home to Him. But God, the great physician, had plans for me.

50 years! Wow! Half of 100! Like most people, in fifty years I have dealt with difficult situations. Some I have experienced firsthand and others through a friend or loved one. Cancer, divorce, bankruptcy, job loss, miscarriage, car wrecks, surgery, and death are just a few of the occurrences that have reared their ugly head in my life. But God used those to make me stronger. And oh, the joys he has included in my fifty years, joys both big and small. For example, giving birth to a child, playing in the rain, watching a sunset, a dog’s love, a mother’s hug, laughing til it hurts, are just a few of the blessings I have seen.

Count Your Blessings

I have scars, a few gray hairs and wrinkles, but I am happy to reach 50! I wake up each morning and smile, knowing I am one of God’s miracles.

Time will march on; you can not stop it. But you can slow down and take notice of all God has blessed you with. Count your blessings, name them one by one.

Donna

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