Author Archives: Donna and Karla

Perseverance: Where There’s a Will; There’s a Way – By Karla

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Nana’s Perseverance

Like most families, we too have many “famous stories” that have been retold over and over. One of these is the time that we took an impromptu spend the night t Nana’s. Mom didn’t have our gowns stuffed in her pocketbook as she normally did, anticipating that Julie and I would beg to spend the night. When the pleading began, Nana held up her finger indicating she had a brilliant plan and headed to the back of the house. Perseverance! Nana was not going to let a little thing like not having pj’s stop us from staying!

In about five minutes she returned and proudly displayed our make-shift pillowcase gowns! Being a young woman during the depression, she knew how to make things work. Perseverance! She worked until she made a way. She cut two arm holes and a neck hole. Wha-la! Two nightgowns. Julie and I wore them so proudly.

Unplanned Surprise

Last Saturday, I drove to Donna’s in Rome. We went to lunch and ran some errands together. Afterwards, we hung out at her house, doing some writing while we sipped our hot tea. Around five, I started dreading the drive home. It’s only an hour, but it was so yucky outside with the cool damp air. Knowing it would be dark when I got home. I halfway joked and said, “I wish I’d just packed a bag; I could have just gone home early enough to get ready for church.”  

We continued talking until the conversation wrapped around to my first cousin Lucie, who also lives in Rome. Before I put much thought into it, I blurted out, I’d love to surprise her by going to church with her in the morning.  

Donna texted her to make sure she would be at church and mentioned that she was thinking about joining her. Lucie seemed excited, saying she would save Donna a seat.

Dilemma

With that confirmation, I happened to look down to realize what I had on! Sweatpants and tennis shoes. Now, I know that the Lord does not care what a person wears to church, but sometimes I do struggle with not dressing too casually. I grew up wearing my Sunday best.

Donna laughed and said, “Well, I don’t think I can offer you shoes or pants to wear, but I might have a T-shirt you can sleep in.” (Her shoes size is a 61/2 versus my 91/2, and I could not button her pants around me if my life depended on it!)

Perseverance and Ideas

“I’ll go to Walmart in the morning to get another shirt, some leggings, and shoot, some underwear too,” I added as I realized I’d need that as well. “Man, I just broke down and bought new undies last week!”

We wrote and talked and wrote and talked until around eleven. I walked into the bathroom and hollered, “Ugh, got an extra toothbrush?”

“Yep!”

“Face wash?”

“You know I don’t use any, but I’ve got soap,” she unwrapped a new bar.

“Shoot, I don’t have my mouth guard. You know how I clench my teeth at night. Ugh!”

“Don’t have one of those.”

“Man, I don’t have my melatonin to help me sleep.”

“Don’t have that either.”

“Your shirt didn’t fit me!” I yelled into her room and got into bed with the one I had worn for the day.

“I’ll get a pillowcase and the scissors!” she burst in laughter.  

Intentional Perseverance Continued

The next morning I woke to realize I did not have my thyroid medicine with me. Donna hollered that the deodorant was under the cabinet. I soon realized I didn’t have my make-up! What was I thinking? With our totally opposite skin tones, I knew I couldn’t wear Donna’s so I added that to the Wal-mart list. However after some convincing from Donna, I used hers anyway.

As we got ready, we thought about giving Lucie a gift. Donna has a book of questions about yourself. You answer them as a gift for your children. We thought she would enjoy this to share with her grandchildren one day.

Showered and dressed, we headed to Walmart to grab the needed things. We discussed how although there have been times in my past when I have changed in the car, I was probably a little too old to change my panties there. I took everything out of my purse and stuffed in my new clothes as Donna pulled into the parking place at Barnes & Noble. She darted to the shelf she knew housed the desired book as I headed for a stall. (Note to self: when changing clothes in a public restroom, use the larger stall, the one that has a changing table. This will allow a place for the extra pair, so they do not need to be draped around your neck.)

We walked in to Friendship Baptist Church, with a smile on our faces, and were greeted with an even bigger one in return.

  • New shirt at Walmart $8.99
  • New pants at Walmart $14.59
  • New pack of panties at Walmart $12.50

The surprised look on the face of someone you love and have persevered to surprise, priceless!

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Pedicures: Little Piggies- by Karla and Donna

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  About once every two months Karla and I meet and treat ourselves to pampering our piggies. As with everything else in our lives, there’s always humor involved.

It all started once when we were in need of  some girl time. So, we invited Lynn, Gail, and Julie (Karla’s sisters) to lunch.  After we ate, someone suggested we get our toes done. Now, those words alone brought a burst of laughter. It was well-known that Gail and Donna had never had a pedicure because they hate feet! Reluctantly, they agreed. One sister, who shall remain nameless, was the first to go. She plopped down into the massage chair to relax. While her feet soaked, she closed her eyes and took it all in until she heard our cackling. All of us in our early 40’s, we were learning that our bodies weren’t what they used to be. The vibrations from the massage chair were causing her arm flab to jiggle like Jell-O in her sleeveless shirt. Though we tried to mask the reason of our giggles, she sat up and loudly announced, “I know y’all are laughing at me and my arm flab!” The five of us were so loud bantering back and forth that other customers began laughing. One even noted that we had to be related and was loving our camaraderie.

Pedicure for Jail

Since getting our toes done is a luxury for us, we have learned that when we do them right before going to the beach it is usually a waste. More than once, one of our toes got messed up while walking in the sand. So, one year, we decided to have them done at a random Wal-Mart before we headed home. Like normal, we sat giggling at dumb things that no one else would find funny. A lady came in and sat down in the chair beside us. She was rather loud; there was no way to miss her conversation. As she talked, we looked at each other trying not to react too much. The more she gabbed, the more we realized she was saying something about jail. We got quieter, but our eyes were doing a lot of talking as it became clear that she was getting a pedicure before she went to jail the next day!

If You Break, You Buy

Walking inside one summer day, we were greeted with, “Pick out your color.” As usual, we began searching for a shade similar to the colors in our non-flashy range. Donna reached for a shade a little darker than her normal. Making sure the bottle was mixed to its true color, she shook it back and forth. To our surprise, it flew out of her hand, burst, and left a plum puddle at her feet!  The owner yelled, “Don’t move!” There she stood with plum pudding dripping down her legs. The man came over with a towel and began wiping her legs, before he commenced to mopping up the mess. Needless to say, she went with the more toned down color and had to throw her polish stained sandals away. A sign now graces the wall of the salon…If you break it, you buy it!

While I Wait

Recently, our wildest pedicure may have happened as we were tried out a new place. It was a bit crowded. We had already selected our colors and were awaiting our turn. A nicely dressed lady, who was probably in her 60’s, strolled in. When she inquired about the wait, she seemed deflated, but cheered herself up with this comment, “Okay then. I guess I’ll just go back to the car and smoke some weed while I wait.” Dumbfounded we stood there with our mouths hanging open!  This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, her little piggies had marijuana, but our little piggies had none! (and never have!)

 

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Fun: Punch, Jump, and Veggie Soup – Karla

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When you live alone, evenings can be quiet. I come home from work around five-thirty, turn on Netflix to watch an episode of Blue Bloods, while planning an activity for tomorrow’s reading lesson. Some days, I convince myself to eat my dinner while watching a second episode. Man! Even after all these years, Tom Selleck still makes my smile. Shortly afterwards, I take a nice warm bath while reading a little and begin settling down for the night.

Friday Teacher Tired

Then there are other days when I am going non-stop! Recently, I had one of those days. It began with a grocery run on Friday evening. If you are a teacher, you know that the brain doesn’t work very well after a week filled with kiddos, especially after 28 years of teaching.

My list was a mile long, and I did not have any extra time to spare. I could not forget any key ingredient. Three kinds of juice, ginger ale, blue Kool-Aid, and pineapple sherbet for baby shower number one. Rachel had asked me to make some chicken salad for a college study group. Since she was going to be home that weekend, it was the logical time to add that to the list. In addition, I needed the ingredients to make homemade veggie soup for baby shower number two. From there I was off to the baby isles looking for a few last minute gifts.

Then I began gathering some weekly items for myself, but my thoughts drifted back to the veggie soup amounts in my head. I had volunteered to make it in a large cooker. The problem was that I had never made that much soup before, and I really did not know how much the cooker would hold!  So, I stood in the grocery store with my hands full of veggies. This will be enough; no, maybe another pack of green beans. Wait! I need another pack of ground beef. My thoughts debated back and forth until I decided I needed more of everything!

Unpacking the car and sorting all the ingredients into their proper stacks, I dropped the chicken into the crock pot and dropped myself into the bed, exhausted.

Up and Running

The next morning I rose at 7:15 and headed straight for the kitchen. Taking the chicken out of the crock pot, I shredded and jazzed it up with chopped nuts, celery salt, sliced grapes, and cream cheese. Then I divided the proportions into their proper containers, so that my oldest daughter Lindsey could have some for her lunch that week also.

Speaking of Lindsey, she had asked if Rachel and I could go to her house to hang out before the second shower began. Having both my girls in one place is not so common at their ages, so I had jumped at the opportunity. Of course, I had not thought through all the items that would need to be packed and taken to her house. I cut up two onions and browned the five pounds of beef that I finally decided on purchasing. Then I started putting all the veggies, beef and chicken broths, and meat into a large cooler. I gathered up all the punch ingredients, packed a quick bag with a change of clothes and headed out the door.

Punch and Soup

Getting to the church, I found my friend Deborah (who is the great-grandmother of the new babies), unloaded all the punch stuff and began making both bowls, one for the girl and one for the boy.  If I do say so myself, the little yellow ducky was cute floating around in the blue punch. I gave the new mom a quick hug and her present and apologized for not getting to stay.

Around two standing in Lindsey’s kitchen, I began sauteing the celery and dumping item after item into the cooker.  The contains grew and grew as I kept dumping it into the cooker until there was no more room. Ugh, I think I over bought a bit! Rachel carried the 17 quarts of veggie soup to the car while I changed clothes, and we left the other five quarts on the stove simmering.

The second baby shower was a celebration for one of our dearest friends who became a mom through God’s timing and miracle of adoption. What a blessing to be a part!

Geronimo!

Smack-dab in the middle of this busy day, was a little jump! Lindsey had raised money for The Green House in Dalton which offers counseling for children and adult victims of sexual assault. If you raised $1,000, you would find yourself rappelling down the side of a five-story building in downtown Dalton. She had never rappelled. This adventure was tucked into my college day memories, where I thought it would have stayed. But, a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do, even when she is 51!

What a day!  What a wonderfully action-filled day: Helping a friend with a granddaughter’s baby shower, having a part in the celebration of a miracle adoption, climbing down the side of a building, and enjoying an ice cream with two of the sweetest daughters a mom could ever have!  

     And guess what else! I have plenty of veggie soup in the freezer for a cold day.  Life is good.  

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Homeless: A Touch of Kindness

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A friend of my mine recently posted about a homeless man, woman, and their dog. If you live in Rome, you have seen them. I think we all have. For they travel all over Rome with their brown dog and their wagon. The man is always pulling their belongings while the dog is hooked to the side of the cart. She was questioning if anyone knew anything about the couple, because she wanted to assist them. After her post, another friend offered to go with her to speak with them and possibly devise a plan.

The Plan

They wanted to get them a warm place to stay during the winter months by paying for a couple of nights and encouraging others to do the same. Several people were very supportive. But some comments from people surprised me. People were writing about how “mean” the woman was, how “rude” she was or how she could have “at least she could say thank you.” These people were not just assuming, they knew from experience. For they too had tried to help. One person said they offered her food and the woman said she only wanted cash.

I can understand how we often see things from our perspective. One day when my daughter Emily was in high school, I gave her ten dollars for lunch money. The next day she asked for more. “I gave you enough lunch money yesterday to last a few days.” Her reply, “I gave it to some man in a parking lot. He said he was hungry.”  My first reply was, “Emily! You know he probably went and bought alcohol with it!” Her reply, “But what if he didn’t? What if he really was hungry?”

Scammers

Many very competent people stand on the street corners and beg/scam people for money. People are approached at  gas stations or parking lots by people asking for cash. Some have elaborate stories, but some just ask. If you give them something, are you foolish?  They may have just eaten a four-course meal and use the money to go buy cigarettes. But even if they do, God knows your heart; He knows theirs too. However, many people out there do need help, even if they don’t realize they need it.

Who Knows

Who knows this homeless woman’s story? A quote from Emma Bombeck I have always liked is, “A child needs your love most when he deserves it least.” As a teacher, I experience that often. Children who act out are usually in need of something. Adults do sometimes too. Or perhaps she is mentally unstable and that is the reason she behaves as she does. I am not excusing her ways, but until you walk in someone’s shoes,we cannot understand his ways. She may be mean and rude, but I don’t recall the Bible stating to only help those who are nice and those who say thank you.

Despite the negative comments that were made, these two ladies have stuck with the goal of helping this “couple” and their dog. Together they have found out that the man and woman are not a couple as most of Rome assumed.  They are actually brother and sister. The ladies located a motel that will let their dog stay too. Monica, the lady, may never be appreciative or say thank you. And that is ok.

Helping others is not about getting a “thank you.” It’s about reaching out and showing God’s love to others, like these two ladies have done. 

“Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice Hospitality”   -Romans 12:13

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God: Our Father Who Knows Best -By Karla

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My Favorite TV Shows

I love old television shows. The 70’s and 80’s, with Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley, were great, but I even enjoyed the older black and white ones. Father Knows Best was one of my favorites. Betty, Bud, and Kathy were always into some situation that needed solving. For the most part, the mom and the dad worked together to solve the problems. Robert Young played the family’s wonderful dad. He always thought he had an answer to everything. Wise as he was; he was human and made mistakes now and then.

The Best Father

Our heavenly Father is not human. He is not flawed. In fact, the only way that He is limited is when I limit Him!

Real Life Living

More like the TV shows from modern times, real-life happenings seem to sneak up on us, hit us from the side, and even smack us head on. We get passed over for promotions, leaving us to wonder what we did wrong? Friends can treat us so disrespectfully that they sometimes even abandon us. Meanwhile, we are in total confusion.

Our personality weaknesses can cause us such frustrations, even when we strive desperately to overcome. Death in general either comes as a shock, leaving us to pick up the pieces. Other situations can cause us agony, watching a loved-one suffer so badly while our insides are retching. When you add a young-age factor to the equation of death, the grieving process seems unbearable. Business endeavors can rise and fall in a heartbeat. In today’s world, some adults abandon their young like savage animals. Is it easy for us to be in a continuous world of disbelief and in a why state-of-mind.

The Patient Heavenly Father

Two-year-olds are so precious with their little mannerism and immature letter pronunciations. However, their why’s often drive me crazy after a time because I grow tired of trying to explain everything. But don’t we do that with God? Why this, and why that? Day after day after day.

When we are suffering, we often revert to our two-year-old selves. “Lord, I wish you would explain?”, “God, seriously, why?”, “Lord, I don’t understand?” “Why would you let this happen?”, “Enough is enough, Lord.”

Do we really have the audacity to think we could handle our lives better? Hey, God, come over here a minute, and let’s talk about a better way to handle this situation.  

God’s word amazes me! He can even illuminate new revelations that we have studied several times before. Studying the book of Job over the years, I have learned different lessons.

  • The Lord giveth and He taketh away, but as we remain faithful to Him, He restores.
  • Be careful who we seek as our encouragers.

Job faced many of the obstacles; He was left, trying to understand the why. I think he is like many people, including me—explain the why, and I can probably deal with the situation better.

God’s Word Asks Us to Trust Him with Our Why’s

Psalm 34:9 says, “O fear the Lord, you His saints; For those who fear Him there is no want.  

Later in Psalm 103: 11 it is written, “For as high as the heavens are above the earth, So great is His loving-kindness toward those who fear Him.” Bible scholars share there are about 300 verses that address the need for us to fear God.

In fact, when we study the idea of suffering, without Jesus dying on the cross, aren’t we doomed to an endless anguish? It is by Our Father’s grace that we have any hope of joy in the first place.

As we journey through our life on earth, we would do well to fear God in reverence to His sovereignty. We should remember the idea from my World of Life quiet time book: Life does not help us understand God; Our Father helps us understand life.  

For our Father Knows Best!

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Left-Handed: Slice and Dice -By Karla

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Left-Handed Meat Cutting

When I was eight, Dr. and Mrs. Lee were good friends with mom and dad. One Sunday, Mrs. Lee asked me to go home with her after church. They had a missionary family staying with them and this would give the daughter someone to play with. Mom said yes, but promptly gave me the “Karla, you’d better be on your best behavior” speech.  I remembered to put my napkin in my lap when I sat down at the table. But, I was not prepared for the pork chop that adorned my plate, and I knew I was in trouble! Ugh! Being left-handed.

I had NO idea how to cut meat! In fact, I had little abilities to cut much of anything at that time of life – including paper! Those stinkin’ left-handed elementary scissors with the green rubber molded grippers! My fingers got twisted and stuck in there.

I sat at the table staring at it. Mrs. Lee must have noticed and asked if I liked pork chops. I remembered to say yes ma’am, using the manners I was taught. Then I went back to eating all around it. Finally, she leaned toward me and whispered, “Would you like me to cut your meat for you?”

To say I was grateful was an understatement! As I think back on my meat-eating days at home, I can share with little doubt that I bet Mom cut my meat until I left for college! I think watching me holding any kind knife is always scared the right-handers of my family.

Left-Handed Watermelon Cutting

My cutting stories have accumulated over the years. In my late twenties I was in Oregon for a wedding. When I arrived, most family was in town bustling around for the ceremony that was to occur the next day.  My aunt’s friend, who I had never met, was there preparing food for the rehearsal dinner. Attempting to be the southern lady that was instilled in me, I timidly walked into the kitchen and offered to help, because manners should always trumps shyness. I guess I did NOT think that one through because it NEVER occurred to me that someone would ask me to cut!

Apparently glad that someone had offered, the lady politely turned around with the biggest watermelon I had ever seen. I grew up in Granddaddy’s eight-acre garden where watermelons grew regularly. So, I had seen my share of large melons–This one was BIG!

She smiled and said, “Sure!  Will you cut this into little chunks?”

I went into panic!  But, there was no way I was going to tell her I couldn’t nor that I did not want to. That would have been impolite! So, I commenced as Nana would have said. I had to get towel after towel because there was juice running all down the cabinet into the floor. I butchered that watermelon, and it took me two and a half hours to chunk that bad boy! There is no telling what that lady thought as she was watching me, but I can venture to think it might have been something on these lines: Good grief, you left-handed girl! You’re going to cut your fingers off as you are slaughtering that melon and causing a sticky flood in here!

Left-Handed Wedding Cake Cutting

I’d like to say that is the end of the slicing and dicing stories, but that would be a lie. At Donna’s parents’ 40th wedding anniversary, somehow Donna and I ended up behind the cake!  Just so you know, Donna is a lefty too, and she cuts about as good as I do! We started giggling simply at the thought of slicing and serving the cake. It was as if we were teenagers back at her house. The more we tried to stop our snickering, the worse it got.

Neither one of us could get up the courage to start dividing up the cake into sections. Instead, we kept trying to convince the other one that she could do it better. Then we’d laugh some more. Finally, her daddy came trotting over, smiled, and scolded us for not getting on with the task. “Gals, get to cuttin’, these people done drove a long way for cake.” With that, we straighten up, and the slaying began.

Left-Handed Potato Peeling

A couple of months ago, I was preparing dinner for the ladies’ small group that meets at my house weekly. Peeling potatoes with this handy-dandy, peel-o-matic thing I brought from a kid’s school fundraiser, I hulled a hunk right out of my pointer finger. It did not quit bleeding for three hours! Sadly, I loaded my bloody finger and my embarrassed pride into the car and headed for the ER.

Now, I share all the above to say I wish Mom could have seen me serve the wedding cake last Sunday for my sweet friend’s daughter. I sliced the moist pieces like a pro!

   

Disclaimer:  Okay, well…
  1. I was thankful it was dimly lit in the beautifully decorated room where the cakes were displayed.
  2. I was equally thankful there was a trashcan nearby so I was able to scoot up to the table when no one was looking and rake all the loose chocolate crumbs into it!

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The Red Tide -by Donna

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Last weekend I was asked by Karla to join her ladies’ small group on a trip for the long weekend. Saturday morning the seven of us headed to the beach. We ranged in age from late twenties to early sixties. Some of us rented chairs and others laid on the sand. We cranked up the Eagles Pandora station and enjoyed the sun.

Karla and I coughed occasionally, and while she worried her allergies were starting to act up, I was concerned I was getting the upper respiratory infection I get every fall.  When our bodies had toasted nicely in the sun, we headed down to the water. As we walked in, we found it was difficult to breathe. Jumping into the cool waves, our eyes began to burn immediately as did our noses. The water tasted awful. But despite of the toxic air we had a blast floating and around swimming.

That evening we went to eat at Runaway Island. We sat on the deck eating seafood watching the sun set over the ocean and listening to the live music. After we went back to the condo and played one of my favorite games, “Imagine If…” We laughed until it hurt.

Karla knows I love to research things, so she wasn’t surprised that curiosity got the best of me. Earlier that day we heard someone say something about the Red Tide, but my comment was, “I can’t look it up until we are done at the beach. I am afraid I won’t get in if I do.”

The next morning about 6:30 am I went for a walk on the beach. As I walked and listened to my praise music, I noticed the dead eel and several deceased fish. About 20 minutes into my walk, I began coughing thinking that I might have to go back because I had no water. Thankfully, I was able to continue and enjoy an hour and a half walk.

Day 2

The seven of us spent another day on the beach. As we walked into the water, it was as if you were breathing in hot vapor. We could feel a heavy sensation coat our lungs. Our eyes burned like fire!  We laughed when the young boy ran out of the water, up to his parents, yelling, “I’m going blind.” But we certainly understood his thoughts. Karla had to flush her eyes out with her water bottle the day before. Our noses felt like they were searing on the inside. As we lay on the chair at one point I began laughing to myself. Karla, who was dozing, woke up and said, “What’s are you laughing at?”

“Listen.” As she held her head up and looked around, she heard and saw it. “Oh my gosh! This is crazy! People are coughing everywhere!” People in the water, on chairs, in the sand–coughing until they could catch their breath.

As we headed back to the condo, even people sitting on their balconies were coughing. “This is like something in a Stephen King story….The Red Tide.”

That evening, three of the younger girls went crabbing. They came back talking about how they had to walk with their noses under the neck of their shirts because of the smell that was comparable to sewage! One even moistened a Q-tip and cleaned out her nose, so it would stop burning.

A Phenomenon

On the trip back home, I researched it. The Red Tide is a phenomenon that occurs when a species of algae blooms out of control and puts off toxins. “The toxins get up in the air and if you go down to the beach, you’re breathing it in. It’s a neurotoxin. It’s like a tear gas.” (USA today)

A hurricane was heading toward Panama City beach, I wondered if it would make the Red Tide better by washing it away or make it worse because it would come ashore. I researched that and found out it could go either way. I thought of how life can be like this Red Tide scenario.

Sometimes when we are dealing with a difficult situation, we carry on with life, laugh and have a good time. Yet we are burning on the inside. At some point the burden is more than we can bear and we want to go running and screaming, like the little boy. And then comes the storm. Life seems to fall apart. It may be a storm as devastating as Hurricane Michael, and it tears apart not only us, but those around us. What happens then is up to us.

Like the Red Tide, our reactions can go either way. We can stand, look at the destruction, and continue to let the storms in life bring us down, burning and irritating us. On the other hand, we can let wash away and make a choice to move forward. Yes, life’s storms can cause damage, and there will be repairs that need to be made. But just like the people in the gulf area, they will rebuild, and given a time for healing, they will flourish. Will things ever be the same as before? No. But sometimes we just have to accept change. Let the past wash away, and with God’s help welcome the new.

Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you”, declares the Lord, “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

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Transformation: Pearls – By Karla

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Recently at school, one of my reading groups and I were previewing a book about oysters. Some were grossed out at the thought of eating a raw one. A few students knew that pearls came from oysters, but all were amazed at how they were formed.

The Very Idea

Like really, what in the world made God think of such an incredible idea. Okay, He is God, so I won’t put too much thought into how He came up with the process, but seriously, I find it very cool. According to pearls.com, pearls usually form when some parasite works itself into the oyster, or other shelled sea creature.  Out of defense, the oyster produces a fluid to coat the invader. For the next six months to seven years, the coating process continues as it forms this valuable beauty.

Life’s Parasites

In everyone’s life, we face little pesty situations. We also face more serious circumstances where we have either allowed irritants into our lives or Satan weasels his way into our lives, acting like a parasite.  When these nasty things enter our bodies, it makes us feel bad, cause us to get sick, or even worse.

Transformation to a Pearl

How cool is it that God allows the parasite in an oyster to transform into such a beautiful gem! Isn’t that the way God wants it for us? He desires for us to bring the “parasites of our lives” to Him in prayer. He wants to protect us when we are vulnerable and need to shut out the harshness of the world around us. Like the physical forming of a pearl, our trials can last for what seems to be a lengthy time span. But we can rest in His arms, knowing He is our defender.

When we turn inward to God and bask in His word and wisdom, He can slowly soften the sting of our hurst and sorrows. As time passes and we continue to allow Him to be our fortress, He makes us stronger. If we persist, remaining in His glow, He will totally transform our parasites into pearls.

Transformation of Pearl after Pearl

We should strive always to stay in a daily walk with God. Thus, each time we encounter life’s leeches we don’t have travel great distances to find our Defender. Trial after trial, we have the opportunity to transform what Satan meant as destruction into pearl after pearl after pearl.

Alone these gems are magnificent, but when strung together into a necklace, it can represent strength, grace, and wealth. When Satan strived to tear you into a million pieces, God rebuilds you with surpassing strength. For when the world tried to make you bitter, God grants us grace for others. As ones around you tried to trapped you in poverty, the King of Kings provides you with wealth.

As you adorn yourself with the strand of pearls that God has tailored specifically for you, He will allow you to be His witness sharing your pearls with others who need His encouragement.

“God intentionally allows you to go through painful experiences to equip you for ministry to others.” -Rick Warren

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Friendship: Thank You for Being a Friend – By Karla

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Summer Exchange Program

During the summers of my teenage years, I spent a week at Donna’s house, and she spent a week at mine. We commonly refer to these moments as our summer exchange program. Oh, the stories we can tell of those adventures, and the friendship that began.

One of our favorite things was the moments when we gained some independence. Donna’s mom Nikki decided it was okay for us to go by ourselves to Shannon Mall near their home in Fayetteville, Georgia. Dennis, her brother, would drop us off, and our freedom began! At least we thought; years later we found out he spied on our friendship like big brothers do.  

People Watching

With little money, we rarely bought anything but an ice cream. Those were some fun times sitting on the benches analyzing people’s hairstyles, outfits, or actions. I would like to say we were not being judgmental, but by definition, we probably were.

Donna usually used her “soft voice” laugh ,while I have a rambunctious chuckle. No wonder I usually got called down more often. At some point, we would decided covering our mouths with a piece of paper or napkin if possible would be a secret way of talking about others. If we did not have either of those items, we began to whisper talk out of the side of our mouths, which became a trademark for us. Yep, we still do it sometimes. Honestly though, maybe it was not as judgmental as it sounds. I believe we were two young, innocent girls trying to figure out the world around us; honestly, we were a little shocked at times!

As I licked my chocolate cake cone and Donna her butter-pecan sugar cone, one of us would mouth, “Look, coming from the left. Hair. Slowly turn your head.” The other would try to nonchalantly swirl her head in that direction. Then we would both try to keep ourselves from bursting out in laughter. It was almost like a game to see who could find the most outlandish situation. We sat there analyzing mohawks, puffy sleeves, big hair teased into a mountain, Madonna look-a-likes, shorts, leg warmers, or turquoise triangle earrings. Then our game would progress to new heights when we would share a crazy comparison. Again with the lips glued on one side and spewing in whispers on the other, “Look, here come Mr. Jefferson struttin’ by us. I think he just stole Mr. T’s gold chains!”

Figuring It Out, Together

Donna and I often still find ourselves trying to critique others, but somewhere over the years, our analyzing has moved more from fashion to the behaviors of others. Life is filled with moments that leaves a person pondering. So, now we mostly help each other sort out the motives of others, whose behavior is not acceptable or who have done hurtful things.

We have all had strangers, coworkers, and even family members, who do things that did not seem to make any sense. We are left, trying to process the situation. Donna and I call each other and discuss it, shake our heads, laugh about it, and sort it out as to why in the world the person would have chosen the words or actions they did. Sometimes these situations have been a brief moment in time. However, other incidents have taken weeks, months, or even years to walk through. For decades, we have relied on the other to navigate life.

We all Need Someone

Everyone needs a Donna friendship in their life. 

  • A Christian friend who will listen to you say anything, knowing sometimes you just need to get it off your chest or out of your mind
  • That true confidant, who will interrupt you when needed and gently guide you back on course
  • The buddy, who helps me see the other side of the coin, even when you don’t want to 
  • A honest companion, who will teasingly call you a “pompous-butt princess” when you are acting too uppity

Donna, thanks for listening to my woes over the year, and thanks for helping me figure out how to handle many, many situations over the years. In fact, thanks for taking me to Waffle House to eat raisin toast for the first time. And thanks for bringing me back to my youth, talking out of the corners of our mouths about the man in the purple jacket. Thank you for being a friend!

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Waffle House Run: Pompous Princess -by Donna

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A few Sundays ago, Karla and I went to my daddy’s. We stayed much longer than we anticipated and were driving back late. It was approximately 10:53 and we had seven minutes to make it to our favorite snack destination…Baskin Robbins. We sped up 75 north to beat the clock, but sadly, we arrived at 11:00. No pralines and crème for me. Karla insisted we needed a late-night snack and I agreed. However, we didn’t want fast food. My reply was, “Well, your choices are limited. It’s pretty much IHOP or Waffle House.”

IHop

Of course, she immediately asked Siri where the nearest IHOP was, and we headed in that direction. “I don’t do Waffle House.” She said with a snarl.  Now I’ve eaten at Waffle House probably a kazillion times. Many late-night basketball games took my family there. “Karla, they make some great hot chocolate.”  I secretly was hoping for Waffle House but knew we would not go there.

We walked into IHOP and sat in the waiting area. A couple sat across from us and said, “I hope y’all don’t mind waiting. The other people, who were sitting with us, just left. We have been here for a while.” We glanced around. There weren’t many customers; we saw no waitresses. But Karla said, “We will wait.” So, we sat and sat. The man across from us pulled out his phone and asked Siri the phone number to IHOP. He grinned as his cell called. The phone sitting on the counter beside us preceded to ring, and ring and ring and ring. We looked at each other with tired eyes, got up, and left.

Waffle House

Back on the interstate, we saw a Waffle House sign. “Just go there!” she said.

“No, we can keep driving and look for another IHOP,,” I said. But as she googled we realized not all IHOPs stay open twenty-four hours. Her stomach could take no more, and we pulled into a Waffle House.

Walking in, we plopped down in the first booth. Karla glanced around apprehensively. Looking across at me she sighed with aversion. Our waitress came and greeted us laying the menus on the table. As she walked off Karla pointed at hers. A long black hair graced the front!

Rolling my eyes, I commented, “Just reach over there, and get another one.”

She put that one back, picked a different one, and grimaced, “It’s sticky.”

I stared her in the eyes and said, “Stop being a pompous-butt-princess!” After a moment of silence from shock, she burst out laughing. Then we began the giggling that always happens when we are exhausted.

Hot Toddy?

Our waitress asked what we would like to drink. I ordered hot chocolate. She returned quickly with our beverages, sat them down, and walked off. I looked at my cup of hot tea. “Didn’t I ask for hot chocolate?”

“Yes, you did. Send it back,” Karla motioned.

“No, I’ll just drink it.” But I really wanted my hot chocolate. The tea was so blah. So, when she came back I politely said, “I ordered hot chocolate.”

She replied, “That’s what I fixed you.” I looked confused and she continued, “You ordered a hot toddy and that’s what I gave you. It has tea, lemon…”

“A hot toddy!” I interrupted. “Doesn’t that have alcohol in it? You put alcohol in my tea?”

“No, I left that out.”

“I said hot chocolate, not a hot toddy.”

“Ok, I’ll bring you a hot chocolate too.”

“Karla, turn around.” I whisper yelled out of the side of my mouth.

In walked a very strangely dressed couple. The girl was dressed like a provocative cheerleader complete with fish-net  hose. The guy had on a purple satin jacket and no shirt! As they stood talking, he slid his jacket down resting it on his forearms, exposing his upper body. It was then we could see the gold sequin vest. He stood like that the entire time he talked as if that was his norm.

Hot Chocolate to Go?

We tried not to get tickled but, we did. As we sat their laughing, a different waitress came over, sat a Styrofoam cup in front of me, and said, “Here’s your hot chocolate to go.” I didn’t order it to go. I looked  confused and she asked, “Is it too early?” and she walked away

When she walked off, we shook our heads.  Karla laughed, “This whole dinner was a little bizarre! I told you I don’t do Waffle House.”

Over the fifty years we’ve known each other, we’ve never eaten at a Waffle House together. And I’m guessing it’ll be another fifty before I get her to go back with me. However, she did admit she liked the raisin toast and apple butter!

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