Category Archives: Children

These blogs are about children.

Influence: The Show Must Go On -By Donna

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My daughter’s presence has graced the stage multiple times throughout her 24 years. Often a local radio station will interview those involved in a show. Each time Emily was asked the question, “How did you get started doing this kind of thing?” Her answer: “In first grade I went to see the play ‘Annie’, and when I looked at those kids on stage, I thought ‘why am I not doing that?’  I went home and told my mom I wanted to try out for the next play.”

I wish her reply stopped there. She could have easily let that be her answer, but she always continues with the rest of the story which includes me. The fact that she always shares how determined she was has made me realize how my actions could have negatively influenced her.

Determination

Emily has always been the opposite of me. She is loud, daring, outgoing, and loves to be in front of people. At age four, she walked by the TV and saw a child on a talk show. She said, “I will be on TV one day.” Often she came home from school saying that her teacher took her to the office to perform for the principal or another classroom to act for someone. So, I really wasn’t surprised at her request to try-out for a play.

I vividly remember the night of auditions for the upcoming play. Her dad dropped us off in front of Rome Little Theater. Emily was raring to go in. As we walked toward the door, I stopped her. Her little face looked up at me. “Emily, you don’t have to do this. We can go home. It doesn’t matter that we drove all the way to town.”  Searching my face for answers she replied, “I want to do this.”

“Emily, you will have to go on the stage and talk in front of all those people. People you don’t even know. We can just go back home.”  To which she replied, “I’m going in.” And proceeded in the door.

Success

I honestly felt sheer dread as they called her number. My heart was beating out of my chest and I felt like I was the one going on stage. She walked up on stage and they asked her to “slate”.  Emily stood silent, having no idea what that meant. I panicked more. The director said, “That means tell us your name, how old you are, and where you are from.”

Grinning from ear to ear, with a face full of expression, she boomed without a microphone, “I’m Emily Tumlin, I’m seven years old, and I’m from Rome, Georgia!”

I have always joked that she was switched at birth, and at that point I was beginning to believe it. Although she was the youngest there, she got her first part in a show. Since then she has performed in many shows, been an extra on the big screen, and accomplished what she said she would at age four by having a small speaking part on a TV episode.

Influence

The second part of her answer to the DJ is always this, “My mama is really shy and she tried to talk me out of it, but I did it anyway.” That was not a proud parent moment for me. I am a teacher, and I encourage children every day. But that day I was a discourager. I always think about the “what if.” If she had listened to me and my fear, she may have never discovered her passion. When I listened to her last week on The Ridge 95.7 and heard those words again, I cringed at my lack of support that day.

If you have a vision, don’t let others deter you from it with their negatives. If you have a goal or dream I highly recommend the book The Dream Giver by Bruce Wilkinson. God has given everyone a dream. The book encourages a person to pursue their dream even if others may stand in the way. I am sad to say that when I read it, I realized I was one of the characters trying to prevent a person from reaching their dream. Just like in the book, I thought I was doing it for all the right reasons. I believed I was protecting my child from failure, being scared, and the unknown.

Since that day I have been her biggest fan. I have sat through the same show up to six times! If you find yourself on my side of the story, be an encourager. Don’t let what you would or wouldn’t do influence someone who is reaching for a goal. If you are on Emily’s side of the story, be determined.  I am thankful she was.

–Donna

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Going Home -By Donna

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Karla and I drove to my daddy’s on Father’s Day for an overnight visit. He still lives in the house I grew up in, but the definition of going home has changed over the years. During the college years, it meant someone to wash my clothes, make a homemade meal to eat, and a place to get a good night’s sleep.

When I moved into the married years with children, I was no longer the most anticipated person walking in the door. Grandkids stole the first hugs and much of the attention while we toted in all essentials needed when traveling with little ones. The older married years were lots of fun when I was home. With all five grandchildren together swimming, Mama and I would cook in the kitchen. My brothers picked on me like they used to. Eleven years ago, going home became difficult for my brothers and me. We spent time with Mama, knowing the cancer would someday result in her absence from our childhood home.

Changes

Going home now means the absence of some family, including mama and the introduction of new members. Even the pool I loved as a kid, has been filled with dirt and vegetables.

Going home may be different now, but somethings just never change. Walking in the door and greeted with hugs, Karla and I barely had time to use the bathroom before we were invited to the table. It was filled with delicious home-cooked food including veggies from the garden. For at least 40 of my 50 years, Karla and I have graced the table together many times. However, no older brother was burping and getting fussed at and my mama was not running back and forth waiting on our every need.

But as always, Daddy blessed the food. My daddy has always said, “Dear Heavenly Father” when he would begin and ended with, “and bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, in Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”  We all held hands as I listened to his familiar southern dialect. Karla came to tears as she held his elderly hand and noticed he was constantly rubbing her hand as he prayed. Perhaps she felt the age in his hand, but she also felt the love in his heart.

More Change

The next morning I stretched and rolled over in my childhood bedroom, though nothing looked the same. No poster of Eric Estrada, stuffed animals, cat collectibles, or stereo system was seen. But the familiar smell of breakfast cooking caused me to awaken early. It’s not often someone cooks breakfast for me! Just as I was about to try and catch a few more winks, my door flew open. “Are you awake Donnie Boo? Breakfast is ‘bout near ready if y’uns want some.”

 It was a little different when I was a child and he woke me. In those days, I would hear, “Wake up Jacob, give a little light; see your daddy in a pole cat fight!” I heard it every Sunday morning as he stirred me awake to get ready for church. Still my daddy’s voice waking me brought such a smile. 

Deciding we would all go to town, Karla and I got ready. As we did so many times growing up, we stood in front of the wall mirror in the blue bathroom. We painted our faces, curled our hair, and laughed just as in years past. But I saw no tube of Clearasil, Panasonic tape player or hot rollers. What I did see were two faces with a few wrinkles sneaking in, a gray hair here and there, and smiles that have withstood many tornadoes of life together.

Saying Goodbye

When we were ready to head back home, the departing routine began as it always did in the past. Daddy checked the oil, put a little more air in the tires, and a touch of water in the radiator. All lights were inspected: front, brake, back-up and signal. He packed the car making sure nothing was sticking up high enough that my view would be blocked. Then he cleaned the front windshield so that I could see clearly.

 

What had changed? The man, who was smiling and waving at us as we pulled away. He looked like the man I grew up describing as old…my granddaddy. While we were growing up, Daddy was growing old.

No matter how different things are now, the love I have felt over the years and the years to come will never change. Even when my childhood home and family are no longer there to visit, they will exist in my heart.

 

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The Power of Words. -By Donna

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During the summer, being a teacher, I get the luxury of sleeping late, or just lying there enjoying the birds chirping. This morning around 7:40 my phone “beeped” the familiar text sound. My first thought was, “who in the world is texting me this early?” (This  is funny because the normal school early for me is 5:30 am.)  I rolled over, slid on my reading glasses, and pulled up the text.  It read, “Good Morning. Have a great summer! I appreciate you!” Then it was followed by this picture. I smiled. And honestly, it made me feel good about myself. A simple compliment can do wonders for someone who needs it. Words are so important. Maybe As parents, we should ask ourselves, when was the last time we complimented our children?  

The Words of Parents

Being a parent is very difficult, no matter what stage our child is in. We become overwhelmed, tired, and frustrated. At times, children can be little pests, annoying, and a pain in the derriere! I’m speaking as a parent and a teacher. BUT, please be aware of the words you say to your child. I am not saying scolding a child is wrong. Children need that. My mama was strict! She would not hesitate to speak firmly to one of us three, her nieces or nephews, or our friends if she felt necessary. If you were in our home, you were fair game! But never in those moments did she ever speak rudely, or say things that made us feel unloved or unwanted. 

“I Can’t Stand Y’all”

 In the Dollar General store recently, a mother came in with her two children, around ages 8 and 4. Walking in the door she complained, “Just shut up! Y’all drive me crazy. I can’t stand ya’ll. Y’all are gonna kill me.” I thought to myself. “Lady, what if God decided to take you later today? Do you know what that 10-year-old might think? The entire time in the store, she constantly badgered them with negativity. I have no idea what happened in the car. Maybe it was the usual brother sister picking, but those words she was speaking!

Yesterday in Kroger, I passed a mother of four, as she yelled, “Jesus, please somebody take these children away.” Even when I was two isles over I could still hear her screaming at her kids. I’m sure she was overwhelmed with life. However, on the next isle I passed a couple pushing a girl, about age 6, in a wheelchair. She was clearly severely disabled. I wondered if they had heard the yelling of the mother who was taking for granted her four seemingly healthy children. Many of the things she was yelling about were simple things I’m sure they wished their child could do:  ASKING for the blue Kool-Aid, PICKING up the box of cookies, and WALKING too slow.

How Would You Feel?

How does it make you feel when a boss, spouse, friend, or child compliments you? Good? But how would it make you feel if you made a mistake and they went on and on and on…

Supervisor:  Ms. Low, you forgot to turn in the invoice.

Ms. Low:  Oops, I just got busy and…

Supervisor:  I don’t care. Why are you always screwing up. Why can’t you be like Ms. High. She is always good. You are good for nothing. I wish I had never hired you. You will never change.

The above scenario sounds sort of ridiculous, but that is exactly the way many children are spoken too. By all means, correct your child, fuss at them, and discipline them. But be aware of degrading, humiliating words that can make them feel “inadequate” and “unloved.” Negative comments chip away at a child’s self-worth. Lift up your child with positive words, and give someone a compliment today!

“Kind words are like honey-sweet to the taste and good for your health.”  Proverbs 16:24

–Donna

 

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Graduation: That Time of Year! -By Karla

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A Quick Refresh in Time for Graduation

By the first post planning day, I wanted a nap. But a nap was not in my time frame as it was graduation evening for Tucker, Donna’s youngest. So, I ran into the house, dabbed a light layer of makeup over the faded one and slung my head upside-down. Adding some fluff into my hair that had been in a ponytail all day, I turned on the blow dryer and began moving my hands through the strands. I jerked off my clothes and grabbed a dress to shimmy on. Fastening the buckle on my shoes, I snatched a granola bar and some water, and I ran to the car. I reminisced of past graduations on my drive to Rome, Georgia. Since this generation started graduating, this is the twelfth family ceremony. Luckily, several of the kids graduated at the same rituals!

Concerned

I reached into the pocketbook to feel for some lipstick when I realized my purse did not match my sandals. Oh, great! That’s not good. At the red light near the auditorium, I texted Donna, “Mom would not be happy with my shoes and purse situation.” She replied, “Mine doesn’t match either and just from looking around the parking lot, I think I’m over-dressed!”.

Sitting down, it did not take me long to understand what she meant. Donna and I have had a fascination with people watching since our teenage years. I forgot my faux pas shoe/purse issue as we watched the crowds fill up the thousands of seats. We exchanged glances as pink hair and multiple-tattooed bodies meandered in. We eyed each other when there was too much skin showing. Our heads turned toward each other when we saw a man dressed in gym shorts with cowboy boots! We needed no words to convey the look of “something’s not right here! What happened to the days when people dressed up for special events?”

Restless

It took little time for my near fifty-year-old derriere and back to wish they would get the show on the road! Beginning his speech, the principal quickly realized he was addressing a different group of people, and he quickly apologized. There were a few more chuckles when he asked for no explosions of excitement or artificial noisemakers. Honestly, I was growing a little impatient for the whole ceremony to be over.

Educated in America

The crowd was noisy until a young lady walked up to the microphone and began to sing our national anthem. She had such power and strength in her voice, which snapped me back into the significance of the moment. Our youth are so privileged to live and be educated in America. As she sang, my thoughts fled for a moment to the sixth grader, who was from Uzbekistan, that I taught several years before. God love him; during his first four years of schooling, he use a stick and dirt as his writing supplies. As the young lady walked back to her seat, my thoughts were brought back to the present as the principal shared how her father, who was overseas serving in the military, would be so proud. (Though, I was a little confused as to why there was no flag in sight.) The band then played, and I smiled as I recognized the notes to “Take My Hand, Precious Lord”. As a Christian, I am so pleased, when the growing minority, is able to share out beliefs.

Extraordinary Effort

After a few speeches, the graduates began walking across the stage. Toward the R’s or S’s, I noticed a graduate pushing a wheelchair up the ramp in which sat a young boy dressed in his cap and gown. Though I had not an inkling of why he was in the wheelchair, I knew the magnitude of this moment. He rose, and the crowd stood immediately. He leaned on a peer and struggled successfully across the entire stage. The cheers respectfully boomed as he fought his way to the superintendent to receive his diploma. It was an incredibly wonderful interruption of the ceremony.

Tassels switched sides, caps were tossed, and chaos commenced as families found their graduate. Smiles and pictures. Then Donna shared, “He was diagnosed with cancer when he was about eleven. One leg and arm was amputated. He doesn’t use a prosthetic leg, but wanted to walk across the stage tonight.” Softy, she added, “A recent article in the newspaper stated that his cancer is back, and he has decided not to fight it.”

God, forgive us for taking so many things for granted: freedom to pray, public education, and health .God, gives us a heart to help those in need of a smile to encourage, not just on special days, but the ordinary too.

And so, while Donna and I went in for a sneak-attack-kiss-picture with Tucker, I realized that all twelve of these ceremony moments should never be taken for granted.

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Graduation: “Well, Gotta Go” -By Donna

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My youngest,

They say there is something special about the oldest child. Not that they are loved anymore than the others, but after all, they turn you into a parent. Your sister Emily did just that. So many first with her; first labor pains, first steps, first words, first day of kindergarten, first sport game, first broken heart, and the list could go on and on and on. Travis, being the first boy, let me enjoy all the “boy” firsts. The first BB gun, Power Rangers, and a different kind of potty training. Unfortunately being the youngest of three, you were always last. Last to loose teeth, last to ride without training wheels, last to get your driver’s license, and last to graduate high school. I had already experienced most first motherhood moments with your siblings. But there is something you get to be first at; catapulting me into a new chapter in my life.

Changes Ahead

In four short days you will walk across the stage to receive your high school diploma.  When the other two graduated, I had no tears. I felt excitement for their upcoming adventures. You, my last born, will be different. When you move your tassel from right to left, the role that I have played since your sister began kindergarten will cease. Through the past nineteen years, I have always had a child in school. There were field trips, class parties, folders to sign, homework, spend the night parties, picture days, projects. and more. I realize my role as mom isn’t over, but it will be different.

For the most part, I usually know where you are and who you are with. I know what you are doing and how you are. But as you enter this next phase, I may not always be privy to this information. You will begin living your life more independently. I am aware of this because I have already experienced it twice. The difference with them was, I still had you to fill my maternal itch while they were away.

They Saved the Best for Last

So just as Emily’s arrival changed my life twenty-four years ago, so does your departure from high school. Don’t be surprised when the lady who never cries, has a hard time helping you tie your tie. When you walk out the door Friday night saying your standard, “Well, gotta go” line as you leave the house, those words will have a greater magnitude. You are my baby and the last to go. Sometimes I watch you sleep, and I still see you little. If I could push the pause button of life I would. But I know you are eager to move ahead. So walk proudly my son Tucker. As you cross the stage, my eyes may water a bit. But I will smile knowing what your witty mind will be thinking about being the youngest…”They saved the best for last.”

—-Donna

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Christ-Centered Home: From Behind -By Karla

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Respect

This past week, a dear friend of mine lost her dad. My friend and much of her family go to the same church as I do. We have grown close over the years. Since I have grown up being allowed to call my parents’ close friends with the title of Mrs. or Mr. preceding their first name. I only addressed Mr. Floyd in this way to show him the proper respect I held for him. He immediately had a special place in my heart for his years of military service and his love for God and his family. He and Mrs. Ruth were married for a little over 64 years! Mr. Floyd was 84, and he was just a joy to visit.

Accidently Observing

At the funeral, I sat by some dear friends toward the back of the chapel. I did not mean to stare during the ceremony, but from behind, I found myself observing the love of a family. A fifteen-year-old son draped his arm around his mother and provided a shoulder for her to lean on. An eight-year-old son looked into the eyes of his dad needing answers to this eternal thing called death. That father comforted the son by kissing him on the top of his head numerous times during the ceremony. I watched a grandson rub his grandmother’s back while she in turn patted her mom, Mr. Floyd’s bride.

A precious young lady sat with the family because she was a beloved adopted-in granddaughter by choice. I smiled when I saw how she was consoled by Mr. Floyd’s grandson as they now shared the same loss of their papa. Another granddaughter, who has struggled from time to time, spoke about her grandfather who always encouraged her to never give up. Sitting close to me was a first-grade great-grandchild, from a second marriage, draw a picture of the casket with the American flag proudly displayed. She added about eight small boxes with squiggly lines inside. See looked up and whispered, “These were all the tissues to wipe everyone’s eyes.”

The Eternal Life of a Christian 

There was sadness last week, but good news as well. Mr. Floyd was a Christian. The family took great comfort in knowing he was out of pain because the Great Physician had healed him completely.

Changes in our Culture

Sadly, I think the number of Godly family matriarchs and patriarchs are dwindling in numbers. It doesn’t take a data analysis to notice the decline in the American family unit. Today’s family often looks different from the ones just a generation back, and there is a drastic contrast to the ones from the 1940’s and 50’s. Today, there are many single-parents, parent and step-parent, young parents living with his/her parent, and grandparents rearing grandchildren homes. As a teacher, I am seeing more and more single grandparents raising one or more grandchildren. I know several situations in which a child lives with the step-parent and new-step-parent, not related at all.  Most recently, we have the newest family unit, the same-sex parents.

The Same God 

The good news is that the same God who helped those more traditional families raise their kids has not changed! He desires to help the current parenting generation. He longs for us to make Him a priority in our families today. I think many more households in the past revered God in such high esteem and knew He was essential to their existence. What is holding us back from incorporating God in our daily family lives? God intended family to support, encourage, and comfort.

I long for a world where God is the center of all families.

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Kids Say the Darndest Things -By Donna

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Kids say the darndest things! Being a teacher I could tell stories in this category for hours, but so can most moms.  Having three kids, the entertainment never stops. For instance, Aunt Anna cooks the best chicken and dumplings hands down. Over the years at family reunions, Travis and I always scan the table for those first. Tucker who loves chicken, always refused to eat them as a child. One family reunion as we were sitting on our blankets eating, Tucker looked at us with sad, sad eyes, shaking his head back and forth.

“What’s wrong, Tucker?”

“How can ya’ll eat those?”

“Eat what?”

“Chicken and ducklings; how can you eat cute baby ducks!”

Tucker was always tenderhearted, even though he was physically tough.

Tucker took a lot of hard knocks! When learning to walk, he fell in a parking lot and hit his mouth on a curb.  He hopped up, with blood running down his chin and neck, and just kept toddling right along, never a tear.

When he was about three, he decided to swing lying on his stomach. At some point, he slid off head first and skinned his entire face!  Still no crying!

Later at around age eight, he began enjoying baseball.  We had a Hit Around. (It’s a ball that is fastened around a tree. For batting practice, you hit the ball, and it always comes back around for you to hit again.) One day I was eating a snack in the recliner. He walked up with a very strange look on his face. “What’s wrong?” I asked in a panicked mom voice. He calmly leaned over my plate and spit out blood and a hunk of his lip!

Compassion

On the exterior Tucker was tough as nails, but on the inside he was my compassionate sweetheart. Movies like The Incredible Journey brought a tear to his eye. One day we were watching a comedy. Office workers were having a birthday party, and they ran out of cake. The guy, that always got mistreated, didn’t get a piece. Tucker saw no humor in it!  He was disturbed for days, even though we kept saying, “It’s just a movie! It’s not real!”

He does not like anyone being mistreated.

In second grade, he told me about a boy that didn’t have clean shoes and wore old clothes. He was very upset because two classmates kept picking at him and calling him a hobo. I asked him if he knew the boy. He said “No, but Mama, one of these days, if they don’t leave him alone, I’m gonna knock their lights out.”

Well, he did! It was one of those times when as a parent I had to hide my proud smile as I signed the discipline note. Though I wasn’t proud that he got in a fight, I was pleased that he was standing up for someone less fortunate.

“Well that explains it.”

One day after Sunday school, the children’s teacher said to me, “Tucker told me about his uncle, that’s in the military and is currently overseas. I would like his address so our class can make him something.”

My reply was, “My brothers aren’t in the military.”

“Well maybe he means your sister’s husband.”

“I don’t have a sister.”

She looked very shocked. I was baffled.

“Well, he said his uncle was over there.”

Does she think he is lying in Sunday school?  “Oh wait!  I bet he meant my cousin, Karla’s husband. She has always been close to our family. Her kids call me Aunt Donna and mine call her Aunt Karla.”

When we got in the car I said, “Tucker, Ms. Kathy said that you told her about your uncle overseas. You don’t have an uncle overseas.”

“Yu-huh, Larry is over there.”

“Yes, but you do know he’s not really your uncle.”

“What?” He said with surprised eyes.

“Tucker, you do know that Karla isn’t my sister; Don’t you?”

Tucker gave the biggest sigh of relief and said, “Well, that explains it!”

“Explains what?”

Looking sad he said, “I always wondered why Granny never hung Karla’s picture on the wall with the rest of the family.”
I burst out laughing. Bless his little heart. I wonder how many times he looked up at the family photos on the wall and wondered, “Where’s Karla in all these pictures?”

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Misunderstanding: Perspective -By Karla

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The Walking Company in the Chattanooga mall is where I buy my shoes since my foot accident several years ago.  The girls had given me a gift card for Christmas, so we decided to go shopping. They enjoy helping me be stylish while aiding my bum-foot.

Shoots Fired

When the noise rang out, the sales woman was in the floor assisting me. Looking up, we saw sparks flying, and a mother hunched over her daughter attempting to shield her. Someone said the word “shooting” as the numerous people outside the stores began running and screaming in chaos. The sales rep, who was assisting me, jumped and joined the other two sales ladies, springing into action. Two workers scurried us toward the back of the store while the other ran and drug  the metal gate  .

Then she frantically flung herself into the stockroom and began crying. By this time, the girls and I had gathered in between mounds of shoeboxes. Holding their hands, I began praying. ”Lord, please, help us. Keep us safe from the shots. God, be with those hurt.” Imagining blood, I added, “I can’t imagine how scared they must be! God, as policemen, ambulances, and first responders enter, protect them–“

Lindsey interrupted softly, “It’s ok. You can join us.” I paused while two of ladies entered into our circle. I continued praying while the other girl bawled in fear.

“Shhh, I hear footsteps. I think we should be quiet,” someone said.

At this time, I crawled to sit with the girl, who was still crying. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and she had them pulled tightly toward her chest. I did not stop to think if I should ask her for permission to pray with her. I just did. Placing my hand on her kneecap, I asked, “God to give us peace,” reminding us both that God was in our midst.

Rachel whispered, “I think we should move away from this door, Mom. If someone shoots from the mall entrance of this store, we would be in the direct line of a bullet.”

Moving to an interior staircase that lead up to a storage loft, six people sat forming a quick bond during a very scary crisis. I then recalled seeing the sparks and thought a bullet must had ricocheted off something metal.

The workers shared their fears and stories from the shooting incident that occurred outside the mall on Black Friday. Within the next fifteen minutes, officials deemed it safe to move, though we were still unknown of the results. Everyone moved hesitantly.

As we paid for my shoes, we watched people in the corridors. One family, who had older teenagers, reunited by holding each other. Frightened, I thought about how the girls and I could have been in separate stores when horrid happening occurred. The three of us stood there, watching the family hold on to each other, trying to comfort one another.

Honestly, since our legs a bit like Jell-O from the stress, we decided our shopping adventure was over. 

That evening the news shared details: “Fireworks set off inside Hamilton Place Mall; three injured trying to escape”.

The news had a very different perspective than mine. There were more injured.

The three of us were injured. Not physically, but emotionally.

On the way home, we had talked about how scary our morning had been. We realized a newly-found fear we had. How to be anywhere that holds a large number of people or to walk around in open places where you cannot hide. What a difficult decision store workers might have to make: let someone run inside for safety or keep them out in fear they might had been involved or could not secure store fast enough.

While hiding in the stairwell of the storage room, one of the workers called her mom. The mom’s interpretation was clear, “Quit and come home. The mall is just too dangerous!” Her mom was even affected by the situation. 

The stores were injured in their sales yesterday as well. Customers were vacating the mall by the masses. By the time we reached the doors to exit for our car, the stores were nearly empty.

I do not understand the perspective of the teenagers, who thought it might be a good idea to throw fireworks, causing a distraction so they could shoplift.

Some days I do not understand the world in which we live. I strive to remember, “The Lord is  refuse for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.” Psalms 9:9-10

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Trick or Treat -By Donna

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Trick or Treat! Today is Halloween; a day full of frights and fun. As a parent you experience both with your children. I encountered the two one summer when my daughter was sixteen. As a competition cheerleader she practiced many summer mornings. Each daybreak she would dress in the day’s assigned outfit, because if she didn’t have on the correct uniform or was late, she was sentenced to run many laps. 

She had only been driving a few months when an eerie feeling began sticking with me. Call it mother’s intuition, I guess, but I couldn’t shake the thought that she was going to be in a wreck. I expressed my concern to friends, and they always replied, “That’s a normal when you have a new driver.” But, I knew it was more than that. I began praying for God to protect her.img_2525

 My fright came when the phone rang that rainy July morning. I said hello and all I heard on the other end was crying. 

Then a male voice came on saying, “Ma’am, your daughter…”

“She’s been in a wreck; hasn’t she? Is she okay?”

“The best we can tell, yes she is. But she won’t get out of the car, and we can’t understand her because she is crying.”

After I learned the location, I jumped in the car asking them to stay until I arrived. I rounded the corner and saw my Durango sitting perpendicular to the road, upright in a ditch. The rain poured as I crossed the road and thanked the boys for their help. Looking at the car, I knew it was totaled. The bottom of the vehicle was pushed up from where it landed full force.

The officer said the SUV hydroplaned, flipped a full 360 degrees, and landed in the ditch. She left the scene with not one single scratch or bruise. God answered my prayer. 

It’s such a fright hearing the words, “Your daughter has been in a wreck,” even if you expected it and prayed for her protection. Seeing the damage made my heart flutter. Parenthood is full of frights, but we have to trust God and remember He has our children in His hands.

What’s the funny? Well, there was a reason she wouldn’t get out of the car. When the fellows left and I opened her door, she was sitting in her panties!  Yep, true story. She had left her assigned shorts at a friend’s house.  She thought it would save time, to just slip on the correct ones when her friend arrived with them. The saying goes, “Make sure you wear clean underwear in case you are in a wreck.” Well, that she did!

 

 

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God’s Hands versus Mine -By Donna

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Holding my 9lb, 3oz baby boy in my arms that hot August afternoon, the furthest thing from my mind was that one day I would leave him five hundred miles from home.FullSizeRender (2)

During the twenty-one years in between I always thought of him as mine: mine to take care of, mine to teach, mine to love, mine to discipline, mine, mine, mine. He was a wonderful gift from God, who had blessed me with the job of being Travis’ mom.

Travis was the sweetest baby and child, too good to be true. Many referred to him as “smiley” because he always had a smile on his face. He was such a well-behaved child it was almost concerning. The first and only time he got in trouble at school, flicking a Cheetos puff across the room that he found on the floor during nap time, I actually got excited.  “He’s normal!!”

My Concerns

However, Travis did have a concern. It was the very same one I grew up with, extreme shyness, only his was worse than mine. As a young child, he would not play on a playground if other children were there. Many teachers expressed their concern that he “never talked”, but others rejoiced that they had one quiet child in the classroom. Watching him grow, it often broke my heart. I saw a lot of me in him. The low self-esteem, the uncomfortableness in a room full of people, even close family. I encouraged him and even tried herb supplements. Although he was an A/B student, I asked he be  retained in fifth grade in hopes that it was partially maturity. This would give him an extra year before middle school. I was wrong.

Don’t get me wrong Travis had friends and was well liked. He was voted “friendliest in fifth grade” by his peers. But they saw the smiling shell of Travis. At home, we were privileged to see the inside. Deep inside was a wonderful, hilarious, interesting personality that few were allowed to see. As was the case with me, he was often teased for his extreme quietness. But unlike me, it never seemed to bother him, and he always seemed content. He played basketball through middle and high school and graduated with honors.

Of my three children, Travis was always the one I worried about most. Being very similar in personality, I knew the “grownup” world can be challenging.  It’s easy to be taken advantage of and sometimes difficult to fit in. To this day, people continue to comment on my quiet personality.

Time for College

Travis attended community college for two years. During this time, he spent more time in his room away from us. I began sensing discontentment. He seemed almost lost with no direction, frustrated, and apathetic. About half-way into the second year, all that began to change. I could see the changes but was unaware of what was to come.

One day out of the blue, he announced, “I want to be a youth minister, and I want to go to Appalachian Bible College…in West Virginia.” Now you would think my mind would begin racing with thoughts like, you can’t do this, you don’t talk, you never even spend the night away from home, and you are going to go 500 miles away not knowing anyone? But my reply was, “Let’s get on it.” Having comparable personalities, I knew a move this bold meant it wasn’t a quick decision, and he was ready. We had three weeks before classes were to start to apply, get accepted, and take care of financial aid.

I hate to say, but he did hear a lot of negative comments like “you can’t be a minister, you don’t talk.” from some people. Several tried to detour him. But surprisingly, he stood strong and was determined to go. I would be lying if I said I had no worries. Of course, I did, I’m his mom. But during those three weeks, I kept telling myself, “God’s got this. If this is God’s plan, it will all work out.” Travis received his official acceptance letter the day before new students were to move in.

My Hands

Saturday morning Travis walked on campus with a confidence and determination he has never displayed. He had no trouble talking to anyone. He had made the right decision. I was full of joy, but unknown to him, my heart was breaking. I worried, he’s gonna have to wash his own clothes, he has no car here, will he ask for help when he needs it, and I won’t be here if he gets sick. 

After a kiss on the cheek, we embraced in a closing hug. I felt an extra strong hold from his arms. The Bible says to cast your worries on the Lord. As I watched him walk away, I silently prayed, “Lord, he’s in your hands now.”  As soon as I whispered it, I shook my head, knowing the Good Lord was laughing, for I believe He has a great sense of humor. His reply to me, “He’s always been in MY hands, NOT yours.”

That FullSizeRenderMonday in 1995 when I held that black-headed big bundle of joy, God was already seeing this day. It didn’t matter that Travis was painfully shy and withdrawn; God knew he would one day be a servant for him and when the time was right, he would take care of it…after all he is in His hands.

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