Friendship -By Donna

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Friendship is a gift from God. But what makes the best kind of friend? One that will get the dried lipstick off your teeth! Another characteristic is that a great friend is fun.  Karla and I have had enough fun to last a lifetime! We can have fun anywhere and anytime. Standing in line at a deli one day we were trying to decide what we could eat. We told the young man behind us to go around us. His reply, “Oh no, I am enjoying the show!”

A friend should be loyal, caring, and honest. More importantly friendship is the opportunity to love and serve others rather than having others love and serve you. To have good friends, you must be a good friend.

Above the Call of Duty

Karla and I are often doing for one another. We don’t keep tabs, or pay each other back, because “it all comes out in the wash” as our mothers would say. Recently, Karla went above and beyond the call of duty for me. I needed Travis, my oldest son, who is away at college, to make an important phone call, but he was in class. I was going to call and see if they would take the information from me, but I was sure they wouldn’t since he is over 18. So, Karla volunteered.

Impersonating

The plan was for me to call, and if they asked to speak to Travis, she was going to impersonate him. I told her to talk like a young guy, not real formal. I wrote all the needed information on a paper for her to have handy. We sat in the quiet car, and I dialed the number. As I suspected, when I told her his birth date, she asked to speak to him. I handed it to Karla, and  put it on speaker phone. She changed to her most manly voice, and the conversation went something like this:

Karla: “Yea.”   

Lady:  “Yea! What are you saying yea for, I haven’t even asked you a question yet.”

Karla: “Sorry.”

Lady:  “What is your name?”

Karla: “Travis Tumlin”        

Lady:  “Spell that.”

Karla:  “Tumin.” (I whispered to Karla, “you spelled it wrong! It’s T-u-m-l-i-n)  

Lady:  “Ma’am!  Are you spelling your son’s name for him? Is your mom spelling your name for you?”

Karla:  “Sorry Ma’am, I got a little confused. I haven’t been feeling so good lately.”

The conversation went on and the lady who seemed very upset with Travis to begin with became sympathetic. (I think she thought he was not the brightest crayon in the box!) One of the last things she said to him was an email address and she added, “It’s www., now honey that’s three w’s in a row.  And good luck now.”

That was one of the funniest moments we have ever had. Friendship often goes to great lengths.

Being a good friend is just as important as having a good friend. Make a choice to be a good friend to someone today.  

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Selfishness: Me First -By Karla

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Go Figure

Sixth grade kids crack me up! They are so independent one minute and a little kid the next. Some have already grown so tough that it is difficult to approach them for a personal conversation, and others still have questions about Santa Claus! The very ones that are most difficult pull their attention into a lesson are the ones who are jumping up and down on the bleachers dying to be a volunteer during an assembly. Many times, the ones who have attendance issues are the ones running down the hallways to be the first on in the classroom! 

All About Me

Relatively thinking, we live in a “me-first” or “I should get-the-best” kind of world. Often we think that it is only kids who are partakers of this slanted thinking, but we are guilty too. We stand in the check-out lines mumbling. Can they not open another line? Can’t they see me standing here having to wait? I’m in a hurry. At work when things to not seem to go the way we want, we mutter. Really, I’ve worked here all these years, and this is all they give me for Christmas? The examples could go on for a while, but the point is that our biased me-thinking is either entering our minds or lurking near unless we consciously put things in perspective.

Wanting the Best for her Children

Recently reading in the book of Matthew, James and John’s mother asked Jesus if her boys would sit on the left and the right of Him. Hello! The left and the right! She would probably think she should get her own personal grocery store! Honestly, I did think what audacity!

Our List of Demands

I enjoy watching Chip Ingrid; he says such profound things in such a down to earth manner. Sometimes our prayers might come across like a list of demands: “Dear Lord, please fix this situation, heal this person, make this bad think stop happening, please make someone do this.”

At times, we act as if we are requesting the easy life from God: “Lord, let everything go my way, let everyone I know be healthy, give my children the prosperous life, and on and on.”

Not On the Easy Days

Really? Do I do that? Maybe not in those words, but in similar ones. As I look back to the paths I have traveled, I am struck at the times I have grown in my Christian walk.

  • Not the sunny days, but in the storms
  • Not payday; but three weeks after (Good ole once-a-month teacher paydays.)
  • Not the healthy days, but the days when a loved-one was ill
  • Not the days the car cranked, but when we were stranded.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”(Proverbs 3:5-6) 

The days the hurricanes hurled the rains into our paths; these are the times to learn to lean on God most. However, I want learned that I don’t want to only lean on God during the rough times, but on the good days as well. In all our ways, the good and the bad.

I am learning to add to my “me-first/make my life easy” prayers by asking God to walk with me every step of the way. I want to draw nearer desiring for more and more of His ways to become my ways. For my young adult children, I want to remember not to pray for them to be first or to have an easy life. For it was during adversity that I learned to walk closer with God, and so may it be for the ones I love.

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Prayer: What If We Ask? -By Donna

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Last week I was asked if I thought it was ok for someone to pray for what they hoped would happen. I was also talking to a friend recently who had been dealing with a situation for a while. I laughed and said, “ask and it shall be given unto you.” To which she replied, “Hmm, I haven’t prayed about it, I’ve just complained about it.”

God answers prayers. I know that for a fact. The Bible says so, and I have experienced it many times. I remember from my early teens two things my pastor said about prayer that have stuck with me. The first was that God answers prayer three ways; yes, no, or wait a while.” Yes prayers are the easiest to accept and be thankful for.  But, he may answer no. When God says no, He is looking out for our best interest. He has something better planned. Someday you may find yourself thanking God for an unanswered prayer. I know I have. The hardest answer is the “wait a while.” We must remember that God’s timing is perfect. Sometimes it seems like He has forgotten, but He is orchestrating each detail and step along the way.

What More do You Want?

A story was the second thing I remember my pastor saying about prayer. It illustrated how God’s answer may be different from what you are expecting. That was many moons ago but it went something like this:

A man was trapped on his rooftop by the rising waters of a flood. A neighbor came by in a rowboat and called to him, “Get in my boat! I’ll save you!” However, the man said, “No!  I prayed to God, and He will save me!” The water rose to the man’s knees. Next came another fellow in a motorboat. “Get in! I’ll save you!” cried the fellow. “No!” the man on the roof replied. “I prayed to God, and He will save me!”  Soon the water was up to the man’s chest. Then a helicopter with a ladder came by. “Grab on!” called the pilot. “I’ll save you!” The man on the roof called, “No, I prayed to God, and He is going to save me!”

Without warning a wave swept him off the roof, and he drowned. As he entered heaven, he questioned God. “God, I prayed to you, and I trusted you to save me. You let me drown. Why didn’t you answer my prayer?” God replied. “My son, I sent you two boats and a helicopter! What more did you want?”

Ask Him

Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. 9 Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? 11 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him! Matthew 7:7-11

God is our father.  “… how much more will our Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him.”  But what if we don’t ask and miss out on a blessing He had planned for us?

-Donna

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Simplicity: Kazoo Moments -By Karla

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Tonight I sat at an elementary school watching a group of first graders sing about love and presidents, all the biggies of February. (We teachers try not to leave out anyone or anything.) So, they began with a song about how George Washington really didn’t wear a wig; he just powdered his hair. Ending with a ditty about what it means to be a good friend. 

Transported Back in Time

It took almost no time to whisk my mind back to when my two now-grown children were on a stage in elementary school. Memories flooded my mind. Lindsey singing a little solo, and Rachel’s big shout about guacamole. She had a horrid raspy voice. Even though she had a horribly hoarse voice—the show had to go on! I grinned at the thought of my lugging around the huge camcorder in my jumper dress. The three of us were so proud of their success.

A Simple View Point

The look on the kids’ faces tonight reminded me of how simple life is from their perspective at times. Joy oozed from their smiles when they pulled out kazoos and began tooting a tune!

I was there with my family-friends, whose children call me Nana. Although we had already made a potty trip immediately before the program started, my sweet four-year-old Rylynn needed to go again around the third song. What fun she was having being at her big brother’s school. She washed her hands from the water that sprayed out of the trough-like sink, adding even more excitement of the evening.

As we dodged the parents filming children through a phone, who would have ever thought that 25 years ago, I watched my Colby. Surely, every other child on that stage was as cute to someone as he was to me. My eyes stayed glued to him, watching his little arms shoot up and down not missing a beat. He seemed so proud of himself.

Heading Home with a Smile

On the way out of the school, I got a big hug from him saying thank you for coming. Then he pulled out his kazoo as if to give me a private concert. Laughingly, I joked with his parents about how that kazoo might get lost sometime soon. In the rain, I got to buckle Rylynn in her car seat because she begged for “Nana to do it”. During that moment, I heard her precious 16 month sister’s eyes light up saying Nana.

Walking to my car I thought, “God is so good; what a fun night to be me!”

 

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Guidance: No Sense. -By Karla

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Ok, I have a little sense, but not so much when it comes to directions.

Which Way Is Up?

Over the years, I have provided my family with lots of stories that give validity for their harassment. I have tried to come up with some way to explain my actions but had little success. When I turned 16, I told Mom I was ready to go take my driving test. Concerned because she did not think I had studied enough, she asked if I was sure.  Now, I would almost swear that I never said the following, but apparently, there are too many witnesses.  

“I have just one question,” I must have blurted without thinking. “How do you know which side of the road to drive on?”

Just Point the Way

Another directional story that seems to haunt me from my youth is one my Aunt Anna likes to share. In the middle of some blabberings, I simply pointed to Nana’s house. The two houses are only a few hundred yards from each other. Lord only knows what I was trying to tell because my pointing ended the story. I remember them standing me in front of the living room window, where I could see her house. However, for the life of me, I could not figure out which way her house was so that I could point in the right direction!

Better Late than Never

Over the years, I would like to say that I have been cured from my directional disabilities, but that would be a bold-face lie. Before navigation systems were on our phones, my girls were in their prime basketball and volleyball days.  God love them. I know they started a ton of away games wondering if I would get lost and miss half of it. Once I got to a game with less than two minutes left to play!

The Stories Just Keep Turning Up From Nowhere

And don’t even get me started talking about the times Donna and I have been lost; there are several hundred blogs for those stories.

Once I even got lost on the beach!  Now to be perfectly honest, I didn’t even tell anyone about that one except Donna because we were on the phone when the realization hit me!  t was December, and I decided to take a stroll on the beach and watch the sunset. Taking off my shoes, I put the condo key inside them, and tucked them under my a chair. I walked for about a mile; then headed back. The problem was that we was so involved in our conversation, that I did not noticed I had passed the beach chair by a mile or so! My phone died; the sun set completely, I was barefoot and had a serious need to find a potty.

The beach was deserted by this point, and I was uncomfortable walking alone in the dusk.  Heading for the road, I thought I would be a little safer. Up ahead, I thankfully saw a very nice hotel, and knew I could make a pit-stop. Though shoeless, I darted for the ladies’ room. After hours of walking aimlessly, I came to familiar surroundings, located my sandals, and made my way home.

Finding Our Way

Life sure is filled with numerous, complicated situations that require us to know how to find our way. Recently, while in the nursery, a young girl came in, sat, and begin to talk. Forming a little bond over the past year, we chatted, and I prayed with her. She is from an unchurched family; she needed to learn how prayer helps us find our way. Our world is filled with chaos, some that we do not even create, prayer guides our unknown paths.

How blessed we are, but often lazy. We have access to a Bible; all we need to do is open it and read. The closer I get to God, the more I want others to know how He desires to navigate us in the right direction.

 Isaiah 55:8-9 says,  “‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” He has the best road for us to travel, so that we will never get lost. We need to invite God with us, lighting the path to our destination.-Karla

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Racism: One Heaven. -By Donna

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Growing up I adored the outside and spent most of my summer days in the sun. I loved to swim, ride bikes, and play with the dog. Working in the garden was a daily chore. I tanned so dark. My mother and older brother had very white skin; he even had red hair. My younger brother and I had black hair and dark skin. Many times in public, my mother was asked if we were adopted. I didn’t like my skin because I didn’t want people to think I was adopted,  because I wasn’t. I just looked different.

Bullied

In middle school (which we called Junior High), I was bullied. When I was in sixth grade, a group of eighth grade girls targeted me.They would call me names and shove me. In PE one day, the sixth-grade girls were doing an activity with the parachute as the eighth-grade girls sat watching. If you have ever played with the parachute, you know the game. The teacher called out “under the mountain”. We raised the parachute as high as we could, then twisted our bodies under it, pulled it down to the ground and sat on the sides. It forms a huge mountain. As we all sat underneath laughing, I began feeling the kicks. I slid away from the edge, but they kept coming. When we all came out from the parachute, I looked up at them in the bleachers, and they were laughing. I just couldn’t understand why. 

Days later, as I passed them in the hallway, one of them yelled, “Who is black? Your mama or your daddy?” Then I knew why they were picking on me. They assumed I was of mixed race, and they didn’t like that. Both my parents are white, but I have Native American on my mother’s side. So, technically if you look at my lineage you would see I am of mixed race.

Our Georgia kindergarten standards cover Martin Luther King Jr.  The school I teach at is predominately white. Each year as I read the watered-down story about his childhood, I watch the faces of my students. I see their confusion. “Why? Why won’t his dad (the Caucasian boy’s) let him play with Martin anymore?” I see compassion. “They hurt his feelings. He is sad.” I see anger. “They’re mean. I don’t like them.”

In the Eyes of a Child

What I see is how my kindergartners accept each other; not caring if their classmates have a speech impediment, dress in dirty clothes, are over weight, or wear an eye patch. They see these differences clearly and may ask, “Why do you talk like that, or why are you wearing that?” They ask, but they don’t care. I have found that at this age, most children are unaware of past racism or current racism, and are not aware of either side of the story.

But somewhere along the way, many people become prejudice. Children are born with pure thoughts, until they are tainted with the world’s hatred.

(Proverbs 22:6)  Start children off the way they should go, and even when they are old the will not turn from it.

We are all descendants of Adam and Eve. No matter the color of our skin, we are all equal in God’s eyes. There will be one heaven for us all, and we will all be perfect.

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Role Model: More Than A Teacher -By Karla

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About a week ago my two older sisters and I had the privilege of visiting a special lady.  She is loved by many as a teacher and a Christian lady from home in Fannin County, Georgia.

As a Little Girl

In elementary school, I was amazed by the fact that Mrs. Buttram taught Mom and Aunt Annan during her first year of teaching. Mrs. Buttram was also our neighbor. Mom would send me down to her house to fetch a cup of sugar or flour when baking. I would run through my yard and stop at the huge retaining wall that formed a barrier between two yards. With all my might and courage, I would talk myself into jumping off the wall, taking the shortcut to her house.  Greeting me at the door, I always noticed her sweet voice and smile.

Several years later we had moved from right above her house, down the hill on the other side of her. Riding my bike to the end of the road, I would often meet her, after she had worked the long hours as a teacher. She always waved and rolled down her window for a friendly little conversation.

Now a Teacher for Me

As a junior in high school, I was both excited and a little nervous when I saw Mrs. Buttram’s name on my schedule. What if I did not live up to her expectations? Of course that wasn’t the first time I had been nervous about having a teacher. With two older sisters, it was always a little difficult to walk in their footsteps. As the passed, I quickly settled. She always showed love and compassion for her students. The only time I ever saw her upset was when a boy cheated in her room. She handled the situation with such grace and made all 30 of us think twice of ever cheating on anything.

During the days that led to Christmas, she played an Elvis record. My four friends and I had our own little quintet when we joined with the whoo-who-ya-whoo-ya’s in his version of  Blue Christmas! Mrs. Buttram would just smile as us, but we knew she expected us to work in between our serenades.

Developing a Love

It was in her class that I acquired my love for written words. We wrote poems, essays, and personal narratives. She giggled at my adaption of the ever-popular Peter Cottontail when I turned the words to “Little Tommy Turkey Tail trotting down the turkey trail”.

Perhaps more importantly, she took the extra time share the remarks, “Simply beautiful” on a story I wrote. Those comments were written about 34 years ago, but I still remember. The story was something about a girl who was peacefully pondering life. (We were required to illustrate our works, but I don’t draw. So, I cut a picture from a magazine where a girl sat on a mountain ledge. She advertised how easy it was to hike while wearing a pad!)

Teacher, Neighbor, and Church Member

One Sunday about seven years ago, I was at my home church in McCaysville, Georgia. Mrs. Buttram was still singing in her same sweet soprano voice. A lady, standing next to her, lifted her hand in praise to God. I thought how the lady’s hand was probably in Mrs. Buttram’s view of the congregation. I learned something new that day. Mrs. Buttram was not distracted by the other lady’s hand; in fact, Mrs. Buttram lifted her hand in adoration as well. I had many times thought of lifting my hands, but I was too worried about what others would think of me. That Sunday, I realized that it only matters what God thinks.

Last week, we drove Marietta to visit Mrs. Buttram, who now lives with one of her daughters.  Among the stories we shared about memories in neighborhood, we took the time to reminisce about her teaching days.

Then I gave her two magazines, “Good News” Rome editions, containing articles that Donna and I have written. I explained to her how much her encouragement meant to me over the years.

What a blessing it was to hear her say, “I’m so pleased, Karla. May I keep these to read?”

So many years have passed since I bravely jumped off the retaining wall going to her house. That wall that I used to look up to now seems so small. However, Mrs. Buttram will always stand tall in my eyes!

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Attitude: Baby It’s Cold Outside! -By Donna

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Karla and I are so much alike, except when it comes to temperature. As you can see from the picture, this is what the settings sometimes look like when we are traveling together. What you can’t see is that I am wearing leggings, jeans, shirt, sweater, socks, boots, jacket, and drinking hot tea.  Karla is wearing a sleeveless shirt, open-toed shoes, and a cooling rag. Her hair is pulled up, and she’s drinking cold water. It hasn’t always been like this with us, but these hot flashes make traveling with her a little more challenging. I despise the cold!

Some of my Christmas gifts this year from my children included a gigantuous furry blanket and fuzzy slippers that you heat in the microwave before wearing. I’ve always been cold-natured, so, when I saw this week’s forecast, I was dreading it.

14 Degrees

Tuesday morning was the first day back to school.  As usual, I went out and cranked my car, then came back in to do a few things while it warmed up. When I crawled in the car, the outside temperature said 14 degrees. I immediately had to catch my breath from the frigid air that was blowing full force out of my heat vents. Yep, no heat.  The fifteen-minute drive seemed like forever. As I fussed and complained aloud, my warm breath came steaming like smoke from my mouth. By the time I arrived at work, my toes were frozen and my fingers literally ached from the cold. This is insane! I am freezing.

As complaint after complaint fell from my frozen lips, Emily’s friend went through my mind. He works outside. I texted to make sure he had warm gloves and multiple pairs of socks to wear. How awful to work out in this weather. Then I pictured the homeless man and his dog that I pass several times a week. I envisioned an elderly person sitting at home with no heat. Forgive me, Lord. I am so blessed to have a car, unlike the homeless man and his buggy. My dog is curled up on the sofa, while his walks the cold streets with him. I have a warm workplace, while others are outside on a rooftop. And when I return from work, I come inside to my warm home, slide on my heated slippers, and snuggle under my gigantious blanket, while others suffer in homes without heat.

Attitude Adjustment

Sometimes we get so accustomed to things; we take them for granted. Not really having the time or money to fix my heat at the moment, I have driven this way for three days. That first day was all complaining, which I know Satan loved. (He knows just how to get me; he knows I hate cold) But after my attitude adjustment, I just laugh at him, sing my way to school as always (just dressed in a few more layers), and pray for those less fortunate in this weather.-Donna

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Christmas Eve -By Karla

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In my late 20’s through my 30’s I was a member of the choir at church.  I loved it, being a part of a musical group and singing hymns.  A time or two I was asked to take a small solo part in a song, and I thought I would die.

As a kid, my comfort zone was about a six by eight! I had been in the band and loved most every minute of it, but tryouts were awful! I remember a moment during my high school years in which I cried because I got so nervous! My poor band director sat alone with me in that small room which come to think of it was only about six by six, so I guess that day the zone was even smaller! I think I made him as uncomfortable as I was making myself. He kindly offered, “Karla, what can I do to help?” I begged, “Don’t make me sight read.”  He shook his head, “You will sit last chair, and you’re too good for that.” I appreciated him.  He calmly sat while I eventually  composed myself.

During the past decade, I have expanded the walls of my tiny comfort zone. Soon after I joined Emmaus Baptist Church, I began singing in the Praise Team.  With only about six members this was quite a stretch for me. The man who operated the sound system would mouth, “Karla, your mic is not on.”  I would continue to sing somewhat shrugging my shoulders not making even the slightest motion indicating I would be turning it on.  In fact, I might even admit praying for them to forget to turn it on before we started! When he caught on to my tricks, I would just place myself as far away from the microphone as possible. When he would motioned for me to scoot up, I must have thought I was playing mother-may-I because I took some serious baby steps toward the mic and planted myself for the next 25 minutes!

A few days ago on Christmas Eve, I had prepared to sing a duet with my dear friend Jenni.  The first song we had planned did not work for us.  After searching, we finally settled on “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”. We rehearsed several times feeling somewhat confident.  Sunday morning arrived, and I was having sinus issues.  We did a run-through, and after deciding not to sing with the Praise Team, I thought I could hit the high notes required for that one song.

Jenni grabbed the microphone, and I cringed. I only do this with the mic in the holder! We began singing as I felt my throat closing and heard my voice tighten. This is NOT good! I aimed for my soprano notes, but I missed the mark by a mile.  Breathing deeply, I strived again several more times, but to no avail.  It was not going to happen.  Having to hold the microphone was the LEAST of my worries.  I wanted the song to be over fast!  I was thankful when she altered her voice from the practiced alto notes to singing the melody with me because of my weak attempts as the notes rose.  Though the song seemed to creep in slow motion, I survived.

Shaking my head a little and apologizing to Jenni, we sat down.  Pastor Scott began the short sermon, but my mind was having a hard time allowing my mistake to take a backseat to the true meaning of Christmas. Continuing, deacons began serving communion.  The pastor spoke of Jesus’ body being represented by the little bites of unleavened bread, and he signaled us to eat the bread.

A few rows up from me, I noticed Mr. Archee, who is about 80, fighting to peel back the plastic from his bread. Joe, a man who has a lively love for Jesus left his seat, walked across the aisle, and slid down beside Mr. Archee.  He fumbled with the older man’s wrapper until he had the bread opened and Mr. Archee could partake of his communion.

Several tears rolled down my face, as I was reminded that it is our efforts that God desires, not perfection. My attention totally focused on the love of God.

 

-Karla

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The Christmas Gift -By Karla

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Making Time

The presents are wrapped, even though I cut the paper too short on every singe present! Many gifts were exchanged during the second weekend of December, Christmas at Nana’s. With the girls being older and our adapted-in-family, schedules are often busy. So, we had another Christmas last Sunday in my small and cozy living room before the cantata at church.

Allowing Changes to Enter the Scene

Today, I wrapped the last batch of gifts for Christmas morning with Rachel, my youngest daughter.  Over the years, I have learned that the garland may be draped in different places, and that it is even ok if it does not even grace a banister. I have grown to understand that Christmas day does not have to be the only day that presents can be exchanged.

Remembering a Christmas when my tree stayed up until February, I thought of the family member, who returned home from serving in Kuwait.

I smile at the simple text I received: “I am sorry there will not be a present in the mail. Remember though that you will always be our daughter.” For I know, that the words, “You will always be our daughter” is a gift.

Over the years, the rituals have changed locations and dates. Some activities have faded while others have developed.

The True Meaning

But, the tradition of Christmas will never change in my heart. God sent His own son to fulfill the prophecy of the Old Testament. For He, the one true King, was born in a humble stable to change the world.  He gave me, and you, the ultimate gift: dying on the Cross for my sin and yours.

In the Upcoming Years

At 50, I hope to have many Christmases to come. I want to share hot chocolate with present and future loved ones. It is my desire to wrap Christmas presents (hoping to measure the paper the right size) for many decades and watch the delight of others as they open boxes. I love the cookie-making and other baking traditions.

Without you, all the decorations are cold and without meaning. Truly, I long to keep one tradition sacred!  Help me, Lord, to always keep your love and your awesome gift in the forefront of my heart, continuing to share with others no matter the date or location. 

-Karla

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