Standardized Testing: Oh, The Joys -Karla

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I have a friend who has given some form of standardized test for over thirty years.  During these days some pretty humorous things have occurred.  

 

Top Ten Things Kids Do 

After Rushing Through a Standardized Test

10. Make puppets with their fingers.

9. Move an arm at the elbow continuously, making to sure the joint still works.

8. Yawn repeatedly, attempting to make it wider each time.

7. Move a leg at the knee back and forth, also assuring this joint’s operation. 

6. Examine a pencil intensively to ensure its optimal usage… Even though it’s never used.

5. Watch fingernails grow.

4. Smile at your teacher in 1,000 different (and silly) ways. 

3. Stare at the minute hand, hoping it will miraculously speed up. Frown.

2. Entangle feet into a web with a desk.

1. Extend a shirt collar. Glare inside in hopes the chest has changed.

Need a Kleenex?

Allergy season is in full swing when public schools test in the spring. My friend explains that often she gives several Kleenexes to the sniffling students and places a trashcan beside them. This year she had a student who continued to whisper, “No, thanks.  I don’t need a tissue.”  My friend concluded that the student must have preferred the softness of his blue hoodie to wipe and rub his nose for three days! I will spare you the visual of how it looked by the third day.

Hot Flash! And I Don’t Mean a News Bulletin! 

My friend also shared the horrific event that she experienced this year. The teachers were required to switch classrooms, not testing their own students. In case IT happened, she packed her book bag with an extra large, ice cold water and a small fan.  

Monitoring as instructed, the hot flash engulfed her. She nonchalantly raced to the back of the room and jabbed the plug into the outlet. Nonchalantly, she eased backward on the table, allowing the fan’s stream to cool her. 

Gulping the ice water, she prayed the fire would cease, yet the flames raged. She ripped through her pocketbook but ever so quietly not to disturb any testers. No hair tie was to be found. 

Don’t do it!  Don’t.  Mom said never! But in desperation, she slid open the teacher’s desk drawer in hopes to find a rubber band. She grabbed her hair off her neck and wrapped the tangle-maker around to provide possible relief.

Standing in front of the steady stream of air again, a thought crossed her mind. Perhaps, no one would see if I just sat down behind this teacher’s desk and shimmied off my black leggings.  Ummm, it would bring such relief! 

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Humor: Keep Calm and Eat Cake -By Donna

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When Karla and I were at Reinhardt, one of our friends decided to move. Our group decided to throw her a good-bye party. Karla and I were asked to make the cake. Happily, we agreed. Our friend Stephen was a RD at the school, and he had a complete kitchen. He left us at his pad to make our creation. 
 We decided to make a chocolate cake with a white 7 minute frosting. This was one of my mom’s signature cakes. The frosting required a double boiler, which of course a bachelor did not own. So we improvised. I filled a large sauce pan with water and put a Teflon pan on top filled with the egg yolks and other ingredients. It worked! The water below heated the mixture, and we beat it for the required seven minutes as it formed stiff peaks. We quickly iced the cake and headed to the car, as not to be late for the party.
Driving to Pizza Hut, Karla remarked, “What are these black dots in the icing?”
“Oh, I bet a few crumbs flaked into the icing.” We didn’t take the time to decrumb the cake, like I had learned in my cake decorating class.
“No, I don’t think so. Look at it in the sunlight! The icing is full of black specs.”
 On closer inspection I realized she was right. “Oh my gosh! It’s the pan. It’s the Teflon. The beaters must have knocked the non-scratch lining off into the icing.”
“Donna, what do we do? We can’t serve this to people. They will be eating Teflon chips!” Karla exclaimed.

Our Lips are Sealed

“We have to bring a cake! We don’t have time to get another one.  They will never know.”
 “Ok. Our lips are sealed, but I’ve heard Teflon is bad for you.”
 After the pizza and presents, we sliced the cake. As our friend Kim passed out pieces, we kept silent. She sat a plate of poison in front of each of us. Everyone was digging in. “This is delicious! Great cake, girls. What kind of icing is this?”
 We looked at each other, took deeps breaths and I replied, “chocolate chip.”We sat there smiling.
 Stephen questioned, “Aren’t ya’ll going to eat it?”
 We silently communicated, “Do we eat it?” “What if we get sick?” Karla and I stared at each other like Thelma and Louise did while preparing to drive over the cliff. We placed a bite on our forks, and together we ate it.
Our apologies to these friends, who at this moment at just discovering our secret.
–Donna

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Military life: A Kentucky Easter -By Karla

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Easter Plans 

For Christians around the world, Easter Sunday is a time for joy indeed. Our Lord and Savior is risen! I hold His death and resurrection in my heart, for I know this is where my salvation comes. I am a God, family, and country kind of gal. My desire is always to be in church and have Easter lunch with the entire family, with the ever popular egg hunt in Blue Ridge.

Alternative Plans 

However in 2003, my girls and I were separated from my extended family by miles. Our Tennessee National guardsman was at Fort Campbell, Kentucky awaiting deployment to Iraq.  Sadly, we would not be a part of our customary Easter Sunday in Blue Ridge, GA. At the time, Lindsey was eleven, and Rachel was seven.

In the Weeks leading up to Easter

In the weeks leading to that cool March Easter, life was pretty hectic. Sometime during the week, the girls’ dad would call to share the great news that his unit’s departure date had been delayed again. So, on Thursday afternoons, I would pack us again. Then after school was over on Fridays, the girls and I drove north for about 225 miles. After a long week of the girls’ missing their dad and the demands of school, we hit the road again. We did not want to bypass a chance to spend time with him before he left for a year. I think we traveled for five good-bye weekends.

Friends like Family

Military families are unique and special friendships often develop, lasting over decades. One of the families that traveled the roads along side during these days were Steve, Leigh, and their sever-month-old Lily Grace. My girls had their own personal living baby doll, which scared me at times! But Leigh loved it. They followed her wherever she went.  Having a baby, each week she packed everything but the kitchen sink. I tried to stuff a few surprises in our suitcases.  My girls needed tradition.  For Heaven sakes, it was Lily Grace’s first Easter. We were doing something with eggs!

“Uh, Karla…”

After lunch on Saturday, Leigh and Steve offered to take the girls to Toys-R-Us. Meanwhile, the girls’ dad and I went back to the hotel, so I could begin the preparation of three-dozen eggs.

As they entered the room a mishap was revealed. Leigh sheepishly confessed how they almost lost Rachel! “Karla, she was playing some new video game, and one of us asked her to stay there while we were in line. Steve left to get the car, and I finished paying and headed to meet him. I buckled in Lily Grace, and I heard Lindsey clicking the seat belt.  Steve and I turned to look at each other at the same time and yelled, ‘Where is Rachel?’ Steve flew back inside, and there she stood where we told her.” She gave a nervous giggle and added, “Karla, I don’t think she even had a clue that we had left the store!”

Heading Home Again

Driving home late that sad Sunday afternoon, many thoughts wander through my mind. I began laughing over the forgotten clothes left in the hotel room and Rachel almost being forgotten! Then my mind drifted to my attempts at comforting a new mom. She was shocked that bathing suits don’t fit like they did before giving birth! I saddened over how I had to distract my two proud daughters from seeing the angry protesters outside the army post gates.

I found myself grinning again at the thought of my girls helping Leigh and playing with Lily Grace. Giggling, my mind drifted to the stickers the girls stuck not only on the two dozen, pre-boiled eggs but on the hotel furniture as well. Then, I laughed out loud at myself for struggling to blow out those egg yolks into the toilet, which left me staggering light-headedly down for hours! I shook my head at the thought of stains left on the carpet from paint.  All because I thought egg dye would be too messy!

Finally, I took a deep breath and wondered if we would be packing up for the upcoming weekend.

–Karla

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Slowing Down: Life In The Fast Lane -By Donna

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There are moments in life when you should not take your time. For example,  last week when I entered the bathroom at Wal-Mart. I walked around the corner and came face to face with this sweet, little elderly man. Bless his heart; he doesn’t know he’s in the wrong bathroom, I thought. As I glanced to my side, I noticed the “backward feet” in the stall. And then I heard the words, “Honey, you are in the men’s bathroom.” I moved pretty quickly!

I tend to drive fast. Mama always said I had a lead foot. This morning as I was driving to school in the “fast lane”, a black car pulled up behind me and rode my bumper for miles. I was going 70 in a 55! But the car was determined to get past despite how fast I was going. Finally, it pulled around me and sped quickly down the highway, weaving in and out of cars. Several other cars passed me by too.

Everyone seems to just speeding through life. I myself often speed through the days without slowing down to “smell the roses.” I have tried to be more conscience of that lately. I have seen some beautiful sites that I might have missed if I was flying through the day.

Time Flies

My mamaw, who just turned 97 last week, has said to me many times, “The older you get, the faster time flies.” I have discovered she is right. As a kid, it seemed like Christmas would never come. Now, as an older adult, it seems like it was just here, and when I turn around, it’s back. We tend to live life anxiously hoping for the next step. I can’t wait until they get past this teething stage. Why is it taking so long to potty train them? I can’t wait until they are old enough to play a sport. When will they be beyond this moody preadolescence stage. I wish they could drive; all I do is chauffeur them from place to place. Before you know it, they are walking across a stage in cap and gown to receive their diploma.

I have heard many people say they wish they could stop time. Today when walking down Broad Street, I glanced up at the courthouse clock, and to my surprise, the hands were gone. That’s what we all need sometimes: a clock without hands. We need no rushing, and no time restraints. Of course in our fast-paced world that’s not really possible. We have jobs, family, obligations and many other things that require us to follow a clock. But I am trying to take a few minutes each day to look around and what God has given.

Slow down

In a rush, I miss so much. I may not have seen the brightest star in the sky, the two squirrels playing chase around the tree, nor the daughter walking arm in arm with her elderly mother. My ears night now have heard the sounds of a baby laughing, katydids singing, or the dog’s snoring. I may not have noticed the warmth of the sun on my face, or the softness of the kindergartner’s hand in mine.

When we take time to slow down and smell the roses, perhaps we will not miss the daily, little blessings that God sends us that are so often overlooked.

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Raindrops Are Falling on My Head -By Karla

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College Years

While attending Reinhardt College in the mid-eighties, Donna and I tried to follow Olivia Newton John’s advice of “Let’s get Physical” every Monday and Wednesday. We energetically headed to the gym to begin our aerobic workout routines. I don’t remember us sporting the popular headbands that many wore, but I’m sure some days we had on tanks and oversized shirts that hung off one shoulder, Flash Dance style.

If it wasn’t for the music and the laughter that we shared, I am not certain that we would have enjoyed stepping on and off those individual-sized, wooden boxes.  When our torture ended, we acknowledged the instructor’s advice of not eating or drinking for thirty minutes. Though after anxiously watching the clock for the allotted time, we would head to the Gulf station to get our Coke Icees. All these years later, I still have a vivid memory of us walking there even if it was raining.  We did not rush because of the wetness; instead like we did so often, we broke out into BJ Thomas’ song:

      Raindrops are fallin’ on my head.

But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red

Cryin’s not for me

‘Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complainin’

Because I’m free

    Nothin’s worryin’ me…

Later on in Life

Over the past thirty years, we have discovered that sometimes the raindrops do seemed more like Niagara Falls, and they have drenched us at times. Like most, Donna and I spent our childhood wishing we were older and more independent. But now that we are here, we desire life to be more carefree like that of our youth.

Yesterday, it poured. I mean cats and dogs!  Some thunder and wind accompanied the buckets that fell.  It was the first day of my spring break. I thought how most people would have been wishing for different weather, but having the bronchitis that I have had, I was content to have a slow start and stay dry for the morning hours. As I watched the storm, I thought how I have grown amidst that storms in my life. I am so thankful for my forest, like Donna wrote about last week, https://smorgasbordofsisterhood.com/plant-yourself/. If not for my forest, I am not sure how successfully I would have navigated myself on my own. My forest stood tall during my various raging gales over the years.

Detours

There are times when the storms so powerful that our paths become repositioned, just as streams naturally detour from mighty rains. We can run in the other direction or sat there and given up. However, I do not think that is what God desires. Instead, He wants us press on, using His mighty hand as our strength and courage. While our circumstances may alter our paths, God will guide up downstream when we allow Him.

Navigation

I am sorry to inform Mr. B J Thomas, but at times my crying eyes surely have turned red when raindrops from the storms of life have fallen on my head. To be completely honestly, there have been things that have worried me deeply. I strive to reach the point in life where I can say, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds,” James 1:2.

However, as I listened to the birds chirping so freely this pretty April morning, I believe I have arrived in a place where I can look back on past storms and appreciate the beauty and serenity I gained after walking through.  I can boldly declare that I have experienced the joy that comes in the morning after the weeping that lasted through the nights. (referenced from Psalm 30:5b)

-Karla

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Accepting Help: Plant Yourself -By Donna

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My house and land is bordered on three sides by 200 acres owned by an out-of-town family. For twenty-seven years we have been surrounded by a forest. This year, what we have always dreaded, happened. The owners had their land clear-cut. Now on the outskirts of our 40 acres is a thin line of trees, and many trees that stand alone.

When a storm comes through our area, my daddy always calls to check and make sure no damage occurs.  Besides the Blizzard of 93, we have had no damage. But since the cutting, the last two big storms have knocked down large old trees, both times across our long dirt drive. One morning I had to drive down a small hill around a fallen tree on the driveway to get to work. A few stormy nights ago, Tucker called saying, “Bring me a chainsaw, I can’t get up the driveway.”

I pondered why the high winds were blowing over trees when it’s never happened before. Right or wrong, I have come to this conclusion. When there were 200 acres of trees standing side by side, together they were like a wall or barrier.  But now standing alone, they lack protection from one another.

I think life is that way. When you try to go through life, preferring to handle it alone, you may bend and break. During the last few days before my mama passed, my parents’ life-long forest was so obvious. In the hospice room, there were days when additional chairs would be brought in for the circle of friends and family. A nurse once commented, “We have never had a patient with this many visitors.”  My Daddy was well taken care of after her passing. His forest made sure of that.

“You can’t see the forest for the trees.”

My mama was my protection tree. When my tree began to wither, fear set in. I called my Aunt Kathy, and she arrived at the hospice, staying until the end. She has been there for me ever since. I have always kept things to myself and dealt with things alone. I just don’t want to burden others, or appear to be weak. You know the expression, “You can’t see the forest for the trees?” that was me. I had always been surrounded by my forest, but didn’t realize it until my time of need.

I came back to work, and my lesson plans for the month were complete.  Friends brought meals and gave gifts (which at the time I thought it was strange to receive a gift when a parent dies, but oh how I cherish them now).

I have had many challenges over the past year, and it has enabled me to see how big my forest is. I have a forest of co-workers, church family, related family, and friends. There were times I hesitated to accept help, but as I attempted to decline help from my Uncle Lynn, he told me, “the polite thing to do is accept and say thank you.”

Don’t be the tree standing alone. Plant yourself in a forest. Don’t let pride prevent you from the blessings of others. Someday you may need their strength. In return, you are a part of their forest. Reach out to those who may be looking for a place to plant their roots.

—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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Uncertainty: The Unknown Path -By Donna

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A couple of years ago when Karla was between moves, she needed a place to keep her dogs. So Katie and Lucky came to spend six months at our house. We had large fenced-in kennels on the other side of our lake that we weren’t using, so that was where they made their home. Each day Tucker and I would walk down the dirt road to the pens, release them, and take them for a stroll. Some days it was later than others due to after-school activities. Even if it was dark already, I was going to make sure they saw freedom each day.

Tucker has a spotlight that can shine 300 yards. When we prepared to walk over, I always grabbed it first. Why? Because I quickly learned the difference in the way we each held the light. Tucker shined the light out in front of us to see ahead. He often scanned the woods just to see what he could see. I, on the other hand, shined the light directly at my feet. I needed to see where my shoes were walking. It didn’t matter to me what was up ahead, I was worried about the snake that I might step on or the rock that might turn my ankle. My Mama didn’t call me Grace for nothing!

In uncertain times, I find myself like Tucker and want to know what is up ahead in my life. But when I look at 2 Samuel 22:29 I am reminded that God is my lamp, not my spotlight. “For You are my lamp, O LORD; And the LORD illumines my darkness.” I suppose it’s for many reasons He doesn’t want us to know what is up ahead. Maybe what we would see is scary and is not what we would have hoped. Then we would want to travel another route rather than the path He has chosen for us. But I think the main reason is so that we must rely on faith. By trusting in him, we acknowledge that His plan is best and He will prepare us. All we need is the lamp that guides us one step at a time.

I was sharing this thought with Emily, and she commented, “Oh, I totally understand that concept, focusing on one step at a time. Did I tell you I almost died the other day?”

Now she tends to be dramatic, but also knowing that she is my adventurous one, I cringed. “No, you failed to mention that.”

Trains still run through Rome. She and her friend were on a train trestle above the river, when it unexpectedly came around the corner. They began to run as fast as they could. She kept her eyes on her feet, watching them to make sure they hit each plank, not to slip in between the boards, and fall into the water below. But the moment she looked ahead to see how far it was to safety, she began to stumble.

When I try to look to far ahead, not totally trusting God with each step, I am not allowing Him to be …a lamp to my feet, And a light to my path (Psalm 119:105)

-Donna

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Smiling: Some Things Yellow -By Karla

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I don’t think I have ever reached for a yellow crayon as my first choice to use in coloring. Certainly, you would not find me in a yellow shirt, not my best color!

However, sometime in my adult years, I must have realized what a cheerful hue it is. Maybe my life is a little like Julie Andrew’s “These Are a Few of My Favorite Things”. For there are days filled with moments when the dog does bite and the bee does sting, and I do find myself a feeling a little sad. Perhaps we all need a few of our favorite things, so then we don’t feel so bad! I am realizing that many of mine are yellow.

Little Yellow Duckies

What fun I had in my young years at the cow-smelling country fair deciding on the perfect bobbing little yellow ducky. Slowly while I held my breath, I turned it upside down to see the large number printed on the bottom hoping to get my preselected insignificant trinket which would thrill me for all of thirty minutes.

Fresh Corn on the Cob

Over the years sitting on Nana’s front porch with the mounds of corn transports such a powerful yellow memory to mind. Granddaddy shucking as fast as he could with his wad of Beech-Nut in his cheek. All the grandkids brushing the silky strands off. Nana, Mom, and Aunt Anna, would cut while the yellow juice ran onto their fingers to prepare the dozens of cream-style corn containers.

Peanut M&Ms

I’m not a big candy eater unless it involves chocolate! Peanut M&M’s in the yellow pack brought me such pleasure when I was pregnant with Lindsey. I carefully watched what I ate—except this one indulgence. It never failed; every time I had given in to the temptation I would run into a friend when I had a Coke and my yellow pack! Try as I might, I just don’t think he believed that I only had them rarely.

French’s Yellow Mustard

Come to think of it, I loved yellow mustard during this time of life too. I had never liked hot dogs, until then. Every Thursday night while I was pregnant with her, I greatly desired one drenched in mustard.  Waddled around with my fellow teammates at the bowling alley, I also squirted as much mustard as I could. On Sunday, one could find me making a huge batch of potato salad! I ate it for dinner, but it was not contained to the evening meal. I took it to lunch almost every day, and I think several mornings I had a big spoonful before I left for school!

The Little Yellow House on the Knoll

When we built what I thought was our home, I wanted it to have yellow siding. It was a farm house set on a small knoll overlooking a quaint pond. So many precious memories there. Although that yellow house is not mine any more, I can sit in my little yellow kitchen that has gathered so much family and smiles, and I am content.

First Signs of Spring

Looking out the window at the neighbor’s house this February, I saw some beautiful daffodils that bloomed early this year. I love to se their simple yellow color as the first signs of new life. They seem to bloom outwardly calling the other flowers to wake and spring out of their beds as well.

Sunrises

I believe my most favorite yellow thing is a gift given to me. Living by myself now, I have not spoken to anyone on my 6:50 drive to school. Sometimes, I find myself still a little sleepy or sinusy many days, but when I round a certain curve, I see it. I marvel at the sunrise!

Yes, the yellow things do overshadow the dog bites and bee sting moments of life because He loves us! Just like the Christian song says, “Lord, I’m amazed by You.” “You would paint the morning sky with miracles in mind. My hope will always stand (as) you hold me in your hand.”

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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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