Best Friends: Livers and Lace -By Karla

Posted on by

Chicken Livers?

Whenever I have the opportunity to order chicken livers, I do! You might be wondering why, but that would mean you’ve never had Nikki Turner’s chicken livers!

In fact, Donna’s mother had a bundle of talents, and she seemed to never run out of energy! I loved being around her.

She could cook most any Southern dish. I have so many memories of her standing over the sink peeling potatoes to go with her delicious barbecue chicken. Mom always tried to get me to taste sweet potatoes, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of them. However, one day helping Donna set the table, I got a whiff of the sweet aroma drifting from the turquoise wall oven. Wonder why I have always dreaded trying these? They look great. So, I did, and I’ve never passed up the dish since. This is similar to how my love for chicken livers began. I can just see me in my young years turning up my nose to the thought of putting liver to my lips, but once again…the scent sailed through the air, and I was captured. Since then, I have eaten many little livers, not beef—now that is still  gross, but only one comes close to hers. That would be Aunt Anna’s, and they probably had the same recipe.

Dream Deliverer

Her girly gifts went beyond the kitchen door and into her little sewing room. There she began mending and stitching to help make ends meet. But she had a bigger purpose for all these seams; she had a dream for an in-ground pool for her family. It didn’t take long for her goal to be achieved. In the 80’s I did not know any other family who had a pool in their backyard! We enjoyed many summer days with the to of us practicing our Olympic synchronized swimming routines!

Nikki wasn’t just an ordinary seamstress. She was a dream deliverer too. I had the privilege of viewing so many bright-eyed brides beam with excitement as they tried on their dress, and she made alterations. When it was time to create my wedding dress in 1989, there was no question about who would do it. Every step of the process was precious to me. First, we went shopping “to find my style” she explained. Then she led me to discover the exact lacey patches that would represent my femininity. She was patient with my indecisiveness and listened to my every idea. By the time she was finished, I felt like a princess!

Little five foot two Nikki Turner was a second mom, and giver of my best friend!

Share and Enjoy !

Shares
1

Brotherly Love -By Donna

Posted on by

Not everyone is fortunate enough to have a brother, or two for that matter.  I grew up being the middle child between two males. Brothers can be a different breed. As a child, I had several friends that had only sisters.  When they would spend the night at my house, they didn’t always understand my brothers’ boyish ways. My older brother would “pick” on us while my younger brother vied for my attention since my friend had taken his playmate away for the day.  

Karla lived with her mom and three sisters. When I was young and stayed at her house, I was shocked at how they were able to walk around in their skimpies. Curling irons, hot rollers, perfume, makeup, and all kinds of girly things were everywhere. No one was burping their ABCs or making any other unmentionable noises.  

My Younger Brother

My little brother was my playmate. I had a ball dressing him up and making him play with Barbies. He interacted with Barbie with his Evel Knievel figure. He played baby dolls with me too. We often played Charlie’s Angels. I was Kelly because I thought Jaclyn Smith was the most gorgeous woman alive, and he had to be Sabrina because she had the shortest hair. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t overbearing; we played guy stuff too. I had my own collection of Match Box cars, and I could be seen doing an army crawl often. The day he tried to shoot me with a BB gun as I was riding my bike was extremely scary!

When I went off to college, he mailed me cards. He would go to Hallmark, purchase a card, and alter it with something funny. For instance, I have always loved cats. One day I got a card he sent me with a beautiful white cat on the front. He had stuck a stick pin through its head and drew blood all over it before he lovingly mailed it to me. I still have every card he ever sent.  My mother once said, “Those two would kill for each other.” She was probably right.

My Older Brother

Growing up my brother, who is three years older than me, picked on me relentlessly. So, I listened to my nicknames like Thunder Thighs, Dumb Lefty, and many more for years. If I had a nickel for every burp I listened to, I’d be rich. And of course there was always the poking or hitting when Mama wasn’t looking.  He always made fun of the way I laughed, and to this day I don’t laugh out loud often.  

When I started wearing makeup, he would say, “You look like a clown!” or “Did you put that on with your eyes closed?”  Being the quiet person I was, I never had a good comeback or the guts to physically get him back. So, I lived with an older brother that could have won a trophy for Most Annoying Brother in the World. But he always took care of me and still does.

Well, a few days ago, I got my older brother back for all the years of brotherly abuse, and I didn’t even have to do a thing. Saturday, I went into a gun store with him. As the man began helping us, he looked at my brother and said, “Are you getting this for your daughter?” motioning toward me. The look on my brother’s face was priceless.  And believe me, this time, I did laugh out loud!  

As the three of us have grown older, the laughs continue. Not to sound sappy, but we have been through some rough times, but in the end, (in the words of Captain and Tennille) “Love will keep us together”. 

If you have a brother, tell them Happy Valentine’s Day for they were among the first males you will ever love!

Share and Enjoy !

Shares
1

70s Memories: The Wild, Wild West -By Karla

Posted on by

Saturday Morning Cartoons

Saturday mornings brought many smiles from 70’s cartoons like Go Speed Racer, Scooby-Doo and Speed Buggy. Sometimes I woke while the white, yellow, green, red, and blue vertical lines were boldly lighting up the screen and the buzz was blaring in the air. I would pour myself a bowl of Frosted Flakes; Saturdays were the only day we were allowed such junk, as my mom appointed herself the junk-food police. One by one my sisters would pour their bowls and join me. We had the occasional tiff concerning whether we would watch Johnny Quest, Lynn and Gail’s favorite, or Super Friends that Julie and I preferred. Mom usually pipped in and reminded us to take turns.

After having only channel 3, 9, and 12 for much of our childhood, WTBS came into town bringing Saturdays filled with the wonderful world of old TV westerns! However, the old west was not new to us; Granddaddy had introduced us to Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty in Dodge City at a very young age.

My western crush: Lee Majors

The men of the old west were probably our first crushes. The Big Valley gave us Jared (Lynn’s love), Nick (Gail’s love), and Heath (Julie’s and mine). Not that we talked about our TV crushes very often until we were adults, but I know Bobby Sherman in Here Comes the Brides, was a favorite of ours. It is certain that we had several of his 8-tracks, and we used to aggravate the stew out of Julie singing his lyrics, “Julie, Julie, Julie, do you love me?” I believe Gail and I loved Silver and Scout the horses as much as we did the Lone Ranger and Tonto. We also enjoyed The High Chaparral. Now, I am not sure I remember who loved whom in that one, but it is easy enough to guess that Lynn would have been attracted to the oldest man in the show! And oh my, Robert Conrad in Wild, Wild West, Robert Fuller in Laramie, and James Gardner in Maverick.  (Though I did not know it at the time because Donna and I did not get to see each other on a weekly basis. I know she had to have liked Bonanza, where her love for Michael Landon began.)

Gunsmoke and a bowl of cereal

Sometimes in today’s Hollywood world, we find that some stars began their careers in the soap world. I think then, many actors began their road to stardom on the dusty westerns during the late sixties. I know that Lynn still enjoyed Robert Conrad in Ba Ba Black Sheep filmed in the late 70’s. Burt Reynolds and Dennis Weaver were both in Gun Smoke, and I so liked watching them in things later in life, especially Dennis Weaver, when he played in Gentle Ben and later in the detective series McCloud. Although sadly to my dismay, mom rarely allowed me to stay up late enough for that one. My, I always thought he was handsome in his rugged, tan, sheep’s wool coat. Not only did we watch Robert Fuller in Laramie, but later I totally adored watching him at Nana and Granddaddy’s in Emergency as the striking Dr. Kelley Brackett who saved lives. But, I think my favorite might have been when Granddaddy felt good enough to stay up and watch James Gardener in his later role in The Rockford Files. Of course, I was really too young to understand all the adult humor or flirting that occurred, but I have such memories of those days of eating our nightly bowl of cereal watching him solve cases.

Healing with the Rifleman

Several weeks ago, I had a stomach virus and was home on the couch for a couple of days. I was flipping through the channels and found another wonder that we watched in our young years. The Rifleman opened the show shooting his gun repeatedly to warn the villains. I enjoyed episode after episode, and I realized why we loved these westerns so much as kids. They were so simple and yet intriguing. The bad guy was easy to spot. I watched as the suspense built with music, not with crazy scenes of blood or explosions. If there was sadness, it was to teach a lesson. And the good guy always prevailed!

I like a world where the good guys always win! And I am in luck.

“For everyone born of God  overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has  overcome the world-our faith.”

-1 John 5:4

Share and Enjoy !

Shares




1




Fasting: Life Is a Song, Sing It! -By Donna

Posted on by

Our pastor asked the congregation to do a twenty-one day fast to encourage more prayer time. During the three weeks, you choose what you would like to eliminate, and choose something different every seven days. So the first seven days I gave up meat and sweets. It was a piece of cake, no pun intended. The second week I gave up just bread. No problem. Even when I went to Cracker Barrel, and the plate of cornbread and biscuits were set in front of me I wasn’t tempted. It was the first time in my life I have eaten turnip greens without cornbread!

For the third week, it was suggested to choose something that you really love and spend a lot of time doing. The first thing that entered my mind was music. I adore music. From bluegrass to Frank Sinatra to 80’s hair bands, I love it. (Though, I can do without opera and rap!) So this week I am giving up listening to music. I have reached for my car radio dial numerous times. At home, I often click the Pandora app without thinking. I am only on day two, and the struggle is real!

Music

Music has always been a part of my day. I forever have a song playing in my brain. I literally wake up each day with a melody in my head. This morning was “By the Light of the Silvery Moon”. I don’t even know how I know that song! Growing up I listened to records Mama played on the big wooden stereo, hymns in church, and 8 tracks in the car. I took piano lesson and was in chorus for years.

Our family has reunions in the summer. We have cousins and uncles that set up a sound system and play on the front porch while we all lounge in the yard and listen. We enjoy guitars, banjos, spoons and voices.

In college, Karla and I listened to “Delilah’s Love Songs” B98.5 every night as we did our homework. Every afternoon after lunch, we would take turns standing on the bed singing karaoke into our hairbrushes to the Bellamy Brothers or Dolly Parton, to pep us up before class. To this day, we still finish sentences with song lyrics whenever possible.

Music is very powerful. It can take you back to a moment in childhood. I can still hear the tune that Grandmother used to hum in the kitchen. My mind remembers what song was playing when my mama told me Elvis died. I remember the hymn being sung as I walked down the aisle to give my heart to Christ.

Music Memories

Music also gives me vivid memories of when my children were little. I can see Tucker at 18 months strapped in his car seat kicking his little legs, pointing at the radio saying, “three steps, three steps” . He was indicating that he wanted to hear his favorite song by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I can see Travis crawling as fast as he could to the TV when he heard the theme song from Barney. I laugh as I remember Emily in her pig tails dancing around her room, singing to the Spice Girls.

Music can bring a tear to my eye. I’ll never hear “I’ll Fly Away” without picturing my mama’s body lying in the casket that cold February day. When I hear the song, “One More Day” I think about my cousin Tammy, who left this earth too young.

Music is a gift of inspiration. The words to music can be healing to your heart. During a tough time in life, three songs seemed to follow me. They were “Good, Good, Father”, “Tell Your Heart to Beat Again”, and “Just Be Held.” Every time I got in the car and turned on the radio, one would be playing. I don’t believe it was an accident. God was using what I love to remind me He was there. Fasting from music may be strange, but it has made me very thankful for the gift that God has blessed us with since the beginning of time.

.

Share and Enjoy !

Shares




1




Encouragement: Give me a K! -By Karla

Posted on by

Cheerleader

My mom was my cheerleader! Growing up, I struggled with a reading disability as well as anxieties at times. Mom seemed to always have my back.

Tomboy/Lady

Really, Mom was a tomboy at times. In fact, I can remember in her early forties when she laid in the floor, Indian-leg wrestling my cousin Jimmy. I don’t remember who won, but I would think she probably gave him a run for his money! Mom was tough, but she very much had a lady-side to her as well. She was lovley inside and out.

Encourager

She surely knew how to lift someone when they needed a boost. Instinctively, she could help me find the silver lining in difficult situations and always encouraged me to do my best. Instilling years of Christian values, she helped me always look for the good in others and lend a helping hand. She learned from my grandparents that giving to others was a blessing in return.

Life Without Mom

This week marks the thirteenth year of Mom’s passing. Colon cancer is a painful way to die. It took many nights of prayer asking God to remove the images of her last days from my mind and replace them with sweet pictures of her instead. God is faithful; He did just that. When Mom died, I lost my cheerleader. Truly for a while I felt lost, as if a storm was erupting around me and I was struggling to find my way out.

During this time in my life, I think I was as frightened as the disciples must have been when they were in a boat in the midst of the raging winds and waves. The book of Mark shares that they cried out as Jesus was walking on the water. He replied, “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.” The Bible story stays that He got in the boat with them and the wind ceased. I too cried out to Him, and He came to me calming my heart and mind. In time He helped me move forward learning to be thankful for the memories I had with Mom.

Surrounding Yourself with Christian Sisters

Today, I continue to be thankful that I have my sisters, cousins, and aunt who continue to be my cheerleaders. In addition, there are so many at my church who care for me, including my small group of precious women. I think everybody needs someone in their corner rooting. In our present world, with far too much evil, it is almost a necessity. We all need people, who take the time to lend an ear, give a helping hand, and go the extra mile on occasion. Doing some quick research, I found that there are over four-million children being raised by grandparents, about thirty percent of children are being raised in single-parent homes, and about 400,000 children living in some form of foster care in the U.S.  Gracious! These kids and guardians need a cheerleader!

Be a Cheerleader for Someone

Look around! Pick a parent; pick a kid. Invest a few minutes each week. Send your child’s teacher the money for your child’s ice cream and enough for another child who might enjoy an extra special treat.  Regularly text a youth in your church who is going through a tough time. If you’re better with adults, drop a card in the mail to your neighbor, who is a single mom, or offer to pick up some groceries as you shop yourself. Give an extra smile to your colleague, who looks tired when you pass them in the hallway.

Several years ago, a lady walked up to me when I was in my hometown and I was standing with my sisters. I am sure I had met her when I was a little girl, but did not remember her. She began to tell us about how her dad. She shared about his drinking problem when he was alive in his adult years and how that problem had caused health issues in his later life. I looked at her with sympathy and smiled not really knowing her point, but she then shared one of the sweetest things. “Your mom, well, she would stop by my dad’s house sometimes with dinner and talk with him for a bit before she left. You will never know what that meant to him and to me. She (Mom) was such a kind lady.”

I just stood there amazed, learning of this situation. Smiling, I heard her words about Mom, knowing that she was not just a cheerleader to me, but to many. It made me realize how much our encouragement can mean to others.

Share and Enjoy !

Shares









Best Friends: Saturday Fun -By Donna

Posted on by

    Lucy and Ethel, Laverne and Shirley, and Thelma and Louise are just a few famous lady duos. But these girls have nothing on us! 

Karla and I were fortunate enough to be born into our friendship, second cousins by birth.  Karla’s mom and my dad were first cousins and had their fair share of adventures, and we have continued the family escapades. We have so many stories we could write a book. So that’s just what we are doing and have been for years.

   With both of us having busy family lives, we don’t get to meet and write as often as we would like. So, it’s taking such a long time because when we get together, it can be difficult to buckle down and get busy. Take Saturday for instance. We met for lunch first. This is always essential because we love Cracker Barrel, and we have to catch up on each other’s lives. Even though we have texted and talked during the week, it’s just not the same as the face to face commentary. 

Beauty Shop Fun

     The weather was absolutely beautiful for this time of year, so we decided to go to Starbucks and sit outside to work. We hadn’ t been writing long when Karlas’ hot flashes began and there was not a ponytail holder to be found. So, like MacGyver, we used whatever was at hand. Being the person who is never without dental floss, I pulled off a long string. Karla attempted to put her hair up alone, but wasn’t having much luck. So I got up to do it. I carefully wrapped the floss around and around her hair, tying it and carefully making a dainty bow. People sitting outside were staring at the makeshift beauty shop, but we have gotten used to stares!

Friend Fun

     Our book spans many generations, starting with our great-great grandfather and reaching down to us. Saturday, we decided to write a story from our college years.  One thing led to another, and we were laughing and singing. It often happens when one of us has a random thought.  It started when Karla said, “I’m a pickin’”; then paused for me to add ” and I’m a grinnin’” That reminded me of a song from our childhood.  I started in, “Pickin’ up Paws Paws and puttin’ them in my pocket…”  (And of course being the kindergarten teacher that I am, I was picking up imaginary paw-paws and putting them in my pretend pocket.) As I continued singing, Karla joined in.  

     I abruptly stopped asking, “What is a paw paw anyway?”

     Karla’s reply, “probably poop.”

     “Poop!  Why would you put poop in your pocket?”

     “I don’t know, they’re picking in a field, you know poop like cow patties.”

     So I quickly googled it, and we were amazed to discover that a paw paw is a fruit! We had sang this song since childhood and never knew what we were singing about.

     We began discussing the time we decided to change the words to hit songs, making them apply to our love life, or lack of, and create our own Top 40 Countdown.  What fun we had with a record player and tape recorder in those days. 

Boom Box

     To Karla’s surprise, I had downloaded these tapes a while back to my computer because I’m sure with age they are becoming brittle. Remembering that I had them on the computer, I located them for us to listen to. Since Starbucks had music playing over the outside speakers, it was difficult for us to both hear. So we improvised.  We sat holding the big laptop computer between our two heads like a giant boom box, and we listened and laughed until we cried.  We weren’t the only ones amused. People sitting around were getting a kick out of us. More times than we can count, we have been mistaken for being intoxicated. But life is meant to enjoy, and that is what we do!

    

 

Share and Enjoy !

Shares









Snow Days -By Karla

Posted on by

I have always loved a snow day, and growing up in Blue Ridge, Georgia, we had lots of them. Mom taught us how to prepare for hours of fun. Layer after layer.

  • Long johns
  • A couple of pairs of socks
  • Plastic baggies tied with a bread tie
  • A pair of jeans
  • A couple of T-shirts
  • Sweatshirt
  • Coat
  • Galoshes that had two little buttons and elastic loops to tighten them around your leg.
  • Gloves
  • Plastic baggies tied with a bread tie
  • Mittens
  • Toboggans with a tassel

“Let’s meet at the top of the hill at 10:00”

 

Most everyone in the neighborhood was laying up. The older kids would ride their wooden sleds down the steep road. When one slide down, he or she was the look out, to make sure no car was inching around the sharp curve at the bottom of the hill.

“Gail, get on your knees.”

My sister climbed on behind her friend. While she was on her knees, he sat on his bottom and steered the sled down the icy road with his feet. As they neared the bottom, one of the wooden slabs broke. They went slipping and sliding downward and swerved just enough not to go soaring off they ten foot drop off. As the older girls got tired of flying down the hill, they would move onto building a snowman. They had a system. The girls would begin the snowballs while the boys rolled the giant snow boulders back and forth across the yards. Their goal was simple: Build a snowman bigger than the one created during the last snowfall. I think their record was a twelve footer.

Up to six feet at times

My little sister, my best childhood friend, and I would grab our plastic sleds and begin. Having the label “you’re too young to go down that icy road” forced us to find a sweet spot on the snow covered grass. We slid until the fraction had caused some sprigs of grass poked through. Then we would scoot over a bit and start making a new slope. Over and over. Our goal was more simple than that of our older siblings: Slide so fast that we could not stop ourself from the flying off three-foot drop. Over the years, we reached that goal often as a present-day tailbone x-ray would have the show the proof needed to back up that claim.

The Routine

When we felt frost bite settling in, we knew the routine.

  • Stomp the snow off your boots
  • Strip down to the layer that is not wet
  • Come inside
  • Go directly to the dryer with your wet clothes and turn them on (so they would be ready when we were nice and toasty and refueled to go back outside
  • Put one something warm

Homemade hot chocolate was always simmering on the stove and filled the house with warmth. Mom would go back and forth from the kitchen to the living room carrying our mugs while we sat by the coil heater thawing out. Hearing the little sizzles and crackles from the kitchen, we knew our buttery popcorn was near.

Those magical words: Snow Day!

I think I will always love snow days. When I get wind that one might be drifting into town, I feel the excitement building. As a teacher, I have been called down a time or two when the realization that we might be leaving early develops. I probably deserved both times. Once we watched from the cafeteria as huge flakes cascaded outside the  glass-covered wall. I began dancing with my vice-principal! Then I heard my name over the microphone, “Mrs. Smedley, please calm down! I am trying to give instructions to the students.”

Another time, I got a bit carried away and gave a little hoop-n-holler in the hallway. Several teachers came out and asked me to please tone it down a bit. I just can’t help it. I love living in the South where the anticipation of snow is never a “hear it comes again” dread.

Every time the snow blows into town, I remember the sweet words of Mom. She never missed a snow day call. “Karla, remember God is giving you a snow day to slow down and enjoy family and fun times.”

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

Thanks, Mom, for the memories and the reminder.

-Karla

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

Daddy’s Instructions: Really?! -By Donna

Posted on by

Having taught second grade and under for over twenty years, I have come across only three books that make me cringe when a child says “read this one!” They are Rocking Horse Christmas, The Velveteen Rabbit and Love You Forever. Although I am not a crier, these stories bring tears to my eyes. The first two books produce a lump in my throat when I read the heart break the animals go through as they lose their human children. The third book, Love You Forever, by Robert Munsch, rips at my heart differently. It is the story of a mother and son as they age together. It reminds me that no matter how grown up I am, I am always someone’s child.

I experienced this first hand New Year’s Eve when I went to visit my Daddy. We decided to go to the store. I was driving and Daddy was in the passenger seat beside me. It was a rainy afternoon as we headed to town. Now at age 50, I’ve been driving for 34 years, but at age 77, he’s been my daddy for 50.

Driving Instructions

As I saw the traffic light, that was way ahead, turn to red, I heard, “Watch that red light. Start slowin’ down. It’s a rainin’ and these roads are slick.” I admit that I tend to drive fast, but today under these conditions I wasn’t at all. Instinctively, I obeyed. I began putting on the brakes way before I normally would have.

Further on down the road I started changing lanes. He reminded me, “Ease over, Donnie Boo. Now just get in the left lane.” Really? I thought. Is he telling me how to drive? Surely not. Pulling into the parking lot I could see multiple speed bumps ahead.  “Go slow over these. I don’t see why they need so many of these things. They’re hard on a car.” So I carefully glided over each one. It’s a good thing I didn’t zoom over them like I normally do, I thought.

After shopping, we returned to the car and I buckled up. As I turned my body around to back out, Daddy turned around also and instructing said, “Just back out kinda slow, a little at a time. There ya’ go. Cut the wheel real deep. Ya’ got it.”

I looked at my boys’ faces, who were both hiding a grin. Okay, he really is telling me how to drive! I thought. I could have remarked, “I know how to drive”, but all I could do was smile. My mind drifted back to age fifteen with a new learner’s permit, hot-rolled hair, Alabama’s “Feels so Right” cassette tape playing in the green Ford LTD… And I think so had he.

      I’ll love you forever, I’ll love you for always

                                   As long as I’m living, My baby you’ll be.

—Robert Munsch

Share and Enjoy !

Shares









Misunderstanding: Perspective -By Karla

Posted on by

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

Share and Enjoy !

Shares

Making Decisions: God with Us -By Karla

Posted on by

In December 1995, mom called. “How are you feeling, darlin’?” She knew that it was the last day of school before Christmas break.

I only had one month left before my daughter Rachel was born. Being busy with the holidays, teaching middle schoolers, and being a wife and a mom, I was tired to say the least. “Mom, honestly, I am beat. I think I could sleep for a week, but I have shopping and several things left to do.” 

                 I was hoping for some sympathy. 

However in Mom’s true form, she helped me get a grip on things. “Well, think how tired Mary must have been riding a donkey for miles. She was about to give birth to Jesus many years ago, Sweetheart.”

 

“Umm, yes, you have a good point.” Quickly, my perspective totally changed, and I didn’t feel much like I needed sympathy anymore.

There’s always something to complain about. What if I had continued to focus on how tired I was? I would have missed out on the last few weeks of Rachel developing or the joy of the Christmas season. In fact, there are bigger “what if’s” that affects so much more!

What if?

What if Mary had said, “I’m too afraid, God; choose someone else please.” Joseph could have said, “This will be too hard, God, everyone will talk, and I will be shunned as well.” The shepherds had a choice: Follow the star? In addition, the Wise Men could have decided to tell King Herod of baby Jesus’ whereabouts? What if the disciples had not gone out into the world sharing the gospel. What if Christ had not said, “Thy will be done.”

The longer I live the more I have seen how all choices affect others: spouses, children, extended family, church, workplace, and community.

From a lowly manger He was born to become the King of all Kings. He made the choice to die on the cross for my wrongdoings. Because of my choice to accept Him as my Savior, He gave His Holy Spirit to guide me. What if, I had not made that choice?

 

Emmanuel, means God with us. The Holy Spirit is with me when I need help making decisions.

What if you haven’t made that choice? Make it today.

Happy birthday, Jesus!

 

Share and Enjoy !

Shares