Mary’s Viewpoint: If You Could Be… -By Donna

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“If you could be anyone in history, who would you be?”

I was asked that question when I was about eleven years old. My immediate answer was “Mary”. How cool I thought to be the mother of Jesus, to be chosen by God to have his son. However, my childlike faith could see no deeper.

I am the proud mother of three grown children. Each birth was amazing. Holding and nursing a child produces such a bond between a mother and child. Your desire is to love, teach, and protect them. When they were little, “mama” could fix anything. Sometimes just a Band-aid or a kiss would do the job, but as they got older, the protecting got more difficult.

Seeing your child hurt, whether physically or emotionally is heart-wrenching. I have helplessly observed my child in the hospital roasting from a 105 degree temperature, being x-rayed for a possible broken bone, or falling and scraping his entire face. All the hugs and love I gave could not fix their physical pain. I have watched as a first-love broke her heart in two, a friend betrayed her, or a coach humiliated him. My encouraging words or love could not mend their brokenness at the time.

Mary’s Viewpoint

Recently enjoying a Christmas program, I thought of Mary. Mary, who cradled Jesus in her arms, taught him, loved him, and protected him. I thought of her as she watched her baby boy be tied up and flogged until his skin was an unrecognizable mass of bleeding tissue. The tears she must have shed as he was ridiculed, spit on, and mocked. When the crown of thorns was pressed into his brow and the blood ran down his divine face, how she must have wept. I cannot imagine the pain with which her heart was bursting as she stood at Golgotha watching her son. She was helpless as Jesus was nailed to the cross, forgiving those who were hurting him, and breathing his last breath.

However, as an adult, I would not answer the question with the same eagerness as I did when I was young. Did Mary know what was to come as she nestled baby Jesus close to her bosom. “Mary, Did You Know?”

I doubt the angel that visited Mary so long ago, shared with her that the crucifixion was a part of her baby’s plan. Just as we know not what the future holds for our children. But just like Mary, we know that God is in control. She had to surrender and trust His plan for Jesus, as we must for our own. No matter the pain our precious children endure, God is in control.

-Donna

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Christmas Gatherings: Christmas at Nana’s -By Karla

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Special Days in December

Grady married Ethel on December 25, 1935. Surely with a date so important, Granddaddy never forgot their anniversary!  Over the next ten years, three children were born. In time those children were married and had children of their own, eight to be exact: seven girls and one boy. I am number five. The grandchildren grew to be teenagers and life got pretty busy, but not too hectic to gather together.  So, with some creative planning the date was set! The second Saturday in December was designated as Christmas at Nana’s.

Some laughs

The eight of us have countless memories of this annual event, Uncle Max’s gag gift.  Once, Mom received a giant alarm clock as she was known for her tardiness. Yep, I inherited that quality honestly. With seven girl grandchildren, several of us got the repeat give of a giant bra, when we became that age. He never forgot anyone. He always had some funny stuffed animal with a humorous tag stuck to it making everyone laugh.

                   

A Few Sing-a-longs

Turntable (record machine) from the living room closet made its appearance often. The Carter Family, Marty Robinson, and Johnny Horton were among our favorites. We sang and made a few made-up gestures those evenings. Once Granddaddy handed a recently purchased record to Mom. Ray Steven’s “The Streak”.  Since the song’s main character was named Ethel, Granddaddy felt Nana needed the record as her own. To this day, I can still see the tears of laughter falling down Nana’s face and her shaking her head saying, “Daddy, turn that off.”  He didn’t, and we continued to hear how Ethel was not only kept seeing the streak but joined in as well.

Priorities

imageTo make the gathering more about family and less about money, we began drawing names to help with the cost. I loved the anticipation of finding out whose name I would draw. Time marched on, and the eight of us brought numerous friends into Nana’s house over the years. While money was tight at times, no one ever left Nana’s without receiving some small present to make them feel included.

All eight of us got married and had children of our own, about twenty. The couches got smaller, and the walls closed in a bit, but we still celebrated Christmas at Nana’s every second Saturday in December.

Life Marches On

Nana and Granddaddy, along with most of our moms and dads, have passed away, but the memories of our time with them and how they loved family remain. Now the twenty (great-grandchildren) are marrying and having their own little ones!  In fact, we have so many in the den that once you find a place you cannot move until all the presents are passed out and opened.

This Saturday when I enter Nana’s house, the food, warmth, and joy will meet me at the door. I adore my family; they are so important to me.  None of us are perfect; we all have flaws. But we accept and love each other, striving to give grace when one of us falls. In addition, we try to support each other when there is a need. Memories abound.

Most Importantly

With all the family that I mentioned above, I left out one that is invited for this annual celebration and all other gatherings one. Nana and Granddaddy taught us well. We have invited Jesus into our hearts, our family, and our homes. He is the reason why we celebrate each second Saturday in December.  He is the reason we are so blessed, and I pray that we always remember and teach His importance for generations to come.

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Haircut: Don’t Call My Name -By Donna

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A while back I decided it was time for a change so I decided to get a haircut . I wanted to add layers and cut it shorter than ever before. But I missed my long hair, so the road to growing it back had begun. Last week I headed to a salon to get just the dead ends trimmed. I have never been one to really put a lot of time or money into my hair. Therefore, I always go to the place with the shortest wait and to the stylist who is next.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, so I was surprised to see only one customer waiting when I arrived. The lady cutting hair took my name, and I sat down waiting with the other customer. We waited and waited. A male stylist came from the back and nervously walked around in circles, then disappeared. We waited and waited. The lady called his name with a “come on people are waiting” voice. He returned looking anxious.

“Are you ok?” She asked him.

His reply was a quick “No, I’m not.”

I am not big into my hair, but I was getting worried. He looked like he was having a really bad day. Don’t call my name first. Don’t call my name first….

“Donna”. Well alrighty then. After I plopped into the chair, the young man made casual conversation as he began combing out my hair. During this time I explained that I just needed it trimmed up. Not long into the cutting, I saw “the looks”.

A Confused Look

Now being a teacher, you learn to read faces. I immediately know by a child’s face when they are thinking, I’m not sure I’m doing this right, I need help, or is this how you do it?

He continued to make small talk and then began singing to the music in the background. I’m right there with ya, buddy. Singing makes me feel better too. Occassionally, he would lift up portions of my hair, looking at them as if they were alien. Finally after cutting one entire side of my head, he gave in.

“Um, Sherry, I’m gonna need some help.”

So Sherry comes over and instructs him how to layer the other side Hello! You already did one side!  He thanks her, apologizes to me, and continues on. Then he comes to my bangs.

“Um, Sherry, I’m gonna need you again.” So, Sherry once again comes over and instructs him. He apologizes once again.

When he finished cutting and drying my hair he asked, “How do you style your hair? Round brush? Flat iron? Gel?”

I replied, “Curling iron.” Oh, the look on his face! But, I continued with, “but you don’t have to style it, I’m just going home.”

He let out a huge sigh saying, “Oh good. When you said curling iron, my heart fluttered. I’m not too good with those, and I usually burn myself.”

The Resulting Haircut

Now, years ago I might have been disturbed at this event and especially since getting my “ends trimmed” resulted in my hair being shorter than it ever was! But I sat in that chair thinking, I once was a brand new teacher, thrown into a classroom alone with twenty kindergarteners. No amount of college ever prepared me for the REAL thing.

Was I pleased with my haircut?  Not really, but hair grows back. (“Que Sera, Sera”) So, I laughed to myself hoping the smile and the tip I gave him helped encourage him along.

Your words have the power to hurt or heal; be an encourager.

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Grandparents: A $300 Treasure – By Karla

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 At only five feet and mostly peppered-haired Nana blessed everyone she met. She loved all people, making people feel special. Most didn’t know her real name, Ethel. Instead, she was known as Nana. Man, she could Nana cook!

Ophie Pound Cake 

For instance, take her Ophie pound cake. I know a lot about my family history, but I don’t recall someone named Ophie. While I do not know from whom the name came, I can say that Nana made this delight for so many people. If we had any occasion, her Ophie pound cake was present, whether she was or not.

Green Beans

Her talents weren’t limited to pound cakes; she also produced her legendary green beans. After Nana’s passing years ago, the grandkids discussed how they didn’t think they could ever eat green beans again. “No one will ever make them like Nana.” Luckily for us all, Aunt Anna had learned from the best, so Nana’s green beans still grace the tables.

Even Mac and Cheese

The first year I moved into what I thought was my forever home, the whole family drove over the mountain for a New Year’s celebration. Someone really played up that the great-grandchildren would enjoy some macaroni and asked Nana if she would make some. At eighty-eight, she had slowed a bit. She wanted to be included, and she seemed content with the request. Even mac and cheese from a box seemed special when made in her kitchen.

As everyone arrived, more and more food arrived. Nana’s mac and cheese got pushed to the back of refrigerator, and no one remembered it was there. Dinner came and went.

While tiding up the kitchen, my sister Gail discovered the forgotten noodles! Almost in slow motion, she twirled around pointing into the refrigerator. Her face froze in disbelief and horror that we might hurt Nana’s feelings! At her age, her feelings got hurt as often as a little kid’s would have. 

Almost simultaneously, Gail grabbed the container, and I reached for a big spoon. We rushed into the garage, raking the food from Nana’s dish into the thirty-three-gallon trash can, so she would not be discover our oversight.

Caught!

As we were nearing the end of the contents, we heard the doorknob turn, and we froze. I’m sure our expressions were that of our younger years when we would all be hooping and hollering in the basement. Nana would bound down the steps shaking the ruler reminding us, “Y’ungs, best quieten down before you wake up Grandmommie.”

Thankfully, our Aunt Anna stood on the concrete steps. What a relief! She walked onto the landing with her hands on her hips. Puzzled, she inquired, “Why are y’all doin’ throwin’ out perfectly good food?”

“Shh! We forgot the macaroni, and didn’t want Nana to think we forgot about her or that nobody wanted any,” we confessed.

“Alright, you two idiots (she affectionately called us), you could have just put it in a Tupperware container, instead of wasting it!”

Well, that would have been a better idea. We shared an unexpressed thought. 

Nana’s $300 Treasure

Recently, I was making a cake for a visit with Gail. I smiled as I read the cookbook. Many years ago as a wedding present, Nana gave me a blank cookbook. She filled it with her recipes, Mom’s, and Aunt Anna’s too. Over the years, the binding has worn so much that my daughters had rebound it as a present. I thought of Nana’s $300 dollar chocolate cake and all its yummy goodness. Not only the did I find the special recipe, but in her handwriting. What a treasure!

Ethel Marie Hunt (1913-2003)

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WASPS: Almost Forgotten -By Donna

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During World World II, in 1942, a group of women were trained to fly military aircrafts, so that the male pilots could be released for combat duties. Twenty-five thousand women sent in applications, wishing to join this new organization called the WASPS. One thousand eight hundred thirty were selected, and my grandmother Marion Mann was one of them. Her dream since childhood had been to be a pilot. But only being 5’1′, 100 pounds, and having a slight hearing loss, everyone was astonished when she announced she had been selected. Soon she was headed to Avenger Field in Sweetwater, Texas to begin her basic training.

History

WASP stands for Women Airforce Service Pilots. The WASPS tested aircrafts that had been repaired before the men were allowed to fly them again. In addition, they ferried new planes from factories to military bases. Perhaps the most dangerous job was towing targets for ground and air gunners to practice shooting. The gunners used live ammunition. The ladies served at more than 120 bases around the country.

“You ain’t big enough”

Because of my grandmother’s small stature, she was often teased. Once while she was climbing down from a P-39 a big, burly mechanic, who was new and had never seen her before, stood in awe. He stared as she descended from the cockpit with her parachute and pillows. Walking closer, he exclaimed, “My God, what is this country coming to? Sending little types like you out with these planes. You ain’t big enough to reach the instrument board let alone the pedals. And what are those pillows for, for goodness sake?”

Those pillows were what she called her “security blankets.” She sat on them to increase her height enabling her to reach the pedals. The teasing didn’t bother her’ she was known as a little spitfire. When male pilots poked fun, her standard reply was, “The WASP’s are flying P-39s and B-26 bombers because they still have bugs in them. Some of you don’t have the guts to fly them. The girls are taking all the chances.”

Almost Forgotten

Taking chances, they did, but sadly, the WASPS were not recognized as being a part of the military during their service. The program only lasted two years as the end of the war approached. Many of the women went back to their “normal” lives. However, some became pilots for small companies, as did my grandmother. The WASPS were almost forgotten and their records were sealed for thirty years.

But in 1976, the nest of WASPS became riled. The United States Air Force announced that they were going to admit women to their flying program, and it would be the first time that women would be allowed to fly their air crafts. Understandably, the remaining women of the WASPS were offended by this statement and united. They lobbied the US Congress to be militarized. Therefore, in 1977, President Carter granted them this status. Furthermore, in 2010, President Obama awarded the few surviving WASPS the Congressional Gold Medal. My grandmother Marion Mann was not present for this honor.

In 1946, a short time after her service,, she lost her life.  Marion worked for a civilian plane company and was delivering one of her favorites to an individual purchaser. On that flight, the plane went down. She died doing what she loved.

“Up there I am free. I am above the problems of terra firma. I am close to God. And the beauty from up there is unbelievable-the clouds, the sun, the stars, the moon and even lightening is awesomely beautiful.”–Marion G. Mann

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Choices, Choices -By Karla

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The second Tuesday in November is one of the most important dates in the United States. Of course, how could we not know as it approaches since everywhere we turn, we see reminders!  Sadly, many of our current advertisements focus on slamming the other candidate. Meanwhile the media thrives to uncover and magnify mistakes a person has made. We tend to be sick of most elections even before the important Tuesday draws near.

When someone asked, “Taking advantage of the early vote?” A friend replied, “No, holding out until the final day hoping the choices change. 

Over the decades, America has changed. Our values are dwindling and our self-control unruly. After the tragedy of the World Trade Center, I took comfort in the bond Americans formed. Why did we not continue to draw nearer to our Lord over these last fifteen years? Our world is such a mess; chaos continues creeping into our nation.  More and more signs point to the end of time.

 

The right to worship remains one of America’s original rights. Yet, within a ten-mile radius of my house, statistics show over 10,000 unchurched people. Considering we live in the Bible Belt, this statistic is insane! Christians must voice our thoughts based on God’s word, and this voice must be exercised in our right to vote.

 

Perhaps the names on our ballots do not list the “perfect Christian candidate”, but our right and duty to voice our opinion remains imperative. Thankfully, Jesus did not wimp out in choosing to take a stand for me even though He knows I am far from perfect.

  • I will go to the polls, and I will vote for the person who most closely aligns with my Christian beliefs. 
  • I will walk out proud that I live in a country that allows me to vote for the person of my choosing.

However, most importantly, I will walk out of the voting booth knowing that whoever becomes our president, my hope is found on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. He is the solid rock on which I stand, for all other ground is sinking sand.

 

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Trick or Treat -By Donna

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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Church Family: Autumn -By Karla

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  Fall trees bring me such delight. Each one so different, and yet so pretty. Individually, each tree itself has such variety in its foliage. This fall day I look out my living room window during autumn and study some branches. Seeing the array of colors, reminded me of the people in a church and how they compare.

Fallen Leaves

How sad that some of the leaves had already fallen off the trees. It reminds me of the people who quit  attending worship. I think that sometimes we use the excuse that others have caused us to stray from going to church because of the way they have acted, but the truth is that we are all responsible for our own actions and relationship with God. Those leaves that have fallen off are like the millions who have stopped worshipping in God’s house who will have a lessened showing of the fruits of the spirit. How sadly that affects our world. John 15:5 quotes Jesus saying, “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing.”

Wilting Leaves

As I continue to gaze still at the trees, there are leaves hanging on but have withered. So many of God’s churches across this land are filled with people taking up space without being truly plugged in and desiring to serve, or perhaps they make their voice heard too loudly in the form of negative nags that produce harm to others. At times, we, who call ourselves a Christian tear down the body of Christ.

Green Leaves

On the limbs many leaves remain green; Christians who continue to thirst for the nourishment. They display such eagerness to learn and grow. This desire to mature pleases God. I believe hopes that everyone craves to draw closer to Him in all of our days.

An Array of Color

I love the leaves in their brilliance! They attract others to Christ with their beauty. I think perhaps these colorful leaves are meant to represent the Christians, who truly carry out the word of God. These are the ones who put others before themselves, giving of their time, money, and talents. “But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.” James 1:22.

When I look up at all the autumn trees together in my yard, I notice the numerous shades. It is amazing to me at how God loves us. He formed us with different strengths as well as various imperfections. It is my belief that He created us with diversity so that we would depend on each other. God’s thriving church houses strive to be filled with an array of talents and servants. In this way, people can depend on each other for support within the church as well as extending its glow outside to welcome others into the fold. What a blessing it is to serve our Lord, who created such beauty and care for His children.

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Help: Stuck in Muck -By Donna

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Saturday was a gorgeous, sunny day. I went walking with our three dogs.  The oldest dog Zeus, who is approaching eleven, is obsessed with fetching.  Anytime we walk, I am constantly throwing the ball for him to retrieve. He is always with me.  Seebee, the crazy dog, has to always be in the lead way uimg_2287p ahead. Carlton, the little prissy inside dog, is always in the middle, desiring to keep up with Seebee.

When I say walking the dogs, I don’t mean on a leash in the neighborhood. We were all roaming free on trails in the woods and on the open area where loggers have been clear-cutting. After strolling for about an hour, we were all four tired, thirsty, and dusty. All the creeks on our 40 acres had dried up from the lack of rain. So, the dogs were unable to drink until we neared our yard that has an acre lake. The side near the dam remains deep, but the opposite side has receded a lot due to the drought. Carlton headed on to the house to go inside, and Seebee just continued to run around, but my tired, old Zeus needed water.

“It will be like walking on water!”

I instructed him to walk over and drink, but he just stood there looking at me as I was holding his tennis ball. “No more ball, go drink.” He remained staring at me with his big brown eyes as he panted hard. “Fine, come on. I’ll go with you to get a drink.” He followed me just a few steps and then stopped. “Zeus, how cool we get to walk where part of the lake use to be. It’ll be like walking on water.” Clearly, it doesn’t take much to entertain me. I love to do things I’ve never done before. But Zeus, who never leaves my side, except to retrieve the ball, didn’t budge. Maybe that should have been my first clue!img_2283

I took about four steps on the black murky mud, where water used to be. Suddenly the ground beneath seemed to disappear and I sank to mid-calf. Surprised, I quickly tried to step up, but I sank to my knees! At first I began laughing. In my mind I pictured Gilligan pulling Skipper out of quicksand. The more I moved, the deeper I sank. “Zeus!” He clearly didn’t want to come, but walked toward me obediently. I grabbed his back end, but he began to sink too. Then he quickly retreated and ran to safety. Seebee, meanwhile stood to the side watching the show.

Help

My feet felt like lead weights as I tried to raise them out. The more I struggled, the deeper I sank. I found myself standing thigh deep in muck, stuck. I stood there looking around, accessing my situation. Finally giving in, I hollered, “HELP” waiting for someone much stronger than me to pull me out.

As I was walking toward the spigot to hose myself down, the Bible verse “Be still and know that I am God” flooded into my mind. I was overcome with the message portrayed to me. To be perfectly honest, right now in my life things are very challenging and I have decisions to make. I have always kept my faith and my eyes on God. But I find myself  attempting to figure it out, and the more I do, the more trapped I feel. I need to stop trying to fix everything and everybody. I need to be still and let His arms, that are so much stronger than mine, lift me up and out. 

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Stay Focused; Just Keep Swimming -By Donna

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Staying in a private beach house during summer break in 1985, was just what two college girls needed. Annmarie and I got a great deal on the house, and we didn’t care that it had no TV.  Our intentions were to be beach dwellers for the week.

One cloudy day we were surprised to find we were the only people on the beach. “This is totally awesome! We have the whole beach and ocean to ourselves.” We laid on our floats, talking and singing for hours.

“Good grief, this water is dark,” I commented as I looked over the edge of my float. “What time is it?” Annmarie was sporting her new Swatch. (For those of you who don’t know, that is a plastic, waterproof wristwatch that was a hit in the 80’s.) “It’s three o’clock.”  She answered, as I sat up.

“Oh my, gosh!” I screamed with fear as my eyes stared ahead. The buildings were barely visible. We had drifted out to sea.

                                                               Panic!

“We are gonna die!” Annmarie wailed. Instinctively, we both flipped over onto our stomachs, stuck our arms into the water and immediately paddled. However, we were met by stinging tentacles. Quickly we withdrew our arms and looked down. Fear filled my heart as I gazed at what looked like hundreds of jellyfish below, every color and size imaginable. It was unbelievable and horrifying.

“What do we do?” She questioned. “Why are there so many jellyfish!”

“We gotta paddle and get to shore.”

We had no choice, so we paddled frantically. Each stroke of my arm, was met with stings over and over. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed red whelps appearing on my skin. I tried not to think about the documentary I had seen about jellyfish, because I knew somewhere out in this vast ocean were jellyfish so poisonous they could kill you! Looking over at Annmarie, I saw the look of fear. Don’t panic, Annmarie. I know you can barely swim.  

 Overboard

As we continued to paddle, I raised my arm out of the water, exposing a huge jellyfish that had wrapped its tentacles around my arm. Screaming, I flung my arm. It flew through the air, and landed on my back. I thrashed around to knock it off as it was stinging my back. In my frantic movement I fell into the water and my float glided away. Jellyfish stung my entire body. The only thing within reach was Annmarie lying on her float. I quickly climbed on top of her back. We paddled rapidly to my float, and I relocated.

We continued heading towards shore. The further we went, the less jellyfish we saw. But then I saw the dark shadow swim under my float. As the shark passed, my heart sank. We are gonna to die out here, and my mama will never know what happened to me.

I looked to my right and felt even worse. “Annmarie don’t panic. But there’s rain coming.” I said, as I pointed. The wide wall of water moved toward us. “When it gets here, we have to hold on to each other’s float and not let go, no matter what.”

The eerie wall came closer and closer until it was upon us. Cold, hard drops beat down on us. I held tight to her float. The rain was so hard, I couldn’t see if she was still on there. “Don’t let go.” I yelled.

The rain eased up and the jellyfish either washed further out or we had passed them. So we paddled full force, even sliding down toward the bottom of our floats so our feet could kick too. I felt excited as the shore was got closer.

Giving Up

“What time is it?” I asked.

“6:30.” She sighed.

The waves were stronger as we neared the shore. As we struggled to get past them, they tried to pull us back out.

“I quit.” Annmarie stated as she laid her head on the float.

“You can’t quit! You gotta keep going.” I pleaded.

She half-whispered as her exhausted eyes blankly stared at me. “I give up”

I had only one choice. But could I do it?

Sliding into the water, I grabbed the front corner of her float. I swam pulling her along. She quit! I can’t believe she quit. But I can’t leave her. The waves continuously slapped me in the face, but I stayed focused on the shore. My arms and legs began to ache. “Just keep swimming; just keep swimming”. Lord, please help me. Then I thought about my pool. I have swam seventy laps every day this summer for no reason. Thirteen years, and never swam laps. God has prepared me for this. I am a strong swimmer. 

I swam with Annmarie in tow. After four hours, we finally reached the shore. We literally kissed the sand. I called my mama, and she frantically informed me hurricane Elena was headed our way. During the wee hours of the night, we heard a knock on our door. There was an immediate evacuation. We weren’t even allowed to get our belongings!

Focus

As I have grown older, I’ve realized life is the ocean and God is the shore. Someone can be floating along in life, happy as can be, and suddenly things go bad. You realize you are at a place in life you never thought you would be and the jellyfish, sharks, and storms (sickness, family problems, money problems …) come along and try to destroy you. Keep your eyes on God. No matter how many times you get slapped in the face by the waves of life, stay focused on Him. He has already prepared you for what is to come.

-Donna

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