My Take
DiVoran Lites
Another week passed and I found a note inmy email from a second-grade teacher who wanted to know if I would like to come and work with her class. Fortunately,the FBI had accepted me. A few more emails and I was promised to second grade.

Photo Credit Pixabay
At the corner where you turn in at the school, a group of teens with all kinds of percussion instruments tapped out a lively beat. It felt like a personal welcome, but I soon learned that it was walk to school day and the young players had come from the High School to encourage children and parents as they arrived.
Inside, I got lost the minute I stepped into the room next to the office, but there was someone to escort me around the maze of octagonal buildings. Even then I ended up in the wrong second-grade classroom. When I walked into the roomful of children I met a pretty blond teacher in a red dress. She asked what I had volunteered for and when I told her reading, she said, “Oh couldn’t you come yet another day and help us too?” Suddenly, I had a strong urge to cry. It was a coming-home kind of crying because at last,I was where I needed to be. I told the teacher how I felt and she said, “I feel that way every day.” Later I wondered if she was being funny or serious. Either way, I enjoyed the interchange.

Photo Credit Pixabay
At first, my assigned teacher failed to understand that I was there only to help the children learn to read. At any rate, my real goal was to read one-on-one with as many kids as I could from eight o’clock in the morning until their early lunchtime at eleven thirty.They gave me a large, empty room to work in.

Photo Credit Pixabay
The first reader, a small ebony boy with shiny golden eyes wiggled in his chair like a puppy and we immediately became buddies. His favorite book was about planting seeds and growing things. I imagined that someday his old grandfather,if he had one, would teach him how to grow a garden. When he left, another child came, then another—three in all.

Photo Credit Pixabay
Back in the classroom, it was time for the science video and teaching session. After that we all went out on the playground for recess. When we got back at math-time I told the teacher quietly, “I don’t do math,” and she excused me.
I got lost halfway back to the office but there’s always someone to show you the way. As I started the car I counted my blessings. I can’t wait to go again.

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn. She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”





The Wills Family, Base housing, Johnson AB, Japan
Judy is living in Central Florida with her retired U.S. Air Force husband of 50+ years. Born in Dallas, Texas, she grew up in the Southwestern United States.She met her husband at their church, where he was attending the university in her town. After college and seminary, he entered the Air Force, and their adventures began.They lived in eight of our United States, and spent six years in Europe, where their oldest daughter was born. She was a stay-at-home mom for many years






















