From the Heart
Louise Gibson
When we wake up in the morning
there is promise in the air.
We don’t know what the day will bring,
but the expectancy is there.
The time to be happy is now.
We have this day to explore.
Every day is a special occasion-
What are you waiting for?
“This is the day that the Lord has made.
We will rejoice and be glad in it.”
Psalm 118:24
On the Porch
Onisha Ellis
Yesterday my husband and I were discussing Netanyahu’s speech to Congress the previous day. The leader of Israel was asking for support against a nuclear Iran. Meanwhile Iran is in talks with the United States and other countries promising peace. My husband pointed out how similar this seemed to the 1940s when Japan was talking peace while planning for war. He voiced his concern of how history repeats its self and we never seem to learn.
This brought to mind, our former pastor, Peter Lord, who taught me lesson of the mountain. God loves us so much, He will allow us to repeat our mistakes and keep going around the mountain until we learn what He is trying to teach us. Is it painful? You bet but I am grateful he is patient and doesn’t give up on me.
History repeating itself, over and over seems to fall into Pastor Lord’s going around the mountain lesson. Time after time, mankind has the chance to make good choices and time after time we have not. I wonder what the world will choose this time turkeys or Eagles.
My Take
DiVoran Lites
I met Great Aunt Allie when I was twelve years old. My granddad and grandmother took me to Illinois to meet some of my kin. I enjoyed my second and third cousins and had a wonderful time, but I’ll never forget meeting Allie, my great grandmother’s sister. She was the first blind person I’d ever met. She was sitting down when they introduced us, and she asked if she could feel my face. I thought then, and have always thought, it would tell her about my appearance. Recently, though I’ve talked with Janet Eckles about it and she says, no, it doesn’t tell much. But now that I know more about Allie, I think she just wanted to touch her great-grand niece.
The Illinois families had always been farmers. They lived harsh lives, and I think they must have kept a thin layer of armor around their hearts so they wouldn’t be hurt beyond bearing. I don’t remember any hugging from any of my people.
That’s one reason the next story is so sad, though it goes back in time to when I was a newborn. Apparently, the meeting in Illinois wasn’t our first. Allie traveled to Colorado around the time I was born. My mother tells the story with much regret. Seems in those days the medical community decreed that if you held babies unnecessarily you spoiled them. Unnecessarily was any time when you weren’t feeding them or tending to their needs in some other way. My mother followed doctors’ orders and did not allow Allie to hold me. But Allie wasn’t easily discouraged. She stood by my Bathinette while Mother bathed me, and rocked it with her knee as she sang, “Rock-a-bye Baby.”
The last story isn’t about me, but it’s the best one. Allie and all my female relatives, in Illinois, were quilters. Allie managed to live alone, but I’m sure she received help from her family. Anyhow, she had her quilting frame set up in her living room and she’d piece together scraps of material into warm coverlets and give them away. It’s amazing that she could do that. She didn’t have anyone in the house to thread her needles so every morning she took several to a corner on the tiny Main Street and waited for someone to come by. Many times, it turned out to be the town judge. She had known him since he was a boy. She probably gave him lots of fresh fruit pies when was growing up. When the judge threaded the needles, he was showing his respect for Allie in the way it was most needed.
What is the point of these stories? Whatever you like. Maybe it will encourage you to tell some of your own family stories. Believe me; someone will appreciate them if you do. I’d like to read them myself. And they make terrific grist for a writer’s mill.
Old Things R New 