Crape Myrtle

There's something special about being under the safety of your parents covering. You could almost forget you were actually an adult and revert back to seeking permission to open the refrigerator or to sleep in.

The years of battling illness has taken it's toll on my parents. Her nursing him through his illness and him resenting her for being well. Watching them grow old is hard. When I listen to their voices over the telephone time seems to stand still, but when I look at them, her sitting in her chair and him across the room in his--reality sets in.

Grow old or die. I don't think there's another option. I'm happy to still have them. The availability of their wisdom. To see the look of fulfillment whenever they see their grandchildren. To drive my daddy to the store or across town to pay his bills. Or to prepare a meal with my mother.

This place, this small Blytheville, where the crape myrtle is in full bloom, the small streets seem even smaller, is a part of who I am . The faces around town are not as familiar; but there is joy in still having a place to call home.

Under the Microscope

The last time I went on a job interview was in December 2000. I hadn't worked then for two years. Well it's been longer than two years this time and needless to say, I'm nervous. The thought of being examined and possibly rejected. And at the same time, I 'm so excited. I've been enjoying my time off since graduating, but I'm so bored. I do love my morning devotions. I needed them.

It seems whenever I need him most, he steps right in. I didn't ask for a position, just renewal. But I had gotten a little discouraged and I said a short prayer for the right place--then five minutes later the phone rang. More than the interview, he heard me.

I can't pretend I don't know how to pray or know his word. I can't pretend I'm not chosen or normal. I've tried, it doesn't work. Each day I can feel his presence standing, watching, examining........ me.

4th of July Sky

Holidays were always a big deal in our house and the 4th of July was no different. My father was big on these family moments. We would get new clothes for the holiday. Sometimes my older sister and I would get matching short outfits. He would take us to buy fireworks and still no one, in my opinion, can beat him on the grill. Those times, mostly spent on Sawyer, seem so far away. There wasn't any fancy firework shows to see. But I still fell in love with them.

The past holds the clues I need to understand me today and my reactions to tomorrow. When I look up into the night sky filled with fireworks to see if it resembles the same sky thirty years ago maybe I'll understand why.