In a recent breakfast meeting with Pastor Todd Wright of Midway Church in Villa Rica, our conversation turned to the importance of leaving a legacy for those who will come behind us. It was a meaningful discussion for many reasons, but I was reminded of the words of King Solomon in Proverbs 13:22: “A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children” (NKJV).

It was my turn to teach at the jail on Sunday.  I shared one of my favorite Resurrection stories… Mary Magdalene went to the tomb while it was still dark.  “Dark” was an understatement.  

Last week was spring break for my grandchildren. When they returned to school Monday they learned there was a solar eclipse and they would get to participate in watching the eclipse. The schools my granddaughters attend passed out glasses to everyone so they could all be outside and view the eclipse.

The young woodpecker left the nest and flew out to his first tree. He picked the tallest, straightest tree in the forest and started pecking away. Just as he began, a lightning bolt struck and split the tree in half, hurling the woodpecker to the ground.

Isn’t it funny how children imitate adults, sometimes not in a good way? I remember a certain incident when our youngest child, Missie, was little and in kindergarten. She had a cute, short bob haircut. We noticed Missie started to “pretend” flipping her hair like she had long hair. We couldn’t figure out why she was doing this until we went to an open house at the school. Her teacher had long straight hair and she would flip it behind her ears and then behind her back. We instantly realized where Missie had learned this habit.

I am an inquisitive person, which basically just means I ask a lot of questions. If you happen to talk to my husband he would tell you that I wake up asking questions and I go to bed asking questions. Sometimes I even ask questions if I wake up in the middle of the night.

Commentary: We need Easter!

 In June of last year, physicians in Ecuador declared Bella Montoya dead, but as family members gathered for her wake, she suddenly showed signs of life as she rested in her coffin. Four months earlier, workers at a Long Island nursing home pronounced an 82-year-old woman dead, but three hours later, funeral home staff discovered she was still alive and breathing.

I have a sweet friend who is going through a really tough time. It breaks my heart. She sent me a text message one day this week saying, “It feels like I’m walking through mud but I gotta keep moving.” I have thought about this a lot since I received that message.

I am not a fan of flying at all!  I have to really pray and talk myself into getting on an airplane.  We just got back from a trip out of the country.  Our flight was close to 10 hours long.  Needless to say, the flight out of the country was not smooth at all. 

I asked Stevie, who turns 7 this week, to name something he would run from.  “A T-Rex, a raptor, and a stegosaurus,” he answered without a pause. “Can you think of something smaller?” I asked. “Oh, ok, a baby T-Rex,” he replied.  I laughed out loud.

Several years ago, NASA launched its unmanned rocket Antares that was tasked with bringing supplies to the International Space Station. Six seconds after take-off, Antares suffered a “catastrophic anomaly” and exploded. ​One early newscast suggested the rocket was veering off course and scientists on the ground destroyed it. That report proved inaccurate.

We are going on a trip soon that will be out of the country. I have a huge “to-do” list before I can leave that involves both things I need to do for work and things I need to do to get myself ready for the trip. As I was thinking about my “to-do list” I thought about God.

Doc Johnson croaked the other day. I am not being disrespectful. That’s what Doc wanted in his obituary: He croaked. Yes, that’s an unusual request, but Doc Johnson was an unusual guy. He was who he was. He was comfortable in his skin—and in his overalls, worn T-shirt, and long, scraggly hair and beard, all of which might disguise the encyclopedic mind that could reveal surprising information about most any subject.

When the box of Kleenex’s fell behind the dryer, I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Knowing that it would be a fire hazard to leave it, I shimmied up on the dryer as best as a 61-year-old woman could to retrieve it.  My arms were not long enough.  “I will get it,” my beloved called from the other room.  But I didn’t want him to. I wanted to do it myself.  I always have to have help.  Surely, I could just do this alone.

Have you ever felt like you just had a bad week and you caught yourself complaining? I hope you can say yes to that question because it will make me feel better. I have had one of those weeks. It reminded me of a story about my granddaughter, Lottie, when she was around five.

​George Barnard Shaw said, “There are two sources of unhappiness in life. One is not getting what you want; the other is getting it.” America is obsessed with success. We work hard to get what we want. From the early days of our youth, competing is encouraged to reach number one, whether it’s winning the spelling bee or ranking at the top of our class. Setting our minds on a goal and pressing until we reach that goal makes us a success, we think. Success is a destination.

Not everyone knows about Jesus.  It still surprises me to find that to be true.  While I grew up going to Sunday and Wednesday church services, Sunday School, and Vacation Bible School, countless others did not.  While I know Him personally and He walks with me daily, to some He is an unknown person, a stranger they have heard little about.

My very first date with my husband was on Valentine’s Day in 1974. We were both in the 10th grade at the same high school. He was a basketball player and I was a cheerleader. I won’t say I fell in love with him on the first date, which by the way was at the circus, but I did enjoy his company and considered that there might be potential for a relationship there. He, on the other hand, told me he was going to marry me on our first date!

The community orchestra prepared for the annual Fall concert for nearly five months. At the final dress rehearsal, the conductor took time during a break to thank everyone who had helped over the past months. He thanked the sponsors, the press, the ladies who had helped with the costumes, and everyone else he could think of.

This week, we are marking the fourth anniversary of my mom being with Jesus.  I’ve been reminiscing and pondering all the good things about her.  She was an amazing encourager.  She used her words for good and the good of others.  Don’t ever take your words for granted.

I will be the first to say I am not a tough or strong person. I have very soft feelings and am extremely sensitive. It is not hard to hurt my feelings, just ask my family. In the same sense, my sensitivity also carries over to others. I seem to have the ability to sense when others are hurting or troubled.

A funeral in Appalachia is an emotional and wonderful thing.  If you’ve never attended a mountain farewell celebration, there’s much to be appreciated. Last weekend, the funerals of two of my beloved’s cousins were held back home in Belfry.  At the first, cousins from all over hugged, laughed, and cried as they reminisced.  They hadn’t been together in years.  I watched and listened as they talked at once, catching up for lost time.

Wayne and I had dinner with some friends one night last week. We drove separate cars since I went directly from work and he just met me there. I will be the first to admit that I am a terrible night driver and it’s even worse when it is raining.

Just before the recent Republican caucuses, TV journalist Tony Dokoupil was in Iowa asking voters two questions: What do you love about America? And why do you think love of America is fading for some people, mainly those of younger generations? Several people were stumped for answers, but one woman did not hesitate to answer the second question. It’s a change in families. “I don’t think people sit on the porch enough, … and they don’t know the American way,” she said, then added: “The internet took over and built a bunch of idiots.”

In Isaiah 43:19, the Lord said, “See, I am doing a new thing…”  But I don’t always love new things, new ways.  At times, when things change, I’m dragging my Crocs on the way.   These days I find myself praying often for the Lord to help me be flexible.  Not bendy, but easier to adapt.  I know not all change is bad.

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