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Showing posts from May, 2012

Prayers and Angels

On March 20, 2003, my youngest son and his Marine unit crossed the central desert of Iraq on their way to Bagdad.   The war had just begun. He was twenty-one years old at the time.   At home on that day, his high school friends worried about college classes, making it to work on time, and what to plan for Saturday night. I had spent every moment since his deployment in January, praying for his safety, though I acknowleded that God’s will would be done.   Because of the seriousness of war, I, and many others, prayed that God would cover my precious son with His angels, so that he would have the strength and courage to face whatever happened. My son came home that year in September, and he shared many miraculous escapes from death. The most amazing happened on March 20 th . As they crossed the desert, a huge sandstorm blew in.   It was so blinding that they “circled the wagons,” silenced their radios, and waited for it to abate.   They were defenseless in the storm. They oc

Forgive and Forget

While reading Facebook statuses one day, one of my friends advised others to “forgive and forget.” That saying just irks me. Those who truly believe this have never had to put it to practice or never had to do it more than once. It becomes useless and laughable otherwise. Back when I was married before, we often sought marital counseling.   Every professional advised me to not only forgive my husband for his transgression, but I also needed to erase what he had done from my memory in order to truly move forward in our reconciliation. I argued he shouldn’t have transgressed in the first place, and he was lucky I was trying to move past what he had done, but it would be virtually and clinically impossible to forget. The men (yes, they were all men) admonished me that one couldn’t happen without the other.   In true forgiveness, you erase the hurt, you don’t keep referring to it, and you don’t dwell on it – ever. That makes sense if you are dealing with someone who is tru

Detention Hall

One by one, they trickle in.   Each one sent here for different infractions. No one says a word.   They each keep to themselves. One young female scrapes her chair in defiance.   She throws her notebook on the table and grunts as she drops her weight onto the seat.   She looks about the room daring anyone to make eye contact, daring anyone to say anything. A male yanks the classroom door open and saunters in.   He is followed by a female half his size. She struggles with a backpack, but he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.   He walks over to two empty chairs and plops down.   She perches in the seat next to him. He snarls something at her and she nods.   He snarls again and she places a hand on his arm and attempts a smile. He glares at everyone in the room. The instructor adjusts an overhead.   She moves stacks of folders from one place to another. The students are confined here for twelve hours and then they will be gone, nothing more. She goes over the agenda, and the only


A striking, raven-haired beauty steps out of a yellow taxi cab. I have been playing in the yard, but I stop what I am doing and gravitate toward her. A breeze blows her long, curly hair into her face and she shakes it out of the way with a toss of her head.   She cradles a small bundle in her arms.   I am curious why it is wrapped in a blanket when it is so hot outside, and I want a peek at this thing.   I watch my mama as she walks past me, a crowd follows in her wake and I follow too. I am three years old and this is the earliest memory I have of my mother, the day she brought my baby sister home from the hospital. Mama was twenty-five then; she is 84 now, and she is still the most striking woman I know.   She still amazes me; I still follow in her wake.   *    *    *   A son needs advice.   My carne guisada gets raves. My grandson asks for a song or a story to go with our play. None of these actions are mine; I learned them from my grandmother.    Ene lived with us