There’s Still Work to Do

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  • God’s Never-Ending Provisions

    After serving three years of military duty at Alconbury, England, Floyd received orders to Valdosta, Georgia. Our official PSC (permanent change of station) date was around January 7, 1982, approximately two weeks after Christmas.  That’s when we were actually getting on the airplane to go home. The military allowed us one week in billeting (the base motel), which meant that December 31st was the soonest we could check in.  During…

  • Taking Things for Granted

    One afternoon, I ran my fourteen-year-old son to a craft store to pick up something he needed for a project that he was working on.  Toby ran into the store, and I waited in the car.  A siren caught my attention and I glanced over at the main road, watching an ambulance zip by as it headed toward the nearby hospital. Immediately, my mind shifted to the goodness of God,…

  • Then What?

    For the majority of my children’s lives, I was a stay-at-home mom.  So I was almost always there.  But my daughter, Jamie, didn’t have that same luxury.  She had to work to survive, to help pay bills, to help make ends meet.  And I was the most affordable childcare provider available to her.  She did, in fact, pay me to watch her two little boys, although I considered it more…

  • God’s Hand of Protection

    My entire life I’ve battled poor equilibrium.  At age 3, I was hospitalized to find out why I wasn’t walking.  When I was 12, my balance was so bad I could not stand still.  I had to keep moving to keep from falling over; kind of like a guy on a unicycle.  I served in the military but couldn’t march because of my balance.   Then I got married and had…

  • A Life-Long Challenge

    When I was in high school, I had a friend who never let me finish a sentence.  Now my mother had taught me not to interrupt, and it took me years to internalize that lesson.  And by high school, I had learned that lesson well.  So when Lynn interrupted me, I stopped talking and let her say what she wanted.  Once she was through, I continued, but the moment I…

  • Fire! Fire!

    In 1998, two weeks before Christmas, a faulty clock radio cord caused an electrical fire in the bedroom of our 16-year-old daughter, Jamie.  Fortunately, Floyd and I were both home when our smoke detector sounded, and so was our son.  But our daughters were both at school. Toby had been living on his own, and Jamie’s dad gave her permission to move into his empty room, so she had been…