MY FATHER'S ANVIL

by Danna Shirley

Do you ever not notice something that’s been around for years, sitting over in the corner collecting dust, well-used but of no interest to you?  I’m sure I would have known what it was called, an anvil; and maybe I would have known its purpose, but my eyes were on other things…always more important things in my life at any given time.

Many years later on one of my visits home I spied the old anvil sitting on a stump out in the yard near my father’s workshop.  I casually asked Pa where he had gotten it and when he told me it was his grandfather’s, I began to have a new-found interest in this implement.

Abe Goines, his Grandpa, had brought it with him from Tennessee to his new home in Spiro, Oklahoma.  Pa didn’t know when exactly, just that it had been in the family that long.  It later was handed down to his father, Big Pop, who moved it to Arkansas, along with his family, around 1930. 

Pa remembered as a little boy turning the blower to heat the plowshares, while Big Pop held the blades with tongs and beat it with the hammer to sharpen them on the old anvil.  The blades had to be razor-sharp to cut through the grass roots and persimmon sprouts that hindered the plow from cutting deep and true.  Pa was a dependable and faithful worker on the farm but he made no bones about letting Big Pop know that when he was grown, he would be gone.  Farm life was not the life for him.

Big Pop died a young man under a bogged down tractor that had flipped over in the mud.  It was his fifty-first birthday.  Our family drove from California to Arkansas for the funeral. 

Years later Pa’s brother, Jerrell, asked him if he wanted the old anvil.  It was 1980, it weighed 80 pounds, and Pa drove it back to California where it now sits on the stump out near the shop, no longer used to sharpen plowshares, but it still has a purpose.  Pa is a master restorer of antique cars.  It seems like a good marriage…the old anvil holding the old car parts, both from the same era.

          I have a new appreciation for this family heirloom and I’ve asked Pa to tell whoever gets the anvil, to please keep it in the family.  It would be nice to have it someday, to bring it back to its roots, back to Tennessee.

July, 2005

MY DREAM JOB

by Danna Shirley

All through my childhood I believed I would be a teacher just like my mother. She taught second grade and as I grew older, I would help decorate her room, get bulletin boards ready, line desks in neat rows, and make name cards for each student . . . always feeling like I was the teacher. Throughout the year I would grade papers and help make plans and prepare for special activities. My father even lined the walls of our garage with blackboards and I “played” school downstairs in my imaginary classroom.

Yes, I always wanted to be a teacher. That is, until I sat down behind a typewriter in tenth grade and took my first typing class. I excelled on this instrument. It was as if I was a musician sitting behind a piano playing a beautiful song. 

Of course, in 1964 all typewriters were manual so I had to have strong fingers as I banged on the keyboard striking each letter soundly to make sure it printed on the page. My typing speed increased steadily. I entered a typing contest in my senior year and came in third place typing 64 words a minute—on a manual typewriter.     

Upon graduation I thought I would do the expected and attend junior college but when I got my first job with the Atomic Energy Commission right out of high school, my fate was set. My first paycheck insured that I was happy and satisfied. This job required using a typewriter and teletype machine, which I mastered quickly.

When electric typewriters came along, they took some getting used to but saved your fingers. Then correct-o-ribbons were added and I was in heaven. When my own trusty typewriter began to fail me, I asked my husband for a new one and he said it was time to get a computer.  I freaked!

“No,” I said, “all I want is an electric typewriter with a nice correct-o-ribbon. I don’t want to learn the computer!” He promised that he would show me how to do just one thing at a time . . . that I would not be overwhelmed. He brought me kicking and screaming into the computer-age and I am so thankful he did. 

I’ve worked with wonderful people doing wonderful jobs because I learned the computer. I’ve been able to volunteer at church, with the Red Cross, and several club organizations because I have computer skills.

As I look back on what I could accomplish with a manual typewriter and what I can accomplish today, they are worlds . . . no galaxies apart.  I’m so glad, for it has made my “Dream Job” easier and more enjoyable as time goes on.

MY CHRISTMAS PRAYER

by Danna Shirley

          I have reached that age in my life when material things go by the wayside and my wish . . . my need . . . MY PRAYER is that I will have tranquility in my heart and mind; that anxiety will be far from me and I will reflect a quiet calm in all my thoughts and in all my relationships. It is unrealistic to desire world peace but I desire peace in my world. 

My prayer is to see my children’s lives set on a good path that will lead them to Jesus Christ; that will keep them in the palm of His hand, and that will secure their faith and their future.

My prayer is to look at my grandchildren and know they will have a future and a hope in God and in this country of ours and that that freedom will never go away.

My prayer is that the United States will forever remain “One Nation Under God” and that our Christian heritage will never be diminished, distorted, or devalued.

My prayer is that I will fall asleep and slumber my way into my Father’s arms and that He will say to me, “Well done, good and faithful servant . . . Enter into the joy of your Lord.” (Mt 25:21)

MY BUCKET LIST

by Danna Shirley

I saw the movie, “Bucket List,” recently which made me think, “What exactly would my Bucket List include?”  Oh, I thought of all kinds of frivolous things and even some dangerous things, none of which I would ever consider doing . . .

• White water rafting
• Nose piercing
• Skydiving
• Bungee jumping
• Riding in a hot air balloon
• Going on a helicopter ride
• Traversing trees on a zip line
• Seeing the Titanic up close and personal 

Then there are the “doable” things . . .

·         Losing weight and getting healthy

·         Learning to swim

·         Taking piano lessons

·         Visiting the Holy Land and walk where Jesus walked

·         Going on a carnival cruise

·        Visiting NYC (Ground Zero, Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, Time Square)

·         Going on a fabulous train ride across country

·         Seeing the Grand Canyon, the Painted Desert, Carlsbad Caverns, the Meteor Crater

These things would be fun and even adventurous, but the bottom line is that I don’t much care to go anywhere or see anything without my husband, Ron, who died in 2003. Sure, I can do some things by myself or even with a friend but without him, I don’t desire to do any of them.

What I would love to accomplish, though, is to be a published writer. Published in the sense that I would have an agent and my books would be found on the shelves at major book stores, that I would be able to touch the lives and hearts of the reader and inspire them to be an exceptional person, to have a happier life, and to live that life for the betterment of those around them. That we all would give back more than we receive and that. . . 

“. . . [we] may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding; that [we] may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing Him, being fruitful in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God . . . ”  (Colossians 1:9-10)

MEETING THE IN-LAWS (1968)

by Danna Shirley

            I did not meet my husband’s parents who were from Alabama before we married nor did I know that he hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend to them, much less a fiancé, until he sprung the news that he was bringing home a California bride for Christmas. A quick trip to Reno took care of the nuptials. It was December 19, 1968 and I was 20 ½ years old. A few days later we were on a plane headed for his hometown. 

            Scheduling problems gave us a layover in New Orleans where we spent a nice evening in the French Quarter and a meal at Pat O’Brien’s. I remember the “entertainment” asking if there were any newlyweds in the audience. 

            “Yes,” I answered thinking that would be the end of the matter.

            He asked, “How long?”

            I held up two fingers.

            He said, “Two months?”

            I shook my head.

            “Two weeks?”

            I shook my head.

            “Two days???!!!”

            I nodded.

            He responded with, “It’s nice to see you up and around so quickly!” which brought gales of laughter in the room. I could have sunk into the floor. The next morning we continued our trip to Montgomery. 

            I knew Ron was the oldest of four boys but he hadn’t told me much about his parents. I didn’t know if I should call them Mom and Dad or the more formal, Mary and Kline. He told them we would be arriving sometime Sunday so his dad met every plane coming in that day until we finally touched down. I assumed I would be able to comb my hair and put on some lipstick in the airport but as we departed the plane and were walking though the gate, Ron announced, “There’s my dad!” 

            Before I had time to think about how I would greet him, Kline was in front of me. I stuck out my hand to shake his and said, “It’s nice to meet you.” He responded likewise. As Ron made small talk on the ride home, I felt like I had a very awkward beginning with my new father-in-law. When we pulled into the yard, Ron’s mother and three younger brothers ran out of the house and into my arms; Kenneth was 15, Jackie was 12, and Wayne was 9. It seemed I had passed the test and was welcomed into the family. Little did I know there was a bigger test waiting for me?

            Three days later the whole family was invited to Christmas dinner. The whole family numbered about sixty people and consisted of aunts, uncles, cousins and paternal grandparents, Daddy Jack and MawMaw. I met them all my first week in the family because they all wanted to see this California girl who had won Ronald’s heart. I was on display as we sat on the couch by the front door. Ron never coached me or gave me any indication of how I should act with his family. Each made their way inside and over to me for introductions. Then they would move around the room and into the kitchen to get MawMaw’s “say-so” before they made any judgment. I didn’t know this at the time but I had already won her blessing by offering to help in the kitchen. She told Aunt Marie, “Well, he done a good job.” I don’t know what the verdict would have been had I stayed out of the kitchen but I guess I passed the test.

            My accent, I’m sure, was a topic of conversation. Wayne was fascinated the most as he would sit for hours and just listen to me talk. The feeling was mutual, however, for his southern drawl and pronunciation fascinated me, too, especially using the word “own” for “on”…like “on the table.”

            Two of Ron’s cousins, Sherry and Sandra, also told me at a family reunion years later that they were impressed with my go-go boots and mini-skirt. I didn’t think I was all that fashionable; in fact, I thought I was a little square by California standards, but I must have been “hip” for Montgomery, Alabama. 

            With our visit over and Ron and I saying our good-byes, Kline confessed that he was very disappointed when I shook his hand at the airport instead of hugging his neck. I told him he took me by surprise but I would take care of that right now and I reached over and gave him a big hug. I was the first daughter-in-law and I gave them their first granddaughter as well. 

            Ron and I had many cultural obstacles to overcome. He operated under southern conservative roots and I was a liberal Yankee. I couldn’t understand his way of thinking and he sure couldn’t understand mine. Eventually I came to my senses, though, and am now a conservative Republican.

            We almost didn’t make it through those early years…but that’s another story…  

MARY HAS CHOSEN THAT GOOD PART

by Danna Shirley

For a long time now my life has been into much busyness. I am a person with a strong Martha nature; always in works mode, always living on performance and details.

But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she approached Him [Jesus] and said, "Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me."  And Jesus answered and said to her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her."                                                                  (Luke 10:40-42 NKJV)

Knowing this, I was so dramatically touched by the Holy Spirit through the sermon preached that Sunday night (5/24/09). With it God literally changed my life. How can I now be satisfied as a Martha when I want to be a Mary and sit at the feet of Jesus!

The deliverer of the message was a young man, Jason Inman, who is over our Van Ministry. If you were to classify him, you might say he is low man on the totem pole of the church leadership, but thankfully, God is no respecter of persons (Acts 10:34). My following notes don’t do him justice:

Jason’s message:

WHY WE NEED GOD’S RAIN

To maintain our spiritual lives                           

To spring forth with the fruit of the Holy Spirit

Rain breaks forth life                                                        

To provoke spiritual growth

For abundance of peace, faith, favor                              

To soak in God’s presence

To be restored, refreshed, purified, cleansed . . .

We need to be SOAKED, SATURATED, and INVADED with God’s presence;

to be MARKED and IDENTIFIED as His child.

            These Showers of Power bring results to impact those we meet because of God’s presence in our lives.  Sometimes, unfortunately, we raise an umbrella to God’s rain and say, “I don’t have time today, Lord; I’m too busy, or I’m too tired, or I’m too whatever.  We raise our umbrellas of fear, pride, doubt, busyness, unforgiveness, etc.  We don’t let God’s rain wash over us to cleanse and refresh us.  We walk around dry, dirty, in a desert place.

            Jason concluded with this challenge:  Put your umbrellas down and soak up God’s rain!

The Spirit broke me and revealed that I may have thought I was doing ‘okay’ as a Martha but I had not chosen that good part that God desired for me. The message Sunday night started a chain reaction of prayer, coupled with tears and a tugging at my heart as I heard God’s ‘still, small voice’ begin to plant something new in my spirit. Jason laid a good foundation Sunday night; God built on it Monday morning in prayer time and again Tuesday morning when I attended our weekly prayer meeting at church. I’ve shed a lot of tears these last few days as I feel a calling to move out in a different direction. 

Thank you, Jason, for your obedience to preach the Word . . .

MARBLEGATE

by Danna Shirley
Short story for Creative Writing Class, Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN

            Mrs. Prayder drove through the gate and up to the biggest house I’d ever seen, a mansion for wayward wards of the court.  How ironic. If I’d known this was how I could have been living, I would have run away from my three-room slum long ago. We parked under a tree and walked a long path that was dotted with flowers up to the front door. Across the expanse of the property were all kinds of different colored azalea bushes in bloom.  “Well, here we are,” Prayder announced. “I think you’ll like Marblegate.  Miss Crowder is very nice and I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.”

            “Yeah, I’m sure we will,” I lied. I could just see me having to scrub this place down from top to bottom like Cinderella with her ugly stepmother. Prayder knocked. I expected some cold, cross, matronly old woman but Crowder was young and beautiful and greeted us with a smile. She seemed even happy to have me come and live with her.  What a crock! I bet she’ll lock me in my room tonight.

            “Oh, hello,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you. Please come in,” and she showed us into a front room with couches and chairs and bookshelves full of books. There was no television in sight. Boring!!!

            “Miss Jeannie Crowder, I would like you to meet Miss Alexandra Summers,” said Prayder. “She’s fourteen and will be going into the eighth grade this fall.”

            “Hello, Alexandra. Do you have a nickname or should I call you Alexandra?”

            “Just call me Alex. Nice ta meet ya.” I lied. I was good at lying.

            “And you can call me Miss Jeannie.”

            Miss Jeannie!  She’s got to be kidding! What a crock!  

            “Would you like to stay for tea, Angela, before you return to town?” So that was Prayder’s name, Angela.

            “No, I have a desk full of cases that I must process but thank you anyway.”

            Boy, weren’t they the polite ones! Please and thank you! I could just puke!

            “Alex, I just know you’re going to have a wonderful time staying out here at Marblegate,” Prayder said and she reached over and hugged my neck. 

            “Yeah, right!”

            Miss Jeannie followed her out on the porch and said goodbye.  Then she returned all smiles and asked me, “How about we tour the house, Alex?” She was too, too sweet and friendly. I know she was trying to get me off guard but I’m never off guard!

            “Yeah, sure, why not? Might as well see the lay of the land.” I needed to plan my escape route anyway, when the time was right. The place was huge and Crowder rattled on and on about the house being built in 1858 by her great-great-grandfather. It had a parlor, whoop-de-doo, and a music room, a study, and blah, blah, blah. She sure was impressed with herself. I guess she had something to be impressed about, though. It was a pretty nice place—but it didn’t have a T.V. room! That didn’t matter to me anyway ‘cause I wasn’t gonna be here long enough to miss it.

            “Would you like to go upstairs, Alex, and see your room?” she beamed. 

            Why was she being so nice to me? Didn’t she know foster kids were rebels who could care less where they are today ‘cause they’d be somewhere else tomorrow. 

            Crowder opened the door to a beautiful yellow bedroom filled with fancy, frilly things and sunlight streaming through the windows. I felt a warmth I’d never known before. Funny, it seemed to be on the inside of me! Course, it was July so why wouldn’t I be warm? Except I didn’t know what warmth was—not on the inside. I had always felt cold and dark and miserable about my life. What life? Mom was an alcoholic and I was her booze runner. I can’t believe how I fought and fought to stay with her but I had to, she had no one else to take care of her but me. I loved mom and I wasn’t complaining but my life could have been better. 

            “I’ll let you get settled,” she said. “You might even want to take a nap before dinner or you can explore the house and grounds and I’ll meet you in the dining room around six o’clock. We’re having fried chicken tonight but we’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow and get whatever you like.”

            “Whatever?” I said sarcastically. I was trying to be laid back about the place but I was warming up to Marblegate pretty quick—and Crowder, too. 

            I decided to explore the second floor. Two doors down the hall I found the bathroom. Now I know it didn’t look like this in 1858. Didn’t they have outhouses back then? Everything was marble; the shower, the bathtub, the sinks, even the floors. Well, I hadn’t had a good bath in a long time so I looked through all the cabinets until found some bubble bath. Then I filled the tub all the way to the top. It felt so good. All warm and scented. I soaked for the longest time and then dried off and dressed and went back to my room for that nap. Now this is the life.

            When I woke up about four o’clock, I decided to go downstairs and check out that sitting room with all the bookshelves. Now I’m not that good with schoolwork and such but I do like to get lost in a good story. They always have a happy ending, not like my life. Crowder had history books and mystery books; she had cookbooks and how-to books.  Then there were the fiction and romance books. On the bottom shelf I saw a few dusty photo albums.

            I decided to take a look at her family pictures and have a good laugh. The first one was way back when; I guess when they first took pictures. The paper was real thick, almost like cardboard. The women wore long dresses with their hair piled up high and the men had mustaches.  Nobody smiled! How dull was that? The next album was a little better. The skirts were shorter and the hair was shorter and the women wore lots of long beaded necklaces. There were a few smiles now and then, too.

            Then I finally noticed something that looked familiar. A family on the front steps of Marblegate, two little girls standing behind their mom and dad who were sitting on the steps. I turned the pages and saw the sisters get older and more grownup. One of them was Crowder. She got prettier and prettier. There was something familiar about her sister, though, like I’d seen her somewhere before. The next picture made my heart stop. That was my mother! My mother was in that picture! She was young and fresh and happy; not like now. I dropped the album and looked up. Crowder was standing there watching me. How long had she been there? Finally, I squeaked out the question, “Is this my mother?”

            “Yes, honey, it is. That’s my sister, Janet, and I’m your Aunt Jeannie.”

            I stared in disbelief. “I didn’t even know I had an aunt. How did you find me?”

            “I’ve prayed that I might find your mother for a very long time. I didn’t know she had a daughter either until Angela started investigating your background and located me. We didn’t want to shock you with the news so we decided to just let you come here and get to know me a little bit first. Of course, I didn’t think you would find out your identity so quickly.”

            “So now what?” I said still dumbfounded.

            “I would like to help your mom go into rehab and I hope you will consider staying with me indefinitely, if that’s something you want to do. She will be welcome here as soon as she’s able.” 

            “Mom sure needs some help—and I guess—,” I tried to hold back the tears, “—I guess I need some help, too.”

            The dam finally broke and I cried like I had wanted to for so long. I cried for my mother and what I couldn’t do to help her. I cried for me, too, like I had never cried before in my life.  I was tough!  TOUGH!!!

            Crowder grabbed me up and hugged me tightly. I hadn’t been cared for like this in I don’t know when—maybe never. I was warm all over, warm on the inside and warm on the outside. 

            “Do you think we can make it work, honey?” she asked as she stroked my hair.

            “Yeah, sure, I’ll do everything I can to make it work!”  We stood there and just held onto each other. I had finally found someone to love me.

             “Welcome to Marblegate, Alex,” she said smiling through her tears. 

MAKE THE MOST OF . . .

by Danna Shirley

Make the most of your five senses:

. . . enjoy every breeze that kisses your face ~ touch

. . . savor every bite that pleases your palate ~ taste

. . . breathe in every aroma that graces your senses ~ smell

. . . regard every symphonic note that plays on the strings of your heart ~ sound

. . . return every smile that greets you from a friendly face ~ sight

Make the most of the seven heavenly virtues:

. . . let every thought be pure and honest ~ chastity

. . . let every action be just and honorable ~ temperance

. . . let every gift be generous and benevolent ~ charity

. . . let every undertaking be approached with determination and zeal ~ diligence

. . . let every conflict be resolved in peace, grace, and mercy ~ patience

. . . let every attitude be shown through compassion and friendship ~ kindness

. . . let every deed be selfless, respectful, and reverent ~ humility

Make the most of heart-felt passions:

. . . births, graduations, and baptisms

. . . wedding days and 50^th anniversaries

. . . first smiles, first steps, first words

. . . hugs from family and friends

. . . a belly-laugh at a good, clean joke

. . . a picture is worth a thousand words

. . . pride in our military heroes who keep our freedoms intact

. . . answered prayer

. . . the love of GOD and knowing HEAVEN is our home

Make the most of the Fruit of the Spirit in your life:

. . . For God so loved the world that He gave (Jn 3:16)                 

. . . The joy of the Lord is your strength (Neh 8:10)                                   

. . . The peace of God . . . will guard your heart and mind (Phil 4:7)         

. . . Let patience have its perfect work (Js 1:4)                                           

. . . When the kindness and love of God appeared, He saved us (Tit 3:4)

. . . Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me (Ps 23:6)             

. . . Trust in the Lord . . . feed on His faithfulness (Ps 37:3)                      

. . . Let your gentleness be evident to all (Phil 4:5)                        

. . . Make every effort to add to your faith . . . self-control (2 Pet 1:6)

           MAKE THE MOST OF . . . 

                                              JESUS CHRIST

MACKENZIE RAE

by Danna Shirley

            I met my granddaughter, Mackenzie Rae, for the first time today. She is four years old.  I was totally surprised and thoroughly pleased. She had also met her daddy, my son, for the first time just the weekend before. I guess learning about a brand new family can be a bit overwhelming for a little girl; aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and great-grandparents, but she took it all in stride.

            It could have been an awkward beginning but God made the road to this meeting short and very sweet. Forgetting the past and looking to a bright future, Mackenzie is a beautiful child with a loving disposition. She ran up to me with a big hug and called me Grandma. I told her I was called Mimi so she quickly changed my name. She sat with me at the restaurant across the table from her mother and little brother and sister. I would find her smiling up into my face every time I found myself smiling down into hers. It was love at first sight.

            Mackenzie looks just like her daddy. I learned she is in the gifted program at her school . . . Aaron was in the gifted program. I learned she plays T-Ball . . . Aaron played T-Ball. I learned she made the All-Star team . . . Aaron made the All-Star team every year. I brought a picture of her daddy when he was her age and a picture of him in his T-Ball uniform. Her fascination brought a big smile to her face.

            I picked up Mackenzie the next morning for Sunday School and church. It was a special Sunday so there was a potluck dinner after the service. Because I was in travel mode and could not cook (ha, ha), my contribution to the dinner was a bag of grapes which Mackenzie and I took off of the stems and washed. She was concerned that she wouldn’t get any with all the people there so I made sure we were first in line. She ate two pieces of fried chicken, NO VEGETABLES; a piece of icing, NO CAKE; and two helpings of grapes. When we left, we wrapped up the remaining grapes and she took them home with her. 

            I was saddened to have missed the first four years of her life—all the birthdays and Christmases, all the first steps and first words; the hugs and snuggles and “I love yous.” No matter the past, a love affair began that day and I know it will continue for life. 

            Oh, yes. My middle name is Rae. Her mother didn’t know that when she named her. That’s okay. I accept that as God’s blessing to me.

LONGEVITY AIN'T FOR SISSIES

by Danna Shirley

            My paternal grandmother lived to be 93. My father lived to be 89. My mother is still living at 95. I am 66 and I’m already worn out. Longevity can be wonderful if your mind and body can keep up with the years but what if they’ve already checked out and your years keep on ticking. The older I become, the more I realize that longevity isn’t for the weak.

I have a hiatal hernia, high blood pressure, and dry eyes. I have carpal tunnel in my wrists, a degenerative disk in my neck, pain across my shoulders, arthritis in my lower back, and bursitis in my hips. My feet have never worked right.

I've gained a lot of weight and I can't exercise or even walk to take it off because my body hurts so much. I joined a Zumba Gold class at our senior center and only lasted a few weeks . . . my hips only lasted a few minutes.

I signed up to receive Dr. Oz’s “RealAge®” emails. They are very informative but how can anyone afford to follow his advice, especially on a fixed income. If I bought every supplement and all the food he recommends to keep healthy, I would be broke in a month, plus I would probably have indigestion to boot.

·     What happened to that natural blond teenager who could dance the twist and the jerk and the pony all night long and not even breathe hard?

·     What happened to that wrinkle-free, enthusiastic newlywed just getting started in life?

·     What happened to that box-blond young mother raising three children?

·     What happened to that volunteer-minded woman who could juggle marriage, work, church, school activities, and still come home and have a meal on the table for her family?

·     What happened to that middle-aged widowed grandmother who had come through the grieving process and made it to the other side with her heart and mind intact?

·     WHAT HAPPENED TO ME???

So what is the answer?

Our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 6:19-20).

God made them and He knows how to heal them.

Therefore, I hereby resolve to practice . . .

moderation!              restraint!                    self-control!

discipline!                 willpower!                 determination!

strength!                    endurance!                patience!

AND A WHOLE LOT OF PRAYER!!!

AMEN!!!

LIFE and DEATH in MY REARVIEW MIRROR

by Danna Shirley

            I was a new widow choosing to remain in the house that my husband, Ron, and I had built. There was no question that I would continue working as Admin Asst to the Fire Chief at the Ocean Springs Fire Department (MS) and also attend Vancleave Assembly of God Church. I was numb and couldn’t make any decision to do otherwise.

            It was fourteen miles from my front door in Vancleave to the front door of Central Fire Station. Part of those fourteen miles included a stretch of sparsely inhabited two lane road that commuters traveled, exceeding the speed limit, trying to make time when they were late for work in the morning or anxious to get home at night. Traffic was usually light and, as a rule, there were no delays until you reached Vancleave.

            On one particular trip home from work, I was taken off guard when I noticed a school bus in front of me with about four cars behind it. They were at a dead stop and I had to slam on my brakes. We sat there for quite awhile waiting for the traffic to move.

            When I looked up in my rearview mirror, I saw a big, black, pickup truck barreling down on me. I gripped the steering wheel and waited for him to notice that we were all stopped ahead of him. HE DIDN’T NOTICE! He was still coming full speed. All I could utter was, “Oh, God...Oh, God...Oh, God!” as I stared in my rearview mirror and braced myself for impact. It was one of those moments when you can’t watch but you can’t look away either. I just knew I was going to die right there on Highway 57 in south Mississippi!

            When the truck driver got close enough to realize that traffic was stopped in front of him, he slammed on his brakes and pulled over into the ditch finally stopping three cars in front of me. When I think of where he would have stopped if he hadn’t pulled over, I get goose bumps. 

            Soon the bus began to move and all of us pulled forward as if we hadn’t just escaped death. I drove past his truck and looked over at him thinking, I should stop and check on him; maybe say something but there was nothing that could have been said. He was sitting there staring out his front window and I’m sure contemplating his narrow escape from death as well.

            Later that night the event became more surreal to me as I relived looking in my rearview mirror. What if I had died? I thought of being in heaven with my husband, Ron, and how that would have been perfectly fine with me. I was lonely and ready to go. Then I thought of my loved ones that I would have left behind; my daughter, Kristen and granddaughter, Emma; my sons Russell and Aaron, and I decided that I did want to live.  I wanted to live to see many more grandchildren.

            Thank You, Lord, for saving me that day so I could be Mimi to . . .

MACKENZIE RAE 

EMMA KATHERINE and 

ISABELLA REESE.

JUDY and ME

by Danna Shirley

            I first met Judy on the back pew, left side at Vancleave Assembly of God Church. She was visiting with a friend she had been dating, Jerry Goodin, who ran the sound booth which was right behind the last pew. He couldn’t sit with Judy because of his duties but she wasn’t far away. Judy also had a young lady with her named Jessica, who was in her charge. Jessica was a ward of the court and mentally challenged.             

            After the service our pastor did something completely different than his normal altar call. He told us if we had any prayer needs, each pew should gather together and pray for one another. There was only Judy, Jessica, and me in our pew. My first conversation with Judy was to ask her to pray for my sons, Russell and Aaron. God so joined us that night, spirit to spirit, that we’ve been best friends ever since. Judy and Jerry married within a few months. She was no longer sporadic but became a regular on the back pew with me. 

            Judy was a former Baptist and I was a former Methodist. She had her masters in education and I was a high school graduate. She was retired and I was still working. Our lives probably couldn’t have been more different but we loved the Lord and when God puts two people together, He knows what He’s doing.

            Judy and Jerry had only been married about three years when he was diagnosed with colon cancer. Judy assumed they had caught it in time; however, she soon learned that Jerry had been suffering with severe symptoms for quite some time. When the prognosis came back, he was already in stage four of the disease.  They had just returned from Ochsner’s Clinic in New Orleans when my husband, Ron, passed away unexpectedly. 

            A few months later, I asked Judy to get out of the house and have dinner with me. She had been with Jerry every minute and his health was weighing heavily on both of them. We went shopping and then out to dinner at Chili’s in Gulfport, MS where we did some real heart to heart talking.

Judy shared her fears with me. “I don’t know what I’ll do if Jerry doesn’t make it,” she said. “I’ll have to sell everything we own to pay the bills and then where will I go?”

            “I know where you’ll go!” I said. “You’ll come home and live with me!” I had been living alone for four months as a widow and knew what she would be facing. Two months later, June 1, 2003, Jerry passed away. Judy’s mother came down from Batesville, MS to be with her and help take care of all the associated business. I reiterated my offer for her to live with me. After all was said and done Judy didn’t want to move to Batesville and she didn’t want to live with her daughter in Lucedale so she moved in with me in August 2003. I had a large three bedroom house, my dream home, and I had been living in my bed since Ron had died.

            God brought us together when we needed each other the most. My bedroom and bath was at one end of the house and she took a bedroom and used the guest bath at the other end of the house. Our arrangement was that I went to work every day and she would cook dinner for us at night. She loved to cook and I loved to eat! She bought the groceries and paid the power bill in excess of $100. I loved working on the computer and she loved getting out in the yard. I killed plants and she nursed them back to health. Every night we would retire to my office; me sitting at my computer in one corner and she sitting at her desk in the other. After an hour or so we would turn and prop our feet up and talk or just pray for people we knew. There was never a cross word spoken or a hurt feeling between us. We were so compatible it was scary J!

            What helped us both was that I gave her a place to live and she gave me a reason to come out of my bedroom. Judy lived with me eight months until God put her feet on a different path. I stayed on the Mississippi Gulf Coast another four months and then God moved me to Bartlett, TN to be closer to my daughter.

            A friend asked me once, “Would you have moved if Judy was still living with you?” I have to believe that God’s timing was perfect—for my life and for hers. The only certainty we have is that nothing remains the same. The sooner we grasp that realization the happier we’ll be in our destiny. 

IT's A "NO BRA" DAY

by Danna Shirley

            Now having reached our mid-sixties, my sister and I have come to some philosophical conclusions. As retirees who don’t have to get up, get ready, or go to a job anymore, we are delighted when we can awaken to a “NO BRA” day, which is a day of NO appointments, NO errands, and NO visitors arriving at our door. We both rejoice when we can laze around in our flannels, our t-shirts, and our fuzzy socks. We may not even comb our hair! J

I grab a Slim Fast and sit down at the computer to play a few games of Spider Solitaire, Free Cell, or Majong Titans, which are my warm-ups for the day.

  Then I peruse my emails. Someone may send me a ”funny” and one click leads to another. You know how it goes. Two hours later I realize I should get up and do something constructive but it’s a NO BRA day—so there ya go! I can get very distracted when I’m cruisin’ the net.

Like this morning when I watched Jase and Si, and Willie, and Phil on Duck Dynasty doing their usual antics. These guys are a hoot! J  “Happy, Happy. Happy!”

                                                           

This led to a YouTube of comedian Tim Hawkins who had forgotten the scripture reference to his favorite Bible verse so he guessed at it and signed 100 autographs with Psalm 38:7. When he got home, he looked it up. It said, “Lo, I have a painful disease in my loins.” J

When I can finally tear myself away, I might sit down and watch a little television.  Maybe eat a little popcorn. Then it’s time for another game of Spider Solitaire.                                                                                      

I check my emails again and more distractions ensue until my stomach tells me it’s time for lunch. Satisfied, I might consider getting dressed but can easily talk myself out of it. Heck, the day’s half gone so why bother!

I really don’t want to bind myself in and strap myself down. I love my flannels and fuzzy socks. Unfortunately, these days don’t arrive very often but when they do, it’s a wonderful life when . . .

IT’S A NO BRA DAY!  

IT DOESN'T MATTER . . .

by Danna Shirley

When you reach my age, it doesn’t matter WHO . . . you are, a prince or a pauper. As long as you live with integrity, ethics, and a good character, you’ll be rich all your life. J

When you reach my age, it doesn’t matter WHAT . . .

I don’t remember—sometimes ignorance is bliss. J

When you reach my age, it doesn’t matter WHEN . . . I go to bed or when I get up in the morning. After working 40 years, retirement is a deserved delight. J

When you reach my age, it doesn’t matter WHERE . . .

I live because wherever I am, I’m home. I’ve lived a good life, traveled to many places, and been blessed with a wonderful family and good friends. I look now with great expectation to my final move—to my heavenly home. J

When you reach my age, it doesn’t matter WHY . . . I take a handful of pills every morning and a handful of pills every night. Just that I don’t forget to take them! J

When you reach my age, it doesn’t matter HOW . . .

often I get up at night to go to the bathroom. At least I’m not using a bedpan or diapers. J 

When you reach my age, it doesn’t matter THAT . . . I wear socks with sandals. I know it’s a fashion faux pas but as long as my feet don’t hurt . . . it really doesn’t matter. J

When you reach my age, it doesn’t matter IF . . .

I have hairy legs, no one sees them anyway. But when I do finally pull out the razor, oh, the hassle to bend and reach every nook and cranny . . . and to stop the bleeding!  J

I WANT A MACHO MAN

by Danna Shirley

          It said Sam on the name tag but I couldn’t determine if Sam was a Samuel or a Samantha? I was the third in line at the Customer Service counter in Wal-Mart. Now I’ve seen plenty of “Wal-Martians” online and all could be considered as wearing Halloween costumes; men dressed like women, skimpy clothing that shows too much, purple hair, tattoos, piercing in the oddest places. But this was October 26^th and I couldn’t tell about Sam.

          As the line moved forward, I noticed more; taller than the customer being waited on, shoulder-length hair, purple eye shadow and black eyeliner, a black lace camisole under the traditional blue polo shirt, and slight breast bumps. Then a move from behind the counter revealed black flats with a bow on the toe.

The line moved again to reveal long painted nails with beautifully manicured cuticles. I still was questioning if this was Sam or Samantha. No good clue was adequate enough to reveal the mystery.

          Now it was my turn. Sam was probably six feet tall. Not unusual for teens today, boys or girls. I saw a faint mustache above the upper lip but I have one of those myself. Then the mouth opened and the voice boomed out loud and low . . . “May I help you?”
          Sam was a male! But was he dressed for Halloween or was this his every day appearance? No other employees were wearing costumes. I was baffled and a little uncomfortable not knowing how I felt about this discovery.

Sam didn’t look natural for what our society and culture dictates. I understand that Sams and Samanthas are now out of the closet but my hormones, even at age 65, still desire the tall and handsome; the courageous, patriotic, and faithful men of this world.

Where are the James Bonds, the Supermans, and Captain America? I still love to see the action movie man trounce the villains, get the girl, and come out as the hero . . . without eye liner and lipstick!

I love a macho man!