UNFORGIVENESS

by Danna Shirley

Even as Christians we can hold unforgiveness in our heart. The sad fact is that we know the truth and still will not follow God’s plan for peace.

UNFORGIVENESS . . .

* is like a SCAB being continually picked at over and over again until its infected; never to be healed, never to become new, pink skin, leaving an unsightly scar, which forever is a reminder of the offense.

* is like a MOLDY piece of bread which blackens and crumbles the heart under the weight of it.

* is like a ROTTEN tomato that has been forgotten in the back of the vegetable drawer; only to be retrieved smelly, soggy, and black as it emits its pungent odor of forgottenness.

* is like a BOULDER that has fallen off a cliff and landed on the foot; so heavy it cannot be moved, so painful that relief never comes.

* is like the RANCID smell of death and decay.

This person is to be pitied because the moldy, rotten, heavy, and rancid stench of unforgiveness has taken up residence in their own heart. Their life revolves around forever dwelling on the offence, trying to justify why their unforgiveness is warranted and why they will never give it up, even to the point of death and the grave.  

So how does one convince the unforgiving person there is hope for happiness if they will only release their prey, which sets themselves free as well.  

Consider these questions:  

* Reverse the roles; would they beg to be forgiven and walk in freedom from their sins?"

* Would they bury this debt in order to walk out of the grave and into the light?" 

The ultimate resolution comes from the very mouth of Jesus Christ: 

"For IF you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But IF YOU DO NOT forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins." (Matthew 6:14-15 NIV)

I can understand how some issues of unforgiveness can loom larger than others; i.e. the death of a loved one at the hands of a drunk driver verses stealing $20 from someone’s wallet. However, in God's eyes, sin is sin, He does not review the degrees, for we "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23 NIV)

The only way to satisfy God's verdict is as it would be at any trial; confession, repentance, forgiveness! He looks at each individual on their own merit. He knows their heart even if they don't know it themselves. 

One final question. We will all stand before God and give an account of our life on this earth. When that day arrives, wouldn't you want Him to see your clean hands and pure heart, empty of the dregs of unforgiveness?

SOCCER MOM

by Danna Shirley written about her daughter and granddaughters...

Writing assignment: 
Use the followings words or any form thereof in a story.

Busy     Happy     Sleepy     Diarrhea     Scampered     Corn

How does one settle a blended life . . . work verses family? After earning a Master’s Degree and attaining the top position in a city government agency, how could I then become a stay-at-home mom with two children? The question to be settled now was priorities. What were mine? Being the Director of the Chamber of Commerce or the mother of two beautiful and loving daughters?

The Chamber kept me very busy throughout the day, as well as an occasional night function that required my attendance. I felt I should avail myself of the five years of college and its cost to prove it was worth it and not wasted. The girls deserved the same time and consideration for they would be in my life far longer and beyond any career. I was happy when involved in both but so sleepy and drained at the end of each day. The work kept my mind sharp and challenged in an adult world, but motherhood gave me such love and joy.

When Emma entered Kindergarten and Bella was just two, the extreme struggle between work and family took its toll. Every morning I would commute to the daycare, then work; in the afternoon, back to the daycare, home, cooking, baths, prayers. I was missing out on their everyday lives; little programs at school and field trips to the zoo. Phone calls would inform me that a little boy had pinched Bella and made her bleed; or another child used a marker on Emma’s new dress.

There were also the inevitable contagions that would spread like wildfire through the daycare; diarrhea, vomiting, sore throats, lice, and once there was a piece of corn stuck in Emma’s ear. All too often I was greeted with a crisis at the daycare door as the children scampered to me crying and upset.

My heart swelled with pride not through the job but through the children; when Emma took her first steps and Bella gave me her first smile. I knew my priority had to be to raise these sweet little girls to become loving, caring adults. Anyone could direct the activities of the Chamber but I wanted no one to replace me in the hearts of my children.

My husband and I discussed the possibility of a one-income family and so it was decided; I would quit work and be a stay-at-home mom. I put all of my education and experience into the children and their activities. At their Christian school, I became a room mother, the PTF President, fundraising chairman many times over, helped with numerous events, lunches, and have been an all-around go-to girl for the school and staff. In addition, I drove Mom’s Taxi for morning drop-offs and afternoon pickups at two different campuses, elementary and middle school.  

Eventually I did become the stereotypical Soccer Mom. Not only did my girls play soccer but they also danced, and cheered, ran track, and played baseball; activities in which they could never have participated if I still worked. They wanted to try everything and I was glad to be there through it all . . . the recitals, the practices, the games, the meets, the costumes and uniforms; and definitely was there for the casts (three of them), the ace bandages, and the ice packs.

  My Soccer Mom duties have been a pleasure for all of us. I wouldn’t change my decision for one second and we especially thank my husband and their dad for all his support . . . and checkbook.

RIDING ALONG IN MY AUTOMOBILE

by Danna Shirley

Writing assignment: Sitting on a porch swing; what do you see? I wrote from the perspective of the person driving by and looking at the house with the porch swing…

It was an isolated two-lane road but the country sights were breathtaking. A lush layer of green dominated her color palate; there were fields of crops and cattle, wildflowers, and old country homes. There were also quaint farmhouses with children happily playing outside; a little boy bouncing a ball and an older girl swinging from the limb of a huge oak tree.

Another farm showed a grandmother and daughter sitting on the porch in rockers and other siblings playing with puppies on the grass. It was the end of the day and probably the end of a very hard week.

            Yes, these people might have looked poor by contemporary standards but now she had to ask herself, who exactly was poor? The families along this road or the families who could afford fancy cars, a big house, and all the electronic trappings for their children?

The father spending time outside playing ball with his son or the businessman who could provide everything for his family but was never there to enjoy it with them.

The mother who spent more time shopping with friends than with her own children or the mother sitting on the porch swing with her daughter engaged in girl talk and laughing?

The child who could walk a mile to the country store in safety and pick a fresh apple off a tree along the way or the child who was chauffeured everywhere barely putting his foot on terra firma.

The scales of prejudice were falling from her eyes and for the first time she questioned, who exactly was underprivileged? It just might not be southerners. She was mesmerized by these thoughts as she gazed wide-eyed at a lifestyle she had never even imagined. Even though these country folks seemed to be years behind her own existence in New York, they were probably happier than any frenzied family she knew in the rat race up north. They weren’t stressed over deadlines or production quotas, sales meetings or client dinners, and she was slowly beginning not to care about them herself.

She began to wonder how a city girl might fit in down here? Or maybe the question to ask was, how would she ever be happy back in New York after experiencing the Eden of Alabama? No problem. She wouldn’t even try. Alabama was now home for her.