FRANTIC

© 2012 by Danna

I was frantic. Susan told me to find some ‘jingle jangles’ for the club meeting. What the heck did she mean by ‘jingle jangles?’ The only thing I could think of were those Mardi Gras beads that people throw off the floats down in New Orleans. Why did we need beads for the club meeting anyway? Were we going to do some arts and crafts?

I hurried down town to my little two block business district and hit the Trash and Treasures. “Hi, Wilma. Do you have any Mardi Gras beads?

“Mardi Gras was last week. I doubt it but you can look around.”

I walked through all the clutter that a good flea market would collect, dust and all, but nothing that jingled or jangled. I walked out their back door, across the shared parking lot to the local grocery, and in through the back door. Everything was strange. I could smell new carpet and paint and . . . hey, where did that wall come from? Something was very wrong.

“Scotty, what’s up with this wall?” I asked a dimly lit room.

A very confused man in a business suit answered, “We’re not open yet. How did you get in here?”

“Through the back door as usual.”

 He stood and ushered me to the front door. “We’ll be open Monday. Come back then.”

 “But who are you?”

 He handed me his business card. It read, Joe Johnson, Atty

“What happened to Scotty?” I asked. He just smiled and shut the door. I heard him lock it behind me.

Now what? I started walking and asked the first person I saw if I could borrow their car to go find some Mardi Gras beads. The club meeting would start at three o’clock and time was running out. I drove downtown Oakland. Where do I begin? Oakland is a vast sea of hills punctuated with tall buildings and very little parking.

Before I took another step I decided I would call Susan and make absolutely sure what she meant by ‘jingle jangles.’ Of course I didn’t have her phone number so I thought I would stop by my old office building and look it up. I parked in one of those parking garages that’s ten stories high and had to walk a few blocks.

Now what? Where was my old office? I peeked in and asked the gal at the front desk, “Where is Visitor Control?”

A nice young . . . very young . . . how old was I now? . . . Ugh . . . answered, “They moved.”

“Where to?”

“You can’t get there from here.”

“What!”

“May I help you?” she f-i-n-a-l-l-y offered.

“Can I borrow your phone book?”

She handed over a very thick, very heavy yellow book and I began flipping through pages. Susan? What was her last name again? Hammond? No. Harmon? No. Hamner? Yes, that’s it. Hamner! I found the H’s. The print was so small. I must get new glasses soon, I thought.

H-a, H-a-c, H-a-i . . . “WHAT?” I blurted out. “Continued in next book . . .” 

I looked up and little miss office efficiency was staring at me. I wanted to throw the book at her! I found my composure, though, and smiled. “Sorry, I just realized they won’t have her cell phone listed in here anyway.”

Now what? I looked at my watch. It was already three-thirty. I might as well go home. I turned around in a dark hallway and panic gripped me. Where did I park?  I don’t remember where I parked!!!

Did I come up this hallway from that direction? Or maybe it was down that way? Think, Danna . . . think! I walked through the automatic doors. What was this street? Now was I on the south side or the north side of the building? South! So I must have parked on the north side? I walked down the block and turned the corner. It was all uphill. Did I walk downhill from the parking garage? Oh, God, help me. I can’t remember. Everything was so familiar when I arrived and now it was a foggy mess.

Alright. I’ll start walking. Something will look familiar soon. Oh, my hips hurt. I should have stayed in better shape.

A hoard of teenagers in school uniforms with backpacks rushed by me. I stopped one of the girls and asked, “Where did I park?”

She gave me this curious but sympathetic look. “What does it look like?”

“What does what look like?”

“Your car. What kind of car do you have?”

“I don’t remember. It was borrowed.” A rush of heat and adrenalin went through me. I was FRANTIC!

School children continued to flow down the hill as I trudged upward. It was getting dark. Where are those ‘jingle jangles’ anyway? I’ve lost my purse. Where are those car keys?

I heard something. Petey was shaking himself awake and his collar was jingling jangling. I turned over to pet his soft, curly, white hair.

It was six-thirty in the morning. Time to get up and get ready for Writing Class.

Sidenote:

1. We had just discussed Mardi Gras in writing class two weeks earlier, hence the beads.
2. Scott’s family owned a grocery store in MS when we lived there and my daughter dated him a few times.
3. Across the parking lot from the grocery was a little junk shop.
4. I don’t know how I got from MS to Oakland, CA but I lived there when I first married in 1968.
5. My first job was in Visitor Control in the Security Division of the Atomic Energy Commission (now the Dept of Energy) in Berkeley, CA.
6. I went to school with Susan from kindergarten through high school. 
7. My granddaughter wears a uniform to school every day and hates it.
8. Petey sleeps in his little bed on top of my bed every night. When he wakes, he stretches and shakes his body and his ID jingles against his collar.

DREAMS ARE STRANGE, AREN'T THEY?
SO TRUE!

Divine Appointment ~River Walk, San Antonio

© 2012 by Danna

            I made two wonderful friends in Japan . . . Dot (now living in Florida) and Hope (now in Texas). Having not seen one another for a few years, we made plans for Dot to meet me in Mississippi and then she and I drove to San Antonio (May 2004) to stay with Hope. We were going to have a girl’s weekend to catch up on our lives.

            Our first plan was to spend the day together sightseeing on the River Walk. As we were walking from the parking lot downtown, a lady fell in step behind us and asked if we knew which way to the river. We told her we were going in that direction and asked her to join us. Her name was Kathy.

            We all enjoyed the boat ride through the River Walk of shops and offices under the shade of beautiful trees, flowers, and vegetation. Everything we wanted to do was within walking distance so our next stop, which was lunch at the famous Fuddruckers, where attendants serve grilled burgers made from freshly ground beef, turkey, salmon, and even ostrich! Lunch was taken up with conversation about what God had been doing in our lives since we had last been together in Japan. It was obvious that the subject was a little foreign to Kathy. She was quiet but interested as we drew her in with our get-acquainted questions and reminiscences of our wonderful friendship.

            We left lunch fat and totally happy and walked down the block and around the corner toward The Alamo. It was smaller than I had imagined and unusually cool inside considering the heat of the San Antonio summer.  There was a lot of history and artifacts to peruse but what impressed me most was the rifle, “Old Betsy,” that Fess Parker had used in his portrayal of Davy Crockett. He had just donated it to The Alamo a few years earlier. I grew up watching “Davy Crockett” and “Daniel Boone” and I loved Fess Parker.

            The last stop of the day was a Mexican souvenir market. Since I am no shopper, (I can only do about one hour and then I’m done), Kathy and I sat down to rest inside the entrance. Dot and Hope continued to walk the path of small shops looking for bargains. Kathy told me she was Catholic and asked many questions about heaven. I answered what I could as I didn’t have a Catholic background. Just as I was beginning to come to the end of my knowledge, Hope (a former Catholic herself) appeared beside me. I motioned for her to take my place on the bench and said, “You’re up!” While I made my rounds through the marketplace, Hope gave Kathy “the rest of the story.”

            Totally exhausted, we all left the market and made our way back to the parking lot. Kathy said she had a few more places she wished to see.  Before we parted, we were able to pray with her and assured her that the day was no accident but had been orchestrated by God for her benefit. I planted, Hope watered, but it is God who gives the increase. This is as it should be, God is in control . . . but we must not ignore His divine appointments!

“So then neither he who plants is anything, nor he who waters,

but God who gives the increase.”  (1 Corinthians 3:7)

Sidenote:

Old Betsy - In American history, "Old Betsy" was the nickname of Davy Crockett's frontier rifle. On an early WALT DISNEY PRESENTS episode "Davy Crockett Goes to Congress" (1/26/55) Fess Parker as Davy Crockett received a rifle from the City of Brotherly Love. Davy thanked the citizens of Philadelphia with the following speech:  "This here's the most beautiful

rifle gun I ever hope to see. I like a good gun for it makes a man feel independent and prepared for peace of war. I just don’t know how to thank you enough. Such a pretty little lady I think I'll give her a name. Betsy, suit you folks?"  I'll always treasure this here testimony of your friendship. With a gun like this a man could put a rifle ball to the moon. First chance I get I'm gonna try."

            Davy later died fighting with Betsy at the Alamo on the episode "Davy Crockett at the Alamo" (2/23/55). The song "Old Betsy" (about Davy's rifle) was recorded by Fess Parker and the Sons of the Pioneers for RCA Children's Bluebird Records.

  

The Ballad of Davy Crockett

Born on a mountain top in Tennessee

            Greenest state in the Land of the Free
Raised in the woods so he knew ev’ry tree
Kilt him a b'ar when he was only three.
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!

Off through the woods he's a marchin’ along
Makin’ up yarns an’ a singin’ a song
Itchin’ for fightin’ an’ rightin’ a wrong
Grizzley as a b’ar an twice as strong.
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!

His land is biggest an’ his land is best
From grassy plains to the mountain crest
He’s ahead of us all meetin’ the test
Followin’ his legend into the West.
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!

Tom Blackburn and George Bruns

(The Bill Hayes hit version had 20 verses.)

Angels Unawares

© 2012 by Danna

“Do not forget to entertain strangers,

for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

(Hebrews 13:2)

     God knows our path . . . where it begins, where it winds and travels, up mountains and down valleys, through sunny days and dreary, to the destination He has planned.             
     He gives us “opportunities” along the way. Opportunities to share our lives with others . . . a shoulder to cry on, a strong arm to lean against, a hand to hold, words of comfort and encouragement to speak; a friendly smile to give, or just a prayer to lift up to Him.   

     It depends on the opportunity into which God has positioned us. We may not necessarily be in a particular place for ourselves but God may have put us there for someone else. Sometimes we need an angel and sometimes we are the angel. Whatever our need may be at the time, God has everything under control and He uses us for His glory.

     Pay attention . . . nothing is impossible for God.  

MARY'S LITTLE LAMB

© 2012 by Danna Shirley, Writing assignment

I belong to a sweet little girl named Mary. I love to be with her because she takes good care of me, keeping my fleece as white as snow. That’s a hard job, too, because lambs can get pretty dirty. We play together every day frolicking in the grass and playing hide and seek.

One day Mary was gone all day long. I couldn’t find her anywhere.  I looked behind the big oak tree.  I looked in the barn. I looked in the meadow. I looked and looked until I was so tired.  Then I decided to wait for her near the steps going into the house. I waited and waited until I finally fell asleep. 

It seemed like only a little time passed when I felt someone stroking my nose. I opened my eyes to see Mary’s face smiling down on me. I was so happy to see her.  She told me she missed me but she had to go to school. We played and played until it was time for her to go inside for her supper. 

The next morning she walked down the lane and out to the big road where I am not allowed to go…but everywhere Mary went, I wanted to go, too. So I followed her to school but I stayed way behind so she wouldn’t see me. 

Pretty soon we came upon a big building sitting in the middle of a huge fenced yard. “So this is school!” I thought. There were lots of children playing inside the fence and I wanted to play, too, but I thought I better stay out of sight. Then a loud bell rang and all the children went inside. I settled down under the shade of a big tree to wait for Mary and took a nap. 

Another bell woke me and I saw the children streaming out of the building and begin to play. I spotted Mary near the fence so I scampered over to her and bleeped “Hello.” She was surprised and pleased to see me. All of her friends gathered around and I jumped and kicked and laughed and played with them.

“Uh, oh,” someone whispered. “Here comes the teacher.” 

I didn’t know it was against the rules for me to be there until the teacher turned me out and told me to go home. I wasn’t going anywhere without Mary so I lingered near the big tree out of sight.

Another bell rang and I saw Mary bounding out the door, across the playground, and through the fence straight to me. We were so happy to see each other. This time we walked side by side all the way home.  

Short story for Creative Writing Class at Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN

SUMMER DAZE

© 2012 by Danna Shirley

Short story for Creative Writing Class at Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN

            Jimmy Patterson, Rocky Barnett, and Taylor Watson sat silently on the porch of the Patterson Market.  Jimmy’s dad was always good about letting them help out with sweeping and stocking the shelves to earn extra money but today all was silent.  Mr. Patterson had sold the market and had bought a bigger grocery store forty miles away.  They would be moving in two weeks.  This was the boys last summer together as the ‘three musketeers.’ 

            Jimmy’s dad was inside talking to the new owner, Mr. Pierce.  He had told the boys to find something else to do because he was signing the papers and turning over the keys today.

            The screen door squeaked open and Ben, the delivery boy, exited with his arms full of groceries.  Ben was sixteen and a good driver so Mr. Patterson let him use the delivery wagon.  Sometimes he would let the boys ride with him.  But not today.  Today everyone was walking in a daze.  Sadness hung heavy over them all.  Ben didn’t say a word as he passed the three boys and got into the truck.  He drove off slowly as if that would delay the inevitable.      

            “Look at that big fancy convertible,” Rocky commented moments later, as he stared at Mr. Pierce’s car.  “He must be rich.  And I bet he ups the price on all the candy and toys, too.  That’s why he’s so rich!”

            “Nah, I don’t think so,” Taylor said, “do you, Jimmy?  Do ya think he’ll up the prices on us?”

            “I don’t know.  Let’s quit talkin’ ’bout it, OK?  Let’s just go fishin’.”

            They all stood and walked behind the market to retrieve their fishing gear.  Jimmy popped his head in the back door and told his dad where they were going.  They slowly walked the gravel road dragging their feet and kicking rocks here and there as they headed for Everson’s Creek.

            A half a mile later they were sitting on the bank with their lines in the water.  A big oak tree shaded them from the sweltering heat of the August sun.  Any other time they would be taking a cool dip in their skivvies.  But not today.  Today they were numb.

            “You reckon we’ll ever see each other again?” Rocky asked. 

            “Forty miles ain’t that far.  Is it, Jimmy?” Taylor added.

            “I don’t know.  I don’t think we could walk it.”

            “Maybe we could ride our bikes and meet up half way.”  Rocky said hopefully.

            “Let’s face it,” Jimmy blurted out, “it ain’t gonna happen.  My dad’ll have no reason to ever come back here again.”

            “I guess we kin write each other, cain’t we?” Rocky asked.  “It don’t cost much to write a letter.”

            “No, but its not like seein’ each other, or goin’ fishin’, or going swimmin’.  It won’t never be the same again.”

            The three friends lay back quietly against the dry ground.  No one said a word; no one got a nibble.  After a few more minutes Jimmy sat up and reeled in his line.

            “Come on, let’s go,” he said.  “I’m tired a thinking so much.

            Soon they were in sight of the market but something was out of place.  Something was not as expected.  Something was as it should have been.  Mr. Pierce’s convertible was gone and Mr. Patterson’s pickup truck was still parked out front.  The boys took off running and practically tore the screen door off its hinges as they entered the store.

            “Dad, dad,” Jimmy yelled.  “How come you’re still here?  Shouldn’t you be at home by now?”

            Mr. Patterson came out from behind the counter and put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder.  “No, son,” he grinned, “I’ve decided not to sell.  Patterson’s Market is still going to be Patterson’s Market.  With a little help from a store manager, I can probably run both markets right from here.  Is that okay with you?”

            Jimmy didn’t have to answer.  His dad saw happiness written all over him as he hugged his thick waist.  The three boys grabbed arms and jumped up and down as they turned in a circle.

            “Let’s go fishin’, guys,” Jimmy yelled, and they headed back down the dusty road to the creek.  This time jumping and hollering and laughing all the way.

The Diamond Bracelet

 © 2012 by Danna

Writing Assignment in Creative Writing

She sat down in her favorite chair and reflected on the night before while self-talk permeated her thoughts.

Eleanor was her light blue, tufted, comfort zone. The whole atmosphere of this corner of the world was her escape. She got lost surrounded by her books, comforted by her mother’s afghan, and protected by the shade tree outside the window. She reached for another Fig Newton from the half-eaten box and sipped on her warm, soothing chamomile tea. Life was perfect sitting in Eleanor.

Then it began. The self-talk was destroying her peace and anxiety was gripping her chest like a vice. The events of the previous evening rambled wildly through her mind. She and Randall had attended a fundraiser for the local library and were dressed in their best finery. He looked magnificent in his tux and she wore her silks and satins. She was Cinderella dressed for the ball, before and after midnight. But instead of losing her slipper, her diamond earring was missing. Randall was getting ready for bed when she discovered the loss and retreated to the car in hot pursuit. While searching for her earring, though, she found a diamond bracelet in the back of the car. It was hidden away intending never to be discovered.

She brought the afghan tighter around her shoulders and tucked her knees up closer to her chin. Anxiety was quickly replaced by dread. Her self-talk rushed through her thoughts just as out-of-control as any destructive hurricane.

He had worked late a few nights. He had a few overnight business trips. He had been very distracted lately. Oh, how could he do such a thing? Twenty-five years of marriage gone. What would the children say?

The day dragged on. She never left Eleanor; never got dressed. She ate every bite of the Fig Newtons. Pity is an ugly picture indeed. Late in the day she came to this conclusion—I’ll never cook another meal, I’ll never wash another shirt, I’ll never give another kiss to that man. She shut her eyes in despair and rested her head against Eleanor.

She heard his sweet, soft voice against her ear and was warmed by his closeness. Was she dreaming?

“Trudy. Wake up, honey.”

She opened her eyes, forgetting all the agony of the day. He was kneeling before her with something in his hand.

“Sweetie, I know I’ve been neglecting you lately and I want to make it up to you. Get dressed, we’re going out on the town.” He handed her a black velvet box.

She smiled and lunged for his neck, planting kisses all over his face. How could she have ever doubted her man?

       

Moral of the story:

Don’t listen to self-talk. We tend to exaggerate our understanding of the situation.     

Short story for Creative Writing Class at Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN 

SPA DAY

© 2012 by Danna

Short story for Creative Writing Class at Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN

            I awoke Friday morning utterly exhausted.  It was my first night in a month to have a full six hours sleep but I couldn’t tell that I was rested at all.  My shoulders were still tight and I could barely put one foot in front of another as I made my way to the bathroom and flipped on the light.  I leaned closer to the mirror and examined the wrinkles in my face and the droopy eyelids over bloodshot eyes.  What had happened to that fresh, young reporter straight out of college?  The years were catching up with me—no, the years had overtaken me and now, instead of climbing that ladder of success, I was going downhill fast.  After twenty years of covering police calls and interviewing victims of tragedy, from the minor fender-bender to the major homicide, I decided that I deserved a day off. 

            I went back to bed and flopped my head on the pillow.  My cell was almost like an extension of my hand, always charged.  I never had to search for it; it was instinctively at my fingertips.  I flipped it open and hit #1 on my speed dial.

            “Yeah.” My boss’ reply was immediate.  He, too, was in constant communication with his staff.

            “I’m taking the day off.”

            “On a Friday?” he snapped.  “What’s going on?”

            “I’m just worn out.  Can’t I take a day off?”

            “I warned you if you tried to cover every story that came along, you would run yourself into the ground.”

            He was right—I had moved from the speed of a hare to the crawl of a slug and if I didn’t remedy the situation soon, I would be stepped on by anyone who had had a good night’s sleep. 

            “Yes, I know,” I answered.  “My mind and body are shutting down.”

            “But why today?  You know how the natives gear up for the weekend.”

            “If I don’t get a day off, I will be one of the victims covered on the front page.  Now let me g-o!” I moaned.

            “Well, take whatever time you need,” he said reluctantly, “but I hope ‘the big one’ happens today and you miss it.”

            “I’ll take my chances.”

            Ah, sweet relief.  I turned over on the pillow and shut my eyes once again.  It was short-lived.  I laid there for what seemed like an hour.  Why couldn’t I fall back to sleep?  I picked up my cell phone.  The time had only moved ahead twenty minutes.  Is this what a day off feels like?  I thought to myself.  I sat up on the side of the bed and stared at my dresser.  What to do?  What to do?  I should have planned this day better. 

            I reached for the phone book and started flipping through the yellow pages.  Acupuncture?  No!  Aircraft Charter?  No!  Archery?  No!  Beauty Salon/Spa?  Hey, maybe that’s what I needed.  A sauna and massage.  I could already feel my shoulders relaxing.  The ad read, ‘Walk-Ins Welcome, Hours—9:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.’  I could shower, eat breakfast, and be waiting at their front door by 8:59 and 30 seconds.

            The spa was located in a strip mall just thirty minutes away.  It was sandwiched between a barber shop and a vitamin store.  Like minds traveled together.  Every shop seemed to be geared to personal grooming and healthcare.  Just what this old body needed.

            I stood in front of an inviting picture window decorated with all the frills and lace that a spa usually used to entice its patrons.  Like a child in front of a candy store, I stared inside to see shelves of candles and aromatherapy, brushes and manicure sets, body lotions and body wash, and every product that is meant to keep the skin soft and satiny.  I could see movement inside, then bright lights startled me as the spa came to life.  An attractive receptionist smiled and unlocked the door.

            “Good morning, I’m Jackie.  May I help you?”

            “Yes, I’m  Marion.”  I followed her inside.  “What openings do you have today?”

            “Well, you’re in luck.  We had a cancellation last night. We can do a manicure, pedicure, facial, sauna, massage; anything and everything you want.

            “What, no lunch?” I asked jokingly.

            “What would you like?” she smiled back realizing she caught me off guard.

            “I want everything you have to offer and surprise me on the lunch.”

            After all the check-in and scheduling was satisfied, she led me through a pleasant waiting area and into a room with a massage table.  It was warm and dark with soothing music playing softly.

            “Janet will be with you shortly.  Please remove everything but your underwear and lay face down under this sheet.”  She placed it on the bed and smiled with a wink as she closed the door.

            I undressed and buried my face into the open cushion.  I already felt the pampered attention setting in and I loved it.  I had almost drifted off to sleep when I heard the door open and a perfumed body come closer.

            “Hello,  Marion.  I’m Janet, your masseuse.  What areas need focused attention today?”

            “Actually, I need a full body makeover but you can concentrate on the neck and shoulders.  I don’t sleep well at night.”

            She placed her fingers gently and began to rub.  “Your shoulders are like bricks.  This may take awhile.”

            “I have as long as it takes,” I told her.  “I’m here for the duration.”  I must have dozed off because she had to wake me to turn over.  I was already feeling sweet relief in my bones.

            One hour later I was hustled into my next room for a facial.  Brianna worked magic as she moved her fingers over my face and explained the need to stimulate my skin’s blood supply.  Unfortunately, she also explained my skin problems, which will go unmentioned at this time.

            Feeling absolutely spoiled and almost woozy with relaxation, Jackie now entered to take me to my next location—a private dining room.  Soothing music was playing as I entered.  A red velvet fainting couch was against the wall and there were several magazines from which to choose.  A small table with two chairs and a lace cloth displayed finger sandwiches and fresh fruit.  An aroma candle was burning and the lighting was dim.

            “Trudy will be with you shortly,” she smiled delightfully and disappeared.

            I decided to ‘swoon’ on the fainting couch since I had never tried one before.  I picked up a magazine and flipped through it not really interested in anything in particular.  The recline of the couch quickly sent me off to sleep.

            “Marion? Marion?” Someone whispered in my ear.

            I opened my eyes and saw the faint outline of a woman.  I was still too groggy and disoriented to sit up. 

            “Would you like to eat now or continue with your nap?” she asked.

            “I’ll eat now,” I replied.

            “We have an assortment of teas and spring water.”

            “Surprise me,” I said.  Spa day could become a habit.  I sat up, stretched, and rubbed my eyes.  Could I ever get back behind my desk again?  I wondered.

            Trudy returned shortly with three varieties of tea and one water.  I sat down at the table and filled my plate with little sandwiches on a variety of breads and scooped up an assortment of melons, grapes, strawberries, and apples.  All of this was daintier than I was used to considering I usually ate on the run.

            Thirty minutes later Jackie entered again.  “Are you ready for your manicure?  I have Penny waiting for you.”

            I followed her into a large room with several manicurists waiting on other customers.  Jackie led me to Penny’s station and I sat down.

            “Hello,” she greeted with a smile.  “It’s nice to have you with us today.  I’ll just warm up this water for you to soak while you choose a color.”

            Penny was the talker and knew I was a captive audience; unlike Janet, Breanna, and Trudy who let me relax and soak up the atmosphere. She asked the usual get-acquainted questions but quickly focused on herself, her husband, her children, her thoughts, desires, ambitions, and the rising cost of gasoline.  She was an expert on my nails but I couldn't take the conversation much longer.  She finally announced she was through and I left a tip on the table as I had done for the others.

            Jackie came to retrieve me one last time and led me to the checkout desk.  “How did you like your experience with us today, Marion?” she asked.

            “It was great; what’s the damage?” I now looked at my watch for the first time since I had arrived.  It was one o’clock and I had been at the spa four hours.  I never would have believed that someone could spend that much time on personal care.  I paid the bill and walked out to my car.  Where could I go now?  Nothing seemed appropriate after the special treatment I had just received.  I hated to return to my pace of life on the highways and byways of the city.  But I did think of something I wanted to do. 

            I returned to the office and sat down at my desk.  The computer came to life and I began to type, A Day at the Spa by Marion "Butch" Madison.

A Question of Life

© 2012 by Danna

          When abortion was declared “legal” by the United States Supreme Court on January 22, 1973 mankind’s whole view of life changed, not only in this country, but in the entire world.  This country’s outlook on life over the last thirty years has influenced life issues in many countries. Our human nature to keep life sacred has all but been destroyed, or at the very least is on life support. All the facts about abortion have been made known and every argument from every angle has been made by both sides. Every factual question can now be answered through research so the only question left to ask is now the moral one.

“You formed my inmost being; You knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise You, so wonderfully You made me; wonderful are Your works! My very self You knew; my bones were not hidden from You, when I was being made in secret, fashioned as in the depths of the earth. Your eyes foresaw my actions; in Your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be. How precious to me are Your designs, O God; how vast the sum of them! ” (Psalm 139:13-17) – Holy Scriptures

          Advanced technology confirms the precious life that is brought before our very eyes. Through ultrasound photography we can see the heart beating, the hand waving, the thumb being sucked. We can see the child hiccupping and responding to touch. There is no argument that can be made against this life being human and every child is a wanted child by someone.

“Life is present from the moment of conception.” – Dr. Jerome Lejeune, professor and world renowned geneticist, University of Descarte, Paris.

          We are fearfully and wonderfully made by God and God doesn’t make mistakes. Although there are people in the world that may not be exactly perfect, by whose standard is perfection measured. What constitutes perfect? Must one have blond hair and blue eyes? Maybe clear skin with no freckles or curly hair instead of thin and straight? Maybe one should have been born male instead of female or African-American instead of Caucasian? If so, I would have been aborted for all of these . . . or for the lack of them.

          If perfection applies to the pre-born in the womb, then why shouldn’t we also apply it to those already born? Maybe we should terminate those with high blood pressure or diabetes? how about heart disease or cancer? or having an ingrown toenail!

          “Thou shalt not murder.”  (Exodus 20:13) – Holy Scriptures

          Only God can play God. He knows the end from the beginning and He does not put on us more than we can bear, as the parent or as the child. He works everything together for our good . . . even if we don’t think so. 

“A person’s a person, no matter how small!” – Dr. Seuss. from “Horton Hears a Who”

http://www.prolifeamerica.com/4d-ultrasound-pictures/