Category Archives: story

Sometimes dad is just a word

I look at my beautiful, grown, college attending daughter and I can scarcely believe that she is mine.  A blessing she is, with a big and seeking heart, brains and a musical talent that I can say, without reservations, she did not get from me.  Her life, in the grand scheme of things, is just beginning and she is on the cusp of adulthood.  But her journey to get here wasn’t an easy one.  She has faced many obstacles in her short time on earth, each one causing what could have been life-shattering circumstances.  But, like the Phoenix, she continued to rise above that which threatened to consume her.  When she was only four, her dad walked out and never looked back.  She was a senior in high school when she next heard from him.  To his credit, he came to her high school graduation, but that is a small consolation when considering all he has missed, and inconsequential in the formation of the astounding person she has become.

As often happens with people, especially children, when they haven’t seen someone in a very long time, she was expecting something amazing.  I guess in her mind, he would still be young, strong and the daddy she so adored.  Instead, she found an older man who was a complete stranger to her.  There was nothing to talk about.  There were no birthdays to reminisce about, no past Christmases to remember and no bond between father and daughter to hold them together. They had nothing, other than blood, to connect them.  While she tried to make small talk and get to know this stranger, the years between the last time she saw him and the present became a chasm that was too wide to cross.  If there had been a desire to cross it, it could have been navigated, but that desire to reconcile must work both ways.  Sometimes, all you can do is let it go.

It is impossible to write this post without thinking of my own dad.  He who worked his whole life just so myself, my sister and my mom could have a better life.  There were summer vacations, surprise Christmas presents, Sunday mornings in church, trips to the lake, rides on the boat, love and punishment meted out fairly and the knowledge that this wonderful, strong man would be there, no matter what.  He didn’t stop there, though.  He became a surrogate father to my girl, giving her the male influence that she otherwise would have not had.  He cheered her on and supported her, grinning just as big as the rest of us at every accomplishment.

When I look at my dad now, surrounded by his grandchildren that bring him immeasurable joy, I think how different life would have been if he had not been such a integral part of it.  My heart goes out to children all of the world who have had to grow up in a fatherless home with the weight of the knowledge that he isn’t there because they just weren’t enough to make him want to stay.  Some of them will overcome the obstacles and others will join the ranks of addicts, criminals and the overwhelmingly confused.  I am one of the lucky ones and I thank God that I had a father who stuck around even though there were likely times when all he wanted to do was run away.  Seeing what I see and knowing what I know, I congratulate and encourage dads everywhere who stick around because their kids are worth it.  I can promise, based on my own experiences and those I watched my baby go through, it may be hard but in the end, it will absolutely be worth it.

The biological father of my daughter wasn’t, when all was said and done, a bad person, but he was, without doubt, a bad father.  He’s not the only one and he certainly won’t be the last one.  It just goes to show that sometimes, dad is just a word.

Through the Eyes (and the nerve) of the Spirit

A spirit of fear… something I am very familiar with.  Although God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear, I made my own.  From a very young age, my earliest memories, as a matter of fact, have me running from something.  If it jumped, hopped, mooed, flew, chirped, slithered, creaked, groaned or growled, chances are, I was running, screaming at the top of my lungs in fear that whatever it was would get me.  Now, only a few of the things were really something to fear.  For example, the time the hogs chased me down the hill… that was a fearful moment that was legitimate. My mom and mamaw always kept one ear open for my shrieks of terror for they were many… and they would always come running to save me from whatever it was that had sent me into spasms that time.  This fear followed me through my childhood, teenage years and right on up into my adult life.  I have nearly cracked glass many times as the objects of my fear, real or imagined, manifested in my life.  Once I delved full speed into photography, some of the fears were faced through the zoom lens of my camera.  It became apparent quite quickly that if I wanted the good shots, I had to get closer.  And my need and desire to photograph nature went a long way to helping me overcome fear of things like grasshoppers, caterpillars and bees.  Over time, I got closer to frogs and even managed to get within several feet of snakes.  Spiders, well, there is really little to say.  Terrified doesn’t even begin to cover it and I doubt that will ever change.  I remember the big garden spider with the amazing web that I photographed a few  years ago.  I was looking at it through a zoom lens and was several feet away from it.  When I focused that creature, I actually felt sick, so I feel it is safe to say that once an arachnophobe, always an arachnophobe.  But I digress… a few months ago, I made a conscious decision that I was not going to be such a baby about everything.  That decision was challenged when my zoom lens was broken and I had to practically get in the pond with the frogs to get the good shot, but I prayed fervently that they wouldn’t jump on me and God was faithful and kept them preoccupied with each other and they didn’t jump… at least not on me.  But today was my crowning achievement.  I was in the cornfield, chopping out weeds, mom and I talking and having as much fun as you can have when you’re doing hard manual labor in the burning heat.  Dad was nearby working on some piece of equipment or other and talking with one of his friends.  I turned to say something to mom and there, slithering across the field, was a black snake.  A pretty big one, likely four feet or a little better.  It was heading toward the house and I stepped closer to get a better look.  My spirit of fear, which would usually kick in and have me running in the opposite direction, did not show it’s face.  Dad told me to be careful, that it would bite, and with same breath to not let the dogs get it. I walked up to that snake, picked it up behind its head and held it.  It wrapped itself around my arm, tongue flicking out and eyes beady, but I just looked at it.  I had a good grip on it just behind it’s head and I had no fear.  I was so thankful for that moment.  It was, and will continue to be, a turning point in my life.  God used this snake to show me that my fear did not have to control me.  I carried the snake, still wrapped around my arm, to the edge of the field and tossed it across the creek so it could slither elsewhere.  Now while I don’t plan on becoming a snake charmer anytime in the near future, I feel empowered, nearly high from the accomplishment.I went back to chopping the weeds and heard my dad, who has saved me from many critters, say to his friend “I would have bet $500 she wouldn’t have done that”.  I told mom what he said and she said “Phhht… I would have bet the farm.”  This has been a good day, one filled with hard work, serious sweat and jumping a hurdle that even I didn’t know I could jump.  At this point, I don’t think there is anything I can’t do… well, unless it has to do with a spider.  God didn’t give me a spirit of fear… I brought it on myself and am well on my way to overcoming it.  Since I am the photographer in the family, no one can document this on film, but three witnesses should be as good as a photograph.

Cinderella, dressed in yellow, went upstairs to kiss her fellow…
Made a mistake and kissed a snake, how many doctors did it take?

Just a short walk

Earlier tonight, i commented on a post by Janet… she had told of helping her older neighbors by walking their dog… that’s all i know about the entire thing, but it planted a seed in my head and the words just tumbled out, almost faster than I could write them… and my Father showed me a morning with my dad, when he was older and more feeble… anyone who knows him will recognize him… and anyone who doesn’t know him personally will recognize him… because his generation is everywhere…  we just usually choose not to see it… Father, help me treat others as I want my parents to be treated… with love and compassion, help and healing, conversation and company… let me serve you, LORD…. Anyway, without the Holy Spirit, my words alone cant possibly do it justice, so, if you’re willing, whether you believe in it or not, try to see it through the eyes of the spirit… here goes…
The wind rattled his bones just as hard as it rattled the windows, the shingles, the siding and the half-broken porch swing, dangling by one chain, that he just wasn’t able to fix.  Not thinking about the things he could no longer do… at least trying not to think about them, he took a deep breath and began the process of getting out of bed.  What, once upon a few decades ago, would have been quick and easy was now slow and painful.  He had tried looking at getting up in the morning like yanking off a bandage… quick and painful, but over soon… well, it wasn’t quick, but it was painful… and the soreness lasted for three days… so he’d stuck to slow and easy so he could get downstairs to breakfast.  He looked at his wife, still sleeping, and thought of how different it used to be… how more able he was to protect her and take care of her… of course that didn’t diminish his love and devotion to her… she was a strong and steady force in his life and he knew he didn’t want to live without her and selfishly, yet shamelessly, prayed, as he had ever since he laid eyes on her,  that he would go first…  he shook his head, a habit he’d picked up along the way, and took his first unsteady steps of the morning and went in the direction of the bathroom to wash his face and stuff before he went downstairs for the day.  He thought of the bathroom downstairs by the kitchen and remembered toying with the idea of expanding it into a full size bath.. of thinking how convenient it would be… he went back down the hall, passing his bedroom on the way and noticed that she had turned over… knowing she would be up soon and looking for some coffee, he made his way down the stairs, looking out over the foggy meadow toward the road… beautiful, he thought… he moved into the kitchen, glancing, as he put the kettle on to heat, toward the tiny, useless bathroom… but that was a long time ago and he couldn’t do it now even if he still wanted to… and that galled him some, still.  That, even though he does want to, he wants to very badly, he can’t…  he stirred cream into his coffee, then looked toward the stairs to make sure Flo wasn’t there, then put extra.. he sipped and sighed, then went back to his thoughts… he can’t expand the bathroom, he can’t fix the roof, he can’t mow the yard, he can’t drive… he can barely walk, even on level ground… sometimes, where his garden used to grow, he stands and gazes toward the mountain… longing to walk a ways so he can feel the breath of the wind on his face that he can’t get here on this flat ground… shaking his head,  he turned toward the east window and watched the day burst open… nothing he can do with it now anyway… he’s just too old… he feels the depression, always just a breath away, threatening to swallow him if he’ll just give in… but give in?  no way…  he’ll be there as long as his time lasts.. and when he’s done, he’ll go to Heaven… he’s never doubted that… no, he murmurs to himself, he’d never doubted that, but he also hadn’t looked ahead to reality… to becoming feeble… he just wished he were stronger… like in the old days…  But, there was trouble in the days of strength, as there is with anytime… and as he stood in the kitchen with the light of the sunrise pouring into the window, he realized that, though his body is weaker, his mind, his heart and his spirit are stronger than ever… He nods at the day and walks through the house toward the front door.  He heard the first bang of the hammer as he opened the screened door and walked onto the porch…  he heard the footsteps overhead as his roof was repaired before winter… he wasn’t able and he wasn’t rich… and God, faithful God, had, as always, provided… He thanked Him for the young men who lived nearby and had offered to do some work around the house… they were photographers and were willing to trade mountain time for hard labor… to help him and his wife  It was, he realized as he listened to the good-natured banter of youth, a good day to walk… just a little ways… into the mountain… he yanked on the new chain on the porch swing, now hanging sturdy and straight,as he opened the screened door then went back in the kitchen, fixed two cups of coffee, both with just a touch of cream, and creaked his way back up the stairs to see if his wife was up to a walk…  just a short walk, of course…

How Great Is our God – a true story

Have you ever heard a story over and over through the years and realized one day that you hadn’t really heard the story at all and had no clue what may or may not have happened.  Well, as of today, I have.  There is a story that has been told in my family for many years about a woman who was caught in a flash flood.  I guess all the recent rain and flooding brought it up…  The way I understood it  was that there was this woman who was caught in a flash flood, grabbed her kid, jumped out of the car and ran to a neighbor’s house, just as the car was washed away.  My WHOLE life, I have thought this to be the WHOLE story.  A little scary, but nothing to get goosebumps over.  At least not until tonight.  I was talking to mom on the phone and after exclaiming over the rain and puddles and streams and… well, you get the picture – she mentioned this story.  I said, as I have many times in the past, “yeah”, or something else lame like that.  But this time, I said something about the lady getting wet wading through the  water…It was then that I found out that I didn’t know Jack… or Jill either for that matter… but she gave me the real scoop… There was this lady living with her husband and little girl  up on a ridge over near where we go to church.  Driving down the side of the ridge into the valley, she was heading to work and was taking the little one, about eighteen months old, as she did every weekday, to the babysitter’s house.  It was raining, but, as I understand it, it was April… and around here, it rains in April.  Now, if you’ve ever been over in these parts, (or if you are from Ireland or Scotland) you know what rolling hills are and that often, the valley between two hills, over time and necessity, becomes a road.  That’s the way it is when you live in the rolling hills.  It is beautiful to look at, but, as mom told me this story, I realized how incredibly dangerous it could be.  But, I digress… so she was in the car driving down one of these little valley roads, and i use the term road loosely, when it started to rain harder.  She was mildly concerned but didn’t really worry because she’d driven on this road in all kinds of weather without any real trouble.  There was a creek (or a crick, depending) on one side of the road and the hills, quite steep, were on both sides…Having driven that road thousands of times going to church, I can say that it is a bit like driving in a city where you can only see the sky above you, except that it isn’t buildings on either side of you, it’s creation, which is a whole ‘nother ballgame.  Again, I digress… ANYWAY… it began to rain harder and water, which had been trickling down the hills, began to fill the ditch on one side of the car and the creek on the other.  A little further on, the heavenly storehouses of rain burst open and dumped the rain as from a bucket onto the already saturated ground.  The water running off the steep banks quickly became a waterfall of mud, rocks and debris barreling onto and over the car from the creek side.  Now, if you notice, at no point did I mention that the lady or her baby got out of the car.  They didn’t. The water was coming over the hills and onto the road so hard and fast that it pushed the car backwards several feet.  The car began to slide and turn sickly in the road and she tried desperately to turn the wheel away from the creek.  This is where God steps in… I just love it when He does that and love it more when I get to hear about it…  the tire of the car caught in the ditch and became wedged there, keeping it from flipping over into the creek. The water, even muddier than before and now full of rocks and debris, was pounding onto, and over, the top of the car.  Fearing that they would both drown if the car flipped into the creek, she rolled her window down.  This let in a deluge of water through the window.  This is the moment when she realized she was in BIG trouble.  The river of muddy water wasn’t just going over the car, it was pushing against the car with such force that she couldn’t open her door.  She was trapped, with the baby, in a car that was rapidly filling up with water.  She sat the little girl, who had been sitting in the front seat, (remember, this was over 40 years ago so there were no car seats) on the back of the seat to try to keep her out of the water, and rolled down the window on that side.  The water was running in her window and out the other side.  Hoping to let more of the water out, she leaned over and cracked the door on the baby’s side so some of the accumulating water could go out.  By this tiime, the water in the car was up to her bra.  Outside, the world had gone wild.  Lightning slashed the sky like a blade… before one strike could vanish, another one would be there to slit the sky open.  The thunder rolled down the valley like a bellowing bull… and the water continued to rise.  Mom said that at that moment, and I can just hear her saying this, she told me that we would ask Jesus to take care of us.  Time has a way of fooling you when you’re scared, but not only did the rain have to stop, but the water had to stop flowing over the car before she could even consider getting out.  After a period of time, she was able to push her door open, and get out.  The water she stepped into was a river of mud and rocks that came to her knees.  She took me out of the car, (she said this was the only time I cried… and can you blame me for not wanting to get out in that) and carrying me, walked, WALKED, through the muddy water, unable to tell where the creek or the road or the ditch were.  The rocks and debris that she couldn’t even see were there, were hitting her legs. Even so, she didn’t fall… she didn’t even stumble… God at work!!  There were rocks in the road that were bigger than the car she had been driving… in the road, I might add, where we would have been if the car hadn’t slid backward.  Her dress, underwear and bra were full of mud as she carried me, who wasn’t wet except a bit on my feet, to the house of a woman named Acklin… now it is pronounced just like I spelled it, but I have no idea if it’s spelled like it sounds.  She got to Acklin’s house and called Mamaw Daphne and told her we were stranded.  Grandaddy said he’d come on the tractor to get us.  A while later, Mamaw called back and said he couldn’t make it because there were rocks in the road that were BIGGER THAN THE TRACTOR.  So, in the front and the back, there were rocks big enough to crush the car, there was creek full of rushing water and a waterfall coming down on top of the car.  There is no reason we should have lived through that.  God pushed that car in the ditch because He knew the rocks were going to fall.  He saved us, plain and simple.  Jesus protected us, just as a frightened young mother and her little girl asked Him to.  Now I ask you…… HOW GREAT IS OUR GOD???  As I said, I’ve heard that story a million times, but until tonight, I didn’t even know the half of it. (by the way, the babysitter was Granny Minton) My mom is, by far, the bravest woman I have ever known.  And because of what she told me tonight, I feel brave and empowered myself.  I feel like I can do anything… and with the help of the same Jesus who looked out for mom and me on that flooded country road, I can.