Nana Mama's Joy

I prayed for someone today. A woman I do not know, nor would I recognize if we met on the street.Her heart is, I am sure, hurting today, as she remembers her 19 year old son who died twenty years ago this morning. I didn’t know him either. Our paths were not meant to cross ~ but I grieved his loss and anguished (as much as a stranger could) over the decision he had made to end his young life. I speak often of the genetic gift I was given, of my mother’s work ethic. There are times I appreciate that trait and other times I detest it. Not as often (and this may be a surprise to some of you) I exhibit my father’s gift of exceptional recollection ...especially dates. I can’t remember all dates by any means ~ but there are those branded into my being, as is September 8, 1994.  I had a cooking project to tend to before going to work that day. It was a labor of love and I left home for work a few minutes late, feeling both happy and accomplished. My morning devotion (from Our Daily Bread)...

I lost my phone this morning.  It was last seen in the breast pocket of the denim shirt I'm wearing over a t-shirt today. The morning has been busy... laundry, garbage, picking up the condo, working a little in the garage .... you know, 'the regular'.  As I sit down to read my lesson for Wednesday's women's study... I reach for my phone. It's not in my pocket and I have no memory of taking it out. I do the typical ‘looking around' but to no avail. Then I think.... if I didn't take it out of my pocket, it must have fallen out. My search moves to low lying areas including the recycle bins, now  curbside. No phone. I eye the garbage can, mindful that I'd added another bag to it this morning. I lift the white bag out, surveying the inside (from the outside) and see nothing. I open the red drawstring.... just garbage.   Back in the house where I hear the washing machine going. Please, no. No amount of rice is going to dry out a 55 minute cycle with an ext...

This is my Jesus Journey Chapter 1 I was born an only child to two Type A parents. I was singing "Jesus Loves Me" at 2 and the first verse I learned was, “I was glad when they said unto me, let us go into the house of the Lord.”  (Psalm 122:1) Chapter 2 At 14, I asked Jesus into my heart. I was an honor student and good girl but I lost my virginity to my Christian boyfriend and became pregnant at 16.  .  My parents and boyfriend thought the best solution was abortion It was 1970. I knew nothing about abortion except it was illegal and women often died having them. It was legal in New York though and that is where my mother and I went. The night before the procedure I prayed to God - that if He couldn’t make something good of my life after this, to please just let me die. I didn’t die - the problem was gone but I would never be the same. Abortion would define me. I graduated high school but dropped out of college after one semester. That was the same month The Supreme Cour...

Fifty years ago today, at the tender age of twenty , I began working at Cornell College.  Single and still  living with my parents, it was a short two mile drive to campus. I was hired as a keypunch operator, although I had never in my life ever seen a keypunch machine. In fact, before she left, the woman I replaced told me they hired me because no one else would work for 2.02 an hour and someone in the Business Office put in a good word for me. Fair enough but however it came about … it was the beginning of the longest running relationship I would have (with any one or thing) over the next 44 years. The years flew by. I had seven offices, numerous bosses, dozens of co-workers who became friends, and enough purple clothing to open a thrift shop. Personally, I had two husbands, three children… (then three more) and seven grandchildren. I lived in three houses, lost both my parents, belonged to three churches and was never more than six blocks from my kids during their school y...

  The number of people who “know me” is dwindling. Every year I say goodbye to friends and loved ones who pass away from the Earth. Of course, I continue to meet and become acquainted with new people, but they only know me as the senior citizen I have become…. not the evolution of ‘me’ (good, bad, ugly) over seven decades.   Self-described, I am a God fearing, people loving, decision challenged, picture taking, deal finding, number nerd who likes to write. The thoughts in my head continually collide with one another and writing sometimes allow them to exit (at least temporarily).   Today's thought: 25,263 Days.   Just a few years ago, one of my sons said, “I wanted to figure out when I’d be exactly as old as Dad was when I was born.” Say what?  He continues… “November 13, 2020. That’s the day.” Hmmm. I never thought about that. Little did we know, just 33 days later, his dad would succumb to COVID.   That conversation came back to me this past November (202...

  January 20, 1993 … a day that will live in infamy. Iowa basketball star Chris Street had died tragically the evening before, and the accident was the topic of conversation at work that morning. We barely gave a thought to the weather; however, as noon approached, the talk had turned to words like, “warnings,” “ice” and those two words every working mother dreads to hear, “early dismissal.” At that time in my life at Cornell, I only worked until noon – and as the Chapel bell chimed twelve, I was on my way to a very interesting trip to my Mount Vernon home, nine tenths of a mile from campus. I believe school had let out at 11:30, so I was a bit surprised to see a Mount Vernon school bus at the bottom of 5th Ave. and College Blvd. obviously not going anywhere. I took the opportunity to dodge that obstacle by turning left (east) onto 3rd Street. Immediately I realized that my Aerostar van was no match for the ice-covered pavement beneath it. I slid one way and then another, fortunat...