The Last Day of Francis Marie Allison

August 3rd began in a semi-normal way around our home. We were busy running from one thing to the next. Trying to fit all of life in as short a time as possible. Trinity was going to be married at the end of the week and we were trying to spend as much quality time together and with friends. Sis Francis was like a grandmother to Trinity and our other children. She was always there for them. With Trinity's wedding coming up Sis Francis wanted to do something for her. It was decided that we would go out shopping and find some matching pillars to be used at the wedding. Sis Francis liked to shop and we wanted to spend time together so the day was planned.

We got our other errands done as quick as we could and Trinity and I went and picked up Sis. Francis around 10 or 10:30 and then drove to Pigeon Forge. We were going to the Pottery Barn. Little did we know that they had had a fire. Our plans were changed and now it came down to...Who sells those type of things around here? We stopped at a number of tourist shops, hoping they would have them. We started sending in scouts instead of all of us going in and being disappointed.

Now it was definitely lunch time. We went through Chick fil A's drive thru and got a chicken wrap that Sis. Francis and I split. It was so good. On we went with our quest of locating matching pillars. As we were heading toward the express way, store after store, then lo and behold there was another tourist trap that specialized in pillars. We were all amazed and excited by this awesome find. Pillars were chosen and purchased.

We made it home and Trinity needed to run and do some other things. Sis Francis was wondering if I would go grocery shopping with her. Certainly...I would love to go. So on we went. Picking up Kimber on the way. Sis Francis talked to her son, Paul, on the phone as we drove and they made plans for there dinner together that evening.

Over to Asheville Hwy and the Fruit and Vegetable stand. Sis Francis was good friends with this man and they teased each other as she picked out various fruits and vegetables. Then Sis Francis wanted to get a treat. We picked up some yellow cherries. I had never tasted them before. The man at the stand gave Sis Francis some cold ones from his cooler...just because. We went to the car and thoroughly enjoyed eating those cherries. When we arrived at Food Lion Sis. Francis had to force herself to stop eating so we could go in and do her shopping.

In the store we went. Up this aisle, down that one. Then we went looking for fish. Sis Francis had a craving for a special kind of fish. And she and the meat man had to tease each other about fresh or not fresh fish. We went away from the store laughing again.

Now we were all a bit tired. It was time to drop Sis. Francis off home. She was to fix dinner for Paul and have company that evening. She enjoyed giving to others, cooking, cleaning, shopping, family, friends and the saints. On this her last day she was able to do all the things she enjoyed doing. As she was laying on her bed she told her son Paul of his dinner in the microwave. She had a giving heart and gave until the very last.  I am glad I could be apart of her last day......

The Women At the Well

“God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.” John 4:24

John 4:6-13 “…Jesus saith…Give me to drink…If thou knewest the gift of God, …thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water. …Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again.” 

This woman could only understand from her perspective. Jesus tried to change her perspective from literal to spiritual water. Jesus is asking us to change our perspective. A Religious profession says that they have “living water” but they are continually seeking for more. Such are continually thirsty, lulled and comfortable in a wet/dry cycle. Those with a religious profession are getting drier and drier, finding it hard to give up their religious well.This woman had to give up her religious ideas. She had water and Jesus had water. She was not going to get her water from him until she was willing to give up the spiritual water she was depending on. 

Verses 15-19 “The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not…Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet.” 

Jesus did not just give her his water but needed to see if she really wanted it. Jesus looking do we really want the water of true salvation. 

Verses 20-23 “Our fathers worshipped in this mountain; and ye say, that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship. Jesus saith unto her…Ye worship ye know not what…But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him.” 

This women is starting to see Jesus as who he is. The well was even looking different. She was seeing her religion in a different light and was beginning to question. Her religion could not keep her from adultery. She had wanted something more. If religion cannot raise us above sin then, like this woman, it is time to question our well. This woman came face to face with true religion, a salvation that will save you from your sin. Jesus is still looking for people who when faced with true religion will be willing to abandon their sin and drink from Jesus’ well. 

Verses 24 “God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.” 

John 8:32 “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” 

You too can be set free from all your sin, free to worship God in spirit and in truth.

Raising Grandchildren in a Digital age

Written for those Grandparents who have the awesome responsibility of raising their grandchildren.

Do you remember the telephone that was connected to the wall by a cord? How about having to stick your finger into a little hole in the phone base and rotate 6-3-7-3-3-6-9 and waiting till the rotary dial returned back to 0 after every number. Do you remember penpals in elementary school from what we thought was the other side of the world? How amazing it was to get a letter from say Arkansas. Times have changed.

Those who are grandparents today grew up in an age when communication was at a much slower pace than it is today. Can we even name all the various methods of communication today? There are the oldies; e-mail, web pages and personal blogs. Now we have My Space, Facebook, you-tube, deli.cio.us, twitter, flickr, dig. FEED, RSS. Pounce, dig…. These are all on the internet. This does not include the all consuming use of text messaging.

We of the grandparent age are being left in the digital dust. Can we keep up with our grandchildren’s generation? It has been and will be very difficult for us. The children of today are being raised on the computer. They have computers in their classes at school and have access to many various modes of communication. Their social network is getting larger and larger. It is not uncommon to chat (have a live online conversation) with someone from another country. I personally have a friend in Kenya that I communicate with occasionally. Our grandchildren are speaking a different language. A language of symbols J, :) and shortened words ( b/c = because).

What are we to do? Grandparents and parents are “digital immigrants.” Computers, text messages, even e-mailing is all difficult and unfamiliar to us. Some in the older generations may even refuse to enter these modes of communication. This is all understandable but we need to understand our grandchildren are “natives of this digital age.” All this is technology is second hand to them. The generation gap is great and growing in some families.

We as grandparents raising our grandchildren have a more difficult challenge. We need to try and communicate with our grandchildren on a level that most grandparents do not have to. Today’s parents are finding it difficult to speak with their children. As grandparents walking in a parent’s role we are facing a greater challenge. We have to be able to hear our grandchildren’s problems and help them through their hard times. We are challenged because they are talking a digitally different language. We are at the verge of losing them. If we do not press into their circle or at least understand where they are coming from they will slip further into the digital culture without us. Have you seen the comic strip zits where the young people are in the same room and do not even speak to each other but they hold a conversation texting on their cell phones?

What can we do? How can we get a foot into the door of their daily lives? Ask them to explain their modes of communication. Try and use these methods of communication if we can. Monitor how it affects them. Look over their shoulder with curiosity not criticism. Limit them if it proves necessary. Watch the you-tube video with them. Learn the language. Urbandictionary.com can give a definition of our grandchildren’s slang. What does btw mean? (by the way). How about K? (ok) There are many such expressions used especially when text messaging.

Can we text them occasionally and tell them we are thinking of them? Can we facebook chat with them and help them through a stressful situation at a babysitting job? Can we try and be there for them and tell them we love them by entering into a little bit of their culture without criticism?

Can I hope again?

Days have gone by and yes weeks have gone by still they do not come. Yesterday I was sure that they would be here. I had been disappointed the day before for the hundredth time. Now certainly, certainly today is the day. How could they delay one more day. Surely they could see the need to come today. My back was turned. I did not want to look. My hopes had been dashed too many times. It was hard to gather the courage to look again. I slowly turned just because I wanted to. Not necessarily because I expected anything different than I had seen many times before.

There, there it was. The small speck in the distance. Could it be? Could it really be? Were my eyes pulling tricks on me? Could I have just a little faith? Could I still hope? I stretched my my faith out one more time. I leaned toward the window. I pushed my hope to what I thought was the limit. The little speck had disappeared. I pressed my nose to the window. The glass was very cold. I shook the immediate thoughts of despair away. I held on to what was so long in coming. Yes. I would hope I would have faith. I would not doubt.

Then I saw it again. The speck had become a small cloud just above the horizon. It was approaching getting bigger every moment. My faith had turned to sight. There was no doubt anymore. Today was the day. They were coming. I was so excited I was almost paralyzed. I flung myself away from the window. I ran down the three flights of stairs and flew open the door.

This time I would not have to shut the door and walk up the stairs hopeless again. This time they were coming. I could see the outlines of a vehicle now. The cloud of dust was much larger. They had said they would come for me. They had made specific plans but the plans had been dashed again and again. It had not been safe, they said. My fathers assassins were still at large. Things needed to settle down a little more. But now they were coming. I could go home.

Or could I. Doubts entered my mind again. Was this them or was this the assassins? I did not know? I could not find out. I wanted to shrink back. I wanted to hide. But I was the princess. I was not afraid. Mine was the kingdom. If it was not them it was too late anyway. So I stood. I stood straight and tall and royal. just like my father had taught me. I was a princess.

They pulled up beside me. The door opened and there stepping out of the car was.....

Short Story in 50 Words

Way back days seemed to last longer. Years ago the world seemed bigger. Things have changed. The kids are gone. Mary went on a few years back. The dog died the other day. I am getting used to quiet. There is time to reflect, “If I could live it again.”

A Boy, and the Feather

The day was long, the road was dusty, but on he must continue. Would life ever be any different. Would every day begin with feather dusters and end with dusters. Work from early morning until past the close of day. His is the life of one who is not well off. There is no loafing around, there is no playing of games, school is not an option for this hardworking lad. Work, work and more work was the only way he could better himself.

Another home-another rejection. As our lad was leaving the home of a women who was not interested in his quality of dusters he lost one of the feathers to the floor. This women of style could not stand anything out of place and the feather on her floor was almost more than she could bare. She stood staring at the feather, full of great disgust and loathsomeness for this feather, all feathers, the duster this feather came from and the boy who had brought this feather to her home.

Slowly she bent down to pick up the feather. Now between her pinched fingers in an outstretched hand she writhed at the feather that dared to come into her home. Even more slowly she walked with outstretched hand toward the side door. In came a maid and side stepped to avoid her mistress on an obvious errand. The feather was on its way out.

As this obsessed women passed through the door she saw him. The boy with the feather dusters. She raised her head and stared at him as he left the yard. The feather in her hand blew away with the wind. The breeze kicked up and ruffled her hair. The dusters were blowing in the wind. She turned and let them go, the boy and the feather. Another rejection-another day.

The Day

The sun rose as normal, clouds were lightly scattered, a warm breeze was picking up from over the ocean, nothing was unusual about the day's beginnings. Mother came into the bedroom singing, "Rise and Shine" Marty yawned and groaned and covered his head with his blanket. Nothing was unusual this morning. Coming down to breakfast Marty noticed the first inklings that things were not quite right this morning. Breakfast was not the normal cereal and toast. Mother had made pancakes, gobs of them. She even said help yourself to as many as you would like. Something was different but Marty wasn't going to complain right now this was a good change.

Then came another unusual announcement. Mother told Marty that there was not school today. It was not snowing out, this was the middle of spring. Now Marty wanted to know what was up. why was there no school? Mother said that they just decided to give everyone a holiday. This made absolutely no sense. Something was up. the whole school system was on a break for no apparent reason. No way!

Mom had said that she wanted to have the daybe nice and quiet. Marty could play as he pleased but he could not leave the yard. For a ten year old boy this was a little bite of a trial. The phone had been put off limits last evening for no reason that Marty could think off. He was feeling trapped. There was no way to communicate with his friends. What was going on? The suspense was almost too hard to bear.

Marty's mother had a philosophy that a child will not lose control if they do not know there is something to be excited or sad about. Marty knew his mother's extremes this way. This works for his little sister but he was ten. A ten year old is not kid anymore. He was nearly a grown-up in his mind. And really his mom's philosophy was about to work backwards. He was about to bust or explode.

About 1:00 the door bell rang. Marty had been up in his room looking out over the hill toward the ocean. Wondering, thinking...would this day ever come to an end? Would he ever know it's significance? He had missed the commotion on the street in front of the house. The door bell rang again. Marty stirred. He thought about bolting to the door but his tenseness had turned into a lethargic mood. He did not want to move. Mom called up the stairs and said that they were having company and would he please come downstairs. That was pretty formal. Not unusual but formal. Down he went.

Slowly and then slower. Every step revealed a scene that was becoming harder to comprehend. Through the picture windows Marty could see crowds on the other side of the picket fence. Every kid from school had their face stuck through the pickets. The front door was opened and on the lawn there seemed to be cameras and newsmen from every TV station in the state. Who was standing at the front door?

Mother was asking the gentlemen to please come inside. Letting him know tea was ready and we were delighted with his coming for a visit. Marty's mind was whirling. Mother, yes mother, she was always entering sweepstakes and crazy gimmicks. She never won anything but she continued to try. Marty remembered. The President of the United States of America was going to visit a normal family for tea. The realization hit Marty...Mom had won. The President was at their house. Marty couldn't believe it. He just plopped on the stairs and watched. Without so much as a flicker of uneasiness his mother was entertaining the President of the United States of America. His mother was amazing.

War Is Ugly

War is ugly
Blood
Anger
Revenge
Selfishness
Bitterness
Cowardice
War is ugly
Deep pain
Deep hatred
Deep emotion
Deep wounds
Deep hurts
Deep guilt
War is ugly
Death of innocence
Death of the soul
Death of life
War is ugly