Saved By The Bell?

Every time I go get my haircut, I park in the back of the beauty shop where my niece works and look around at the back of the old buildings and wonder what life was like when those buildings were first built. I've heard so many tales and seen pictures of what things looked like in Williston over 50 years ago. I've heard my daddy say many times long before I-75 was put in and Williston was known as the Crossroads of Florida, Williston was a busy little town. Full of gas and full service stations, as you had three major highways intersect here; 121, 27, and 41. Daddy said when he was a young boy everyone came to town on Saturdays and would stay just about all day.

Does anyone remember the dime store? It was located at the corner of Main St. and Noble Avenue where part of Lane's Hardware is now. As children we'd go inside the store and love to look around. The candy counter fascinated me back then and I used to say when I grew up, I wanted to work there in that particular department. There was a rather old lady that worked in there by the name of Mrs. Claudie Bell. We never were bad children, but she'd look at us and shake her head as in "no-no" if we'd pick up something. I guess she thought we'd break it. I recall just where the sewing section was, the household goods, perfumes, and so many other sections the store had. Pam and I would beg mama to buy her and I the little sales ticket books, and we'd always pretend we were waitresses taking everyone's order when we got home. From there mama would take us to the A&P grocery store or the Red & White/Germani's before we'd go back home. A little hard to shop when you have 5 children in tow. Boy, if we ever acted up, she knew right where to pinch us...that little tender skin up under your arm. We'd walk out with red eyes from crying. It shut us up though.

Times have changed and we've progressed to the Walmart/Target era. Back about the early 80's and some of my older nephews and a niece were probably ages 9-14 years old, we rode down to Dunnellon and went to the new Walmart...not the Super Walmart, but the smaller one that was first built. This was before I had gotten my license after I had my accident, so I had no vehicle either. Mama was at one end of the store, I picked up what I needed, and the kids each had a little money to spend of their own. We finished our shopping before my Mama did and told her we would go out to the car to sit and wait on her. It was in the evening and in the fall of the year, so it wasn't hot outside. My oldest nephew Neal had purchased a cassette of his favorite group and asked if he could play it as we waited, and I told him he could since I had the keys to the car. So, he puts it in to listen and before long Mama comes out the door and Neal took the cassette out and gets into the back seat with it. When Mama gets out to the car, she loads her stuff into the trunk and gets into the vehicle and starts it up. Well, you all know the annoying sound of the bells it makes until everyone in the front gets their seatbelt put on...only everyone had their seatbelt on, and it did not shut off. We left out of the parking lot and it continues. After 2 minutes of ringing, Mama started getting a little annoyed and asked what we "did" to her vehicle for the bells not to shut off. Instead of turning and going back toward Williston we looped back through the parking lot and she starts fiddling with buttons, lights...everything, and still no luck. Her voice gets a little more panicky and we went back out on the road and the opposite direction of Williston. By this time, neither Neal, Andy, or Danielle are saying a word...only Mama was talking, rather loudly...over the bells. I'm defending myself since I hadn't touched the radio or anything else, and the kids remained silent. I think they knew better than to say anything...they were smart. By this time we are 10 minutes into ringing bells, and a little more volumn coming out into our voices. Mama whips over into a convenient store parking lot at the gas pumps and stops the first person she sees coming out of the store and asks them if they know how to shut off the bells. It was just a lady if that tells you anything. I just shake my head and say, "Come on Mama...she doesn't know that kind of stuff." Coming down the sidewalk is a young man just innocently walking by and Mama does the same thing to him..."Would you know how to shut these chimes off in my car?" Again, I said under my breath (loud enough for her to hear), "Mama, this is not a service station, come on...he is just an innocent bystander." It was so embarrassing, I didn't know what to do but listen to the bells as the man said, "Mam, I have no idea how to shut that off." And on and on the bells ring....it was like Chinese torture. By this time Mama is in rare form, and would have stopped another person but I spoke up and said in a louder tone, "Come on Mama, these people don't know how to fix that!" And all of a sudden I feel a hand come right across my cheek and she said, "I said hush!"

We left Dunnellon after that and I kept quiet all the way home....I would say you could have heard a pin drop in that car that evening, but you couldn't because of the bells we heard all the way back home...for about 20 more minutes.

And the moral of this story...don't back-talk your parents, no matter how old you are. I end with this scripture verse that still stands true...and it could actually go for anyone, and not just parents. Proverbs 21:23 reads this way...Those who are careful about what they say keep themselves out of trouble.

Death

As I was getting ready for work earlier this week, I could hear sirens in the distance. This isn't unusual to hear this every morning. Whenever I've passed these emergency vehicles myself, I know that someone somewhere is usually in some type of distress, and not always from auto accidents. When I pull over to let them pass, I get a lump in my throat and usually say a quick prayer that God would be with them wherever and whatever they are heading to. I am fortunate to have family members, a slew of church family members, and friends that are part of law enforcement and the emergency teams in our tri-county area. They are very special people.




This particular morning, it sounded like a lot of different sirens. Not to sound selfish, but all I could think of was that some of my family members would be coming to work around this time, so I said a prayer for their safety. When I got out to the office, I was greeted not with the usual "morning, Becky", but with somber faces and the voice of my sister talking on the phone to someone about a sweet young lady and her baby. Seems as though this young lady, Tiffany, was killed when her and her little baby girl started out this morning. Not sure of the distraction (probably involving her baby Madelyn), but she hit a school bus. How fast things can happen. Little did she realize that morning when leaving her house, that she wouldn't be coming home that evening. None of us know whether we will lay our heads on the same pillow that we lifted it off of each morning. I know firsthand how quick accidents happen as I've had it happen to me twice in my lifetime. Fortunately I survived, but a few of my friends didn't.


Some of my blog this week has to do with procrastination. Don't put off another day of telling someone they are special, or that you love them. What about...please forgive me, or I forgive you? Don't wait until the kind words can only be spoken at a funeral. My family has always been a loving family, but what may be surprising to some of you is that we weren't the type to say "I love you" to each other. It didn't mean we didn't love each other--as we certainly did--it was just uncomfortable to say. When daddy got sick with cancer we started saying it every day to him; even moreso the last few months of his life. I'd give anything to be able to tell him today that I love him, but I can't. Because of my relationship with the Lord and knowing Him personally, I will see my daddy again one day when we're reunited in heaven.


In reading my bible the other night, I came across something I haven't read in a few years. A Judean king by the name of Jehoram....he was a wicked king. He killed his brothers with a sword, and the leaders of Judah. He built places for people to worship other gods. He led Jerusalem into sin, and led Judah away from the Lord. The Lord caused the Philistines and the Arabs to attack Jehoram, and they took away all of his wealth, his wives, and all but one of his sons. After this he became sick and died a painful death. The thing that struck me the most was that it said in 2 Chronicles 21:20b, NO ONE WAS SAD WHEN HE DIED. Imagine that. They didn't even bury him in the place where all the other kings were buried. Can you imagine people hating you so much that no one would be sad or mourn your death? That in itself is sad.


Although I knew Tiffany's parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, I did not know her like most of you did. But in viewing the pictures put out there on Facebook this week of her friends and her precious little girl Madelyn, I feel like I got to know a little bit of her through many of you and the sweet things written about her. You know what? I think it would be fitting to say of Tiffany, EVERYONE WAS SAD WHEN SHE DIED.

I end today's blog by asking you to continue to pray for little Madelyn and the Poupard family during this sorrowful time.

How Do You Spell Relief?

My life passed before me, and I saw the stars Saturday.

A couple of my sister's suffer greatly with headaches, I am very fortunate not to have this painful problem but only once in a while. The other day Pam had an excruciating headache and after several visits to doctors over the past few weeks, someone mentioned to her about a certain chiropractor who is very good about getting to the source of problems. My mother took Pam to an appointment in Ocala late Friday afternoon. The doctor was able to to try several things to relieve the pain and told her due to her symptoms and the painful areas she was massaging, she was probably suffering from a sinus infection. She went on to tell her things concerning the pollen at this time of the year. Did you know that your nose hairs collect that pollen and at the end of the day it is still "trapped" in the nose, causing the stuffiness and allergies so many people suffer with? She went on to tell her that though she'd "for sure" feel sore the next day due to the different massages and procedures she received, she suggested for her to try a few things...

1. Every evening, mix a little warm salt-water solution and inhale/sniff it up her nose, and repeat it a few times, letting it run to the other side of the nose. Doing this would help to clear out the nasal passages, drain the sinuses, and heal the infection.

2. Use warm packs on her neck and face.

3. Drink warm water with a little lemon.

This reminded me of something I had purchased a couple years ago, that I had seen on one those television infomercials. I'm not normally a sucker for anything, but I was desperate. For the past 8 years or so, I too have suffered with allergies and sinus problems each year. Oddly, I never had this when I was younger. The product I ordered was a small plastic jug filled with a solution that contained some of the Dead Sea salts.

I've also found that you have to be coordinated when using this... The directions tell you to cover one nostril with the bottle tip, and cover the other nostril also with your finger. You then squeeze the jug so that it shoots the solution up your nose, and if done correctly,this should come down and out through the other nostril. It's important not to turn the squeeze loose until it has been removed from your nose...that's the tricky part, as it's easy to turn it loose the moment you feel it go in. Then you repeat this on the other side. It REALLY did work and helped my sinuses, but it was somewhat costly...moreso than over-the-counter allergy and sinus medicines. When allergies make you as miserable as they do, it's worth it. Eventually I ran low and rather than purchasing more, I decided to mix up my own salt water solution.

I talked to Pam the next morning and she said she tried the salt-water solution when she got home that night, and that morning again. She also told me she was feeling 100% better. No headache or soreness thus far.

Later that afternoon I got on Facebook and saw that one of my nephew's, Tyler, was saying how miserable he was from the pollen allergies. My head was a little stopped up, so I decided to go and get my little jug of saline solution stuff I had mixed up and shoot it in my nose since I knew the procedure had worked before. I shook the jug up, just incase any salt had settled over the past year. Leaning my head over the sink as it tells you to do, I put the jug to the first nostril, and closed off the other, then gave it a rather big squeeze. I felt the water go up to my brain and back down and I turned the other nostril loose, and it drained out as it was suppose to. I then quickly did the other side the same way. It again touched the brain and back down and out.

I burnt my head and nose up. I am fortunate if I still have nose hairs. My eyes were watering, probably from the electrical-feeling shock I had just felt go through my head, and the salt solution rolled down the back of my throat--which felt as though it had completely burned my tonsils out. For 5 minutes I believe I saw little birds flying around me, I saw every star and every planet in the solar system, without the aid of a telescope...nor did I have to wait until nightfall.

I would say I got a tiny bit too much salt. Funny, I don't recall adding a whole lot at the time...I'm wondering if the salt intinsifies the longer it sits...?

Did I tell you about the Sinus Buster Nasal Spray I purchased last year? It's extracted from a hot pepper....another painful experiment. You'd think I would learn...but I feel fine right now. It's amazing what extremes one will go to for relief.

Gone Fishing

I know, I know, its been a while since my last blog, but I've had a hundred things on my mind and list that seemingly I could not get completed. The last couple of weeks have been a little hard as I've thought about my daddy a whole lot, and I posted more pictures on my Facebook with him in there and relived every moment the picture was taken. Last Monday it was really tough. I'm involved in prison ministry, and one of the things we do at the beginning of our time together is open with music. They have a piano in the room we meet in with the ladies, but since my mother doesn't go with us to play it, we have to take CD's we've made at church to have a little background music. One of the CD's was made before daddy got sick, and he leads choruses on it. We've used this particular CD from time to time since he's been gone and it was hard at first, but it's gotten a little easier as time has passed...until Monday night. He sang so pretty as I recall, but it was almost as though he had walked in the room, and it got a little harder to listen to him without shedding a tear. Here I was up in front of the ladies (the crowd was fewer in number this night) and I just started crying and found it hard to stop. From that song we went into another CD and the song a man sang was about heaven....and that started the water pipes (as my nephew calls them) to flowing again. I sure do miss him, but I know with complete confidence he's better off where he is.





I read a post my cousin made on Facebook yesterday about looking forward to going fishing on their new boat. Made me think of all the times I went fishing down at our hunting camp in Gulf Hammock. I (with my siblings) used to fish off the dock at the camp at the Suwannee River, but I didn't have a pole or rod and reel back then. We'd just lay on our stomach's with the string tied to our fingers, and sure enough we'd catch lots of different kinds of brim (excuse the spelling if that's not how you spell that type of fish...some people call them stumpknockers). Whatever the case, Daddy always said there's no tastier fish than those caught out of the Suwannee River, and Ten Mile Creek in Gulf Hammock. Back to those caught while laying on our stomach's...Mama would call us into lunch, and since we didn't have a fishing pole, we'd tie our strings to poles that were down at the boathouse and when we'd go back from eating our lunch, there'd always be fish on the line. We'd always throw them in a bucket of water and wait till Daddy came in to clean them...we weren't too good with that. I don't do the "guts thing" too well... I don't mind cutting raw meat, it's the insides and cutting off the heads I don't like to fool with.





In the mid 80's and just a few years after I had my accident, my Daddy and Uncle Orian (his brother) purchased land not far from a lot they had in our earlier years when we were children. Each had a cabin built; and Daddy, his nephew, and Wes built a long dock out from our cabin to an little island at the waters edge. Daddy used to say, "I built that so that Becky could have a place to go down to the water and fish." Now whether he really did that for me I don't know, but that's what he told everyone at the time it was being built. My Daddy loved to eat fish...especially fresh water fish. It wasn't unsual for people to quite frequently stop by the house and give him a mess of fish they had caught because they knew he loved them. For the longest time, the typical menu down at the camp the night before hunting season opened, it was fresh fried mullet, grits, swamp cabbage, baked beans, and hush puppies. Nothing any better....and Mama hated fish, not because of its taste, but the bones she had to pick around. Now me, I didn't care for the bones, but I've almost mastered the art of knowing how to eat around them...Mama never could figure that out, so she was satisfied with eating a fish stick rather than the fresh water fish. The men fried it out doors, so she didn't have to mess up her kitchen with frying them...she said the grease made everything a mess.



When the cabin and dock were finished, I purchased a Zebco rod and reel from Walmart, and I was ready to go fishing. I had so many little tips to catching fish people had given, I was intent on trying every one of them. I'd go down a few times during the summer when I took some of the nieces and nephews, and we'd stay the whole week and fish throughout the day, and a few times at night. One night I recall something getting on my line and it was a slow pull, not the typical feel of a fishbite and the fight they'd put up. It was rather scary, and all I could think of was I had a gator or some type of Loch Ness Monster...so I just cut the line and was ready to go inside.



Many days during hunting season, I'd start out early in the morning, go inside for lunch and then go back out and fish till about the time everyone would start coming in from hunting. Daddy always told me he'd take care of the cleaning when he'd come in and not worry about it..."You just catch "em, and I'll clean 'em." I mainly fished with night crawlers, and once in a while I'd fish with what I heard the big boys talking about...a Rapella. I caught one small bass with it, but no others...so I went back to what I had the best success with. First start of the day I'd take a wet cloth down with me to the dock as I couldn't stand the worm guts/poop or whatever it was that would stick to my fingers. Felt just like glue...I was beginning to wonder if that's what glue was made of, or think I could make a killing making my own glue with it. One particular day when everyone had gone out to hunt, the sand knats were biting hard and I was determined to go sit out on the dock to fish. Ten Mile Creek has ugly dark water like the Suwannee, but it was so relaxing to sit out under the trees with a little breeze blowing and watch the water move along. Every once in a while you could hear the dogs in the distance as they were on the trail of something. I got everything set up, had my tacklebox at arms reach and I was prepared with my bucket of water should I catch anything. I baited my hook, threw it out and bingo! I got a bite and reeled it in. I took the fish off and put it in the bucket and threw it out again since the worm was still there and bingo! Got me another one. Well this went on for about an hour or so...every time I dropped it in the water I got my bite and the fish. Our dock sits directly across the way from the Legler's camp/dock and I knew they were out hunting also, but this persistent fish catching every few minutes was beginning to get rather comical until I started laughing out there all by myself. I thought, "If any of the Leger's drive up and see me out here by myself laughing, they'll think I have lost it." It eventually slowed up, but I probably caught two dozen or more....I was so proud to give them to my Daddy that evening. That wasn't the only bites I got that day. I had put bug spray only in the areas I could feel...around my neck, arms, and face; but neglected to put any around my ankles because I had on socks, figuring they wouldn't bite through those...yeah right. I'm not exaggerating to say I must have had at least 50 bites per ankle. The next day I caught nothing...not the first bite. You talk about a boring day...nothing any worse than the fish not biting. Sand knats were the only bites I got that day, but not like the day before. Uncle Orian told me the reason I didn't catch anything was because I wan't holding my mouth right...



My fishing days dwindled down as the more and more the younger ones heard my fishing tales, the more they wanted to go fishing out on the dock also. Only problem is, they never mastered putting their own worms on. I spent more time baiting hooks, taking their fish off the line, getting the string out of the trees, taking the hooks out of the dock, posts, shirts, hats, hands, heads, etc. It was work. They'd run off and leave my rod and reel or cane pole down on the dock and I'd have to try and clean the mess up...so I never got to enjoy it as I did before when it was just me, myself, and I. The days of fish eating has dwindled also. Daddy's not around, so Mama doesn't care to fry them anymore, unless she's doing it for my brother Wes...



Things have changed a whole lot since Daddy's been gone; but you know Jesus tells me and all who will listen in Mathew 4:19 "....Come follow me, and I will make you fish for people." Yes, my earthly father is still missed, but in my heart my heavenly father is still telling me..."you catch the fish and I'll clean em up."

Man's Best Friend

Proverbs 12:10a...Good people take care of their animals.



After several friend's on Facebook lost their pet's a few day ago, I thought about our dog, Meister. So today's blog is about pets. We never got to have pets when we were growing up, other than the hunting dogs daddy kept outside.



We use to run our farm supply business in our house. When the farmers would come talk fertilizer or something to spray on diseased crops, they'd come in the house. Typically, most men don't think to wipe their feet when coming in the house, so after a while the farmers start leaving a little dirt trail to the office in the house. When it was decided that we'd turn daddy's barn into a office, mama decides she's not going to like a quiet house with no one to talk to, so she tells daddy she's going to get a dog. Like how I said that? She tells... Anyway, she started looking up different types of dogs, and decided on a Cairn Terrier. For those that don't know what a Cairn Terrier is, it's the same type of dog on Wizard of Oz...Toto...only a wheaten color. So "Meister" the Cairn Terrier is shipped in from New York in March of 1997 and picked up at Gainesville Regional airport. He was the fattest little butter ball of a puppy, cute as can be. Keep in mind my daddy did not want a dog, especially one in the house...but eventually the dog got daddy wrapped around his paw. Daddy still had his hunting dogs that he'd have to go out and feed every day, but they had the outside pen. When we'd tell daddy he was better to him than he was to us kids, daddy would always say, "That's because he doesn't back-talk". He'd take him for rides, walks, and even let him sleep in the house on the couch (that was covered). The sicker daddy became, the less walks and rides he got, but Meister was always at his side. The last few months of his life, daddy had to decide what to do with the hunting dogs as he always insisted on feeding them each day himself just to get outside for exercise, but he was growing weaker. Concerned as to what to do, the Fugate family told him they'd take his hunting dogs for him and care for them. This lightened the load for daddy, but broke his heart to have to give his dogs away that he had taken care of for so long. Like giving away one of your children. Daddy was depressed for a while. He soon started telling mama, "If something happens to me, please be good to Meister and bury him in the corner of the backyard."



Eventually, Meister graduated to being able to sleep by daddy's bed. The last chemo treatment put him in the hospital, and mama stayed with him. I was living out at the trailer and came back home to stay with the dog just to relieve daddy's mind that someone was here to care for the dog while he was away.



In his last few days on this earth, daddy stayed in the house or in bed. Meister was right at his side. Due to drastic changes in his condition on Friday, the very next day we called in my high school classmate, who had previously worked for Hospice. She told us some of the signs to look for in a person in their last days. She then turned to ask us who's little dog we had in the house. "Oh that's Wesley's dog", mama said. "Well, just keep an eye on him and he'll let you know when it's time". Meister was a little unsure of what was going on in the house as all the kids (Anneil, Wes, Pam, Ginger, and I) decided to spend the night to be around should mama need any help, so Meister slept in different areas in the house...I guess to keep an eye on us. As we went to kiss daddy goodnight on Sunday night, Meister followed us in there. Daddy had been in a comatose-like state most all day and not saying anything. Meister goes over on daddy's side and looks up at him, sniffs the air, then lays down on the floor next to him. In the wee hours of Monday morning, daddy passed away. Meister was never allowed on a bed, but this day she put him up on the bed where daddy lay, and he went over and licked his arm, then laid down next to him. We were later told by Mrs. Patsy (Fugate) daddy's hunting dogs started howling for no particular reason in the wee hours of Monday morning. I kinda think they sensed something too, even though they were a couple miles down the road from us.



Daddy's been gone a couple years this summer, and he's not only missed by his family, but his little buddy, Meister. His ears perk up straight when we ask him where Papa is, and his tail wags like nobody's business if we say something about "Papa's truck." He's 12 years old now, 84 in dog years. Smart dog...smarter than some humans I know. He'll probably outlive us all. But if he doesn't, he'll be buried in the corner of the backyard.

Horses

"It was almost time for the Lord to take Elijah by a whirlwind up into heaven....As they were walking and talking, a chariot and horses of fire appeared and separated Elijah from Elisha. Then Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind. Elijah saw it..." 2 Kings 2:1a & 11

What better way to go than in a chariot of fire pulled by horses? I've been to one of the annual Frontier Days in Cheyenne, WY and to see those people race in the chariots there made me a little nervous as they would seemingly fly around the arena. I've had my share of horses in the first 20 years of my life...and, I understand why they have words like horsepower, as the Bible even mentions the speed and strength of horses.

I didn't grow up on a horse farm, but grew up around people that had horses and I got to ride them several times while out at my best friend's house. When we lived at the old house, our next door neighbor's, the Stokes', had horses. In our childhood years, we grew up around Audie & Julie the son and daughter of Mr. Jack and Mrs. Judy as we called them. Audie, who was the same age as my sister Pam and a year older than I, was an all-around, natural-born cowboy. After school and during the summer months, Audie and Julie would always come over, or we'd go over there and play. Audie was always a prankster, and knowing we didn't know as much as he about the equine family, he always had the upper hand over us. So it was when he saddled up all the horses one day and asked me, Pam, Wes, Anneil, and our cousin Cathy if we wanted to ride. Pam and I rode double (me on the back). We were just little kids (probably somewhere around 7 & 8), so we just could walk straight, and the only horse we were around to ride at that particular time was the one at the grocery store. At any rate, we hopped on and took off at a slow pace. Well that wasn't fast enough for Audie, so he comes by and slaps the horses rear end and it took off, throwing Pam and I both off the horse, onto our stomach's, and knocking the breath out of us. Audie got a good laugh, but he was verbally chastised by my mother later.

A few years later, Audie and Julie came over on a pony cart and asked me and my baby sister Ginger if we wanted to ride; so me and Ginger jump in the cart and we're "off to the races". Yeah right. If you're like me you probably think, a little baby horse...but a pony is not a baby horse. The pony got spooked by a car when it got close to the highway in front of the house and took off like Moody's Goose. If you don't know what Moody's Goose is, just know it moves fast. The pony could not be stopped, but went right over the highway and into their yard, just missing a bayonette bush. Julie bailed out of the back leaving me, Audie, and Ginger still in the cart. You must know that working on their small farm and around horses since he was old enough to say "horse", Audie was a strong boy. He stood up in the carriage and pulled on the reins with all of his might, and this didn't affect the pony one ioda, it only made him run faster. I yelled for Audie to let me help him pull the reins (thinking we'd pull together), but Audie handed them to me and jumped out as me an Ginger bobbled down the road, screaming with all of our might with every ounce of breath we had. As the pony continued running down the side of the ditch and Audie running after us, it rode over a culvert causing one of the wheels to be on the highway, and the other to run over the culvert and off of it. In seemingly slow motion, it flipped the cart and threw me and Ginger out of it and into the ditch. Knocked the breath right out of us (again). We got up and off of the ground crying out of fear and not because we were hurt. All we could see was the pony & it's cart being drug on its side a quarter of a mile down the road. Audie came by us still running, and eventually caught up with it and its warped frame. Audie had a warped frame when his dad, Mr. Jack, got home from work that day and saw that the cart was bent up. That was about 40 years ago, Audie came by to visit last year and one of the first things he asked me was, "Wanna take a pony cart ride?" He's never lived it down, and neither have Ginger and I.

Fast forward about 10 years, and several horserides I have under my belt. A few years before Jesus turned my life around, a friend and I decided to take a horseback ride. A couple other friends of ours had horses, Toot (pronouced with a long u) and Carol. Toot was an older horse, very good-natured and one that no one would fear riding, and Carol was high strung, one that the owner used in his rodeo competitions. He said, "I don't mind ya'll riding her, but whatever you do, do not holler around Carol because she spooks easily". So off we go. We had nothing to do that afternoon, so we were in no hurry. When we got as far out as we wanted on their property, we decided to turn around so we'd have enough daylight to ride back. I don't know if every horse does this, but the three horses I've ridden in my lifetime all had the trait that when it sensed it was on it's way back "home", their paces would pick up. Toot sensed this, and would trot a little when he saw Carol and my friend take off at a little pace. Toot would stay up with him so that my friend and I could talk to each other. Due to the drugs we were under the influence of, this made us laugh quite a bit. Back and forth it went for about 10 minutes until Toot's pace picked up a little more. Toot got a little faster until pulling the reins didn't slow him down. For some reason the pony cart flashed in my memory... I commenced to getting a little more stern with him in a louder voice just to try to get him to slow down, only Toot was not obedient. Soon, Carol was way behind and Toot and I were barreling down the path toward home. My voice was now into the hollering/screaming range as it was hard enough to hang on, let alone see straight under the drug influence. We were in the field and had to go through a gate that led into the yard...I knew we weren't going to make that turn as fast as we were going, until at the last tenth of a second Toot made a turn into the gate nearly taking my leg off. We were headed straight toward two trailers parked end to end in a V-shape, and there was no place to go but to hit right in the middle of the V. Once again Toot made a split second decision and stopped...dead in his tracks. I went right over the top of his head and onto the ground a few feet from the parked trailers. I'm sure it would have looked like something you'd see on a cartoon. Fortunately I did not break any bones, but from the groin area all the way down to my knees were solid bruises on both legs. Toot didn't get hurt, but he certainly hurt my pride. I haven't been up on a horse since and really have no intentions of doing so until one day in the future. Word has it there'll be a lot of them, and for some reason, I don't think I'll have any trouble riding it, as I'm quite sure it'll be well trained. Just listen to this description...

Then I (John) saw heaven opened, and there before me was a white horse. The rider on the horse was called Faithful and True, and he is right when he judges and makes war.....The armies of heaven, dressed in fine linen, white and clean, were following him on white horses. Revelation 19:11 & 14

Saturday Night and Still Alive

It's Saturday evening and all I can hear on the other end of the house is my mother watching TV, sounding much like Lawrence Welk...by that I mean the "tiny bubble" music. If you don't know what "Tiny Bubbles" is, then don't ask. Growing up, every Saturday night for a number of years, we ate supper just down the road at my Uncle Orian and Aunt Vi's house. While Daddy and Uncle Orian were out back grilling, we either sat and looked at old yearbooks, or watched Lawrence Welk. That was our choice. Forget the Dish or Direct TV, as we probably only had about 4 channels...an ABC, NBC, CBS, and PBS channel and you had to get yourself up off the couch or chair to change the channel...a remote control was unheard of. For supper, we kids got the hamburger or hot dogs while the grown ups got steaks. We usually ate first, and moved out of the way where they could enjoy their meal without us around (so they could talk grownup), then we'd go outside and run it off. We scared our parents in later years when we told them what we used to do when they were in the house eating. If we have any older ones reading, you'll may recall the old skates that had keys to them. You used it to shorten or lengthen them. My uncle and aunt lived up on a hill and their road was paved in front of the house, you could enter or exit from either of the two entrances they had that led down to the highway, state road 121. They had big oak trees that graced their yard, so there was always moss hanging down which we found to be useful. We'd get a wad of moss and set it atop the roller skate for "padding", then we'd sit on it and someone would give us a shove as we'd skate down the hill. We've "skint" an arm or leg a few times, but we always got a thrill when we could balance good enough to get all the way to the bottom at the highway. We'd wait until it was dark before we tried another stunt in which we'd look both ways for cars, then run out into the highway and lay down on it until we saw a car top the hill a quarter of a mile down the road, then we'd see who could lay there the longest before we jumped up. We'd even take pennies and lay them in the road to see if a car could flatten it, and we got a few smashed pennies that way, but most got smashed down into the tar that patched some of the holes in the road. It wasn't long before we'd hear mama or daddy stick their head out the door and holler to tell us to get ready to go home. We'd gather the skates and take them back inside till the next weekend. Little did they know what we were doing with them...because less then 10 years before this, I was hit by a car just a few feet from where we played. Yes, I was 3 years old and walking to my aunt's with Pam, Wes, and my cousin Mike. We were going down there where mama was having coffee with my aunt, and Anneil (my oldest sister) was visiting with Mike's younger sister, Cathy. Wes and Mike ran to the other side, and I misunderstood them telling me not to cross the road, and crossed over as an older couple came by at just the right time and I got hit. I suffered a broken arm, leg, fractured skull, and concussion, but over a few months time, I recovered from the accident well. Fortunately, 121 wasn't as busy back then. The old man died about a month later from a heart attack. You'd have thunk we'd have learned our lesson...unfortunately we didn't, because this was a typical Saturday night for a few years for some of the Smith kids. In later years I learned the hard way again, only the injuries were more serious and confining...but grateful to have survived. You know if I didn't know better, I'd think Satan didn't want me around. But I hope every morning I open my eyes he's saying to himself, "Oh no, she's awake again". If I can encourage someone with a smile or laugh, give a word of warning, hold someone up in prayer, or lead someone in the right direction...then that's my way of getting back at him.



In 1 Thessalonians 5: 14b-17 it says: "We ask you brother and sisters, to warn those who do not work. Encourage the people who are afraid. Help those who are weak. Be patient with everyone. Be sure that no one pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to do what is good for each other and for all people. Always be joyful. Pray continually, and give thanks whatever happens. This is what God wants for you in Christ Jesus.