She was 19 years old and married to a small thin man in his late 30s or early 40s who looked to be twice his age and was crippled up in his left arm from a working accident some years before.  Thus, he was disabled and unable to work any more, at all, although the work he’d done before was just as a laborer.

She had four little girls of her own, although she was just a girl herself.

They were destitute.  They lived in a small shack consisting of three room, with no bathroom, far off the nearest paved road among the tall, matchstick pines.  Being summer, it was swelteringly hot and humid, but they had no air conditioning, of course.  Nor did they have much furniture.  In fact, other than in the kitchen, I recall none.  The three little girls and baby all slept on bare mattresses reeking with the strong odor of urine.  They may have had diapers for the youngest, but the nearest place to do laundry was in town, and that cost money they didn’t have.  Neither did we see any clothes, anywhere.

Their only transportation was an old dilapidated pickup, and it was not there when we arrived.  The doors were wide open, so we went up the flimsy back steps to the kitchen and went in to look around.  We saw a small table with bowls on them, a couple of chairs and some cheap bent spoons.  The small refrigerator’s door did not shut well and it was full of big ants, but very little else.  Ants crawled all across the tiny kitchen, including on the counter, where we found the remains of their pitiful lunch.  Water gravy and water Koolaid, with a bit of sugar in it.  There were no signs of anything else to eat.

We had wanted to see them to visit, but instead we just left the big boxes of food, produce, milk and staples, for them to have when they got home.  We left some small clean clothes, too, for the girls, and took note of what else they needed.  It was a long list, because they needed everything, beginning with a habitable place to live.

We were not only saddened, but sickened at what we saw.  The wretchedness of the place; the poverty.  But, for the moment we had done all we knew to do.

We found out later that the reason they were not “home” was because all of them had driven to nearby Lufkin to the welfare department to try to receive a bit more financial help then what he was getting.  The girl told us that what we saw in their shack was the very last of the food that they had.  The water gravy and Koolaid.  They had nothing else.

When they returned home, completely dejected and hungry, they were overjoyed to find the food we brought.

My friend, a young Christian mother of four, herself, in her 30s, and I – just a married college student, myself, with a little one, David, who was two years old, had driven back into town by then.  I pondered what I had seen and experiences.  I deeply identified with this young girl, as I was expecting a baby soon, and would have two little ones at 21.

We lived in student housing in a small two bedroom apartment that was $67 a month, which we could not afford, either, but we managed the the four married couples’ buildings around our square and that paid our rent.  My husband went to school full time and worked all kinds of odd jobs at night to help with bills, too.  One job, sitting in a chicken house where the incubators were all night long to keep the eggs from burning, paid 33 cents an hour.  It was a miserable job, but we needed the money.

Yet, when I compared my life to hers, and she was a brand new Christian, I felt deeply blessed.

We did not leave them as we found them.  Charlotte, my friend, went back repeatedly to help them and even got the girl a decent paying job in town soon after.  Charlotte made sure she was able to come worship with us and bring her little daughters.  The girl dressed them up as best she could with the hand-me-downs and they looked shiny and sweet.

They are able to move into town and the church helped them greatly.  Their lives improved very much due to the love and care and benevolence of the compassionate Christian community there in Nacogoches.  It was inspiring to me to see true Christianity in action – Jesus love – and the impressions of that girl’s life have stayed with me until now.

This did not happen during the deep Depression of the 1930s.  This happened in 1966, and happens still today in many places all around us here in America, if only we will take the time to really open our eyes and see as Jesus would have us see.

My daughter, who lives in an a far suburb of Dallas told me a few years ago that she did not know any poor people.  (Although she lives out in the country and has trailer homes on both sides of their property.)  I was stunned.  I told her she would find them all around her, even there, if she would just look.  She took my advice, and did.  Since then, she has been involved in ministry with her congregation of Christians and on several mission trips outside this country, even.  We financially supported her in doing those things and have supported her morally and in every way we could to encourage her in her work.

Tom and I live in a very poor area of the south here in Mississippi where people such as the girl in the woods live, as well.  May I ever seek out those I can help in some way – as God’s child – a Christian – and not forget they are all around me too.  To get to our house in the woods, we drive by dozens and dozens of run down trailers and trailer parks that look like junk yards.  They are here.

I hope you will be encouraged today to look more closely around where you live to find someone you can help – in Christ’s name – to show them the love of God and Christ even in their lives!

Many blessings to each of you today.  Dee

Friday afternoon about 4 p.m., Tom & I both got to meet Patrick, whom I have long considered one of my dearest blog buddies (see “Patrick Mead” & “Tentpegs“), ranked right up there with you, Greg (see “why, soitenly“).  I just wish (1) you could have been there, too, Greg, (2) y’all’s wives could have come, (3) that the four of you were coming to our house, and (4) last, but not least, we could have all sat out by the fire pit on our deck Friday night listening to you both play your guitars.  Now, that my friends, would be heaven!

Tom & I first met up at the Gulfport airport, just down the road about 40 minutes away, with our “neighbor” Les Ferguson, Jr..  Les is a fellow blogger, too, author of “A Wayfarer’s Trek.”  He is the minister of the Orange Grove Church of Christ in Gulfport.  I was really happy to meet Les, too, as we’ve been “following” each other ever since our early blogging days, for me, some five+ years now.  We found we had a lot in common.  For one thing, Les had written a weekly religion newspaper column for several years for the Vicksburg, Mississippi daily paper, even after moving over to Laurel, Mississippi.  So, he and Tom hit it off and knew newspaper people in common.

Les was there to pick up Patrick to take him over to the Gulf Coast Bible Camp near Lucedale, Mississippi, a small town about the size of Picayune, but the other direction from Gulfport – northeast instead of northwest.  Patrick was going to be speaking to a group of teens at a weekend retreat the camp was hosting.  Tom & I didn’t figure we could pass for teens so didn’t try to break up the party.

The four of us only got visit for a few minutes there in the airport, but it was fun.  Tom was SO sweet to take off work Friday afternoon to take me over.  It was a gorgeous day.  About 74 degrees, bright and sunny, with a good wind for sailing, if Tom had had his boat in the water.  (It’s here next to the house on its trailer.)  We went on down by the water in Long Beach to visit with friends, then gathered more friends to all ate dinner together at a great little Italian place.  Quite a lovely afternoon and evening.

Oh yeah . . . we remembered our camera, so here’s PROOF POSITIVE of our Patrick Mead/Les Ferguson sighting in coastal Mississippi on a bright, nearly spring, day:

Patrick, me & Les.

Patrick & me.

And, last, but not least, Patrick, me and Tom.

Y’all come on down/over/up – whichever way – to see us, too, okay?!  Would love to have each and every one of you over for a visit.  There’s lots of fun stuff to do around here and you cannot beat the company you’ll be keeping. 

Cheers!  And many blessings to each of you today! Dee

P. S. Next time I’ll get back to the conclusion of our Arkansas Memories Tour of Nov. 2009, so don’t miss it, ya hear?!

Tell you what – if I don’t have, can’t find an answer for you, I’ll do some research to try to do so or pass your question along to someone who does have an answer for you, how about that?

In exchange (to be fair here, you understand), I’ll ask y’all a question.  Just one.  Okay, more than one.  Y’all know I can’t stop at one  question, after all.  There’s too much of a journalist left in me.  I always want to know the who, what, where, when and how (and/or why).

So, enlighten me a bit.  I could use some enlightening this morning, I’m telling ya.

Where are you coming by here from, i.e., what state, town, country, place?  I’m just curious about how you’ve ended up here at Finding Direction, how long you’ve been dropping by and for what reasons.  In other words, tell me a bit about yourself, even if you wish to remain anonymous.

That’s it!

So, let the commenting begin.  If you’ve never commented before, all you have to do is fill in the first box with your name, or pseudonym, or “Anonymous,” and the second box with your email address (which will not show on here, but only verifies to me alone that you’re a “real” person.   The third box, which says URL, is only for those of you who have a website address you wish to post.  If you don’t have a website or don’t wish to reveal it, to comment just leave your/a name and your email address, which comes only to me.  That’s it!  It’s simple.

Can’t wait to hear from you with your questions and revelations about yourselves.

Cheers!  And many blessings to you today!  Dee

May God’s richest blessings be with you today and may we all raise our voices in thanksgiving to Him, our creator, our loving Father, who blesses us with all things.

I am joyfully thankful for all of you – my dear friends.

Dee

One of the biggest blessings came yesterday about noon when Rebecca called me to tell me she’d had a CT scan early yesterday morning, that the abscess in her right kidney was completely gone and the radiologist took the drain tube out of her kidney that came out on her back, with a tube down her side that had been draining pus for a week and a half.

We all rejoice in this good news for her.

Yet, she has a long way to go, being still on antibiotic and having to take iron tablets three times a day because she is very anemic and they have not yet determined the cause.  She tires very easily and must rest a lot.

Also, there are a couple of major rifts in our family right now that are beyond my comprehension or understanding.  Tom struggles to understand, as well, as he holds me close as I grieve and cry out to God for wisdom to know how best to be His servant to everyone around me, beginning with my children.

Yet, I am strengthened and uplifted  – rested now – by your ongoing prayers for us.  God is the source of my peace as I have spent the past two days here at home alone in silence in a beautiful place of meditation on this earth.

I sat here at my desk yesterday afternoon looking out my long window, open to the cool breezes coming from our front porch and the woods across the road (to the east).  A small nearly black bird with dark gray breast – a kind I have never seen before – came and perched on the edge of the porch just outside my window and sat for the longest time.

He chirped loudly and clearly and I watched him until he flew away, thanking God for sending him to me to consider.  God’s small winged bird that He watches over just as He watches over me.  I felt an overwhelming sense of wonder that God loves me so.

So, I leave you with another song today – and video.  It is Chris Tomlin singing “Amazing Grace,” but with beautiful lyrics and music of his own added that make it even more inspiring.

May God richly bless you each with His peace today in all things, even in times of greatest hardship, as He has me.

Dee

Click here to view the embedded video.

I am home (last night at dark) from an eight day, 575  mile (one way) trip alone to go stay with and care for my dear daughter, Rebecca, last week out near Dallas.  She spent nine days in the hospital with a severe kidney infection and belatedly discovered abscess in her right kidney.  She nearly died during the night a week ago Thursday in the hospital.

She is doing enough better physically that I was able to come home yesterday (in a grueling 10 hour trip, during which I was heavily fatigued – and still am, for that matter).

Tom had all of the lantern lights on across our front porch as I drove up and I began weeping and could not stop for about three hours, I was so happy to be home, to see him and have him hold me in his arms once again.

I had a good night’s sleep last night and have spent the day at home, alone, in complete silence until about 2 p.m., fasting most of the day and in prayer.  My family is deeply troubled and I continue to seek your prayers with me and for me, Tom and my family, beginning with Rebecca.

I cannot say more here.  But, I do leave you with this deeply meaningful song, that has been in my heart, mind and soul for the past several days.  May God strengthen me as He always has in my life so that I may be His servant and have the special graces I so desperately need in this time of crisis to offer wise counsel and help to those in my family who so need His love, grace, help and peace.

Click here to view the embedded video.

May God richly bless each and every one of you who reads this.

Dee

First – Greg’s comment:

Greg England

I don’t have a clue which direction our house faces, which would be the direction I’d be facing while standing at the kitchen sink. My view is our dining room, which was built to be a den or family room. There is a widow on the other side, but we keep the shutters closed most of the time just for privacy from the very nosey neighbor kids.

If I turn my back to the sink, I’m looking across the kitchen to a sliding glass door. That, too, is most often blocked by blinds because in the afternoon the sun shines right in and heats up the kitchen. (Hmmm, that being the case, I suppose our house faces somewhat east?) When I do look at that door, I see grass that needs mowing or Chipper looking in to see when I’m going to come out and play.

Years ago, when I was a kid, I was standing at the kitchen sink in our house in Orlando, FL and looked out the window (it was dark, sort of late in the evening) to see a man’s face looking back at me. Scared the bejeebers out of me. I’ve been too traumatized since then to actually do dishes, so it worked out to my advantage!

My response to Greg and observations:

Greg -

I had NO idea you were “directionally challenged!”  That’s a very serious problem, you know.  ESPECIALLY for a man, who is supposed to be God born with an innate, very accurate sense of direction.  I mean – how can you not know which direction your house faces, or your windows or your view from your kitchen sink?  I must say I was quite stunned by that revelation.

However, I’m proud of you because you did, eventually, manage to pull together enough male reasoning ability to figure out that since the sun pours through your back patio door (when the blinds are open, which apparently isn’t often) in the afternoons, that must be west.  Good thinking.

Although, you wavered a bit then when you said “[so] I suppose our house faces somewhat east?”  Umh, umh, umh, Greg.  I’m not sure about you yet.  I mean . . . unless I’m wrong, your house (like most, including ours) is built in with square corners with probably rectangular walls.  Many, many homes are built facing one of the four directions – north, south, east or west – not at angles to the directions, although some admittedly are.  That’s possible.

But, if the back of your house is to the west (think sunsets, Greg), then the front of your house should be facing east, and not just “somewhat.”  But, giving you the benefit of the doubt (and having never been there with my compass to check it out personally), I’ll let you slide on that one, and concede your house may face “somewhat” east.  (Do you ever peek through the front blinds and see the sun coming up there, per chance?)

Moving on . . .

After learning you’re “directionally challenged,” it began to dawn on me why you often write in your blog about getting lost on the road, going the various places you must go in your work.  I mean – no WONDER you’re always getting lost, despite having every man’s “wonder toy of the road” today, a GPS.

I know this, because you’ve told us/me that even your GPS seems to not know exactly where things really are or how to get to them.  (Remember your email about being down the highway in the desert coming home and trying to get to a gas station but your GPS led you astray?  Now I understand, better.)

Speaking of having a GPS, I held off for as long as I possibly could, but finally Tom was given a $100 gift card that was burning a hole in his pocket and just HAD to buy one.   He told me he’d seen a great one – on sale – at Best Buy, so it would “only” cost us $29 with the gift card.

However, once we got there and he looked at all of them, the one on sale (for $139, not $129), was not at all what he wanted.  We went to Radio Shack.  Same selection, higher prices.  Back to Best Buy.  Ended up getting a very nice (I’m sure) Magellan on sale.  Much higher, of course, so, instead of costing us $29, it was nearly $100 above the gift card.  (But, all in “boat money,” (see here) which was now expanded to include “safety in the car money.”  Yeah, right.)

The first time he used it was for us to go . . .

But, that story needs its own post, so (I know Greg, you hate these!) stay tuned until next time, y’all!

Cheers!  And many blessings to each of you today!  Dee

I’m sharing his photo in it that he sent me right here today at Finding Direction.  But wait; there’s more than that.  I’m also (you know how I am about stories) sharing with you some of the story and history that go along with the cap – what it represents in a larger arena.

First – here’s Greg in his cap:  

I think Greg looks great in it, although he claimed in his email he sent with the photo that he & Janice decided he needs a new face to make the photo look better.  I think not, Greg.

I know what you’re all thinking right now.  That’s great, but what’s the big deal.  What’s that on the cap that we can’t see well enough to read?

Ahh.  I knew you’d ask.  And I’m prepared.

Here is a close up photo of the cap itself:

The cap reads:  Martin & Co., Est. 1833, America’s Guitar.

While Greg loves guitars and has, what is it Greg – 9 or 11?, plus drums, banjos, etc, he does not own at the present time a Martin guitar.   Still, Martins are very good guitars and have a long history.   So, I’m giving you Martin & Co.’s official website to browse along with a link directly to its history home page where you can not only read all about the company’s history, but also get help with trying to date your own old Martin guitar or mandolin.  (Isn’t that really cool?!)

Martin & Co. has been in the business of making all kinds of acoustical instruments since 1833.  That’s 176 years!!  The company’s history is fascinating to read as it is part of our own American heritage.   So, you’re getting a lot for your money here today at Finding Direction, ya know?!

Hope you each have a very blessed day today!!  Dee

P. S.  Please send your prayers on wings to me today as I prepare and tomorrow morning as I travel by car to New Orleans, then by plane through Dallas and on to Abilene to have an extended visit with my beloved Mom.  I’ll be, Lord willing, posting from there both here and on Facebook, so watch for those, beginning tomorrow evening.  Thanks!!

For those of you just joining us, I’ve spent the past couple of posts sharing the story of Tom’s purchase of a small sailboat a year and a half ago and the ensuing expenses of maintaining and upgrading said boat, sometimes to my total dismay at the cost of such.  (See here & here for the details – you don’t want to miss them, believe me.)

I mean, I’m a fairly intelligent woman (and I don’t want to hear any guffaws from you guys about the “woman” part of that phrase) – an attorney, even – but sometimes Tom’s thinking totally defied logic.  (Such as the “men don’t measure” comment and how he could not (apparently) be one bit concerned with costs of such a hobby (sport, relaxation therapy – whatever men call their “toys).

But I finally gained deep insight into his thinking as we were coming into Lowe’s (to buy my new, “extravagant” purchase for myself (yeah, right) of a durable trash can!?!) when he explained the following to me.  It went like this:

Tom says, “You see, Dee . . . I haven’t really spent that much money at all on this marine plywood and the other boat things I’ve gotten.”

Me:  “How do you figure that, pray tell?”

“Because they were ‘Boat Dollars’,” he (patiently & gently) explained (to me, a mere woman).   “Ron (Tom’s best friend) explained to me when he got his boat that one boat dollar is equivalent to 10 dollars, so in “Boat Dollars,” I’ve only spent about $15 dollars, not $150.”

“Now do you understand?!” he said.  “And aren’t you proud of me for being so frugal with my boat dollars?”

Sigh.

I’m sure there are guitar, gun and drum set dollar exchanges, as well, for husbands like Patrick and Greg.  The best I can figure, it’s sort of like exchanging U. S. Dollars for foreign currency.  Except that this currency is all in husbands’ minds for whatever their fancy happens to be.

To be fair, I have to say I know some women who have the same sort of currency system when it comes to clothes, shoes, decorating, arts & crafts, etc.  It’s not all one sided.

Me?  I’m not sure I have such a system in place.  I think I have in the past to some degree with books, music (another big currency system of some husbands, btw) and the like.  But in the more recent past and present, I’m working much harder at (1) keeping Tom from going into debt with his “boat dollars” (ha!) and (2) storing up my currency in heavenly places for my life to come.

We all have currency exchanges, I think, each in our own different way.  Thank God He gives us pleasurable activities on this earth to engage ourselves in, but may we always also keep in mind where we want our lasting treasures to be.

Cheers!  And many blessings to each of you today!!  Dee

I mean – we’re talking about the Mississippi Press Association starting its first summer convention in 1856.  That’s before the Civil War.  Our country at that time was only 80 years young.  Isn’t that amazing?!

Here in Mississippi, as well as in I would guess every state of our union, most newspapers are not the vast regional/national papers that we’ve heard and read about having so much trouble staying alive.  We are talking about small town, home town newspapers that share with us the local news and events that we want and need to know about in our daily lives.  We want to know about and see newspaper pictures of our kids’ baseball games, football games, basketball games, scouting activities, school awards’ days, engagements, weddings, deaths, obituaries, political goings on.

These are the realities of our daily lives recorded for us for posterity.  How many of you do not have newspaper clippings tucked away in boxes in closets that are treasures kept from long ago and to be passed on to those who come after us?  I know I have yellowed newspaper photos of my kids when they were little and doing all of the fun school and scouting stuff

I treasure a small cut out photo of my little four year old son Mark chomping down heartily on corn on the cob caught by a local newspaper reporter covering the town’s 4th of July celebration one summer.  Every time I look at it I smile at how cute he was then with his long, thick paint brush eyelashes shading his golden green eyes.

I still have my dad’s obituary cut out and saved in a drawer.  That will pass along to my children one day, along with much older newspaper clippings that my mom has saved for many decades now from her own family’s history.

So, while we are having fun here – and we are (I’m feeling "pretty" good, but am quite tired) – we also take seriously the reasons that bring us all together and bind us as print media journalists and families.  We do not confuse our duties and responsibilities to our communities with the glitz, glamour & frenzy wrought by scandal tabloids and celebrity papparazi.  Nor do we bow to those in places of power, status & wealth who would sway opinion among their readers by reporting through biased filters and lenses rather than objectively reporting the news and letting the public draw their own conclusions.

So, when you think of newspapers and print media, do not make blanket statements and judge all for the shortcomings and sins of some.  There are vast differences between the two groups.

Wish us well and pray community newspapers will not cease to exist.  They are of vital importance even today – maybe even moreso today – than ever.  Do not take your community newspaper for granted. 

That’s a blogger’s view here today from the beautiful – but very hot – Mississippi gulf coast at the Mississippi Press Association’s summer convention. 

Stay cool!  Dee