Several people back in Tennessee have asked to read the story. It’s a very personal story, but after my friend told me she was approached by two women at her bridge club who wanted her to thank me for sharing, I decided to put it here. The theme was Hope for The Holidays. Here’s my story –
It's in the genes
Walking in Linda's back field in a pair of faded overalls and a wad of Red Man chewing tobacco in his cheek with a determined look on his face. Focused on the divining rods in his hands, he looked like a country preacher or moonshiner, serious in his business.
"Come talk to Donna."
She had to decide right then what she was taking and what she was leaving. All her memories out there in the yard.
Thanks to sixteen years in pediatrics and all of the great kids I met- I have hope that they are more aware, more considerate, and way smarter than we give them credit for.
The universe knows…
The next night the gift came in the form of a fireball shooting nun celebrating her retirement from St. Bernard's at Lipstick Lounge.
That time I met a real cowboy
He was broke and broken down, he said. "I didn't even have money to stay at a cheap motel, I was going to sleep in my truck. I was banking on winning enough money to get back home on."
Room in the Inn
Something else happened while I was there that I’ll be forever grateful for. My seventh grade science teacher, Nita Heilman, reached out to me on FaceBook and asked if I’d like to volunteer at St. Bethlehem at Room in the Inn. I jumped at the chance.