Rosie knelt down, felt the pecans in the grass, and then crawled around on the ground collecting them and depositing them in her bucket.
She is legally blind, and couldn't see the nuts when she was standing. Her vision, which had been damaged by scar tissue as a child, was clear enough to make out objects, but she had to get very close to see the details.
When she held the pecans in her hand, she used her sense of touch to tell the difference between the good ones and the bad ones.
My Christmas tree is still up. I know — Christmas is over and it's time to take the decorations and lights down and get on with life.
But Christmas isn't really over until after January 6th, the day when many Christians celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany from December 25th until January 6th. These days are a collection of 12 feast days beginning with Christmas day and ending after the revelation of the wise men. The revelation is called Epiphany or the unveiling or finding God in the flesh, (the baby Jesus in the manger).
What Christmas memories stand out in your mind? My favorite memories are the smell of oranges, the crackling sound coming from our fireplace and the sight of candy-striped material on the floor in my mother’s sewing room.
Christmas was the only time we had oranges. Regardless, the time of year, their nostalgic sweet, citrus smell still stir up memories for me. When we lived in South Texas I loved it when it was time to go to orange groves and pick oranges. I could hardly wait until we'd get into the car and begin to peel the sk...
“Before you get too busy with all the gift lists, we need your help. We will ask you for a special gift.
We have a friend. He is an Native Indian. He went to fight in the war, in a nation called Vietnam. He's a very tall man, long hair, skinny and dark like some of us Latinos.
Tom does not speak Spanish. He speaks Indian and English, but he is a nice man.
Our friend's name is Tom. Now that he's a little more sick, he went to see his family in Arkansas. But we know you can find him.
As I watched the second candle (the candle of peace) of the Advent season being lit in church on Sunday, I thought of the fork my friend gave me at the very beginning of this Christmas season.
It was something no one had ever given me before–a set of silverware, yes, but not just one fork. However, with the dainty fork that I can wear as a pendant, she gave me a beautiful story to go with it.
It seems there was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. As she was "gett...
"I don't know what happened,” she said. Suddenly I had this entire white wall as my canvas and a palette of colors to play with. I lost track of time and let my imagination go wild."
It started out as an artistic effort to paint a small mural of flowers on a little girl's wall. However, my daughter said when she stepped out of our granddaughter's room two hours later; there was an entire garden scene; complete with an apple tree, sunflowers and a furry little bunny sitting beneath it all.
My husband and I were sitting in a Burger King having lunch, when a lady approached us and asked, "Sir, would you mind coming into the playroom with our children?" We looked up at her and back towards the room where about 20 little children's faces were pressed against the glass looking our way. "The children think you are Santa Claus," the lady said.
My husband had a white beard and was wearing a Santa hat and a red shirt. He smiled and said, "Sure!" And off he went with a big smile and a little bounce in his step.
There was a quiet sadness that filled the room. Each mother there shared a special memory of her child. It was a comfortable place to be because it was all right to cry.
My friend had invited me to join her and a group of mothers who gather each Christmas to share memories of their children who have passed away.
Warm hands reached out for mine as I entered the group. I listened as they shared stories of their children. It had been longer for some since they had held the warm hands of their children, but the happy memories they ...
It was small, about 2 ½ feet high, with green branches and a different color fiber optic light at the end of each thistle. It sat in a window of my house that faced the street on a small table I found in Mexico. The tiny twinkly lights were constantly changing and it became a brilliant display every evening as darkness arrived. Humble as it was, it represented Christmas for us.
Of course, our children were not that impressed with our little artificial tree. They grew up with the smell of pine saturating the house each year, an...
How do you pick a Christmas gift for someone who only has a few days or weeks to live? That's the dilemma I had when I got the news that my brother, Gerald, who was in stage four brain cancer, had one last request–to celebrate Christmas with all of his brothers and sisters, together.
He talked my sister into taking him to the mall and push him from store to store picking out Christmas gifts for each one of us. This was going be the last time my family and I would have with my older brother who had been given this sad ne...
We always pretended to be asleep. It was a game we played with our dad on Christmas Eve. He told us he couldn't signal for Santa until we were sound asleep in our beds.
As soon as he announced it was time to go to bed, we would run to our rooms, change into pajamas and jump into bed to wait for him to come into say goodnight.
He'd lean down close to our faces to see if our eyes were closed. Sometime I could feel his scratchy beard brush against my cheek. He turned his face sideways so he could listen to our breathing, t...
If you are making a list and checking it twice I think I may have found a children's movie that, in a very simple way, may help you fill your Christmas list.
“The Very Monkey Christmas” is a Christmastime story about a problem Curious George and The Man with the Yellow Hat were having. They must both find out what each other wants for Christmas.
Curious George is an American animated educational children’s television series based on the children’s book series of the same name that ran from 2006-...
There was a reason why suggesting a clambake for Thanksgiving in place of the traditional turkey and dressing did not go over very well with our children. I think it brought back memories of another Thanksgiving meal that caught them off guard.
Our three children were elementary school age when we spent our first Thanksgiving with their grandparents in Missouri. They lived in a big brick house surrounded by 10 acres of rocky land on a rural road at the foothills of the Ozark Mountains.
Inside the small white envelope was a pretty little card with a bear and flowers on the front. When I opened it, a note written in a child’s handwriting read, “Thank you, Mrs. Landers, for the movie tickets. We’re going to watch Lizzie McGuire. I appreciate your letter. P.S. Thanks.” Signed Sami (with a flower over the I).
It was a thank you note from a child I sent movie tickets for a story that we published of hers for a contest.
When I finished the note, I thought about how wonderful it was th...
When I was a child, I knew that I could eat as much candy as I wanted on Easter, Halloween, and Christmas. It was great. My parents didn’t seem to be bothered by all the amount of sweets my brothers, sisters, and I could consume in one day.
However, any other day of the year, they would not let us have as much. It didn’t make sense to me. But, of course, when I became a parent, I understood the need to monitor sweets, and I also became aware of the price of buying bags of candy for my children.
Twas the night before Christmas and everything was going wrong. There was no heat to warm the small trailer where we lived. That was because the butane tank that held the gas was empty.
We called the gas company, but they refused to come out on a holiday to fill the tank, even though the temperature was only going to reach 15 degrees. My husband’s job had brought us to the small Georgia town. He was the new pastor of a small missionary church.
It was so cold in the trailer that the children had to wear their coats...
Sometimes our minds are like computers. When we are trying to enjoy those special moments in life, a message appears, “No more room. Temporary files too big, need to delete.”
When I complained to my friend about not having enough room on my computer, she showed me how to delete and transfer files to free up room for the important things I needed most.
The phrase, “There is no room in the Inn,” became very real to me when I was invited to a friend's home in south Texas to share in their family’s C...
At 4:am, my head finally sank into the overly soft pillow in the attic bedroom. I had been waiting all night for the last child to arrive for the Thanksgiving holidays at the cabin we rented in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.
I was thankful indeed, as I lay completely peaceful knowing that once again all of our children were under one roof. If I listened intently, I could almost hear each of them breathe, though they were sleeping on different levels of the three-story cabin that we found nestled in the Tennessee Mountains, surroun...
