Bits of Glass

Always Wear Your Seatbelt “You don’t remember me, do you?” The woman in the driver’s seat seemed to think I knew her. I glanced down at the form on my clipboard, hoping her name would jog my memory. At no time while I was administering her driving test had she seemed familiar to me.               “I’m Wade’s mom.”               I did remember her son.   He and my son Matthew worked in tandem to deal misery to their kindergarten teacher Mrs. Crawford.              I shifted in the passenger seat to look directly at this woman, a connection to life before the wreck . “I was surprised when your husband brought Wade to the funeral. That’s a lot for a five-year-old to deal with.”             “I have to tell you what happened the weekend of your accident.”             I listened intently, unaware of anything be...

I winced as I hurried across the yard. The pain in the bottom of my bare feet reminded me that there were acorns on the ground.  I was chasing the ever-elusive ten-pound chihuahua/rat terrier mix named Pumpkin. He had escaped into the front yard. No amount of calling his name, offering of treats, whistling, or any other tactic I could think of was enticing him to return to the house. He seemed to think it was a game. He would stop in the street or in a neighbor's yard. Then, just as I got close, he would take off running. He is very fast.  I don't like to fall, and I do like to breathe. So, I walk after this stubborn little dog.  Chasing Pumpkin reminds me of my Dad's words, "There's nothing I dislike more than a dog who won't come when he's called." That is my dog. He is eleven years old and has NEVER come when he is called. He comes when he wants to. Sometimes when I call him he ignores me. Other times he turns and looks at me, then goes abou...

It sneaks up on me every year. There’s a cloud that rolls over my soul right around Thanksgiving. It usually blows in with the first wintery weather. The first few years I was ready. Around the middle of November I would steel myself against the feelings I knew were coming. I would tell anyone who would listen how rough the next few weeks would be for me. I anticipated the waves of grief that would threaten to pull me under on the anniversary of the death of my son, Matthew. I would try to fill my schedule as much as possible, trying to drown out the sorrow with a flurry of activity.   I would work myself into a frenzy worrying about how hard the day would be. The dreaded day would come, and I would get through. I would breathe, and realize that I had made it through another year since that horrible day. It’s now been twenty-five years since that fateful day. Years of day-to-day routines have carved out a new normal. Now the cloud is more subtle. Little signs of the grief cl...

The ping from my phone startled me. My Sunday afternoon nap had stretched into evening. "Are you ignoring me? LOL" read the Facebook message from my daughter. The dreaded words searching for service   were at the top of the screen. My signal indicator had two bars, my Wi-Fi signal was strong, but no calls or texts were coming in or going out. Near panic set in. (well, at least some brief confusion) In this day of instant and constant communication, I was frustrated at the lack of function from my device. Fortunately my discomfort was short-lived. I dug deep into my knowledge of technology. I turned my phone off and then back on. All of a sudden I received several text messages that had been sent to me during my nap. The disruption of service caused an uncomfortable feeling for me. Both daughters had been on the road after travelling to visit me for Mother's Day. I had missed their messages that they made it safely home.  I worried what they thought when I didn...

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." The Christmas season was beginning, and my heart was torn. The first real Christmas without my son Matthew would also be the first for my six-month old daughter Missy. Part of me wanted to hide from the happiness of decorations, lights and music. Another part of me wanted my baby's first Christmas to be perfect, free from the sorrow that had hung over our home for the past year. I wondered how I could grieve for my son and celebrate for my daughter at the same time? My husband and I agreed that we wanted Missy's first Christmas to be a happy one. Through our sorrow, we forced ourselves to buy a tree and shop for gifts. I noticed that a little joy began to sneak in here and there as the pieces of our new normal began to fall into place. That Christmas was the first of many times for me to experience joy alongside sorrow. Those emotions collided again two years later when my daughter Valerie was born. I was bot...

The words rang in my ears like the shot heard ‘round the world.  “Have you ever thought about leaving this town?” My trusted pastor, Anthony, caught me off guard with this question. Some days I was ready to leave, but other days I wanted to stay forever.  The thought of moving scared me. This had been my home for fourteen years and my daughters' only home. My son was buried here. I was involved in my church and comfortable there. Would I get lost in a bigger church? We discussed the reasons to consider moving.  I was a single parent, with no family close by. The alternative school where I was employed as a teacher was in danger of being closed. The most important reason however, was that God had led Anthony to ask me this question. I trusted God, but when it came to Him speaking to me I was pretty sure my hearing was defective. C ould it be that God had good things in store for us somewhere else?  Was it possible that His plan involved us moving?...

I fought back tears as I stepped into the hallway. I would NOT let them see me cry. These high school students were having a field day with me, the new teacher. It was my first year in a traditional classroom. It was not their first time testing limits. The classroom management strategies that worked well for me in an alternative school setting were failing miserably. Some students were quick to take advantage of my inexperience and insecurity. They were pros at frustrating me and getting me off track. I was not good at redirecting and standing my ground.....yet! Part of me wanted to run out the door and never look back. I stayed because of trust. I had seen God orchestrate this move and job change in ways that left no doubt it was His plan. I had interviewed over the phone in a hospital gown two days after major surgery. (almost unheard of before Skype or Google Hangouts). In six weeks time, the house sold, we moved across the state and I started my new job. Now I was standing at...