A lot of people have great conversion stories. I’m not one of those people. I wish that I were, but my “conversion” story is pretty mundane. Church is woven through every memory I have. Church for me was just a part of growing up like going to school and family dinners on Sunday afternoon. In some ways, I’m jealous of those who can pinpoint the exact moment or time period when they first believed. My nephew, Chase Chism, is one of those people. This week, my sister-in-law, Shala Rudd, shared a video on social media of his testimony. The Power that overtook him when he first believed jumps out and grabs you! My “run-of-the-mill-grew-up-in-the-church” story doesn’t have that same zing to it. Read more
When I was a kid, my Mamaw had this funny expression. When I’d ask where she was going, she’d always gather her fingers to her thumb, waive her hand at me, and in a thick Sicilian accent respond, “Palermo!”
It made no sense. I had no idea who, what, where, or when “Palermo” was. And, sensing that she was not in the mood for additional questions, I’d let it drop. Still wondering… Palermo?
This next part is a little embarrassing, but here goes. Read more
I’ve spent the better part of the last twenty-five years pleading a case. My office was a courtroom where I arranged facts for a judge so that he or she would ultimately see things my way. Of course, there was usually someone on the other side of the room who arranged the facts differently in the hope that the judge would see things their way instead.
The judge didn’t always see things my way. If I’m being entirely forthright, then I must admit that sometimes my version of the facts wasn’t always the best version. Then, there were other times when I still feel strongly that the judge sided against me wrongly. My facts were better, but justice wasn’t served.
Don’t you feel a little like that when seeking justice in your own circumstances? You are dealing with a cheating spouse. Thieves run off with your car. A “friend” gossips behind your back. A drunk driver hits head on. Where’s the justice? Read more
When the girls were little, they would bicker in the backseat as I drove. I’m sure this has never happened in your world. Don’t judge. One day we were making our way from Point A to Point B and I simply reached the end of my rope. No one saw it coming, but as stealth as night a scream filled the car. It was loud, and it was mine.
After a startling moment of silence, backseat sniping melted instantly into laughter. Pretty soon, we were all screaming and laughing as if it were one sound.
That one afternoon of frustration evolved into a game – The Screaming Game (very original title). The rules were just as original – someone says, “Let’s play the Screaming Game,” and everyone starts screaming.
I miss that game. Not the loudness, really, but definitely the loudness. I miss the way fake screams sound from little girls. I miss how the girls thought they were getting away with something that they weren’t supposed to be doing. Read more
As I write this blog entry, the city of New Orleans is marking the thirteenth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. On August 29, 2005, Katrina came ashore just east of the city. For those of us in the area, we breathed a sigh of collective relief as peril appeared to skirt around us.
Then . . . the levees broke. Read more
These days, everyone seems to rely on some form of electronic map to get from Point A to Point B. Not only do these systems direct you “left” and “right,” they chirp cheerfully when traffic builds up or a cop is ahead. No matter how sophisticated the chirp or the English accent of the system – at some point, each one will send you in the wrong direction. Sometimes they may be off by a street or two. Sometimes, more. Once, I ended up at a similar address that was forty-five minutes from where I was supposed to be. Sometimes, you are led the wrong-way up a one-way street or land at a dead end.
You’ve been there. What’d you do? If like most people, you just pull to the side of the road and set up camp. That’s right. Pull a tent out of the back of the car. Lay down roots Make a new home. Yep -right there in front of the sign reading “No Outlet – Dead End.” Read more
Orange you glad I didn’t say “banana”?
Admit it. You giggled. You couldn’t help yourself. It’s not even funny, but it made you laugh. Read more