The story Roads We Travel is the second part in a two-part series. A heartfelt thank you. I am humbled and grateful for each of you who read The Saturday Journal and encourage my storytelling along the way. It was in the wee hours of the morning--over 35 years ago and we loaded our sleeping babies in the back seat--tucking them tightly in their car seats--still wearing their pajamas--covered in their favorite blankets.. We were set to hit the road--a ten to eleven hour road t

The story Roads We Travel is a two-part series. As always, I am humbled and grateful for each of you who read The Saturday Journal and encourage my storytelling along the way. I was walking on my neighborhood road--a cold spring morning and as I rounded the curve at the crest of the hill I saw something move on the black asphalt--it was smack-dab in the center of the road. An early butterfly. Sweet thing--what are you doing in the middle of the road--on this chilly morning..

I believe we can all relate in saying much of the time--our lives are too rushed--too much hurry--just too much...and then here we are Easter weekend--and on Saturday--the stillness of Saturday. I shared this four years ago and wanted to share it again--it holds a special memory for me--one I've been too busy to remember--until I slowed and read the story again... There's a certain stillness of the Last Supper, His Dying, the silence of Saturday and then Sunday--the Resurrec

Over the last two months, I have had two dear friends have to say good-bye to their brothers--both too soon. I have experienced this heartbreak of losing a baby brother a few years ago myself. We have all experienced this grief at one time or another in our lives--whether it be with siblings, parents, grandparents, children, family members, friends and loved ones. And I don't have any perfect advice--but what helps me the most is this--clinging to the memories--holding tho

I love a good--soft--bulky hoodie. In fact if I could, I would wear a hoodie every single day. I may even tell my kids to bury me in a hoodie. I don't believe the Good Lord will care one way or the other. There are many reasons why I prefer a hoodie over a crew neck sweatshirt--one being comfort and another reason--the front pocket. You can carry tools, your phone, keys, candy, snacks, and it saves from carrying a purse in the store--that is if a person is just running in

There's a child and when this child reached the age of 18, the child's foster parents dropped the child off at the local homeless shelter. The child was no longer of use to them--no longer a paycheck. True story. There's this old restaurant and a man and his wife turned this empty space into a gathering place--a feeding station. And for over a decade now--every day--seven days a week--365 days a year--the doors are open at five for a meal--except for the Sabbath and breakf

I've been a little numb over the past few weeks--the heaviness of the world weighing down all around. I know I'm not alone when I say this--I just don't for the life of me understand. I believe when we are drowning in sorrows and the bad news keeps coming and the weight of this life tries to drown out the good, it's the memories of the past and most importantly reflecting on God's past and present goodness and kindness--that's what gets us through these very dark days. This

They handed me a couple of folded up notes–paper freshly torn out of their composition books–messy with the shreds still intact.  Do you know so and so, they asked. They're on the track team.  I do.   Do you mind giving these letters to them? Yeah, sure. I’ll deliver your letters. And I boarded the bus along with the other members of the girls’ softball team–headed up the mountain with the letters safely tucked away in my bag.  I tried to keep my mind on the game, but I’ll ha

I know this is controversial, but here goes.... I love a good snow–especially a quiet early morning snow–one with large snowflakes gently falling to the ground and a slight wind to carry the snow onto porches–and other covered places.   This was last Saturday–waking up to a blanket of white.  There were a few tiny birds at my feeders on this morning. Over the past few days I haven’t been able to fill the feeders because of the ground being iced over–from a mix of sleet and sn

There we were--a few of us standing in line at the local DG--aka--Dollar General--you know--pick any corner of the map where I live and there is one within hollering distance. Nevertheless, there we were--four of us. Two older gentlemen in front of me with a cart full of drinks and other items and within a few minutes another lady came and stood behind me--her breathing seemed labored--probably from all the rushing around "shopping for last minute snow storm items". Somethin

With all the talk about the winter storm coming this weekend, I wanted to share this story, Snowy Days again. I first shared this story, ironically, two years ago--January 20, 2024. And still, in my heart I believe--snow days are some of the best days! Grandma Lackey was a saver–a hoarder to some extent. She saved because at one time she had little to nothing. And she went through hard times dealing with rations--supplies such as sugar and flour and gasoline. After she pas

My Mama called me this week–said she was looking for something in the top of her closet and this box fell on her head–a small box. ‘Come down here and get it. I’ve looked through it–there’s some stories in the box–real interesting. I think you will like reading them.’ The top of the stained and worn paper box–the edges are frayed–the words in cursive reads–”Paper Clipings” The box belonged to my Great-Grandmother.  I called her Grammy–sometimes Mammy.   And the box holds trea