The Saturday Journal: Back to the Beginning
- tathelmillerwriter
- 3 days ago
- 4 min read
On this the last Saturday in 2025, I write to each of you with a humble and a full and thankful heart for reading each week and for encouraging me to keep on writing. I've thought about quitting more times than I want to admit--but this writing of stories along with your continued encouragement and support--it has been a healing for me--in many ways.
This week I want to revisit the first story--which now marks two years and six months for The Saturday Journal. The ideal of the Saturday Journal came from random thoughts and honestly--many of the stories still come from those unplanned moments of conversation--thoughts--what I read--simple day to day things I see--and from memories and dreams and imagination--many of childhood moments. And the stories of others--to those who share their stories with me and then allow me to share them with you, the reader--I'm deeply grateful.
And truthfully--I needed to read this again--as a reminder--going into the New Year.
July 8, 2023
While visiting my son and his family, he told me of this antique mall nearby where they lived and so we loaded up the car last Saturday and spent some time looking at what seemed like miles of treasures--some old and some not so old. It's amazing and a little strange too to see your childhood and teenage years propped up on shelves--now selling as "antique wares". That's another story for another day.
One of the booths featured vintage clothing and it wasn't particularly a shop I was interested in until I saw this one shelf full of old cameras. And there is was--the Brownie Hawkeye!! The exact camera my Mama had--the one she took numerous pictures of me and my brothers, my Daddy, and other family members.
And I knew it would be out of my reach--price-wise, but I had to see. I carefully took the camera off the shelf and on the handle was a pink ribbon with the price tag, $12.00. Twelve dollars!! And I held it a little tighter, as a treasure should be held.
Several years ago a dear friend of mine gifted me the book, Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Every year I make it a point to read it--it's just one of those books you never finish reading--learning from. Or at least for me it seems that way. And even though I didn't need another copy--there it was--carefully placed on an antique coffee table--the original copyright date--1955 and reprinted 1975. Could it be a gift, another worn treasure? I couldn't leave it one more minute gathering dust.
On an occasion I will have a sleepless night--mostly due to the fact I didn't carefully consider my sugar intake for the day. But on days you are blessed to share ice cream with one of your grandsons--you eat all the ice cream and read late into the night. And that's what I did. I reread my new, old copy--Gift from the Sea.
Before modern day “protection” devices such as airbags and seat belts there was this thing called “the arm”. You'd be riding along in the passenger seat seeing the sights. Going to town to get a hot dog or a few, and all of a sudden the car in front of your car--the car with no brake lights decides to stop. Or the neighborhood dog runs out into the road and it happens. This long arm comes out of nowhere--full force–falling across your chest and it hits you hard--holding you back from going into the dashboard or worse, the windshield.
And your car sits sideways in the road, the motor barely making a sound. Gasping for breath for what seems like eternity–you look to see if your lungs are now riding in the backseat–and then you turn to your Mama or Daddy or Grandpa or Grandma or whichever family member who happens to be your driver on that day and say, –'Crap that hurt! What'd you do that for?’
And your driver–the one that loves you–breathes a sigh of relief and in silence grips the wheel once again–whispering a prayer of thanksgiving.
In Gift from the Sea, Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote, "When the heart is flooded with love there is no room in it for fear, for doubt, for hesitation."
"The heart flooded with love."
No fear. No doubt. No hesitation.
And on this night, these words took me back to the memory of the "arm" story. My "arm" story as a child. And my "arm" story with my own children--I've done the same thing-- even when they were teenagers and wearing seatbelts!
No fear. No doubt. No hesitation.
"When the heart is flooded with love there is no room in it for fear, for doubt, for hesitation."
So why is it when we feel we are called to do something for the Lord--we use fear--we question our worth--our resources--our abilities. Or we use excuses--any excuse and then we procrastinate--we'll wait a while. Days, months, years--sometimes never. I use the words "we" "our" loosely here when truthfully it's, "me".
And maybe God does use things like a bowl of sugar-filled chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream , a sleepless night, and the penned words of an author some 70 years ago to ask His question, is your heart full of love for Me? If so, then why are you afraid, why do you doubt, why do you hesitate?
"When the heart is flooded with love there is no room in it for fear, for doubt, for hesitation."
I am grateful for each of you--more than you will ever know and I pray,
the stories shared in this space will encourage and bless you in some small way.
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All photos @copyright Tathel Miller, unless otherwise credited to another photographer.
Soli Deo Gloria
Tathel
Thank you once again for sharing. Your words are always so appreciated! They stir up memories and feelings that bless, touch and inspire. Don’t ever doubt that God is using your writings for His purpose. Love and Happy New Year!