2016 November December Issue by The Minute Magazine

Nov/Dec 2016 Volume 11, Issue 6

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M erry Christmas from all of us here at The Minute Magazine! We’re so honored to be able to share some of our favorite holiday stories with you. Stories of faith and family. Bittersweet memories of loved ones gone before us. Heartwarming stories of selflessness and childlike belief.

We hope that your holiday season is filled with the presence of all the people who mean the most to you. May you find happiness in fond remembrances of Christmases past and a renewed hope in the ones yet to come. We pray that peace and joy find you in the midst of all the chaos that is Christmas. God bless and keep you.

Speak It!

written by Kathy B. Nelson

My Thankful List

he first thing on my mind for this holiday issue was what I am thankful for. It would be easy to go for the deep and obvious things I am grateful for. Those would be the love of a Savior; redemption given by that same Savior; the love of a kind and faithful husband; two daughters and their husbands; amazing, funny and loveable grandchildren (and two more will be here before the end of April!); my sisters and their families; a mission minded church; living in the United States of America and the freedom I enjoy. There really are so many more things and people and places I am thankful for, but honestly, I am excited about sharing the “not so obvious” things I am grateful for. Mainly because it compels me to think about the average, underappreciated things around the house and in my life. The things that I would be a little…. challenged to be without. Or better yet, realizing that I would sure miss them should they disappear from my life. So in this season of thankfulness, I wanted to give a shout out to the things that may not feel appreciated enough. • Air conditioning – Seriously, it should be first on my list, right by Jesus. • Remote Controls • Cup holders in my car • Push button locks • Cool days – and nights • Blazing fire in the fireplace • The glow of lights on a Christmas tree and Christmas decorations in people’s yards – Thank you! • Anything with chocolate and nuts combined • Chips and salsa – NOT the chunky salsa. The kind with lots of cilantro that comes with thin, warm chips. • Listening to happy songs – about love, life, worship, children and weather • Space to dance at random times • Movies that make you smile and laugh at appropriate things. NOT the ones that are ugly, sarcastic, or funny at the expense of others. • BBQ sauce with a little kick to it

• Green grass that is soft on your feet • Picnics – in cool weather • Fishing – where your chances of catching one are above 90% • The Scan button on a radio • A coffee table close enough to prop your feet on • Long, comfy couches that you can fully stretch out and fall asleep on • Pillow in the bathtub • Dishwashers • Restaurant Drive-Thru • Face Time • Rocking chairs and porch swings • Athletic competition – outdoors, when it’s cool • French fries • Salad Bar with all the good stuff • Voice mail and caller ID • Seeing the underdog win • Learning something for the first time • Traveling- in a car - to a place I have never seen before • A Route 44 half sweet, half unsweet tea with a lemon and a lime I suppose if I studied these too much I might erase some of them as they reveal a little too much about my life and loves. But they came very easily and quickly to my mind. So it is what it is. What are you thankful for? It might be fun for you to sit down and write the “not so obvious” things you are thankful for. Maybe even name them out loud with someone else and just enjoy the variety of special things that are listed. My word of encouragement to you this season is to recognize all of the things, big and small, that you have been given and be thankful. When we realize that

“Whatever is good and perfect is a gift coming down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow.” (James 1:17 NLT), then the thank you’s are endless. For some of you this is a season that brings heartache or pain to your spirit. Try to think past those thoughts and name something, even just one thing, that you have now that is good. You might start with your breath, your ability to think or to read this article. If you have trouble finding something to be thankful for, let me give you something. There is a God in heaven who loves you profoundly. He knows your name and what is in your mind and heart right now, and loves you just the same. He wants to hear from you. He listens and gives us total access to himself through prayer. Oh yes, you have something great to be thankful for. Take a minute and say thank you. Speak it out loud. Tell someone else how much they are loved by their Creator. Everyone needs to hear it. Maybe this is the day someone will hear it for the first time – and oh what joy that it would come from you. Happy Thanksgiving Christmas!

and

Merry

“I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.” Psalm 9:1 ----------------------------------------------------

Kathy is an author and speaker that loves to bring a word of encouragement to anyone that will listen. Founder of Speak It Ministries, she has been sharing her faith and teaching God's Word for over 30 years. She is a wife, sister, mom and Mimi to some great people and loves spending time with each of them. You can follow her on FaceBook, Twitter @cckahy, Goodreads and Wordpress. She is best described by having a desire to live life, love people and laugh out loud.

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11 3 N o r t h S e r v i c e R o a d E a s t , R u s t o n , L A M O N - S AT: 9 A M - 6 P M S U N D AY: 1 2 P M - 5 P M 7

a fresh perspective from rosemary's kitchen written by Rosemary Thomas Crazy Holiday Person

he Holidays are upon us. For some of you this fills your heart with Joy. Your reason for living. You have been looking forward to this all year long. Literally. I love the Holidays. I love to cook. I love to decorate. I love to wrap presents. I don’t love to shop (but luckily my family draws names so we don’t have to buy for everyone we have ever know in our entire lives). I love the Holidays, but not like some folks. Some Folks Be Crazy. In my family, we call this a Crazy Holiday Person (CHP). Someone that is usually pretty well-balanced, but during the Holiday Season, they start to lose it. They may lose it with decorating. When folks come and ask you the price of the pumpkins on your front porch, you know you have over-done it. Again. If the neighbors have asked you to turn off the outdoor Christmas lights at 9 PM because they are so bright they can’t get to sleep, well --- yes, you may have gone over-board. If you have more than one Christmas tree in your house? Hmmm… Could be you are slipping into CHP Syndrome. You may lose it with shopping and gift giving. When the office agrees not to exchange gifts, but here you come with a sleigh full of gifts for everyone. Every. Single. Person. Well – you have overdone it. (Of course you say it doesn’t count because you hand-made them all). Definitely in CHP territory now. You may be a Crazy Holiday Person when it comes to cooking. Now, I am not admitting to being a CHP, but IF I am, this would be where I would start to show Signs and Symptoms. So – I have devised a test (and included a few recipes) so you can see if you are a CHP in the cooking category. This may be painful. IF you have both a Signature Thanksgiving cocktail – and a Signature Christmas Cocktail, you just may be a CHP. I am not admitting to having a Signature Thanksgiving Cocktail… but IF I did, it may be this one:

----------------------------------------------------Cranberry Ginger Mimosa with Sugared Cranberries Combine equal parts Ginger Ale or Ginger Beer… Cranberry Juice… and Champagne. Quick. Easy. Pretty. I love a mimosa. If you are really a CHP you can garnish with some skewered sugared cranberries across the rim. Way too pretty. (Combine ½ cup water and ½ cup sugar in medium saucepan – water level will be very shallow. Combine and simmer until well dissolved. Remove from heat and stir in 12 oz. fresh cranberries. Stir them up to coat with the sugar-water and let sit there for 10 min. Turn them out onto a wax lined baking sheet with a slotted spoon so they can dry (make sure they are in a single layer) for 30 min to 1 hour. Then, take another ½ cup sugar and pour over berries. Stir to coat and let sit out for another hour or so to dry. Once dry you can use them around your turkey platter, or skewer them onto a long toothpick and serve with your cocktail. Just. Too. Much. ----------------------------------------------------An example of a Signature Christmas Cocktail may be a Santa Claus-Mopolitan. Maybe I have had this as a Holiday Cocktail, maybe I haven’t. I am not admitting anything here. This is a super easy cocktail and easy to make for a crowd. If it is just you (let’s say while you are listening to Manheim Steam Roller and wrapping presents), just combine the following in a shaker with ice. 1/2 cup cranberry juice 1/2 cup white peach cranberry juice 1 ounce triple sec 1/2 ounce vodka Strain and enjoy. If you are really feeling crazy you can serve this is a martini glass garnished with sanding sugar and sweetened flaked coconut. Gorgeous!

If you want to make this for a crowd (16 drinks or so), just combine: 1 - 64 ounce bottle of cranberry juice 1 - 64 ounce bottle of white cranberry peach juice 16 ounces triple sec 8 ounces of vodka Put in a pretty glass pitcher and chill for at least 3 hours. You can sugar the glass rims ahead of time and have them sitting out on a pretty tray. ----------------------------------------------------IF you have 17 different appetizers for the family get-together, you may have lost it and are a certified CHP. Some families run late. Some do not. Mine does not. If we are eating at 2:00, you can expect folks to start showing up around 10-ish. You best have some appetizers available, or else they will be asking to cut the pumpkin pie already (absolutely not) and “just test the dressing to check for seasoning”. IF you need some additional appetizers to be included with the 7 or 8 you have already planned, try these two. A. Maze. Ing. Siracha-Honey Glazed Bacon Wrapped Pineapple 1 fresh pineapple – cut into chunks 1 pound thick bacon 1/2 cup brown sugar 1/4 cup honey Juice of a lime – about 4 tsp 2 – 4 tsp siracha (depending on how spicy you want it) 2 tsp soy sauce 1 T chopped cilantro stems Chopped cilantro leaves for garnish Preheat oven to 400 degrees and grease a baking sheet. Cut bacon in half and wrap each pineapple chunk with a piece of bacon – lay on sheet with seam side down. Mix the sauce together (sugar, honey, lime juice, Siracha, soy and cilantro stems) and pour some over each pineapple chunk. Bake 25 – 30 min until bacon is crispy. Stick a toothpick in these bad boys and watch them disappear.

Rosemary Thomas is an avid cook and gardener who enjoys the challenge of owning a restaurant and working with her daughter. She is an RN and continues to work several days a week in Shreveport where she lives with her husband, three dogs, two cats and 80 chickens.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Cranberry Pomegranate Bruschetta This is a super easy relish on top of cream cheese on top of a crostini. Holey Moley.

Pepper. Roast them in the oven until they are charred and tender. Bring them out and drizzle with pomegranate molasses and fresh pomegranate seeds. Gorgeous. Really pretty on the table. (You can roast the sprouts ahead of time, and then just warm them back up and toss with the seeds and molasses at the time of service).

Relish: 1 pound fresh cranberries 2 tsp chopped fresh ginger (extra for garnish) 1 cup sugar 1/4 cup honey 2 tsp Siracha 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro Zest from one orange (reserve some for garnish) 3/4 - 1 cup pomegranate seeds (reserve some for garnish)

If you have trouble finding Pomegranate Molasses it is super easy to make your own.

Just put the cranberries, ginger, sugar, honey and siracha in a food processor and pulse it a couple of times. You don’t want to get it too fine, so take it easy. Add the cilantro and go at it couple more pulses. You want to leave it a little chunky. Put it in a bowl and then stir in your pomegranate seeds and orange zest. Refrigerate for a couple of hours at least (you could easily make this a day or two ahead of time).

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------IF you have a million desserts at your holiday meal, you are definitely a CHP.

Crostini: 1 thin baguette, sliced about 1/4 inch thick 1/2 cup EVOO Kosher salt / fresh ground black pepper 8 ounces cream cheese, softened (don’t use the non-fat for this) – whisk until creamy Preheat oven to 350 degrees and line a couple of pans with foil or parchment. Brush baguette slices with oil and sprinkle lightly with salt and a grind of pepper. Bake for about 15 min until golden, turning your pans to insure even baking. Assembly: Put a smear of cream cheese on each crostini and top with a scoop of the relish. Garnish with zest and a few pomegranate seeds… sprinkle some of this and some cilantro leaves on your serving platter too. Colorful. Refreshing. Different. Absolutely Addictive. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------IF you have more than one type of meat on your holiday table, you may be a CHP. I understand that there are reasons for this. Your Aunt has been talking about a “Brined Turkey” since last Thanksgiving when her friend Betty had one. You have heard about that blasted Brined Turkey every other week for a solid year. You will probably make a brined turkey because you don’t want to disappoint Aung Meg, but mostly because you don’t want to punch her in the face if she tells you “It was just a tad dry dear. You know it would have been nice and moist if you had brined it”. And then there is your Brother-inLaw who has been yammering on about a Fried Turkey for months. And your sweet Daddy said last week “It just doesn’t seem like the Holidays without a nice ham on the table”. Really? Through the heart. OK – Brined Turkey, Fried Turkey, and Ham. Roger IF you have 23 sides at your Holiday meal, you just may be a CHP. Now, I take my sides seriously. As a vegetarian, this is what I live for. The problem is there are just too many choices. Of course folks want the traditional sides. Only one guess who said “It just wouldn’t seem like the Holidays with a nice Sweet Potato Casserole on the table”. But what about something different? I want to have Brussel Sprouts this year. And I have developed an obsession with Pomegranates. I love both of these things, and together we are talking about some magic. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------Brussel Sprouts with Pomegranates All you need is about a pound of Brussel Sprouts and a pomegranate and some pomegranate Molasses. Coat your pretty little sprouts with some EVOO and sprinkle with some good old Salt and

Pomegranate Molasses Combine 1/2 cup sugar, 1 Tablespoon fresh lemon juice and 1 quart of pomegranate juice (not the sweetened stuff – I use POM). Put this in a heavy pot and simmer it down for at least 2 hours until it is thick and syrupy. You will be left with about 1 cup. Cool it and use it on all sorts of stuff – especially these Brussel Sprouts!

Desserts after a big Holiday meal are just stupid, aren’t they? I mean, who enjoys them? I try to eat a microscopic slice of about 7 different types of desserts – especially those unusual ones my sisters brought, but how can I enjoy them when I am so full? Now, the next day, or late that night with a Santa Claus-Mopolitan is when that big spoon of Pumpkin Cobbler Lava Cake would be really good. Pumpkin Cobbler Lava Cake This is rich. And gooey. Best with ice cream. 1 cup + 3 Tablespoons flour 2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp salt 3/4 tsp sugar 1 tsp cinnamon 1/2 tsp nutmeg 1/4 tsp clove 1/2 cup pumpkin puree (not pie filling) 1/4 cup milk 1/4 cup melted butter or vegetable oil 1 1/2 tsp vanilla Preheat oven to 350. Combine the dry in a large bowl (flour, baking powder, salt, sugar and spices) Combine the wet in a smaller bowl (pumpkin, milk, butter, vanilla) Pour wet into dry and combine until you get a thick cakey batter. Pour into an 8 inch casserole with high sides Topping: Combine 1/2 cup sugar, 1/2 brown sugar, and 1/4 cup pecans. Sprinkle this over the top of the batter. Now – this is weird. Over the top of all of this, pour 1 ½ cups of very hot water. DO NOT STIR this! It is hard. But just pour the water over the top and pop it in the oven for about 40 – 45 minutes. This will puff up and make a moist cakey-cobbler type thing with lots of sauce down in the bottom that you can spoon over the ice cream that you plop on top of the cobbler. Wowzer.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------I was recently informed that I am not cooking Thanksgiving for the family this year. My sister will be hosting this event. I am not sure how this happened. I hate to be a conspiracy theorist, but I have my suspicions that this was orchestrated behind my back. I will be hosting a “non-traditional” Christmas dinner. Something simple. Just a few soups, salads, sandwiches, desserts. Nothing fancy. I have narrowed it down to 12 soups, 17 salads, and 8 sandwiches... and I haven’t even started looking at desserts yet. OK, OK. I just may be a CHP when it comes to food and cooking. Especially considering I haven’t even started with the whole holiday baking/gift giving thing. There are some really good ideas out there… and I want to try them all. It’s enough to make you crazy! From one CHP to another ---- Enjoy your Holidays!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

noun - presÂˇence - \Ë&#x2C6;pre-zÉ&#x2122;n(t)s\ the fact of being in a particular place: the state of being present

Presence is to experience in each moment what really

matters. It's not sitting next to someone and playing on an iPhone. Presence is engagement. It's connection... communication. There are only a handful of gifts I can remember getting for Christmas as a child. All of those presents (and I had plenty) take a back seat in my trip down memory lane. But you know what I do remember? I remember the presence of my grandparents. I remember the clank of my Fafa's guitar and the boom of his laughter as our family sat 'round the Christmas tree singing carols as the sun set. I can still hear his voice echoing as he spoke of Christ's love for us and the real reason for the season. I remember sitting on a stool next to my Meme cutting grapes for homemade fruit salad while she listened patiently to whatever heartache was so important to me at the time. In these moments of reflection I can see clearly. When the decorations and wrapping paper are all stripped away and the bustle of another chaotic Christmas is put on hold, it's easy to see that the only Christmas gifts we really need aren't found in a store. Faith, Grace, Kindness, Love, Generosity, Forgiveness, Connection, Family, Humility. It's not what's under the Christmas tree that matters, what matters are the people around it. Your presence is requested and for true happiness in this life your presence is required. 10

strangers at my

coffeepot

written by Darla Upton It's Not Uncommon for Women My Age to Believe in Santa

anta doesn't always come through for me on big ticket items. I understand most years, but this year the fat man has to grade on a curve as it relates to whether or not I've been good. I don't want a new house or a new car or even a puppy. Hugh actually took care of all of those. My Christmas wish, the single thing I want more than anything else in the whole wide world, is a cosmetic overhaul. A lift here. Cut that off there. Pull that around and staple it. Suck all that outta there and inject it over here. Ya see, the harsh reality of my 2016 is I got old. I'm not talking like someone called me "ma'am" at the grocery store. It's worse than that. It's worse than knowing you are never, ever, never going to be carded for anything ever again. It's worse than realizing all the music you know the words to is on the classic rock stations. Those are just blows to your ego and your pride. What I'm talking about is worse... hot flashes, elevated blood levels, metabolism gone, boobs dragging, veins on legs, wrinkles around eyes, and sagging skin. It is all just an elder Slip N Slide carrying me right into senior discounts, orthopedic shoes and bus tours. There really is nothing like the phrase, "In women your age it isn't uncommon...." Well, kiss my age you pimpled face preteen so called doctor. In women my age it isn't uncommon for us to cuss you, then apologize profusely and then possibly cry over our temper. I mean, I suspected I was getting older than I realized when a couple years ago my doctor informed me that "women my age" could forgo the yearly checkup and come in every three years. I mean, why didn't he just say, "No one wants to see you naked every year at our office so we'll see you in 3."

So, this year I go in and just mention that, ya know, when I get hot I can't seem to cool down. I never said "hot flash!" What I said was, "I'm having trouble regulating my temperature." Well, that's when my teenaged booger brained doctor suggested a blood panel to check my hormones. Hormones!?! Why on God's green earth would....ohhhhh, because he thinks I'm old enough.....ooooohhh wait a minute, I AM old enough. For the first time in my life, I was hoping a doctor was going to come back and say, "Your levels look good, the pouring sweat is because you need to lose weight." He did not say that. In fact, he said the word...men..meno...menopause. Now, I usually don't get hung up on my body. I've been good to it and I've ran it ragged. I've eaten fresh vegetables and I've had my share of fried catfish. I've always been pretty cool with my appearance. I didn't fear getting older. There was a time when getting old meant one was allowed to wear ugly underwear and all your pants could have elastic waistbands. But leave all that to get screwed up during my approach to the golden years! Somewhere in my stupid thirties all these jerk women started doing pilates and yoga and getting "fit not skinny." It wasn't enough to chew a diet pill necklace, you also had to be fit! Remember the 80s when all the models were just heroin addict thin? No one had cut abs, no one could pull a tractor tire! So, even though I was already sucking at the skinny thing they upped the ante and said I had to be fit and love kale. Fifty can't just be 50 anymore. You have to swear you are feeling better each year. If your 50 isn't 40, you are doing it wrong! If your 60 isn't sexy, you suck. If you aren't still going full throttle at 70,

they take your car away from you, I think. It wasn't enough just to grow old with grace they changed the rules and said you had to stay sexy. I ignored them. My grandmother did not go to Victoria Secret in her senior years, she got her white, wide strapped bra from JC Penney and it wasn't on a frufru hanger it was in a box. I was confident all this nonsense would level out before I had to face the hands of time. I was certain the gym geriatrics would fall apart. I thought maybe a bicycling injury would slow them down or maybe they'd break a hip while running. "Sure, she's fit but she's just as slow as my fat butt because she limps since the hip replacement." I was confident it would all balance out. Aren't we promised a balanced universe? Yin and yang. Black and white. Up and down. Guess what? There's no balance! Some are fighting the good fight sweating it out at hot yoga and the rest of us are breaking a sweat eating a Moonpie because what they don't mention is 50 may be the new 40 but 40 nor 50 has any estrogen or testosterone left. And just so you know, "estrogen loss is common in women your age." Have you ever wanted to punch someone so hard over a phrase? Me either! That's why I want Santa to stuff my stocking with laser, suction and toning treatments. Plump it, pull it, staple it, cut it and tuck it into submission. I know he usually deals in trains and dolls but trinkets won't cut it this year. A full blown overhaul is needed and since I didn't set fire to those menopause pamphlets on my doctor's desk I'm definitely on the Good List. I think. I hope your holidays are filled with the right amount of estrogen and testosterone and your wishes come true. ------------------------------------------------------

Darla lives in Jefferson, Texas, where she raises her son, Atticus Gregory, with her significant other, Hugh Lewis II. Prior to being a self-employed, stay at home mom she was a Civil Litigation Paralegal for a defense firm in North Carolina. After leaving North Carolina, she lived in Houston for a short time. She eventually returned to her hometown of Texarkana, Texas, where she met Hugh while working at the Texarkana Gazette as a production assistant. When they met, Hugh was the owner/operator of the Alley-McKay House Bed & Breakfast. Girl meets boy, girl falls in love with boy, girl has a baby and gets a bed and breakfast? It happened. But after 10 years they decided to get out of the business. They purchased a historic building right smack in the middle of downtown Jefferson and started over. Renting the bottom portion to businesses and living upstairs means lots of opinions from the locals about everything from paint colors to flowers to plant. Darla now spends a lot of time attempting DIY renovations and yelling off her balcony at friends passing by below. Her once hectic life in hospitality has now slowed to gardening and gossiping. Atticus Gregory who was once the Eloise of the bed & breakfast is starting to show signs of a mustache, has a voice deeper than his father's and is getting texts from little girls. Luckily, no matter what life hands her, she has a good sense of humor, vodka and her typewriter.

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My Christmas List

By Chalaine Scott

essy penmanship of a 7-year-old scribbled across notebook paper, numbered and highlighted in order from need to want. Baby doll blankies, Barbie clothes and all of the Lisa Frank stickers. Licked closed with sloppy 7-year-old spit, sealed and sent off to Santa. My list was long and my hopes were big. Eyes widened when I rounded the corner into our tiny little living room to see the brightlylit tree on Christmas morning, popcorn strung along it’s limbs and hand-traced reindeer ornaments hanging from its branches. The gifts stacked high and piled underneath. I ran into the room with my little brother and sister, knees sliding onto carpet, diving in to rip open wrapping paper and welcome toy after toy. I'd give anything to have another Christmas like that. To look up from 7-year-old eyes filled with excitement at a mom and dad. To look down from 7-year-old eyes filled with enthusiasm at a little sister and brother. Their lispy words and clumsy speech and goofy giggles filling the room. Christmas was magical back then. When I believed in it all. Sleighs and reindeers, north poles and nice lists, people. Christmas was perfect back then. Family filling a house, food filling a kitchen, wonder filling my heart. It’s crazy how badly you want to grow up when you’re young. “Stop getting so big,” an old aunt will tell you at a family reunion. “Slow down,” your mom will ask the time as she signs another birthday card. We won’t listen. Time won’t stop. Winters will continue. Christmases will return. 7-year-old eyes will turn to 20-something eyes that wish for all of it back. Eyes that will welcome new seasons and new moments and stay confused why getting older ever seemed cool. Eyes that will long for Santas on rooftops and suppers at tables and another chance to be surrounded by everyone you’ve ever loved. For Christmases before people broke your heart and jobs stole your friends and God took back your grandfather. For Christmases before burials and breakdowns. Before mounting bills and messy breakups. When you woke up before the sunrise to wipe away sleepy eyes and be surprised by a delivery from a white bearded man in a red suit. When you spent the morning slipping around the kitchen in footie pajamas and singing along to your favorite Christmas carols.

Christmas looks a little different nowadays. This year, it will be more different than ever. A laugh will be missing. A joke won't be shared. A plate won't be made. This year, our table will fill, but it will never be full. One less seat. One less Pepsi. One missing Pep. My mom will ask what I want for Christmas. The answer is something I’ll never receive. More hours in the day. More years for my people. More time to sit around laughing and singing and taking silly selfies. One more chance to have everyone I love back in the same room. Another go at this life. A re-do of all the things I’ve failed at and a re-live of all the things I’ve succeeded at. Another opportunity to give away hugs I didn’t offer or share I love you's I forgot to say. I’ll write out a Christmas list and wish for so much…and I’ll get none of it. But what I will get, is another Christmas. Another day to snuggle up on the couch with my siblings. Another taste of mom’s sugar cookies. Another smell of pine needles and balancing on step stools to straighten out the tree. Another chance to celebrate all that God’s given and to be thankful for the chance to have loved what He’s taken away. Another Christmas to cherish your people. And be thankful God gave them to you. And enjoy their company because you know now more than ever how fleeting time is. And how quickly life changes. And how fast those we love can leave us. This Christmas, we’ll sit around and say, "Pep should be here." Thankful he was ever here at all. Thankful for giving us years of loud laughs, silly faces, corny jokes and funny memories. Thankful for the merriest and most memorable Christmases. This year, I won't wrap a gift and label it "Pep." I won't talk about his snow donkeys or see him waiting from his window to be picked up for breakfast. This year, I’ll realize the only thing I ever really wanted for Christmas was never covered in wrapping paper or stuffed under a tree. It was this. This photograph. This memory. And I’m thankful God placed him here to make this happen. Merry Christmas to my Pep, who is celebrating the best way possible, wishing our Savior a Happy Birthday face to face! ---------------------------------------------------

the journey written by Jason McReynolds A Free Christmas

know what you are thinking. “Impossible!” Christmas is so marketed and materialized and self-created that if you don’t participate and buy a ton of stuff for your spouse, kids, 3rd cousin, mailman, and neighbor 4 doors down then you’re a scrooge, right? Well, what if I told you that there was an easy way to have a genuinely free Christmas? I’ll leave that as a tease to be completed later on. We go cheap every year. We buy a small to medium Christmas tree from someplace cheap (Walmart the last 2 years, actually). Here’s why: (1) The Christmas tree farm is usually inflated price-wise. (2) When you are in the Christmas tree farm or store you are comparing the trees against each other but when you take one home it’s your tree and it works just fine in your living room. You just have to turn that big hole (the one where you can see all the way to the trunk) against the wall where no one will see. No one saw the perfect Norwegian Fir that you passed up because it was $40 more. No one thinks about that. And if they do they shouldn’t be your friends. That’s petty and stupid! My wife and I have 3 kids ages 11, 9, & 7. Another way we go cheap is that every year for Christmas our kids receive 3 gifts from us to symbolize the wise men giving gifts to Jesus. Now I have to admit that I falter every year the week before Christmas and buy out Walmart’s candy aisle to fill their stockings but I don’t count that. My wife does and doesn’t like it but I also accuse her of missing her calling to be a dentist. Granted, their stockings are the size of my leg but we can’t give her ammunition to be correct. I’m drifting… So we give our kids 3 gifts and that’s it. There is usually one big gift for each like a bike or a video game system but the 2 others are usually little things. Now, you may be thinking that those are expensive gifts and you are correct, they could be. But we don’t buy new stuff. My kids have an original Nintendo that’s 30 years old that they absolutely love! They don’t need the brand new Nintendo NX. They have friends who have all that stuff. So when they get a previous generation version because I bought it for nothing off of Amazon or Ebay they don’t know. You know what

they do know? They have their own little game system that works…. and a tower of candy to keep them buzzed through the night. This year all 3 are getting one present – a dog. That’s it. It’ll be a mutt from the pound too. But they’ll be so excited they’ll probably pee on themselves before the dog does! Here’s the added beauty about the 3 gift system. If your kids have grandparents like ours do they get more presents than they can shake a stick at. The 3 gift system turns into the 123 gift system. It’s pretty exciting but it can also take the meaning out of Christmas if we aren’t constantly telling our kids that we celebrate Christmas because of the birth of Jesus, not because Toy’s R Us sends out a Christmas catalog. I may be preaching to the choir as you read this but it’s always been about God’s Son becoming flesh and blood to save us from our personal destruction called sin. I record our Christmas every year. It’s a 45 minute bore-fest that is always more exciting in person but it does bring back memories. Every year I look back and see there are some presents that my kids open, give a half-hearted thank you to, toss over their shoulder, and then move on to the next box. I always want to punish my kids after seeing this. How did I not catch this in person? It’s assumptive, spoiled, and rude. But then again they are kids and haven’t learned the fine art of being thankful for another button up shirt they are soooo excited to wrestle their way into. You know what I’m talking about. It’s also a monster of the grandparents own doing. When there are too many gifts there will be some that they like more than others. Now, before you get all hater on me and blow up my twitter feed please know we work very, very, hard to teach our kids proper manners, to be thankful, and to see these things as a blessing and gift from our Father in Heaven. And each year we see them genuinely being more thankful because of it. But they’re still kids and they’re still learning. Talk about your 1st world problems, huh?

Imagine if we lived 80 years ago during the depression when a toy for Christmas was the most exciting thing in a child’s life. That stuffed bear or that used action figure soldier or that repaired bike would consume a child’s imagination for months after. And guess what? When you receive a gift that you wish for and love, you don’t notice the other stuff that you are missing out on. Have you ever seen a young girl receive a baby doll she’s wanted? There’s nothing and no one else in the room after that. Her eyes light up and she drifts away mothering her new child. Or a boy who receives a bike one size too big for him but is determined to get on it on his own. Cars better watch out for him rather than the other way around! We need to focus on the things that we have and be content with that. We need to be incredibly thankful for the gifts we are given and be excited for them! We need to be kids again and get lost in our gratefulness given to us from our God. When we have that kind of mindset we don’t need anything. We can have a Christmas that involves nothing and still be thankful. After all, Jesus, the most important gift of all is free. Our Heavenly Father doesn’t require us to pay or barter or trade for Him. We just have to accept His gift of forgiveness of our sins and turn away from all the junk we wanted to get rid of in our lives anyway. No one wants to hold on to shame, pain, and regret. When we receive forgiveness through Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection we don’t notice the other stuff because we’re not missing out on anything. Every Christmas is free because every Christmas is about Jesus and that's the greatest gift of all. We just have to see from God’s perspective by looking through the eyes of a child who is a million miles away in your living room.

----------------------------------------------------

Jason McReynolds is the pastor of New Orleans Community Church. He and his wife, Liev, have two boys and one little girl. Jason enjoys hanging out with his family and friends, watching and/ or playing any kind of sports, and taking his wife out on dates. To learn more about him, or NOCC, visit: www.neworleanscommunitychurch.com

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visitjeffersontexas.com 903-665-3733 17

Skillet Hash

PREP TIME 10 MINUTES COOK TIME 25 MINUTES YIELD 4 TO 6 SERVINGS SKILL LEVEL EASY 18

RECIPE PRESENTED BY

HEATHER MCHORTER BAILEY OWNER OF SOCIAL BITES OF RUSTON

INGREDIENTS:

594 GAPFARMS ROAD, SUITE E & F, ARCADIA, LA 318.263.8522

RELAX!

Let us cater your next holiday event

1 large sweet potato (chopped) 1-2 small white potatoes (chopped) 4 slices bacon (chopped) 1/2 red onion (chopped) 1 tablespoon minced garlic Salt (to taste) Fresh ground pepper (to taste) 1/2 tsp cumin 1 tsp other preferred seasoning (Tony's or emeril's seasoning) 1/2 cup candied jalepenos (optional) 1 tablespoon olive oil (if needed)

DIRECTIONS: - Heat a cast iron or large skillet on medium. - Cook bacon until it's almost done. - Add onion and garlic to the bacon. Saute until onion is translucent. - Add chopped potatoes. Stir and add seasonings. (The bacon fat will be used to help prevent everything from sticking to the pan. However if you don't have enough grease left over from the bacon you can use 1 tablespoon of olive oil.)

- Cover and cook on low/med for 20 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until potatoes are cooked to your liking. - Top with a few candied jalepenos and viola! Bon Appetit!

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the uncommon

housewife written by Leslie Albritton It's Beginning To Look Too Much Like Christmas

the irony that the Christmas season, when tidings of “Peace on Earth” are frequently shared, officially kicks off on Black Friday at the first sight of a shopper being trampled at the local Wal-Mart. The above is not an original thought, although I truly wish it had been. It’s a funny I read somewhere or maybe overheard someone say but I had to share! As a child growing up in the 80's, the holiday season started the first day of September in my household. That was the date we rolled out the stored boxes and crates filled with Christmas lights and decorations. Yes! We were that annoying family who began decorating for Christmas way too early in the year. This tradition started back in 1980, when my mother and Aunt Katie strung a few lights around my grandmother’s house in the spirit of the season. Seeing how much my grandmother enjoyed the colorful glow of the lights each night, they decided to step it up a notch. The following year they included a cluster of bushes along with two Crepe Myrtle trees and the mailbox. It grew from there with each year seeing more and more lights accumulate around us. Trees, bushes, shrubs; every twig, stick and limb was covered in lights. Nothing was safe from these two ladies during their holiday mayhem. If you stood in our yard long enough, you too would soon be coated in lights. The craziness really got going in the early 90’s when the city of Bastrop held a Christmas decorating lighting contest. The light bulbs lit up and their competitive streak got the wheels turning. No longer was it enough that grandma’s house could have easily been mistaken for an airport landing strip to any planes flying over. We now had a collection of holiday yard signs,

two Santa displays, a life-sized nativity scene using mannequins for The Virgin Mary and Joseph and last but definitely not least, outdoor speakers blaring holiday music. And not just any holiday music, it was the Christmas Time with the Judds album on replay! Don’t get me wrong. I am a fan of country music, but after listening to Wynonna belt out Winter Wonderland in her country twang for the umpteenth time, well that can just about drive a person to crazy town! They pulled out all the stops and then some. Inside, outside, and over the top! The bigger the decorations the better. By this time there were so many lights that a second breaker box had to be installed to carry the additional electricity needed to power our massive light spectacle. The Griswolds had nothing on us! Child labor was also implemented that same year. With mounting decorations, lights, and displays, the two found themselves way behind schedule. So they “recruited” their children into their madness. My mother was a perfectionist when it came to hanging Christmas lights and sloppiness was not tolerated. Each and every limb had to be carefully wrapped. Throwing the lights up just any old way in a tree or on a bush was a federal assault against Santa. There was an order to stringing up the lights. First you must check to ensure they are still working after being stored from last year’s lighting palooza. If every bulb lights up congratulations, you have received your first Christmas miracle. If not, which is usually the case, you must hunt down the faulty bulb on the string in a very strategic maneuver

called eenie meenie miney mo. Once you find the sneaky culprit replace with a new bulb and voila! You should now have a single strand of brightly lit lights. No glow? Time to check the fuse, or it could be a corroded socket, or maybe even a broken wire. You get where I am going with this. After establishing you have proper working equipment, the next step is the sacred stringing of the lights. Start at the bottom close to the trunk, pulling the string taut to the tip of the branch, then work back toward the trunk, wrapping the cord over itself and the branch to secure. Continue on with each branch until you reach the end of the first string. Plug in the next set of lights and repeat until every branch is fully covered in lights. The last and most important step is the inspection and final approval of your handiwork from the boss ladies. We ended up winning that year and several years in a row after that. Christmas of 1992 was the first year we lost the lighting contest. A deep depression settled over the house that year, tamping down our holiday spirit. How did we lose when every nook and cranny of grandma’s yard had been filled with some type of decoration. There was no way to add anything else. After twelve years we had finally run out of space, there was no room left at our inn. As Christmas rolled around the following year my mom rallied from the despair of defeat and announced, “If we can’t go bigger then we’ll go better. A live nativity scene!” I personally thought that if we could just change out the music, that on its own would have been a huge improvement! In less than thirty

Leslie Albritton is a simple girl living in a country world. She is married to Brent and lives on a small farm in Farmerville with their daughter Nicole. They raise mini donkeys, mini horses and mini goats, hence the "small" farm. A runner, biker and kayaker she enjoys all things outdoors, especially the furry and four legged kind.

You’ve known her for so long. Now, suddenly, something has changed.

If you or a loved one is experiencing changes in the ability to cope with daily living, Senior Care at Minden Medical Center is here to help. Senior Care is available to persons age 55 and over with a mental or cognitive decline that hinders daily life, who has become a threat to self or others, or is limited in selfcare ability. Our mental health professionals are available through our 24 hour referral line to discuss treatment needs and are devoted to helping patients get back to their optimal level of functioning. Our services include:

• Free initial consultation • Thorough assessment • Customized treatment plans • Group, individual, and family counseling

• Management of secondary medical needs • Continued care planning and referral assistance

You’ve known her for so long. Now, suddenly, something has changed.

If you or a loved one is experiencing changes in For Quality the ability to cope with daily living, Senior Care at Minden Medical Center is here to help. For more information If you or a loved one is experiencing changes in or to living, schedule a free, the ability to cope with daily Senior Care confidential assessment, at Minden Medical Center is here to help. call us at 318-371-5646.

Senior Care is available to persons age 55 and over with You have a choice when it comes to caring for your health. Make it a smart one, a mental or cognitive decline that hinders daily life, who and choose the area hospital that was named one of the nation’s top performers Hope is only a phone call away. has become a threat to self or others, or is limited in selfminutes of her announcement, my mom had rounded up old on keybyquality two years in a row. care ability. Our mental health professionals are available robes, head scarfs and various colored wigs. Fueled her measures sudden inspiration she turns to my sister Lisa, and immediately through our 24 hour referral line to discuss treatment We’re proud to be recognized by The Joint Commission, the leading accreditor cast her as Mary. needs and are devoted to helping patients get back to of healthcare organizations in the nation, for our achievements in quality… but www.MindenMedicalCenter.com “Leslie, you shall play the role of Joseph.” She stated. their optimal level of functioning. we’re even more proud to be chosen by you. Minden Medical Center #1 Medical Plaza | Minden, LA understands what sipping, matters most toOur patients and their families – safe and This made me choke on my hot chocolate I was services include: considering I was a female and effective pregnantcare. at that. Notcommitted just a to providing the highest quality care possible, We are little pregnant either, but seven months pregnant. • Free initial consultation Management of secondary along with the expertise and leading edge technology that you expect at • larger • Thorough assessment medical needs hospitals, A all conveniently close to home. “Mom, I can’t be Joseph! I am a female and pregnant. • Customized treatment • Continued care planning pregnant Joseph would be sacrilegious!” I argued. plans and referral assistance • choose Group, individual, and “Well then it’s a good thing Jesus forgives," added need, WhateverMom your healthcare Minden Medical Center. without hesitation. "Now if I can just find some super glue we family counseling can turn this wig into a beard and see how it fits you.” www.mindenmedicalcenter.com The following year instead of placing a plastic baby doll in the nativity scene for baby Jesus … yup, you guessed it! My mom had my nine month old daughter, swaddled warm in cozy blankets, lying in a wooden handmade trough. My grandmother, mother and aunt have all passed away since those long ago days and how thankful I am to have made such precious holiday memories with these extraordinary women. Every so often around this time of year, I’ll be driving in my car and a song from the Judds’ Christmas album comes on. As I reach for the volume I smile fondly as it takes me back. And then, I turn that crap off! Twenty years was enough!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Senior Care is available to persons age 55 and over with a mental or cognitive decline that hinders daily life, who has become a threat to self or others, or is limited in selfcare ability. Our mental health professionals are available through our 24 hour refer al line to discuss treatment For more information or to schedule a free, confidential assessment, call us at 318-371-5646.

Hope is only a phone call away.

www.MindenMedicalCenter.com #1 Medical Plaza | Minden, LA

INGREDIENTS: 1 cup (8 oz.) of baking soda 1/2 cup (4 oz.) of citric acid 1/2 cup (4 oz.) of corn starch 1/2 cup (4 oz.) of Epsom salts fine grain 3/4 tsp. of water 2 tsp. essential oil (your choice) 1 tsp oil (example: almond or coconut oil) A few drops of food coloring Round, snap together dome molds

DIRECTIONS:

1. Combine dry ingredients. Place dry ingredients into a big bowl and stir together with whisk. Optional: Add decorative elements like dried flowers or glitter to the dry mixture. 2. Combine wet ingredients. Place all wet ingredients into a cup and stir until well mixed. Popular essential oil options include rosemary, lavender, lemon, peppermint, vanilla and chamomile. 3. Mix together. Gradually pour the wet ingredients into the bowl with the dry ingredients and stir them until mixture begins to clump. 4. Mold. Pack the mixture into the first half of the mold as tightly as you can. Repeat with second half of mold. Add some extra mixture on top of the second half and firmly press the molds together to create your sphere. Tip: If the mixture isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t packing well, place the ingredients back in the bowl and add a tiny amount of water (a spray bottle works well) but be careful, too much water will ruin your bath bomb. 6. Let dry. Wait a few minutes before removing the bath bomb from the mold. Place on wax paper on top of a fluffy towel. Let the bath bombs dry for 24 hours before use. If your bath bombs are a gift, wrap them in cellophane or tissue paper. To store them, keep in a plastic, airtight container. This recipe makes 2-3 bath bombs. *Difficult to find items like molds, citric acid, Epsom salts, inexpensive essential oils and dried flowers can be found on Amazon at very reasonable prices.

a knack for

nutrition

written by Beth Fontenot, MS, RD, LDN Simple Steps for Slimming Down

here’s a good chance that your ancestors died from an infectious disease like pneumonia, tuberculosis, or diphtheria because those were the major causes of illness and death in the United States a hundred years ago. In the last half of the 20th century, weightrelated diseases like heart disease, stroke, diabetes, some cancers, and high blood pressure took over as the leading causes of death, and obesity has now become our nation’s most pressing health issue. Now I’m no food prude, but I do believe that we all could use a wake-up call about the little things we mindlessly consume and the detrimental lifestyle habits we overlook that are contributing to overweight, obesity, and ill health. So with 2017 staring us in the face and no sign of a slowdown in the rate of overweight and obesity, what can you do to help yourself eat better and manage your weight? Here are my “Fifty Ways to Lose the Blubber” 1. Take note of the calories in the things you eat and drink. Read the food label, use an app, or keep a calorie count book at hand. 2. Eat your meals off of smaller plates. Today’s larger dinner plates only encourage overeating. 3. Choose a "skinny latte" instead of the high-calorie “coffee shakes” served at coffee houses. Oh, and leave off the whipped cream. 4. "Fry" your egg using cooking spray in a non-stick skillet instead of in butter. 5. Use light salad dressing instead of regular salad dressing. 6. Enjoy tortilla chips with salsa instead of guacamole or cheese dip. 7. Abstain from putting butter on every piece of bread. 8. Use light sour cream instead of the regular stuff. 9. Avoid sitting for too long. If you have a desk job, find a way to spend more time on your feet. 10. Use portion control. Read food labels to determine the real serving size of foods and beverages and stick to it.

(A serving is different from a helping!) 11. Sauté vegetables in a vegetable oil cooking spray or chicken broth. 12. With few exceptions, limit or avoid beverages that contain calories. 13. Avoid the corners and edge pieces when eating cake. Those pieces have more icing – and calories. 14. Leave the cheese off your sandwich, and beef up the veggies. 15. Drink light beer instead of regular. 16. Refrigerate gumbo, soup, and stew after you cook it. Skim the fat off before reheating. 17. Dip your bread in marinara sauce instead of olive oil. 18. Order thin crust pizza rather than thick crust or cheese-stuffed crust. 19. In fact, ditch the meat and enjoy a cheese or veggie pizza. 20. Hold the butter on your pancakes and waffles. You’ll never miss it. 21. Leave the end piece of the crust from a slice of pie, and save 100 calories. 22. Dish up desserts in shot glasses. 23. Pass on the slushy, fruity mixed drinks. Have a glass of wine instead. 24. Switch to 1 percent or nonfat milk. 25. Enjoy a handful of pretzels instead of chips. 26. Pick sorbet over ice cream. 27. Have a half cup of low/nonfat chocolate pudding to satisfy a chocolate craving. 28. For the most part, forgo fried foods, even if they’re vegetables. 29. Use low-fat cheeses when you make lasagna. 30. Opt for pasta dishes made with marinara sauce instead of Alfredo sauce. 31. Bake, broil, or grill meats more often than you fry them. 32. Eat only when you are sitting down

at the table - not in front of the TV or talking on the phone. 33. Start your meal with a glass of water and a salad to curb your appetite. 34. Use one tablespoon of peanut butter instead of two. 35. Make meatless spaghetti sauce with carrots, peppers, mushrooms, and zucchini. 36. Share your dessert with someone. 36. Leave the croutons and cheese off your salad. 37. Make it a habit to always leave a little food on your plate. 38. Keep your meat portions small about the size of a deck of cards. 39. Have grilled Portabella mushroom or eggplant as an entrée instead of a side dish. 40. Reduce the amount of cheese and meat in casseroles. 41. Take your time when eating. Enjoy and savor the food. 42. Cut the mayo and tartar sauce on a sandwich. Just use mustard. 43. Don’t eat out of the bag or box of cookies - or chips - or anything. Take out a serving and put the bag away. 44. Mix juice half and half with sparkling water to reduce the calories. 45. Walk away from buffets. It’s just too easy to justify overeating. 46. Speaking of walking, walk briskly 30 minutes most days of the week. 47. Ration yourself to one scoop of ice cream - minus the cone. 48. Say no to creamy soups and go for the vegetable or minestrone soup. 49. Eat only half of the bun with your burger. 50. Weigh yourself once a week, and write it down every time. Make yourself accountable. ----------------------------------------------------

With her life and time divided between the swamps of south Louisiana and the piney woods of north Louisiana, Beth Fontenot is a registered dietitian, a licensed dietitian/nutritionist, a freelance writer, and a watercolor artist. Though she’s been known to indulge in a certain Texas brand of ice cream or a fried seafood dinner, she does believe that good nutrition is the foundation of a healthy lifestyle. When she is not busy writing, painting, or working on the homestead she and her husband are building in Gibsland, she spends her time loving her large family and high-school sweetheart.

This Holiday Season...

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Say hello to The Minute Magazine's newest columnist and Minden's newest neighbor. Join her on her journey to reclaim and restore her life and a 1926 Louisiana cottage.

By Sara McDaniel larger communities, I longed for the feeling of Mayberry. I wanted a place with a strong sense of community and southern values. And when I looked to Minden, I found wo times in my life I’ve said I’d NEVER move back to each one of these plus so much more! Louisiana. And two times I’ve eaten my words. Thirty minutes from my parents’ home in Springhill and After leaving Louisiana for college in Arkadelphia, thirty minutes away from a regional airport, national Arkansas, I returned after graduation for my first chain stores, and other major attractions, Minden was teaching job in Bossier Parish. A few years later, I left the ideal location for me! But finding the perfect home in Louisiana again for Arkansas, followed by a move out to Minden, proved to be a little more challenging. Salt Lake City, Utah and later to Corpus Christi, Texas. Although I called these places home, my heart LONGED I knew I didn’t want a cookie cutter home. My heart for Louisiana. yearned for nostalgia, a big front porch, shiplap and southern charm. And if you know Minden, it’s not every I missed the towering pine trees and the sweet fragrance day such a home becomes available for purchase. It of the Magnolia blossom. I missed the eruption of seems families hold onto their historic homes for azaleas and yellow roses each spring. I missed long generations! walks down country roads, slow southern drawls and a simple pace of life. And most of all, I missed my family. After driving around almost every square inch of Minden, Although my parents are in excellent health, I came to I happened upon an old, broken down cottage located the realization I had MAYBE 25-30 years left with them just on the edge of the Historic Residential District. (if I were REALLY lucky). And when I pondered how fast Even though it was overtaken by Photinias and years the last 25-30 years FLEW by, I couldn’t bear the thought of neglect, my heart leaped as I envisioned the restored of living far away from them any longer. potential! It appeared to be vacant, and I set out to find out for sure. My heart began to stir about returning to Louisiana and WHERE home would be. After researching the Webster Parish property tax records, I was able to locate the owner along with For as long as I can remember, I have been in love with the son in charge of her affairs. When I reached out historic homes. And after living in the hustle and bustle of regarding the status of the home, I learned a sale was

a possibility, the family was working on sorting out the contents and they would be in touch after they finalized a plan. It wasn’t a no, but yet the beginning of a VERY long wait. Over the next 22 months, I stayed in close contact with the family. There were lots of ebbs and flows. Moments when I believed the home was going to be mine, followed by doubts and heartbreak when it wasn’t. I bathed the cottage in circles of prayers, going as far as marching around it seven times just as Joshua marched around Jericho in the Bible. And just like Joshua watched the walls fall, the walls of this little cottage in Minden fell with the receipt of one, simple text message: “Let’s proceed.” And after being away from Webster Parish for over 15 years, I am home. Home where my heart is. Home where my people are. I’ve come home to Louisiana. I’m honored to begin my journey in Minden by writing a column for The Minute Magazine! Be sure to follow the renovation progress and read The Story of securing the home by liking Simply Southern Cottage on Facebook and subscribing online at www.simplysoutherncottage.com.

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a collage of southern stories and recipes:

seasoned moments written by Barbara Durbin Chocolate Covered Cherry Christmas

y parents moved us to the sandy hills of north central Louisiana when I was quite young. My father was hired as a farmer and herdsman for a local land owner and the move took less than one day as we owned very little in the way of household items. This employment provided our family, as a perk of the job, rent free housing. The outside of the home didn’t have much to say for itself but the love which grew within those unpainted tongue and groove ceiling and walls would have put “The Five Little Peppers” to shame. There were nine of us children in total. All were grown, except the younger four, those three sisters and a brother grew to adulthood in that village renowned for its sweet juicy melons. Our “new” house had no insulation and our heat in the winter was a Franklin wood burning stove in the living room. On extremely cold mornings, the oven from our gas stove in the kitchen provided additional warmth. The bedrooms had no heat. Only a multitude of multicolored quilts layered upon the bed gave covered warmth on hard cold nights. We children never realized there was lack, nor did we know others may have considered us poor. Life as it was, was all we knew…. What we did learn and realize was life is not always a breeze nor is it easy. We have all heard the phrase “life is like a bowl of cherries”. I don’t know who clichéd that small proverb, but often we don't taste the sweetness of life’s cherries until the “pits” have been removed. Then, we find the sweet cherry has become a cherished moment. In so quaint a place which we called our hometown, everyone knew everyone and you recognized all the people who listened to your call on the party line. The dead giveaway was the exact sound they made as they attempted to hold their breath when they picked

up. Their inhales and exhales were as familiar to town folk as their voice itself. When we were able to finally afford a phone, my sister could not contain her excitement! She immediately picked up the phone and phone book then called a little woman we called Aunt Gracie. She wasn’t our aunt, but it didn’t matter we loved her. My sister informed her in the most grown up manner, one which only a young child can do, that we now had a phone and that our number was 2-9-7-1. Aunt Gracie’s reply was just as intent as the tone of the caller. Her, “You do?” was as intense as my sisters’ and it placed such prominence on that piece of news. The adults even cared enough to place significance on a child’s bit of information and make them feel they had value. All who called this place home could safely ramble without fear of abduction and if you got into trouble, your parents were there before you could get out of it. You could loan or borrow a bike and know it would be returned by dark. You made money for church camp by selling Rosebud Salve. You ordered it by slipping a dollar and two quarters in an envelope along with an ad from the Farmer’s Almanac. Many days you spent way too much time attempting to capture a free spirited dog named Jip. That wayward hound belonged to the widow three streets over who should have named her Houdini. Jip was the only one who didn’t know she had an owner. Daily you wrestled that bubbly bouncing canine by push and pull, back to her broken-lock cage. She appeared to grin at you with her tongue hanging out, waiting only for you to be out of sight

before she once again attempted her disappearance from the pen. It was in such a moment, when the world was young and time was still new, it was in such a season of innocence that I bound an intricate part of my childhood within my memories. Years later, in a mental reflection, I realized it was as a child, I had discovered the true meaning of Christmas. The scene unfolds to find a tiny seven/ eight-year-old girl anxiously awaiting her part in the annual Christmas play. Large brown eyes peered from beneath tousled black curls. A button nose and tiny rosy pursed lips completed the face of the child who waited impatiently on her hard wooden chair. Arrayed in red velveteen, she apprehensively sat awaiting the moment to offer her practiced praise to a plastic babe lying in a manger. Soon, it was her turn. She recited her part, nervously thrust dark tresses behind her ears, and speedily returned to her seat. Upon conclusion of the program by all classes, the children would then enjoy refreshments and exchange gifts. Unaware that gifts were to have been obtained beforehand, the little girl soon realized she had nothing to give or receive. With understanding came embarrassment and soon unshed tears pooled in those precious cocoa colored orbs. In her chair, with feet swinging, she stared toward the window as though all that held her interest occurred out rather than inside. Her poise said, “all is well.” Yet, her lips quivered in tune with her heart; awaiting an unfound and

Barbara Durbin is a legal secretary and a published newspaper and magazine columnist. When not at her "real job", she works on her baskets filled with vintage books/china for "The Vintage Bee." She loves a walk in the woods and her time with God. Barbara and her husband have four children, five grandchildren and a dappled dachshund named Bella. Look for her on facebook and follow her "Pocket Full of Moment" comments.

unknown savior. Awaiting a redeemer to propel her from this shame. All the while feeling a floor should open and drop her into the infinite unknown. In the audience sat the little girl’s brother. Sympathetically realizing what had happened he quietly left the building. As the children noisily moved to begin the process of exchanging gifts, he quickly walked two blocks to the local drug store. There, using all he possessed, he purchased the dear little one a gift. Upon his return he found her in the crowd attempting to look as though she was quite content in the state she found herself. Knowing that without a gift, she didn’t fit in. This brother, who loved much, presented her with a beautiful red box of Queen Anne Chocolate Covered Cherries. No other gift has ever been received with such joy. The red of that small package represented a covering for her shame and the price paid was far greater than the gold with which it had been labeled. Embarrassment and a sadden countenance were quickly replaced. A joyous smile, one sweeter than the cherries themselves shown from within the heart of that darling little girl. What love, tenderness, and unselfish compassion were shown in the giving of a single gift.

The holiday season never passes in which the little girl, now a grandmother, with “large brown eyes” and “tousled black curls,” does not reflect upon those vivid memories. As family gathers for the holidays, she serves her special dip, Hawaiian bread and fried tortilla chips. There lightweight banter is tossed back and forth among family members and guest alike. All laugh and enjoy one another and share chocolate covered cherries. Once again the story of that special moment is re-lived and the love within the giving of so simple a gift is shared. What neither character in this real life story realized, was their baby sister, the writer of this story, sat in the audience as well… Her recollections are sketchy at best but what she saw that day provided a basis for her faith to grow. It was so very pivotal in her life, as it showed her in “real” time a parallel of Christ’s love. A love which is truly the epitome of why we celebrate this time of year. …for a brother so loved his sister; or perhaps it is best said this way… “For God so loved the world…” Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to all. From my house to yours may the love of God abound within the walls of your home. May His grace and mercy

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cover you all the days of your life and may your bowl of cherries always be full. ---------------------------------------------------My Big Sister’s Holiday Spinach & Artichoke Dip 1 can drained artichoke hearts 1 box chopped frozen spinach 1 c. mayonnaise 1 1/2 c. sour cream 2 T. chopped onion 1 clove garlic, minced 2 c. Monterey Jack Cheese 2 c. grated Parmesan Cheese Cook spinach as directed and drain. Combine mayonnaise and sour cream. Add spinach and mix thoroughly. Chop artichoke hearts, onion, and garlic, add to mixture. Stir in cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for 20-30 minutes until cheese and mixture are bubbly. Cool and to refrigerate overnight is best. Serve warm in a bowl made from Hawaiian Bread. Serve with bread bits, Ritz crackers, or tortilla chips with a side of salsa dip. ----------------------------------------------------

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ice cream & other things that should be discussed

written by Ashley Maddox

The Share Dog

rowing up, my twin sister and I didn’t really have to share many things. Everyone knew that there were 2 of us so they always brought two of whatever they had. We shared big things like our Nintendo, our trampoline, and our 4-wheeler of course. The one thing we did share was a stuffed dog aptly named Sharedog. Sharedog came from a fair that my dad randomly went to. He played one of the carnival games and he actually won. Not sure how that is even possible but it happened. He was so excited about winning this stuffed animal that he immediately called my mom to tell her about it. As he’s describing the dog and going on and on, my mom interrupts him by asking “But you got two of them right?” Dad said, “No, I only won the one prize. I asked the guy if he had another stuffed dog and even offered to pay for it but he said there was only one.” Then mom said, “But we have 2 kids.” When my dad came home that night he stood in front of my sister and I and explained that he had a present for us. He showed us the stuffed dog and explained that the dog’s name was Sharedog because we were going to have to share him. There was only one Sharedog and if we couldn’t share him he would be taken away. My sister and I immediately agreed that we would be able to share. Sharedog was a gray dog with brown ears and a brown tail. He

took turns sleeping with each of us and was our favorite stuffed animal. He participated in all of our games and was even married to one of my sister’s Barbie dolls for a while. He had his own special voice and was with us constantly. Now every once in a while, Sharedog would get in some trouble. What I mean is, my sister and I would get in trouble and blame it on Sharedog. Or we would be misbehaving and my dad would take Sharedog away from us. This involved my dad putting Sharedog in a trash bag and throwing him up in the attic. (The trash bag was to make sure that nothing ate him while he was in the attic.) This was very upsetting for my sister and I. We would promise that Sharedog would never commit his crime again or that we would be good. There was a lot of crying and wailing and pleading during these times. Poor Sharedog. I can’t recall how many days or months he spent in that attic during our childhood for crimes he didn’t commit. It was a shame really. He always got to come back and play though. My sister and I have had Sharedog for at least 27 years now. As adults,

we continue to take turns having him. When one of us is struggling in life or just having a hard time that sister has him. He has been with me when I have been hospitalized. He was present for the birth of my sister’s little girl Lucy and stayed until things had settled down. Sharedog lives with me now. He holds a place of honor on my dresser where I can see him every day. I hug him when I am feeling sad or nostalgic. You may be asking why we don’t give him to my niece Lucy. The funny thing is, both Meagan and I agree that she can’t have him. At least not yet. Simply because she wouldn’t appreciate him. She doesn’t get to hold him for long because we don’t want her to get him dirty. Maybe when she gets older and can understand his importance. He is a reminder of our childhood, of our father, of good times, and bad. The fact that he is still in one piece speaks of our love for him. We had Barbie dolls and other stuffed animals that did not fair so well. All I know is, when I see that dog a wave of emotions rolls through me and I smile and hug him and remember. -------------------------------------------------

Ashley is originally from North Louisiana but now resides in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her experiences growing up in the country and being transplanted to the big city give her a unique perspective into life's quirks and hilarities. She is active in the New Orleans lifestyle and she has a great group of friends from which to draw her inspiration. She is a member of the Krewe of Nyx, attends numerous Mardi Gras Balls, runs, and enjoys reading and ice cream. She is married to her loving husband Jerry (who may or may not have written this bio).

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written by Sara Enloe

Presents vs. Presence

y sister Megan is a great holiday shopper. I remember receiving a text from her one September asking me what I wanted for Christmas. I scratched my head (figuratively - I'm not a monkey) and responded with, "You do know that Halloween still hasn't happened, right?" and then begrudgingly sent her my gift request. One week later she boasted proudly that she had finished all of her Christmas shopping and that her gifts were wrapped and ready to go. I teased her about her extreme preparedness but began to wonder if there wasn't some merit to her madness. Every year I say I won't wait to buy presents and every year I scramble and stress when the second week of December ends and all I have in terms of gifts to give are a good singing voice, a ready smile and a long hug. This year I vow that things will be different. Today is October 23rd and there is still time to break procrastination off my life. I nod my head resolutely when I feel the Holy Spirit whisper something to my heart: "Your focus is on the wrong kind of presents." I am immediately taken aback and wait to hear more. I feel like God has been speaking to me in terms of what should be important during the holiday season. First of all I believe it is necessary to clarify what I mean when I say 'God has been speaking to me.' Personally, I never hear Him in an audible voice (although how insanely wonderful would that be?). God speaks to me through His Word, people, prayer, music, nature, dreams, pictures, thoughts, feelings and impressions. I always know when He is speaking to me, and I am so glad that I have the Bible to confirm that I am not crazy by saying so. In John 10:27 ESV, Jesus says, "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me." As a child of God, I have access to the mind of Christ and He delights in sharing with me (see 1 Corinthians 2:6-16 for more on that). Side note: Whoever started the lie that Christianity is boring has never experienced life with Jesus firsthand!

Anywho, back to my focus being on the wrong kind of presents. Right after God spoke that sentence to my heart, I saw a picture in my head of a busy absentee Father. This is the guy that works 80 hours a week to make sure his family has the best of the best of everything. He has his assistant find out what his kids and wife want for Christmas because he isn't around them long enough to know for himself. He is not a bad guy by any means, but his idea of taking care of his family begins and ends with the money he offers them and the gifts he buys for them. He measures his success by his salary. As far as material things go, they are set for life. Then the Lord shifted my focus to this man's children. Every morning they get up wanting to talk to their Daddy and every morning he is too preoccupied to pay them any mind. They crave his affection. They want to sit on his lap and hug him and kiss his face. Each night they long to tell him about their day and watch him smile and affirm them. They want his interest, his time, and above all his love, but he only offers them a passing glance...and his wallet. Stupefied by that scene playing out in my head, I looked up to the ceiling and asked God why He was showing me this. I felt like He was smiling when He responded, "Because you get so busy doing things FOR me when all I really want is for you to spend time WITH me. I love you for YOU and I want your presence - not your presents." Whew...you could have knocked me down with a feather in that moment. My jaw hung off its hinges. The Creator of the UNIVERSE craves time with

ME? I'M the busy absentee Father in this story?! Whoa. I thought I had always viewed God as He was - loving, forgiving, merciful and kind - but I realized in that moment that a small part of me also saw God as a critical Dad that was impossible to satisfy or please. With a few sentences, God lovingly corrected me. He isn't towering over me, arms folded and head down, looking over the sacrifices and offerings I bring Him with a disapproving smirk; He waits for me every single day, hoping I will draw near to Him so He can draw near to me (James 4:8). He sings over me (Zephaniah 3:17) and bends down to listen to me each time I pray (Psalm 116:2). He created me out of love and only looks at me with love. My mind was blown. So I have a quick question for you: Do you see God as a harsh taskmaster or as a loving Father? More importantly, do you believe you have to work for His love? Beautiful One, you are enough. He loved you at your worst moment with all your dirty laundry, shameful secrets and secret sins - and He will continue to love you into eternity. You can't stop His love; you can only accept it as a gift. This Christmas, even if it's your first time doing so, talk to God. He so longs to hear from you. And while you're in a talking mood, tell your family and friends you love them and give them some quality time. Apologize if you need to and hug them because you want to. Make this season less about consumerism and more about bringing the love of Jesus wherever you go. I bid you adieu in rhyme: May God bless you and those you hold dear - Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! ----------------------------------------------------

Fluent in Spanish and meow-ing, Sara Enloe is a Jesus-lovin' cat lady who traded Michigan winters for Florida sunshine. You can find her writing, singing, or laughing at herself. Follow her on Instagram: @quitesimplysara

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Phoweople can tell what and who you are committed to by you spend your time. Time is the great equalizer

because we all have the same 24 hours available each day. Time is also the ultimate currency because you only can spend it today. What you don't use wisely, you lose. And time certainly doesn't discriminate against age, wealth, gender, race, or religion. Time will continue to go on for everyone. True commitment is a gift. When people give you 100% of their energy and focus, they are valuing you and giving you their time. Thus, when we manage our time well, we can give time as a gift by managing our energy, focus, and perspective well. We show commitment to our core values by spending time living them out, and we show commitment to our loved ones by making time to focus on them. Without time, nothing is possible, but with time, all opportunities are available to us. Ask a grandparent and they will tell you that time is one of their most precious possessions. No one can steal it from you but no one can give you more. Life is a series of moments made up of minutes, and the commitment we show in those moments will impact our legacy.

We all have the same 1,440 minutes each day to truly love others and live each moment to the fullest! Is the way you value your time currently serving or sabotaging your relationships and your commitments? This week, think of your time as capital to be used for investment. Don't complain about a lack of time but rather use the time you do have to value and invest in others. Shifting our attitude this way will allow us to get a genuine "return" on our investment. Especially during the holidays, how you commit your time determines the return you will get! My husband's grandpa's 90th birthday party was last year. We drove two days to get to it, attended it, and started the two day drive home after the festivities. Was it worth our T-I-M-E? Of course! One of our core values is family. We proved what we valued by committing five days right before Christmas traveling for this significant event! How are you using your precious 24 today? Use your gifts! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life Outside the Boot written by Elizabeth Hines

Go and Wait

have not been writing like I used to. A year ago, I felt like I had so much to say, so much wisdom to inpart on others, and so many adventures to talk about. Things are drastically different now. Other than the big fight behind the Rite Aid (that I watched from my bedroom window), my life has felt pretty uneventful. I have sat down and tried to write blogs, articles, or stories so many times. And every time I think, well nothing will ever be as fun to read as what it used to be. I went to Tampa in September for a training with Child Life Disaster Relief. (Check this organization out! They are doing incredible things!) One of the exercises was partnering up with someone and talking for two minutes straight while the other person made no reaction. I was the talker (big surprise, right?). So I told the Ethiopia doctor visit story. I talked about being the only American in the doctors office, the odd practices, the ‘bathroom’ disaster, and the mess that followed. I talked about walking the half a mile or so home and getting sick again on the side of the road. I talked about the delayed flights home, and going back to NYC. At the end of the two minutes, my partner had to voice a response. Her first question was, "Is all of that true?" I thought well, yea! You think I made that up?? I have an imagination, but hey- it's not that good. And her next sentence caught me off guard: "Wow, you live a really exciting life". It was like a snap back to reality. In her eyes, and probably others, my life does seem pretty exciting. Even though I was in Florida, and soon headed to Texas, my life felt like anything but exciting. My last blog was about being in a season of just waiting and preparing for the next step. The training in Tampa is part of that preparation process. Going to Texas was something that would be fun. But after all that- it was back to NYC to serve coffee and babysit. Nothing felt exciting. It was all just prep, prep, prep. I have started to notice this pattern in my life. When I read old journals, it's

very clear: the ebb and flow. There are exciting times. And there are boring times. And there are hard times, fun times, easy times, trying times. But I see the pattern of go and wait. Go and wait. After college it felt like I was in a constant state of WAIT. Then something would happen. Then wait again. Then another move. Then wait again. Then a job. Then wait again. I thought that NYC was the end of the waiting. I thought that NYC was the great big pinnacle of my life. That living here was going to be the best thing that would ever happen to me. I thought that my time here was what I had been preparing for my whole life. But after getting back from Ethiopia, I realize it was just another step. There is this underlying rush/anxiety/ full-speed-ahead feeling I have being back in the states. Even when sitting down to write this article, I feel the need to try to multi-task and balance my check book, sweep the kitchen floor, and answer emails. This is when I miss the steady and slow-pace of Ethiopia. When I was there, I struggled with not always going 100% all the time, but it allowed for real conversations and real relationships to form. Being back in the states makes me feel like I need to be going full throttle at all times. Especially in NYC. There is no down time here. I have to force it on myself sometimes. I went back through my journals this morning. I read about all these times. I saw how poorly I have handled these seasons in the past. I am not a waiter.

I don't have patience. I like go all the time. Again- I am my fathers child. My mom told me the other day "You and your dad think everything has to be done at the speed of light". :: Always Right That Woman :: This time, I'm trying to do it differently. I am trying to use this season of waiting effectively. I am trying not to complain. I am trying to enjoy being boring. I know life is not going to be boring forever. I know one day in the throes of grad school, work, and traveling, I'll wish for this time of hours in the morning to sip coffee and write. I know one day when I am running out the door with a breakfast bar I’ll wonder why I ever despised cooking breakfast in the mornings. I know one day when I crash into bed at midnight I’ll wonder why I didn’t take advantage of 9 pm bedtimes. I know one day when there is a screaming baby and whining toddler I'll wonder why I ever hated quiet days. I know one day if I don't take advantage of this time, I will regret it. I encourage you: if you're "just" waiting, take advantage. If you're waiting for graduation, enjoy your friends all being in one place, because it will never, ever happen again. If you're waiting for another baby, enjoy your first born. If you're waiting for a job, enjoy your free time. If you're waiting for a spouse, enjoy your freedom. If you're waiting to see what's next: enjoy it. ----------------------------------------------------

Liz is a typical southern girl who is taking on the world. After following the scenic route through college at Louisiana Tech she moved to New York to work as a Child Life Specialist. Recently she took her next big leap by travelling to the other side of the world to live in Kenya, Africa. What's next? Who knows! She is currently back in the big apple and training for child life disaster relief. Wherever she ends up outside of the boot, a part of her will always be here. Follow her at tradingbootsforpearls.blogspot.com

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blissful chaos written by Yvette Hardy

Return to Sender

he following letters may or may not be based on real life “pet peeves” that I would possibly have to “give to God” each day. Names and locations have been changed to protect the innocent! So maybe you’ve felt this way…maybe you can relate. You may have a “head full of letters” yourself. Here goes some of mine.

Letters Never Mailed… ----------------------------------------------------

Dear Driver that must have gotten your license from the gumball machine: Please, please hear my plea…THE LEFT LANE IS FOR PASSING! Please use it as such. It is sometimes referred to as the “passing lane”. This is because people may need to get by you. Please do not hold up traffic by blocking the left lane. This is very selfish on your part. You do not own the road and if you want to, then may I suggest a piece of highway in the right lane? I hate to bring this up but I would imagine you are the same driver that parks using TWO parking spaces because you think YOUR VEHICLE IS SOOOOOO MAGNIFICENT THAT YOU DON’T WANT ANYONE TO PARK BESIDE YOU!!! May I also suggest that you park further out? Like to the road? And walk? While we’re on the subject…may I suggest that you use some MANNERS when driving? Really, that is all it takes! How rude is it for you to pull out in front of me making me slam on my brakes to keep from hitting you, go just a few more yards and then make me slow

down so you can turn? REALLY???? There was NO ONE BEHIND ME! You could’ve waited!

I want to tell you a little about us as a family so that you may better understand my position on this.

You probably say “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am” to your elders, even “please” and “thank-you”. You probably are a very polite person otherwise. So could you please extend your good manners to the highway? I mean, really, the best drivers are the courteous ones!

First of all, I admire your tenacity and determination that your students will know their math facts forward and backwards before leaving for junior high. I believe sometimes we are taught these things and then don’t use them often enough and then forget them. I am also a huge supporter of education and its value to a young person. I have a Bachelor of Science in Nursing and operate two businesses as well. I believe in education.

Sincerely, A Left Lane Passer Only ----------------------------------------------------

Dear Doctor: My time is as valuable as yours. Period. Please don’t overbook and keep me waiting two hours for every appointment. End of discussion. Sincerely, Your Patient Patient ----------------------------------------------------

Dear Teacher: I am writing you this letter to see if we may be able to come together for a solution to some of the problems we are dealing with. We are struggling to maintain peace and a healthy family lifestyle. Part of that is due to the amount of homework that is given every night.

But just as important, if not more, I believe in the family unit. With broken homes, split families and divorce as commonplace as it is today, I believe our family should take priority. Having said that, I would like to explain how we try to make family a priority at our house after the kids come home from school. We actually look forward to seeing them in the afternoon. We talk to them. We try to find out how their day was…(which most days is like pulling teeth with boys). We let them have a little down time before starting on the “un-fun” parts of their evening. We make it a priority to sit down at the dinner table together and have a home cooked supper. We talk about our day, our goals, our dreams, and play a crazy game of “If you were a _____________, what kind of ____________ would you

Yvette is a mom to 3 brown-eyed beauties, a wife to a hard-working "Louisiana oil-man," a sister to two crazy gals, an aunt to many, and a child of the One True King. These are just some of the titles she holds humbly, and near & dear to her heart. She's still chasing a few dreams (even at her age), and trying to live intentionally! Yvette is a lover of all things old, southern hospitality, a gypsy at heart and happy in boots or heels! She is a nurse and the owner of Fashion on the Fly online boutique with a mobile fashion truck on the way.

be?” (This is just a side note and something our kids came up with years ago). After supper we all pick up and clean the kitchen together. It’s at these times that I try to remember, I’m not just raising a future doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a welder, not just a blue collar, or white collar worker; I’m raising a man, a woman, a future mom or dad, a husband or wife. And these are skills that once again will enhance and better them as they build their own families. We also believe in extra-curricular activities for our children if that is something they want to participate in. They do. We do not believe in over-participation and rarely have I let them enroll in sports that overlap. I do not think that it benefits my child or us as a family if one of them is over-extended. Over the years, we have had to tweak things and see how this would work for our family because again, nothing should so consume our time that it takes away from our family time. Another thing we try to do as a family on a regular basis is end our evening together doing a short devotion. This is another time when I as a parent know that no matter how smart you are educationally, it won’t matter if you don’t have it together spiritually. Because in the end the question to get right won’t be whether or not we know our multiplication facts but whether we have a relationship with Jesus Christ. I realize y’all are in a time crunch with just so many instructional minutes given each day. Apparently lots of people in charge feel these instructional minutes are more important that recess even. (Another issue I feel strongly about). But also another reason why free time in the afternoon is so important to our kids since they have been working most of the day without a real break. If I see that he is understanding something, then I would like to encourage him to move on to the next subject. For example, if he understands how to multiply 4 digits numbers by 3 digit numbers, then instead of having him work 10 problems, I will have him do 3 or 4 and see if he gets it and then move on. Please let me know thoughts, concerns, or ideas that may work better so that we can work together on this. If you think we need a meeting, please let me know. I hope that together we can find a way to make our evenings better and our student less dreadful during the school year. Thank you for your time. As I realize how valuable all of our time is! Sincerely, A Parent Who Cares ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Teachers (again) So as I sat in my parent-teacher conference, I realized a few things. We have such different views on the world and our role in it. I explained to you that my child was having trouble keeping up with note-taking and has repeatedly raised his hand, when asked if everyone was ready to move on, to say that he was not ready. You blatantly ignored him and moved on. I realize you can’t stop for JUST ONE STUDENT (even though the school board’s motto is NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND). However, you CAN ACKNOWLEDGE HIM. You can tell him you must

move on but he can get the notes from you after class, etc. You could do something besides ignore him like he’s not even important. Everyone wants to be acknowledged. No one wants to be ignored. I also told you both that my child is miserable and had even said to me the past week that he “hated his life”. One of you looked sarcastically at me and one of you looked confused saying that you “just don’t see that”. Well on the weekend, neither do I. I have my bright, bubbly boy back. However, during the week, I deal with the child that you are shaping into a “not nice young man”. His whole demeanor is different. He’s always tired, angry, and bitter. School is never fun as you keep them in from PE at least 3x week, won’t let them talk at lunch and of course they get no recess. And you wonder why our children have no social skills? They are written up for having to go to the bathroom, dropping a pencil in class, and leaving their lunch bag in the classroom. But ladies, there is a problem that I see as such a tragedy with what you said next. I told you both that since you spend more time with him during the day than I do, then I just thought you both should be aware of this. You actually told me that “because you both are SO STRUCTURED you probably wouldn’t see this anyway because there is no time for “chittychat” in your room!” REALLY??? It saddens me that you are missing the point of LIFE! You see ladies, this whole life we’ve been given…it’s about relationships. First and foremost, our relationship with Jesus Christ. Second, our relationship with others. Excuse me here while I try to “teach the teachers”. And I’ll be using the greatest textbook ever written…the Bible. In Matthew 22:37-40 after “an expert in the law” asked Jesus what the greatest commandment was. He replied, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all you soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself…” Ladies, you have to SHOW love. You have to SHOW kindness. You can’t be SO structured and caught up in the work that you miss the student. You both have SUCH an AMAZING opportunity with your line of work to really REACH young people at such a vulnerable age! But you are missing it. I realize you have a job to do. But more importantly we all have a job to do as human beings; we are to show God’s love and kindness to others. Don’t miss the forest for the trees! Don’t miss the boat on your journey! Our children are not ROBOTS. They are human beings that will probably not remember every element on the periodic table along with the atomic mass. But they will remember a teacher who showed love and kindness to them, who took time out of her “structured” day to really see them for who they are! Sincerely, A Fellow Journeyman ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------There are plenty more letters where that came from. But I’ll stop for now! Return to sender….address unknown! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

bringing back

the past

written by Wesley Harris Post Cards Tell Our History

community’s history can be recreated through the post cards issued to commemorate its locations, people, and special events. As I collected post cards from my hometown of Ruston, Louisiana, I realized the hundreds of images printed for the past century could tell the community’s history as easily as any book. In fact, I turned those post cards into a book: “Greetings from Ruston.” Usually post cards were intended primarily for tourists but they revealed what was important to the community— churches, schools, successful businesses, significant community events. More recently, post cards have been used extensively as advertising which will tell historians a century from now much about how we lived. Collections of post cards can be found on internet genealogy and history sites. Even assemblages of outrageously corny or ugly post cards can be viewed online. The U.S. Post Office Department began issuing pre-stamped postal cards in 1873. The cards were created to meet the public demand for a convenient way to send notes by mail. The Post Office was the only entity allowed to print post cards until 1898 when Congress passed the Private Mailing Card Act, permitting private publishers and printers to produce post cards. Initially, the government prohibited private businesses from calling their cards “post cards,” so they were referred to as “souvenir cards.” Prior to 1908, no other information could be placed on the address side of the post card, so the photo side often provided a margin for a short message. The first post card in the United States was created in 1893 to advertise

the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Shortly thereafter the United States Post Office Department allowed printers to publish a 1-cent post card (the "Penny Postcard"). A correspondent's writing was allowed only on the front side of these cards. In 1901 cards appeared with the words "Post Card" printed on the reverse (the side without the picture). Written messages were still restricted to the front side, with the entire back dedicated to the address. This "undivided back" is what gives this postcard era its name. The "divided back" card, with space for a message on the address side, came into use in the United States in 1907. The back of the card was divided into two sections, the left section being used for the message and the right for the address. From 1907 to about 1915, picture post cards were a wildly popular form of communication. In 1908, more than 677 million post cards were mailed. The “white border” era, named for obvious reasons, lasted from about 1916 to 1930. The “linen card” era, from 1931 to the early 1950s, was marked by the use of cards printed on papers with a textured surface similar to linen cloth. The current post card era of “chrome” cards began about 1939. The images on these cards are usually color photographs on a glossy paper. Modern post cards can also be found made

from wood, metal, or bearing holograph images. Today, many Christmas greetings are in the form of post cards, usually with a photograph of the family. Businesses and nonprofits often use post cards to make announcements and spread important information without the expense of stuffed envelopes. ---------------------------------------------------Top Left Photo: The Post Office did not permit writing on the addressee side of early post cards. Top Right Photo: Linen post cards had the look and feel of linen cloth. Middle Left Photo: An Early Ruston Postcard. Middle Right Photo: Post card of the Tensas Parish Court House. Bottom Photo: The sender was possibly a soldier stationed nearby who had to be back to his station by midnight. ----------------------------------------------------

Wesley Harris is a native of Ruston. Among his books are FISH OUT OF WATER: Nazi Submariners as POWs in North Louisiana during World War II and GREETINGS FROM RUSTON: A Post Card History of Ruston, Louisiana, available from amazon.com. Check out his Louisiana history blog at http:// diggingthepast.blogspot.com. He can be contacted at campruston@gmail.com.

Pump it up.

s a Nurse Practitioner student, my area of focus was diabetes and early insulinization in diabetes management. Little did I know that my focus in school was not just preparing me for my role in the healthcare field but also preparing me to care for my own child. At noon on July 11th, 2011, my oldest daughter, Caroline, was scheduled to depart for church camp. She was so excited for her first overnight camp. However, as she woke up that morning to leave for camp, I noticed her fruity smelling breath. Suddenly I thought of her recent increased thirst, frequent urination, unexplained weight loss, and fatigue (all of which are classic signs of type 1 diabetes). Soon my suspicion was confirmed… she was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and admitted into ICU in diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA). How did this happen? She was a young, healthy, active girl! Earlier in the summer, she had what appeared to be a typical cold but we now know was an autoimmune destruction of the beta cells (functioning units) of her pancreas. Insulin is a hormone that is essential for life and is key in helping sugar (glucose) enter the body’s cells. When her body was not producing enough insulin to supply her body, excessive amounts of sugar accumulated in her body. Without the needed insulin, her blood became thick like maple syrup and her body began breaking down muscle and fat to be used for energy. This explained the weight loss. It still seems like yesterday that Caroline was sitting in the hospital bed asking the nurse how long she would have to take shots. He replied, "You’ll take shots for the rest of your life because there is no cure yet..." In that moment with those words, my life changed. Caroline’s diagnosis was a defining moment for me…both personally and

professionally. It became clear to me that ACCESS to state-ofthe-art technology and education was the key to help Caroline, and others like her, manage this life-long disease. From this unplanned storm in our lives, Diabetes Care Center (DCC) was developed. DCC is an intensive diabetes management, treatment and education center located in Ruston and West Monroe. We offer a rewards based system in a fun and inviting atmosphere, where we focus on complication prevention. We use safe but aggressive medication and lifestyle therapy to lower blood glucose and improve outcomes. We offer one on one education and group classes. We also use the latest technology including insulin pump therapy and continuous glucose monitor (CGM) therapy. Our DCC clinical team is made of nurse practitioners, registered dietitians, a registered nurse, certified diabetes educators, medical assistants, and lab technicians. DCC is the only AADE accredited education and management center in north Louisiana. But at DCC, our motto is “we don’t just know diabetes, we LIVE it”. We are mothers and daughters of patients with diabetes, and several of our staff are living with diabetes themselves. We understand the challenges of diabetes…and the consequences of limited diabetes management. Our goal and heart’s desire is to provide every individual with the tools necessary to manage his or her diabetes and to live life to the fullest! The 2014 National Diabetes Statistics Report states that over 29 million people in the United States have diabetes. It is estimated that of all people living with diabetes, approximately eight million do not even know they have diabetes! Could you be in the undiagnosed data? Certain types of diabetes can be prevented and we believe that knowledge is power and education is crucial for prevention and management. Prediabetes, Type 2, Type 1, Gestational, Latent Autoimmune Diabetes in Adults (LADA) or Type 1.5, Maturity Onset Diabetes of Youth (MODY), and Type 3 diabetes... we know your type! November is National Diabetes Month. Make it your time to take charge of your “type” of diabetes for a longer, healthier life. Know your risk factors, prevent complications, make sure you get wellness checks, and pay attention to pre-diabetes because that type of diabetes can be prevented! Although there is not a cure for Type 1, many advancements are being made to make life simpler and safer for people who live with this chronic disease. Since Caroline was diagnosed, she has received nearly 20,000 sticks from insulin syringes, insulin pens, insulin pump sites, sensor sites, or finger stick blood sugars. As a high school senior, she loves technology but so does her middle aged mother. There have been such great advancements in diabetes treatment that I can monitor Caroline's blood sugar from my iPhone. So whatever college Caroline begins in the fall, I can still be her “sugar stalker.”

a novel approach written by Winnie Griggs

The Art Of Backstory – Part VI

on too long it can slow your pace and alienate your reader. Also, if you insert a chunk of introspection into the middle of a high stakes action scene it will throw your pacing and timing off balance. For example, in the middle of a heated fight or life and death chase situation your character wouldn’t logically pause to reflect on long snatches of backstory.

his is the sixth in a series of articles I’m bringing you about Weaving Backstory Into Your Work. In previous articles I discussed what backstory is, what and how much should be included in your manuscript, and when to include it. I’ve also discussed three of the methods you can use, namely Omniscient Narration, Flashbacks and Prologues. This time around, I’ll be discussing Introspection.

On the other hand, introspection can be sprinkled in as snippets - a thought here, a thought there - so that the reader gradually begins to know the character rather than tossing it all out in one chunk.

Introspection is probably the most commonly used form of weaving in backstory. It involves having a character think about some past event that parallels or contrasts the current situation. This method normally employs trigger elements that is, some action or object in the here and now that triggers a memory.

Movie Example: Though you don’t usually see much in the way of introspection in the

There are two ways to employ introspection: • Reminiscing-- This is where a character mentally reminisces about past events he himself is familiar with. • Deduction-- This is where a character puts together various bit and pieces of things he has observed to reach some sort of conclusion about another character’s past. Be aware that this is more of a telling than showing mechanism. If it draws

Keys to making it work: Again, you want to make certain the introspection flows naturally from the situation and character, and that it ties into the current story action.

movies, a wonderful example can actually be found in the movie What Women Want. This is the one with Mel Gibson and Helen Hunt where Mel Gibson’s character has suddenly acquired the ability to “hear” what women are thinking. You get some sometimes hilarious, sometimes poignant snippets of various characters’ backstory by having him eavesdrop on their thoughts. That’s it for our discussion on Introspection. Next time around I’ll discuss the use of Dialogue to reveal Backstory. Remember, revelation of Backstory is most effective when it both unveils the past and adds to the present situation. As always, feel free to contact me at Winnie@winniegriggs. com for questions on this or any other aspect of novel writing. And feel free to look me up on facebook as well. -------------------------------------------------

Winnie Griggs grew up in south Louisiana in an undeveloped area her friends thought of as the back of beyond. She and her siblings spent many an hour exploring the overgrown land around her home, cutting jungle trails, building forts and frontier camps, and looking for pirate ships on the nearby bayou. Once she ‘grew up’ she began capturing those wonderful adventures in the pages of her notebooks. Now a multi-published, award winning author, Winnie feels blessed to be able to share her stories with readers through her published books. You can learn more about Winnie at www.winniegriggs. com or connect with her at www.facebook. com/WinnieGriggs.Author

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from simplicity to

stilettos

written by Chalaine Scott Holding Hands

ound face. Puffy cheeks. Light skin. I just met him and I knew he was about to change my life forever. Years from now, I’ll pass him in a random place and he won’t even notice me. He won’t know my name or pay me a second glance. He won’t remember me at all. But I’ll never forget him. How I wished to never meet this man. To never look into eyes hidden behind glass lenses and listen to words spoken from unfamiliar lips. He wore his pants high around his waist, a stringed bow hanging from his stomach, Nike sneakers peeking through the bottom of his blue scrub pants. I'll remember him forever. The way he stood with arms folded, the way his hands moved to explain. The way his brows lowered and his lips quivered. “You know, if this were my dad…” Well, he’s not. I held my thought in my head. He held a dagger with his words and it pierced my heart with every new sentence he mustered. "You know, he's 82. We have to deal with the reality here that he’s been through a lot already and, well,” the words weren’t easy, even for someone who I knew must have had to say them often, “I'm just not sure he’ll ever recover from this." And just like that, the world goes silent. I hear nothing. In a room full of people, we say nothing. I feel tears welling in my eyes and streaming down my face but my body’s gone numb. I watch other tears falling to the floor from those packed into this room. I look up and read random words scribbled on a white board. “Prayers for Pep.” I scan a bookshelf stuffed with long titles of medical jargon and diseases I can’t pronounce. I turn to the

open window and notice a car drive by. All the years I’ve passed this familiar home-town hospital, I never noticed this window. I never knew a “comfort room” even existed. How many others sat in this plastic chair and had their whole world ripped apart? How many others gathered within these yellow walls to be told, “there’s nothing more we can do.” The tree outside the window sways in a wind. I hold a tissue to my eyes and cover my face in my hands. I bow my head to the floor. I follow the tile lines and ignore the glasses wearing man with the high pants. “One day,” I’m suddenly back in a diner booth seated across from a grey haired man, his forehead creased with wrinkled lines and his arms bruised on thin skin. Two legs dangle from his seat and two eyes stare at the wrapper he’s crinkling, he brings it to his mouth and stuffs the wet paper ball inside his straw. He still has two legs to walk up stairs, two eyes that still recognize me. His sweet spirit has not been tainted and his pure heart has not been messed with. He’s not lying in a hospital bed propped up on pillows or being pumped with pills, he’s not fighting to figure out where he is or who I am. I’m suddenly back in a diner booth with a grey haired wrinkling man who knows me and sees me and loves me. “One day,” he lifts the straw to his lips, “I’m not gonna be here to bother you and you’re gonna miss me.” The wet, spitted ball hits my cheek and falls to the table. I hear him laugh and I tell him how gross he is. Oh, what I’d do to be back in that booth to have him bothering me. “I just don’t know if his heart is strong enough…” I've returned to yellow walls and the man with the glasses keeps going. Dialysis and DNR’s and “it’s about making the right decision.”

Kidney levels and corroded arteries. Staph infections and “he’s smoldering.” Pain. I feel it everywhere. In my feet. My hands. My head. I feel it in places I didn’t know existed in my body. My brain hurts. My breaths sting. My bones ache. I watch another car pass outside the window. A whole world going about the day. All the while, one is ending. I once took a survey and was asked the question if I’d ever seen someone die. I thought, in the moment I answered, how happy I was to have never been witness to that. Watching the passing cars, that stupid survey flashed back in my head. That’s one box I’d rather have stayed unchecked for the rest of time. “You know,” the man with glasses nervously cleared his throat, “letting someone go is the most selfless thing we can do for a loved one.” Selfless. Mom taught me that as a little girl. I was good at selfless. I shared my dolls. I played nicely with others. I let my sister borrow clothes. What I wasn’t good at, was letting my grandfather die right in front of my eyes. No one ever told me this was the kind of lesson selfless would bring along with it. Being selfless means putting others before you. The true definition of selflessness though, is giving someone else exactly what they need when they can’t decide for themselves. It means letting your heart break and having to force it to let go. At some point in life, you realize more than ever about taking self out of the equation altogether. At some awful point in life, you realize

A copywriter, novelist, and columnist, Chalaine lives by her pen. She is always traveling and never settling, making memories wherever she roams. Living off her dog's cuddles, her brother's humor, and sweet iced tea, she is just a girl in love with the simplicities. Mostly though, she is just a mess in stilettos, living off God's grace and living to serve Him, welcoming inspiration from wherever it comes and pursuing her dreams with whatever it takes. Follow her @Chaleezy

being selfless means telling a doctor they can pull a plug. At that point, you’ll want to be selfish. Every fiber of your being will say to hold on. Your lips will quiver and your chin will shake and your nose will run as you fight yourself - as you choose for a person who no longer has a choice. As you speak for a person who no longer has a voice. “It’s time.” The blue-pant-wearing man with the stethoscope around his neck will say. You’ll never wish for more of it than in that moment. To sit across from the wrinkling man at his favorite diner and get hit with one more spitball. To split one more chocolate chip pancake. To play one more hand in cards. To watch one more game, hear one more laugh or corny joke or football score. To see that blue Chevy Impala pull in the drive to pick you up again. To answer your phone just once more, to plan one more vacation and one more family dinner and request an extra bowl of popcorn at 99. To just say, “I love you.” And hear him say it back. The yellow walls of a waiting room will blur all around you. Deep breaths you’ll gasp for them. The hand of your dad will grab onto your shoulder as he lifts his chin to the sky, biting his lower lip and closing his eyes as he fights back tears. “It won’t be long now.” You wonder how many times the doc’s said this to other families. But even for him, you can tell it’s hard to be here. For families that love hard, saying goodbye is the hardest. I think you learn a lot from death. To watch a family react in catastrophe - to handle the most critical news and manage the most chaotic moments. To witness how they comfort and care for one another. To cry into cousins’ chests and hug brothers’ necks and snot all over each other’s clothes. To just be there beside them in the quiet, packing out waiting rooms, leaning against walls and sprawling out on floors - all hanging on with the slightest hope to receive good news. News that will never come. Only news that leaves you clinging to the bedside of your sweet old Pep. You’ll look into glossy brown eyes, no vision left. You’ll hold a swollen hand in yours, no grip left. You’ll hear a machine beep less and less, no fight left. You’ll hold tighter to the bruised and swollen hand, the hand of a man you’ve loved your whole life, a man who welcomed you into the world on his birthday and was always the first to call every year to wish you the happiest. A man who watched you grow from clumsy toddler feet to the driver’s seat

of his car. A man who cheered you on from sidelines and believed in you with his whole heart. A man who tried with everything he had to love you as best he could. You’ll hold that hand, kiss his cheek and run your fingers through the grey hairs on his head. You’ll whisper, “you can let go now, Pepere.” hating the words as you speak them. For the last time, you’ll tell him, “I love you so much,” tears pouring onto stiff white hospital sheets. They’ll meet there soaking onto that bed falling from all the other sets of eyes in the room. You’ll hold each other up, rallying around the bed of the man who made this family, who loved these hearts, who would die knowing that his most favorite people were there with him to see him off from a journey they were honored to be part of. Breaths will slow. Shorten. Cease. You’ll watch your dad lean over to shut the eyelids of his dad, closing them to the earth for the last time. You’ll exit a hospital room, pass a desk full of nurses who don’t know what to say, walk down an ICU hallway and feel like you don’t know where you are. You’ll feel sunshine hit your face as you push through the hospital’s doors, time will feel void. Months will pass. The pain will stay. It’ll stare you in the face. Stab you in the heart. Shock you in your worst places and shut you down in your best. It’ll hit you in the middle of a random workday. In the 7th season of your favorite TV show. On a sunny afternoon and a rainy morning. It’ll hit you while you’re sitting at your desk and driving in your car and lying in your bed. It’ll hit you in moments you don’t want it to hit you, and in every other minute, it’ll linger in the background. Years from now, little eyes will look to me and ask their mommy how to say goodbye. How to make the hurt stop. How to let someone go. I won't know the answer. I'll have lived through many more and still, there will be no real answer. I don’t think we get to tell people what goodbye sounds like or looks like, because everyone feels it differently.

got nothing else. There are no words to make it better or advice to heal the parts that ache. To never hear a voice, feel a hug, see a pair of eyes or share a laugh. To never get another call or another moment - it's crippling. It digs a hole inside you that you know will never fill. Claws a cut you know will never heal. Tears a rip that can't be mended and creates a broken that's unrepairable. It’ll bring you to moments when nothing makes sense, no place feels right and no person feels adequate. Sometimes you’re strong and won’t cry for a month, and some days you won’t even be able to catch your breath in the middle of the night. The only thing you can do is just wake up, open your eyes and take a new breath. One step, then another. People say it gets easier as time goes on. I sure don't believe that. I think you just get used to the different. Hear their faded laugh in a distant memory, recall their goofy grin from a framed photo. I don’t think time is what heals at all. I think hope offers the best remedy. Hope that we’ll be reunited with our loved ones one day. Hope in the promise of Heaven. Because the real answer is that until we meet our Maker, we’ll never be able to know how great a goodbye truly is. That this life we’re living will be so much fuller on the other side. That the eternity that awaits is far greater and more beautiful than anything we can ever imagine. The real answer is that our mortal minds will never grasp goodbye the way it’s meant. That as we say goodbye on earth, Jesus is waiting to give a welcome in eternity. And as I navigate through the rest of my life without my person, that’s the hope I will continue to cleave to, as challenging and heart breaking as it will continue to be. Because while I might be terrible with goodbyes, I know there’s a Savior who’s great at hellos. -------------------------------------------------------

Goodbye for me has been a lot of games of Tetris. A lot of music on full blast. A lot of weeping into pillows and staring into ceilings. A lot of second glances at sunsets and talks with God. A few 6PM bedtimes and breakdowns in the middle of a workday. You’ll get a text from your 14-year-old cousin. "My heart is broken," she’ll say. "Mine too," you’ll respond ‘cause you

penny

for your thoughts written by Penny Jones The Cassette Bride Historical Fiction

he rustle of leaves give evidence to the presence of small forest animals, as they scurry along the woodland floor near the river looking for nuts to store away. The clean crisp scent of autumn’s familiar fragrance hangs heavy in the air. Dew saturates the pine needles as they fall slowly from the light breeze blowing through the air hinting at winter’s coming. Dawn has arrived in her glorious demonstration of vibrant colors, and yet the world has not yet awakened to life. All is at peace and a holy hush abounds. Morning has come and with it the holdings of a promise, the promise of a great day. Faintly as I make my way back to civilization from the forest, in the distance the sound of a horse’s hooves are heard as it trots along. Drawing near the echoes reveal the squeaking of a wagon which must be harnessing the beautiful beast. Powerfully its’ snorts fill the air. I look up just as it turns the bend in the street. Clothed in a dark cloak I am hidden from roving eyes, but my presence none the less is now known. What would the world think of such a lady wandering alone this early in the morning? I quietly slip to the side as the wagon rumbles past hoping against hope the driver does not stop. I cannot afford for my identity to become known. It would be scandalous. Breathing a sigh of relief… I am safe, the driver doesn’t seem to care nor does he stop. I glance up to my home one more time before entering. It is truly magnificent. Our home was built as a testament to our love after the wedding. The porch is large enough for family gatherings, and the luxury of lead glass windows look straight to the river. Four solid pillars hold the home in its stately array. These pillars symbolize the four principles our love is set on. Christ is our firm foundation, forgiveness will keep out bitterness, love will grow a family, and joy with hold us during every season of life. These pillars are a constant

reminder to us of the covenant that was made many years ago on the eve of Thanksgiving. Yet, each time I stop to appreciate the beauty of this home I am reminded of the sacrifice made to get here. It is often known that each generation builds upon the platform of the previous. My platform started many generations ago in France. However, it has forever changed the legacy I leave for my children, because I chose to land in the Port of New Orleans. My gaze takes in the slow creeping of Cane River, but my mind relieves that moment in the port. Slowly the waters finally seem to calm from their furious pounding. The hull of this mighty ship may have kept the gulf waters out, but it does not keep out the slow drips of water I find running from my face. These tears have been brewing for some time, and now stream steadily down. I feel an array of emotion, anticipation, fear, loneliness, joy at the future, sadness for my homeland. I have arrived from France to become a bride. A Louisiana Bride to be exact. The only details I know are I will be headed to a small military post on Cane River. A knock on the door brings the future into my present, “Girls are you ready? Get your “une cassette” for the journey.” We all stand for there are many of us here. Slowly walking up the narrow stairs we arrive on deck. Hugging and giving our good byes, I am summoned to leave first. The hustle and bustle of this city pours over me. I am next taken to another smaller boat, known as a pirogue by Sister Martha. We slowly make our way up the river. It is dark and murky compared to the gulf. Lined with sugar cane, Cane River seems to be a fitting name for this channel of water. In just a few short hours dawn seems to have rushed into dusk. I am to be married in the morning at a small church by Father Peter. Sister Martha hands me off to my future husband Matthew, and vows are made in the hallowed walls of St. Augustine’s church. Within a few hours we arrive at our home on the edge of the River.

Thinking back to that day many years ago, has now lost me precious time. The sun continues to rise higher in the morning sky as I stand here, and I’m reminded of God’s faithfulness. He ordered my steps right to Louisiana, and I would not change it for the world. The sound of horses has picked up on the street, and it is my sign to be on my way. Pushing aside the memories I walk into the cool of the hall just as my husband steps off the stairs. Looking at me with that twinkle in his eye, he quietly whispers, “You been roving in the woods before dawn again this morning...” Laughingly I reply, “I can’t help myself autumn has come, and with it memories of our wedding day.” Life is good. I arrived in Louisiana with a small case of clothes and a promise of marriage. I now stand in the hall of a home filled with love. I am truly blessed. This fictional narrative is written in memory of the brides who landed in Louisiana to start a new life. They are known as “Cassette Brides” for they arrived with just a small case of personal items. St. Augustine’s church is located in Natchez, Louisiana. It was built by free African Americans to worship the Lord in the 1800’s. It is not only a historic site, but a functioning church. Mass is held regularly for those who wish to attend. The home briefly mentioned with the four pillars was written loosely based off the Prudhomme house in Natchitoches. More information can be found at: www.natchitoches.com ---------------------------------------------------Penny Jones was born and raised in Louisiana, and finds joy in the history of this unique state. She holds a degree in English from the University of Kansas CityMissouri.

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