Letter to Mother, Ruth Shaw, 2013

 I recently found a letter I wrote to Mother on her birthday in February of 2013 (thirteen years ago as I write this preface - 3 ½ years after her death.) I want to preserve it here. 

Dear Mother,

In the book, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom wrote, “Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them - a mother’s approval, a father’s nod - are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.”

As Mr. Albom said, now that my skin is sagging and my heart is likely weakening, I am beginning to much more fully understand that any life accomplishments that I might claim are simply stories resting firmly upon yours and Daddy’s stories. These are the stones upon the stones beneath the waters of my life — all those skills and concepts I didn’t realize I was learning and all those life experiences that I never knew I’d be so grateful for.

Thank you, Mother, for the guidance you and Daddy have provided me throughout my life. Martin Luther once said, “In the midst of affliction, God counsels, strengthens, confirms, nourishes, and favors us. In the same manner parents ought to handle their children.” You have always counseled, strengthened, confirmed, nourished, and favored me as Luther advised - and as God does.

Most of all, Mother, thank you for your unconditional love. That love was the cornerstone of my childhood and continues to ground me in my adulthood. It has been given to me every day for a lifetime - and I have accepted this gift as naturally as I have accepted the colorful rain of leaves in Autumn and the perky Jonquils in the Spring. You have always lovingly listened to me when I needed to talk, and you have always lovingly talked to me when I needed to listen. What an empowering thing it is to be the recipient of such unconditional love! Thank you for knowledge of the power of love that I gained through all those wonderful years when I was growing up, being loved, and cherished, and honored as a unique child of God.

Thank you, Mother, and Happy Birthday. I love you. Joan

The last poem of 2025 in the Deadlines for Writers group is due today. The prompt was "underneath." My thought chain started there and made a long and winding journey before arriving at this poem. 

Lessons from the Aged

Thriving on Earth for eighty-four years

Is no small accomplishment, Friend.

Lessons  learned through blood, sweat, and tears

I’ll share as I reach life’s back end.

 

First lesson, now listen closely to this:

Value those who stick by your side:

Possessions will never bring any bliss.

Relationship’s where real joy abides.

 

Another truth to hold onto, I’ve learned,

Is that happiness comes from within.

Some folks won’t like you, but don’t be concerned;

Validation from others is thin.

 

You can’t control everything, much as you try;

Others will do what they will.

Peace and contentment will come by and by

If you let go, let God, and be still.

 

Kindness lasts. Comparison steals,

Money’s a tool, not the goal.

Gratitude’s what makes living real;

Be grateful down deep in your soul.

 

Grateful for every friendship and smile.

Grateful for even the strife.

Grateful you get to travel each mile.

Be grateful. Be gracious. Live Life!

Measuring Time: A Cinquain

The Ninth poem (the prompt was "measured") is due today. I submitted a double Cinquain. The American cinquain is an unrhymed, five-line poetic form defined by the number of syllables in each line—the first line has two syllables, the second has four, the third six, the fourth eight, and the fifth two (2-4-6-8-2). They are typically written using iambs.

Measuring Time: a double Cinquain

One life

Don’t waste time with

Was yesterday the best?

Will tomorrow fulfill my dreams?

Tick Tock.

 

Today!

‘Time’ doesn’t pass.

We ourselves pass through time.

Be fully present for each “tick.”

Spend time!

Inner Life: A Sonnet

Poem # 3 of 2025 is due today. The prompt is "undo." Here is the sonnet I wrote and submitted. It is very loosely inspired by the writing of Veronica Roth and Horace Mann.

The self that’s only self will undo self.

Obsession with reflection blinds the eye.

To truly live our lives, we are compelled

To focus OUT, see much more YOU than I.

 

The image in the mirror teaches naught

‘Cept selfish, unkind actions that annoy.

While reaching out in loving deed and thought

To others is the truest path to joy.

 

I choose to turn away “me” and “my.”

And give to others trust that they deserve.

I know that my successful inner life

Depends on finding ways to see and serve .

 

Projecting ever outward, self restrained,

I disappear and only God remains!

Sea Treasure

I am beginning my 6th year of monthly poems. Poem #1 of 2025 is due today. The prompt is "Shell." I have written a free verse poem. 

 

Sea Treasure

Locked in space and time.

I stroll the quiet shore.

Sand between my toes,

Infinity on the horizon.

 

Glancing down I see

A long-forsaken castle

Holding forgotten stories

In its nooks and swirls.

 

I bend and gently take Eternity into my hands.

The time-lock broken,

The pearly jewels of generations,

Glitter in the gentle grace of spiral lines.

 

The space-lock shattered,

The music of the deep

Whispers peace

As I hold the fragile treasure to my ear.

The Duty of the Octogenarian

 As one reaches my age, there is a sense of responsibility to be diligent in passing along hard-learned lessons in living. We see our grandchildren and their friends beginning to make the decisions that will determine the course of their lives, and we want to help them avoid setting living/thinking patterns that will lead to dissatisfaction, and unhappiness in their personal lives. We want them to see the value that their personal choices have in the continuation of a prosperous and functioning culture. Also, we are aware that many (most?) twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings have been taught by society that all opinions and ideas are equally valuable, and they don't need to listen to anybody else's input in their decision-making (a catastrophically erroneous idea).

For those willing at attend to a few life-experience opinions and recommendations, I offer these:

1. From your early days of marriage, set a pattern of real sharing with your partner. Be sure that you discuss more than just what's for dinner and who's going to mow the lawn. If you want your marriage to endure and thrive into your old age, you must KNOW this person you married. I regret that, in the hugeness of child-bearing, child-raising, and career-building, we had few discussions about what we read, what we heard in worship service, what direction we hoped to see our country move, and many other topics that would have given us insight to our partner's thinking.

2. Read regularly.

• When you read fiction, read at least some REALISTIC fiction (as opposed to all horror, fantasy, sci-fi, or the adrenaline-inducing "action" or "erotic" novels) The reason for this recommendation is that in realistic fiction we see real people facing real problems (like some you might face) and making difficult decisions. You have the opportunity to witness and evaluate the consequences of various life decisions as you read the denouement of the story. How often in real like could you have the opportunity to see, ahead of your own experience, what the long-term complications of a decision might be?
• When you read non-fiction, read about people or subjects that will give you something to admire, strive for, learn that will contribute to the success/happiness/productivity of your own life.

3. Remind yourself regularly that the only way to improved society is to improve individuals. When you live a clean, admirable, productive, and influencial life, you are doing your part to build a good society for future generations. You have little control over how other people live their lives.

4. Recognize that old proverbs, "sayings" "folk wisdom", etc. are actually good and helpful to remember and consider. They endured through generations because people through generations recognized their truth. Some of these include famous bible verses, quotes from great thinkers of the past, such as C.S. Lewis, Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, Abraham Lincoln, and many others.

5. I will add to this as I think of things that I consider really important.

Noel by J.R.R. Tolkien

I've never been a Tolkien fan. The Hobbit and all the related books just never appealed to me at all. I was totally taken by surprise recently to discover that Tolkien also wrote a beautiful Christmas poem that was basically unknown and "lost" until 2013. It had been published 1936 in an obscure literary publication, received little notice at the time and receded into oblivion, not coming to light even after Tolkien's death in 1973. I regret not ever having heard Noel by Tolkien. It is written in a traditional ballad form with a regular rhythm and rhyme, a feature that I strongly prefer in poetry. It has a strong metre of alternating 8 beats and 6 beats per line, with regular rhyme, plenty of imagery, and poetic devices like alliteration that appeal to the ear. It is 5 stanzas of 8 lines each and is a beautiful tribute to the amazing salvation brought to the weary world in the birth of Jesus. Although it was republished in September of this year, it is not very easily found with Google yet, and I have copied it into my blog for my own convenience.

Noel

by J.R.R. Tolkien

Grim was the world and grey last night:
The moon and stars were fled,
The hall was dark without song or light,
The fires were fallen dead.
The wind in the trees was like to the sea,
And over the mountains’ teeth
It whistled bitter-cold and free,
As a sword leapt from its sheath.

The lord of snows upreared his head;
His mantle long and pale
Upon the bitter blast was spread
And hung o’er hill and dale.
The world was blind,
the boughs were bent,
All ways and paths were wild:
Then the veil of cloud apart was rent,
And here was born a Child.

The ancient dome of heaven sheer
Was pricked with distant light;
A star came shining white and clear
Alone above the night.
In the dale of dark in that hour of birth
One voice on a sudden sang:
Then all the bells in Heaven and Earth
Together at midnight rang.

Mary sang in this world below:
They heard her song arise
O’er mist and over mountain snow
To the walls of Paradise,
And the tongue of many bells was stirred
in Heaven’s towers to ring
When the voice of mortal maid was heard,
That was mother of Heaven’s King.

Glad is the world and fair this night
With stars about its head,
And the hall is filled with laughter and light,
And fires are burning red.
The bells of Paradise now ring
With bells of Christendom,
And Gloria, Gloria we will sing
That God on earth is come.

Ode to the Human Spirit: a Sonnet

 Poem #11 of 2024 is due today. The prompt is "taste." I began to write reflecting on a quote by Leonardo DaVinci. 

“An average human looks without seeing, listens without hearing, touches without feeling, eats without tasting, moves without physical awareness, inhales without awareness of odour or fragrance, and talks without thinking.” 

Ode to the Human Spirit – A Sonnet

 

As life moves on from day to day to day

We mortal beings sometimes lose our way.

We look around yet somehow fail to see

The beauty and the grace in you and me.

 

We listen to divergent surface sounds

And do not hear the need in those around.

We touch and know the outer shapes of life

Not feeling others’ needs, and aches, and strife.

 

We sample this or that but do not taste -

The present moment’s flavor gone to waste.

We sniff the air but do not smell the rose

We miss the poem and only breathe the prose.

 

Let’s not forget that many a wrong is wrought

When words are spent before engaging THOUGHT. 

A Walk along the Ridge

 Poem number 8 of 2024 is due today in the Deadlines for Writers online group. I wrote free verse which began with the prompt "Nine Months," which morphed as I thought about it into "The Passage of Time."

A Walk along the Ridge

She strolls the wooded path in celebration of Fall.

Brilliant colored leaves swirl - yellow and red and gold -

Catching leaves in her hands and dividing them with her steps,

She spots a low-hanging tree branch and stops to rest.

 

The tree, having lost its youth, trembles in the Autumn wind,

And she knows,

Even as Autumn leaves swirl around her feet,

She knows that

Just a few steps around the bend,

Winter waits.

 

She watches as the late light plays on the fallen Autumn leaves.

Closing her eyes to better hear the melody on the breeze,

Sunny Spring and Summer seasons fill her memory.

 

Those were carefree days

Vibrant greens and blues danced in the sunspots along the forest path

Long into the tardy sunset.

Just minutes ago, it seems, the grass was green

And pregnant yellow-green buds,

Bursting with unborn life,

Filled the branches overhead,

The embodiment of wonder waiting to be discovered.

 

In those fruitful Spring and Summer days,

The Sun stayed high in the sky long and warm!

And children played late in the meadow!

 

She shifts her unsure seat on the sagging branch

Which seems somehow to signify her very being.

Seasons have come and gone!

Come and gone!

Come and gone!

Like fingers snapping.

Winter!

Spring!

Summer!

Fall!

 

The seasons have flowed

And flown.

Magic memories of Spring and Summer persist…

And their joy and beauty remain clear and pure.

Spring was hope and anticipation.

Summer was good and fulfilling!

And now the Fall of life is waning.

Winter is just around the bend.

 

Still she whispers, “Yes!”

“Winter can be beautiful,”

She reminds herself.

She rises from her Autumn resting bough

And walks into her Winter with Joy and an open heart.

(Inspired by "Seasons" by Deborah Malone. 

Good and Faithful Servant

 In June of 2002, a friend and church member of ours at Douglasville United Methodist Church, E.G. (Kel) Kelley, wrote this: 

Good and Faithful Servant

To honor: Jim Turrentine, good and faithful servant. From Kel Kelley on the day after your surgery. We all love and miss you. Get well soon. I am certain that many of those in our congregation and in past congregations would, if given this recent gift that Abba Father has given me, write exactly the same words showing the same sentiments and heartfelt feelings. 

In the book of Ecclesiastes

There is a time for everything

A time to laugh, a time to cry,

A time to dance and sing.

There comes a time to honor,

From us who have been blessed,

You who have been a blessing

Always giving us your best. 

We know you'll say it wasn't you;

But God who lives within.

But we know that God uses willing vessels,

Godly women, righteous men.

For you this day we give Him praise

For the work He's done through you;

For the sharing of the gospel

And the times you've prayed us through.

You have listened to our troubles.

You have helped to calm our fears.

You have led us to our Savior

As you've loved us through the years

In joyous laughter and happy tears

We thank you for the time

You've spent with us as pastor

In Jesus's work divine.

Because you knew our Jesus,

Because you know our Lord,

You shared with us as needed

A gift worth more than gold.

One day we'll meet in glory

And we'll walk hand in hand.

We always knew that you'd be there.

Because you took a stand.

You visited in hospital and home

And prayed on bended knee.

Jesus said, "As you've done it to the least of these

You've also done to me."

Some day we'll rejoice as you're honored in heaven

In the presence of the Son.

Because you loved, because you cared,

"Well done," He'll say, "Well done!"

A Niece's 40th Anniversary Tribute

This document was found in October 2023 contained in a writing notebook belonging to me from 1990)

When Jim was pastor at Avondale Patillo UMC 1990-1994, My Uncle Grady (Daddy’s brother) and his wife, Margaret, were members of our church. When they celebrated their 40^th anniversary in 1992, I wrote a poem for them.

 

The Family Plan

I think when the Lord made his plan for the world -

How his children would grow and their lives would unfurl,

He decided that families would be a good way to go.

He made mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, and so

As  generatios came and generations went,

An eventual byproduct was the uncle and aunt.

 

My siblings and I were better supplied than many

In uncles. We had four. That's plenty!

Our uncles were Daddy’s much-loved kid brothers.

 Their kidding and joking spilled over on others.

As nieces and nephews we kids love playing games

 With our fun filled uncles Jack, Bill, Grady, and James.

 

Our uncle Grady was a great friend to us kids.

Let me just tell you some things that he did.

He gave each of us nickles to go to the store.

Running errands for him was never a chore.

He played with us often and took us for walks.

 If we got too rowdy, he'd give us pep talks.

 

He laughed with us and at us. his laugh was a cure!

He tickled and teased us, helping us feel secure.

He entertained us with stories and blew us smoke ring;s

He was a kid’s ideal uncle -- an Angel without wings.

 

Aunt Margaret joined the family when I was a teen;

She was quite an addition to the Shaw family scene.

She was tall with such grace and a beautiful smile -

Our first aunt on the Shaw side -- we were growing in style!

I thought my new aunt was quite a grand lady;

But she made us call Uncle Junior “Uncle Grady.”

 

Years have gone by since the days I've recalled;

Now when I think back and remember it all,

I thank God for his wisdom and making this plan -

Where a family can be more than just one woman and one man.

 Family can be those who touch our lives with their care,

Who help build our memories and cover us with prayer.

 

 

Thank you, Grady and Margaret, for all you have meant to each of us through the years. Thank you for the childhood years that the poem majored on and the memories that we share with you. Thank you also for the years of our adulthood when you have been an inspiration and support to us. We love you and celebrate with you 40 years of God bless partnership.

 

Joan Turrentine

 July 1992

A Fond Fairwell

 (Found 10/23 in my old writing notebook. I wrote it in 1990)

Fairwell to Varnell UMC

I am not the speaker in the family, but I could not let this occasion go by without telling you all what you have meant in my life and in the life of our family. Knowing that each of us is formed by who and what touches our lives, I want to thank each of you for having had the opportunity to know you for the last 3 1/2 years. Having grown up in a minister’s home and having a basically slow to get acquainted nature, I always hated moving and said that I would never marry anyone whose job required frequent moving. Of course, I ate those words when I married a Methodist preacher.

But over the last 26 years I have learned some important lessons about moving. I have learned that God's people are everywhere. I have learned that, even though I painfully leave wonderful friends in one place, God provides other wonderful friends in the new location. I used to think that I was to be pitied because I had to constantly leave situations just as I was beginning to feel at home in them. Now I know that I am blessed to have had the opportunity to make friends, true Christian friends, all over Georgia.

Had we not had the painful experience of leaving close friends after 7 1/2 years at prospect, we would not have had the blessing of living near my parents when Daddy had his first heart attack and being able to be there for my family during those rough times. Had we not had the painful experience of leaving Newman springs after six years, we would not have had the unequal joy of fellowship and support that we have experienced among this body of believers.

Now we are again going through the moving trauma. While we are fearing leaving you whom we have learned to love and who have helped us grow in the last few years, we don't know what other joy and opportunity for service awaits us. We do know that now we have friends in the Dalton area, we know that God's chuch is alive and well here, we know that each of you has friends in the Atlanta area now.

I want to say ”Thank you!” to Varnell United Methodist Church. Thank you for showing me Christian love in action through the long hours of work and the money needed to provide the community meal, local mission activities, and foreign mission support. Through the ministry of concern shown by the entire congregation when there is an illness or death in someone’s family.

Thank you for showing me Christian unity through the way everyone works together at Prater’s Mill, and through the way everyone pitches in to make a success of whatever is attempted: the nativity scene, the turkey trot, the sweetheart banquet, the children's programs, and many other instances of teamwork.

Thank you for showing me real Christian dedication through the absolutely unequaled music program which is attained only through dedicated time spent in practice, through the hours obviously spent in preparation by five of the best adult Sunday school teachers I've ever been taught by.

Thank you for being the church here for us and for the rest of this community

Please don't think me presumptuous, but I'd like to close my remarks by reading some words which Saint Paul wrote to friends when he left them. You know he spent his ministry making friends and then leaving them; so in that way, I can identify with him. The scriptures I want to read come from his letters to his friends in Philippi, Corinth, Thessalonica, and Ephesus. I'd like to use the plural pronouns to include our entire family and read them now to our friends here at Varnell.

“We thank God every time we remember you. In all our prayers for you we always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the very first day until now, being confident that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. It is right for us to feel this way about all of you since we have you in our hearts; all of you share in God's grace with us. God can testify how we love all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.”

“And this is our prayer that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ. And God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. Pray also for us, that whenever we open our mouths, words may be given to us so that we will fearlessly make known the gospel. Pray that we may declare it fearlessly, as we should. Finally, brothers and sisters, goodbye. Aim for perfection, live in peace, and the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every day.”

Deep Inside

 A poem I found in a 1990-1994 Writing Notebook. 

Inside

Deep inside lives the company to relieve loneliness.

Deep inside waits the remedy for meaninglessness.

Deep inside abides the joy of accomplishment.

Deep inside resides resolve to meet potential.

Deep inside is power for living.

I need search no longer

All I need is here.

Deep inside.

(Joan Shaw Turentine 1991)

Writing Notebook 1990-1994 - Thanksgiving Poems 1990 and 1991

In October 2023, in an effort to clean out and "get our affairs in order," I found a writing journal from the early 1990s. I have transcribed several of those pieces here for posterity. 

Thanksgiving 1990

 I am thankful for

·         Inclusion in the family of God, in the family of man, and in my family.

·         A husband who brings home flowers just because he loves me and knows that I love flowers.

·         A daughter who is my best girlfriend.

·         A son who still calls to say he loves me.

·         A daughter-in-law who is just what I prayed for.

·         A mother who gives the cliche “one in a million” meaning.

·         Siblings who are contributing to a better world.

·         A family that loves unconditionally.

·         Heritage - both personal and Christian.

·         Words - both the beauty of the words themselves and the fact that through them I can share the thoughts of other people, and they can share mine.

·         People who know that laws and rules apply to them.

·         The Church universal.

·         Young people with old fashioned values.

·          Students who want to learn.

·         Students who actually see other people.

·         Walks outdoors in the early morning.

·         Chocolate.

·         Avondale Lake and the ducks.

·         Warm blankets on a cold night.

·         Loving arms around me.

·         Listening ears.

·         The knowledge that even this shall pass.

·         The knowledge that “This is the day the Lord hath made.”

·          Life.

Thanksgiving 1991

The giving of thanks involves my

Head as well as my heart.

Acknowledging that God knows best, I recognize that I need him more than I

Need understanding of life.

Knowing that I cannot deal with life tragedies, I

Sing praises to the one who understands and loves me through them.

Gifts of great joy adorn my life from day-to-day.

I give thanks for the source of that joy - those who

Voice their love for me and those who

Imply their love through actions of support and help.

Now for the truest blessings in life - fellowship with and love of

God, family, and friends - I truly give thanks.

 

Thanksgiving 1993

 This handwritten poem was in that old 1992-3 writing notebook I found yesterday. It was heavily edited, with lots of crossouts and margin writings. Obviously I never finished it. Here's what was written and not crossed out. 

Giving thanks for all you had throughout the year,

Family and all that you hold dear.

Laughter of friends in crisp Fall air,

Gratefulness that your table is not bare.

Remembering cheerful times of long ago;

Appreciating people whom you know.

Crunching dry leaves beneath your feet,

Anticipating gathering for the feast.

Thanking God your home is safe and warm;

Seeing trees in hues of red and orange. 

"First fire" smoke wisps drifting in the air,

Crusty layers of frost on windows in the morning. 

A Smile (A Haiku)

 Poem 10 for 2023 is due this morning. The prompt is "A Smile."  I wrote a haiku. 

Joyful days bring smiles.

But when days are dark, take charge.

Smile to summon joy.

My Grandfather's Barber Shop

 This article was in a local newspaper at some point. Milstead GA circa 1920-1960

Yesterday's Light

 The 8th poem of the year in the Deadlines for Writers writing group is due today. The prompt is "light."  Here is the free-verse poem I submitted; it is based partially on Psalm 77. "I thought about the former days, the years of long ago; I remembered my songs in the night."

Yesterday's Light

On the other side of quiet, morning finds me,

Cloaked in darkness still.

No sun of joy lights the shades of gray.

A blanket of weariness, heavy and woolen, presses me down,

Obscures the light, the joy, the hope waiting to dawn. 

Yet, in the dark heavens, pinpricks of remembered light

Find my seeking heart.

Days of love, long gone, sparkle there;

Lost times of feasting glow anew;

Songs of comfort shine from nights of yore; 

Peace from the past breaks through cracks in time

To twinkle in the present dark.

Just the memory

Of unearned grace, 

Of unconditional love,

Of forgiven and forgotten sin --

Just the memory —

Brings hope of joy. 

Reaching through the dark of today,

Borrowing light from yesterday,

I rise.

I see. 

I rejoice. 

2023 Men

One of the things that has filled my mind since Sunday’s big family event (The wedding of AnnaGrace Turrentine and Zachary Harper) is a new appreciation of men.

I’ve been blessed with so many outstanding men in my life - beginning with my own father, grandfather, and uncles and going up through all the men (old and young) I watched Sunday demonstrating what Godly manhood and masculinity means. It is not easy to be a man in 2023. Their inborn nature is being disparaged by much of society. They are being pressured to ignore their natural and admirable tendency to provide for and protect those around them.

Before the wedding I saw the beautiful young bride, our granddaughter, reach around the door to hold hands with her handsome groom without visual connection. They were surrounded by some of the most important men in their lives. These men were there because of their love for the young couple, because of their sense of responsibility to the young couple, by their need to provide a new generation with their life experience of our human need for God's love in our relationships. They were there to pray for the couple's impending marriage.

The Groom's father - a Baptist pastor, married for over 30 years

The Bride's father - A Baptist deacon and Bible teacher, married for over 30 years

The Groom's uncle - a Baptist pastor, married for more than 30 years.

The Bride's maternal grandfather - A Baptist pastor, married for 58 years.

The Bride's paternal grandfather - A Methodist pastor, married for 59 3/4 years.

It was a holy moment.

As the prayers ended, I turned to look at the yard and saw a line of 12 tuxedoed men and one tuxedoed little boy being photographed: The Groom, his 11 attendants, and the child attendant tasked with preceding the Bride down the aisle blowing bubbles. That little boy is my great grandson; five of the groomsmen are my grandsons; the groom will be my grandson at the end of the ceremony. My son, who is also the father of the bride and tuxedoed as well, was standing just off-camera ready to help corral the active bubble-boy, his grandson. I was looking at 14 more amazing specimens of GOOD and admirable masculinity!

Side Note: Most of the women in the lives of the couple had taken care of the details to make the wedding meaningful and beautiful. They had planned, decorated, cooked, advised, dressed, combed, made up... I will probably write later about their importance and their many contributions to the day as well as to our lives.

Amanda and Her Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I am hoping to write "12 Short Stories in 12 Months" this year.  I have done the "12 Poems in 12 Months" challenge for several years, but fiction-writing comes hard to me, and I've been reluctant to try this challenge. I wrote this month's story in one sitting today - on deadline day! The prompt was "The Question" with a word count of 1200 words exactly.  

Amanda and Her Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

“Could this day get any worse?!” I shouted in frustration.

Standing beside my canted Nissan parked on the shoulder of the country road a hundred miles from home, I watched the clouds gather and darken. I looked into the truck again and saw that Eli was beginning to stir in his carseat and realized that it was past his nursing time. My three-month-old would be wailing for food soon. I prayed that he’d sleep a little longer so I’d have time to see if I remembered my dad’s lesson on changing a flat tire.

I had managed to find and extract the spare when I heard an approaching car and realized it was slowing.

Salvation? Or greater crisis?

The young man emerged from his car and called out, “Can I help you, Miss?”

As he approached my pickup truck, I quickly abandoned the tire and moved to stand beside the door closest to my son’s carseat.

The man was average in almost every way. He was, however, wearing a tie and sport coat, and my first instinct was that salvation had arrived. This man appeared to be the very epitome of a knight in shining armor – sent to rescue me.

Nevertheless, I cautiously and dismissively replied, “I think I can manage. Thank you for stopping, but I will be fine.” I had watched too many true-crime documentaries to allow myself to trust this stranger, no matter how respectable he appeared. I held my breath, willing him to walk back to his car and leave.

I had been absorbed in evaluating the situation and hadn’t heard my son’s beginning cries until the man said, “Oh, you have a baby with you!  You have enough to deal with here. Why don’t I just change the tire while you take care of the child?”

As Eli’s wails gathered strength, the accumulated stress of the day overwhelmed me. What if this man intended harm? How would I protect myself and my child? But it would be dark soon, and there was no family or friend within 100 miles that I could call to come help me. Soon I’d be in an even more precarious situation because of the DARK factor.  

Impulsively, and spurred by the frantic wails now coming from inside the truck, I decided I had to take the chance.

Seeing my inner struggle, the stranger said, “Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I understand. I promise you I only want to help you. My name is Jeremy Cagle. I live just down the road a couple of miles that way. I was just on my way to a town-hall meeting in Coverdale. I’m a district representative.”

Tentatively I replied, “Thank you, Mr. Cagle…”

“Jeremy, please.”

“Okay, Jeremy. I’m Amanda, and I would appreciate the help.”

Careful not to turn my back completely to him, I opened the door and took my son out of his carseat to comfort him, and Jeremy bent to his task.

Eli began rooting into my chest, wanting to be fed. There was no way I could nurse my son while this stranger and I were alone in the gathering darkness, but Eli’s cries were becoming louder and more demanding.

I walked down the side of the road, passing Jeremy and the rear of the truck and bouncing Eli gently to placate him, then I turned to see Jeremy’s back as he knelt to put the spare on my truck. With the stranger’s back to me, I breathed deeply to calm myself and cautiously adjusted my clothing and the concealing blanket so that Eli could nurse.

“How’s it going?” I called as the baby greedily latched on and began to nurse.

“Should be finished in 5.” Jeremy replied.

“I hope you’re not ruining your clothes,” I continued, to fill the silence.

In the momentary calm, I began to mentally process the events of the last 24 hours.

In the early-morning quiet, I had held Eli and re-read the email from my husband, deployed for the last two months in Afghanistan. The letter was determinedly cheerful and upbeat, but I sensed the tension and loneliness behind Brian’s written words. Miliary regulations kept him from being able to relay any factual information as to exactly where he was and what his activities involved, but it had become clear to me that he was involved in actual combat and that he desperately wanted to be home with his family.

Since I was still on maternity leave, I had impulsively decided that Eli and I needed family around us for awhile, so I had called Mom and Dad and made plans for an impromptu road trip.

It is not easy to do laundry and pack for a trip with a hungry baby for company, so it was after noon by the time I had finished making the necessary phone calls and other preparations, loaded the car, and got myself and my baby started on our journey. We still should have been able to arrive at Mom and Dad’s house before dark, but the universe seemed to have conspired against that goal.

Usually a placid and easily-entertained baby, Eli had been fussy in the truck – not wanting to sleep, wanting to be held. I sang. I talked. Finally, I had stopped and had taken him out of the seat and cuddled a little, hoping that a break would help him feel secure and lull him to sleep. Just as we approached Madison, the only part of our trip that involved urban interstate highways, he, thankfully, began to doze. Traffic congestion worsened with the never-ending road construction that typifies the little city of Madison. No matter what I did, I couldn’t pick the lane that was moving, so we crept slowly along the interstate highway towards the last stretch of country road we would travel.

As Eli slept, I thought about what lay ahead when we arrived at my parents’ house. Eli would be rested and ready to play; I would be tired and still have a lot of work to do before I could rest. Just anticipating the arrival, unpacking, and setting up for home away from home with a baby had me tense, apprehensive, and exhausted. And then the truck began that ker-thunk, ker-thunk battle cry of the flat tire, and this final stress of the day had begun.

Now, standing beside the road in the gathering twilight, re-adjusting my clothing after Eli’s meal and watching a stranger changing my tire, I steeled myself for whatever was next. Would Jeremy get in his car and leave? Or did I have more crisis ahead? I braced myself as I watched the young man throw the flat tire into the back of the truck and brush his hands together.

“Well, Amanda, remember these little “donut” tires are just temporary. You need to drive slowly and get a real tire back on as soon as you can. You have a safe trip now.” He smiled and began moving toward his car.

I cuddled my sleeping baby closer to my chest and stepped toward Jeremy. “I can’t possibly tell you how much I appreciate this, Jeremy.”

“Glad to help! Be careful now!” Jeremy waited beside his car while I buckled Eli into his seat and got into the driver’s seat of my pickup truck.

My heart was light as I drove my happy baby the remaining two hours to security.