|
Friday, 12 March 2010 12:55 |
Journeys Home: Stories from Grandmother's Lap by Nancy BurnettExcerpt
 Journeys Home When we’re born we live just over the threshold from nonexistence, just days, then months from being a glimmer in God’s eye. I wish I could tell my amazing story of life before life. I would report all the nuances leading to my birth, all factors determining to whom I would be born, when, where, and most critical of all, why. Some philosophers might say a soul negotiates with our Creator to enter a specific life to work out human-centered life lessons. Others may argue the Creator decides everything—without input from the developing soul—to work out Divine intentions. I believe in paradox, in the “both-and,” the probably unknowable, the partly unrecognizable, the wholly mysterious origins both cosmic and earthy of every single soul. I believe in the partially negotiable, partly non-negotiable predilections of life. I accept that the “to whoms” dictate the “whens” and the “wheres” because regardless of who chooses them, the parents are already here. On the other hand, the “whys” bug me no end. I’ve spent every year since leaving my “participation mystique”—the years of childhood innocence—trying to figure even one logical reason for my existence to offset the purely irrational: “I’m here because I’m here.” My momma—not a philosopher—once declared me an accident as in, “both my children were accidents.” My mind plays with her announcement and creates an image of Momma stumping her toe and me popping out like spit gum. One day, walking back to her apartment from the grocery store carrying ingredients to bake a cake—a box of eggs, flour, milk, sugar, and baking powder—Momma runs into a sprinkling rain. She adjusts her grocery sack to one side and holds her other arm up using her clutch to shield her bangs from the rain. Totally distracted with this protective maneuver she doesn’t see the tree root pushed up through old broken cement. Her left toe catches under the knotty root pulling her off balance. Her right foot steps wildly into the air as she tries to catch herself, but instead she comes down on its side. Her right elbow splays out while she simultaneously raises it trying to keep hold of the sack. Her left foot remains stuck under the root and down she goes, mouth opening wide into an “oweee”. The contents of the sack briefly fly into the air along her fall trajectory and then crash to the ground. Eggs crack; flour and sugar bags burst open; the milk jug breaks and spills; baking soda pops its top, and all descends into a mushy puddle inside the opened sack fallen under her chin. Last but not least her gum spews from her puckered lips and lands in the middle of all that mess. My imagining grows wilder. I see Momma lying still, huddled on the ground and collapsed in shock across a cosmic moment—what seems forever but lasts only a few real seconds—before trying to regain composure. But, lightning flashes and thunder cracks as rain pours. Breathless, she hears a squeaky utterance through the pelting rain, and something catches her eye: a tiny movement inside the sack. She carefully peeks inside. Low and behold: a tiny baby has been born of this accident—bone of her cracked knee, breath of her squeal, fat of her eggs. “It’s a girl,” a voice announces above her. And what a surprise—new life brought forth by an accident. A great Cosmic Intention opened a tiny slit in the gossamer veil, lightning struck at exactly the spot where the spilled cake ingredients landed, charging the gum (a catalyst no doubt!) with electricity that stirred atoms to light speed. A tiny soul slid down the thunder’s vibrating wave, fell into the batter, and instantly baked into a little fleshy human bread girl.
|
|
Last Updated on Friday, 12 March 2010 12:59 |
|
Read more...
|
|
|
Saturday, 31 January 2009 15:09 |
 In His Own Time In His Own Time By Tamara Pray Frazier Julian’s Legacy Publishers 156 pages ISBN: 978-0-615-22488-6
Life can change in a moment. For Faye Baker, this statement couldn’t have been more true. She was the only passenger in a van involved in an accident on I-95 that did not walk away. She suffered a broken neck which resulted in paralysis from the waist down. What lay ahead was a time that would try her spirit and her faith in God. Faye grew up in a tight-knit family and had friends that always supported her. She was a high school teacher and basketball coach and used her vocation to encourage and challenge students and her colleagues to grow in Christ and strive to always give it their all. When the accident occurred, this network of family and friends were there for her just as they had been in other times of her life. Their steadfast faith in God would fuel Faye with the courage she needed to have a positive spirit to fight the battle for her recovery. “On many occasions she recalls people telling her that her attitude was helping them handle the situation. She would only smile and think to herself, ‘If they only knew. I’m drawing my strength from them.’” (p. 91)
In His Own Time is Tamara Pray Frazier’s portrayal of what happened during this period in Faye Baker’s life. This story is a challenge to always believe God and to trust that He has everything in His control. But, I would have to say that although this is a wonderful story of faith in God no matter what happens in our lives, it was not well-written. In His Own Time would have been an outstanding work if someone could have edited it and changed it into a page-turner.
That said, if you are looking for a book that will challenge you in your walk with Christ, then you will glean some important truths from this work. It truly is a testimony of people who have a strong faith in Jesus Christ.
Review provided to VBRN by Jennifer Barker |
|
Last Updated on Saturday, 31 January 2009 15:12 |
|
Monday, 12 November 2007 13:09 |
Thank You Bobby Murcer Reviewed By Stuart Nachbar I remember my first New York Yankee game. It was July, 1970, in the “original” Stadium, Yankees versus Minnesota Twins: our hometown boys versus Billy Martin’s first division champions. At least I think Billy was still in Minnesota that July; he got fired so often I don’t remember for sure. The Yankees of 1970 won 93 games, but we finished second, 15 games behind Baltimore. Our top three starters won 49 games and our top two relievers saved 45. The nucleus, the middle of our batting order was young: catcher Thurman Munson, American League Rookie of the Year, steady and reliable left fielder Roy White and center fielder Bobby Murcer, our home run king. The next season, Murcer took the American League batting title to the wire, hitting a career-high .331, though the team won 11 fewer games. Bobby Murcer was my favorite player on those bad Yankee teams, the ones that were owned by CBS, before George Steinbrenner bought the most storied franchise in baseball—for less than CBS originally paid. It was easy to bill Murcer as the successor to Mickey Mantle: they’re both from Oklahoma, both played center field in the capacious original Stadium and both dressed in the same locker. Murcer could’nt match Mantle’s power, or speed, but he became a fine ballplayer nonetheless. Bobby was a five-time All Star and hit 252 home runs, and he was the youngest $100,000 player in Yankee history. He was twice traded for more established stars: first Bobby Bonds, then later Bill Madlock, a future batting champion. That’s quite a complement; it showed how valuable Bobby was in his prime. |
|
Last Updated on Wednesday, 21 May 2008 18:14 |
|
Read more...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|