People Like Us

Archive for the month “November, 2013”



There is a certain comfort I find in the fact that I can’t control everything in life. I don’t have to be the expert, the hero, the savior. I have little fear of anything, mainly because I know who holds my future in His hands. Anxiety, fear, worry–they are futile. Our energies are best spent on the things we CAN control, let God do the rest. ~”So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Is. 41:10


Sister vs. Sister

Soon, a police officer showed up to the scene, as did Mama. She had to leave work to come check on us, and still wore her white plastic apron and hairnet. Below the hairnet the pencil-drawn eyebrows were furrowed, she was very angry.


Pictured, in earlier years: My sister Annette, my brother Troy, my sister Norma Jean and me.

When I was six, we had the misfortune of living in an old farmhouse located across the street from the local high school. I was the youngest of four children, with two sisters who were nine and twelve years older than I, and a brother who was only eighteen-months my senior. It was as if my mother had given birth to two sets of warring opposites. Read more…

Choosing Greatness

622659_4385225348031_80577615_oEveryone has some of those memories that play in your mind like an action-packed movie, as real and as powerful as the day that they happened. Those are the memories worth writing about and, sometimes, those are the ones you try so very hard to bury under mundane everyday activities.

Our experiences shape who we are, and ultimately impact our expectations. I think it is safe to say that our outlook on life is born from our perception of our experiences. I believe we choose our perception and therefore, we ultimately choose our destiny. It is not that we can’t weep about what has happened to us, no, that is our right. However, we must allow the adversities we face to be the catalyst that catapults us into greatness, instead of being the weight that drags us down into a dark, hopeless abyss.

It is then, there in our darkest hour, that we become victors, not victims. Choose to overcome, choose to learn from what has happened, and choose to be happy.

No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us. ~Romans 8:37

Life With Mickey D.

“The sight of Mickey D. pursuing them, red-faced, angry and with his blue flannel shirt flapping over the pistol in his belt was enough to instill fear in the teenagers …”


Mickey D. wasn’t normally a man prone to vengeful acts. Perhaps it was the recent stress brought on by the “thugs” who had just moved into the neighborhood– those young punks whose thumping speakers boomed so loudly throughout the neighborhood they shook the family pictures on Mickey D.’s living room wall. The loud bass music truly angered Mickey D. He had even been seen running down the street after the lemon yellow jeep on a lifted frame, yelling “you better turn that crap down!” and punching in the number to the police department on his flip phone. The sight of Mickey D. pursuing them, red-faced, angry and with his blue flannel shirt flapping over the pistol in his belt was enough to instill fear in the teenagers in the yellow jeep; they had not been back by his house since then. Read more…


The Road Home, Part 2


Pictured: Me with a relative (Sherry) who stopped by while we were stranded in our truck in the parking lot. They were unable to help us.

Hope enveloped me, and excitement coursed through my body as I realized that, though I had traveled a great distance, the trip was far from over. In fact, it had only just begun.

I sat with my back against the cab of the truck, as far away from the traffic as possible. I drew my knees into my chest and rested my head on my arms. “God, I need you,” I began. My prayer was interrupted, or perhaps answered, when lights unexpectedly shone on our truck. I could hear the faint sound of my father talking with someone, and then he called to us.

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The Road Home, Part 1

20131112_112625I hate them, I thought. I hate them and I hate my life.


I fell back onto the array of cardboard boxes that had been tossed haphazardly into the back of our old Ford pickup, and tried very hard not to cry. The edges of the boxes that held my family’s possessions jabbed into my back mockingly, a constant reminder of how temporary my life had always been. I laid back and watched the sun set dimly through homemade, wooden side rails on the truck, and marveled at how even a sunset could lose its luster when seen through slats of hopelessness. Read more…

Accidental Target, Part 2

“A young girl next door was walking along that road right there,” the officer said …“She was shot in the neck … It looks like you were the only one shooting.”

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Accidental Target

20131112_112938The day my father shot the neighbor’s child was just like any other warm, September day in the South.

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An Entitled Generation


Our longing to be “friends” with our children has led to the evolution of an entitled generation. We have denied them nothing for so long that the moment they are denied anything in life they crumble. Not allowing our children to face adversity has left them without resilience or the ability to “roll with the punches”.

I’ve been thinking lately about my evolution as a parent. Parenting is hard, and none of us earn a perfect score. I think I learn something new every day from the families I encounter along the way and through my own life experiences. There certainly seem to be some clearly defined divisions in the population when it comes to parenting. Forgive me if it seems I am over-simplifying here, we all know there is nothing simple about parenting.

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