The Word Place Blog
A little about anything for anybody
Posted 1-2 times weekly






Living with--or in spite of--regrets

 Regrets? We all have them. Most of the time we learn to live with them, and I guess I have. I couldn’t make a list of my personal regrets, but they all fall into one category: I regret I didn’t know who I was and didn’t live accordingly.

One of my mother’s favorite adages was “Be yourself.” That’s fine, Mother, but who am I? She also used to say regularly, “You don’t know...you don’t understand...you can’t...” all in one breath with no explanation. I never asked for one.

Is it any wonder I never knew who or what I was?


One of my favorite scriptures is from Psalm 51:17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. KJV


Only when I stumbled on those words and began to think about them did I find the answer to the question Who am I?

Asked to write a brief author bio to post various places, I had to think about it. I put in such things as widow, mother, grandmother, genealogist, traveler, writer, senior citizen having her adolescent rebellion 50+ years late. All of it is true. Yet, are those words all I am?


No. I’m myself. For good or ill, I’m who I am and never dared to be previously. I often say, “I’ve paid my dues in this life.” Actually, it’s something one of my characters said in a story, but it’s true. I did what I was supposed to do, not always as well as I might have wished, but I stayed the course. Some thought my best wasn’t good enough—but good enough for what and for whom?

So what does a broken and a contrite heart have to do with who I am—after all these years? I’m a child of God, and God doesn’t make mistakes. (I used to think He did, particularly when it came to me.) Contrite, repentant, resting safely in His love and care, I am a person of worth—not more than anyone else, of course, but finally open to allowing God to do with me what He wants to do. I’m not finished yet.


I thank Him every morning for life and health and ask Him for whatever needs I have that day—whether keeping my mind clear of thoughts displeasing to Him or something simpler like safe miles on an errand I have to run or accomplishing everything on my to-do list for the day. The words of the old hymn run through my mind daily: All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided...Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me. We are who we allow God to be in us. That’s who I am.

Another old adage, “It’s never too late” is true. I won’t have one more day of life than God planned on the day of my birth nor one day less. And now I can live each day as the person He created me to be.


~~Posted January 18





Don't let the lightning strike your eggs!

Here’s an interesting topic to ponder: Thunder storms—inspiring or scary?

Lightning and thunder never frightened me when I was growing up. I remember standing with my father on our front porch watching the sky light up (in the far distance) and counting time until the familiar roll of thunder reached us.

Then I moved to the middle of Africa where thunder and lightning could strike fear into the soul of any sinner or saint. With corrugated tin roofs on most places, the constant bombardment of rain, accompanied by roaring thunder, set my teeth on edge every time.

However, one can always find the humor in the worst scenario.

After I’d married and moved up-country, I monitored my pilot-husband on a small Messavia radio. The antenna, strung in the trees outside the house, made a good target for a lightning strike (or so I was warned). So, when a storm came up, I disconnected the radio from its battery and waited things out.

This particular afternoon I dutifully disconnected, but then I returned to the kitchen where I was baking. However, something inside me said I should vacate the kitchen for the dining room, so I moved everything and got back to work.

At one point, I needed eggs. Now eggs were hard to come by out there. Sometimes you could only buy 3 or 4, so you were very careful and never ever wasted one. I pondered the need. The refrigerator ran on kerosene, not our practically non-existent and sporadic electricity, so I reasoned I could dash into the kitchen, retrieve the eggs, and be none of the worse for the wear.

After another round of lightning and thunder, I made the egg run. On the way back, about the time I hit the door between the kitchen and the dining room, lightning struck somewhere extremely close outside one of the kitchen windows. (Most of the houses in town, built during Belgian colonial rule, had metal bars on the windows.)

My dash turned into a dead-heat run as I picked up speed for the bedroom. Though the bed was too low to the floor to crawl under, I threw myself face down on it, arms outstretched with a precious egg in each hand.

I waited out the storm before returning to my baking—with both eggs safely intact. And the moral of this story is: Never lose two scarce eggs to anything, even a lightning strike.


~~Posted January 12





Middlin' to Very Good

Middlin’ is the way I’ve always described myself. Not that I haven’t wanted to be outstanding. Some people are, and some people aren’t.

For example, I’ve always wanted to play the piano like the late Anthony Burger of the Bill Gaither Gospel shows and videos. Instead, I played for various small churches who couldn’t get an Anthony Burger. But when someone called my offerings “heart music”, I glowed.

As a writer, I’m no New York Times best seller, and I’ve had my share of laughably bad reviews. But there are those who like what I write, and that’s good enough. I don’t like book events because I find it difficult to sit behind a table and look important. I’d much rather make the rounds meeting other people and chit-chatting.

I’ve been pretty good as a Mimi to the Small Person and the Bear Cub. They still like to hang out on occasion, but they’re growing up, so my role is changing somewhat. Still, I believe I’ll leave them some good, important things to remember.

But the thing I’m best at is keeping my mouth shut. I’ve had people blurt out dark, intimate secrets with no warning and then beg me never to tell. And I never will. I’ll take those secrets to my grave, not because I said I would but because they’re not mine to tell—and because someone trusted me to keep her confidence. It’s the right thing to do. Adding that to the list of wrong things I’ve done wouldn’t be something I could live—or die—with.

There are things I’ve never told and never will tell about myself. Things which have hurt or even damaged me. No one else needs to know. There are people I might trust with the information, but why would I even let it pass my lips? Keeping one’s own counsel, tending to one’s own business—good advice however it’s phrased. And if someone else tells me her business, it falls into the same category.

I’ve forgotten more than I remember being told, and that’s probably good. And what I remember is buried deep and forever.


~~Posted January 8




And into 2021...

The final two months of 2020 were a wash for me due to a fall and other issues. It’s difficult to get back on schedule, but that’s the goal for this week…or next…or the one after that! It will happen, however. Of that I’m sure.

Also, January is the month I do an annual cleanout of every closet, cabinet, and drawer. That may stretch into February, but it, too, will happen! My goal this year is not so much to make a yearly to-do list but rather to prioritize what needs to happen when.

Some projects I intend to finish and/or make progress on are:

v  Finish The Legacy of Diamond Springs

v  Continue to record family stories on tape for my children and grandchildren

v  Organize a mound of genealogical research

v  Submit one story a month for publication somewhere (rejections count!)

v  Travel to my hometown to work on the archives in the church where I grew up (this is a biggie!)

No, these aren’t New Year’s Resolutions. Somehow we always manage to break, forget, or simply shove aside those solemn promises. I just want to accomplish—or at least make progress on—the above-mentioned projects.

A side note: I’m cutting back on blogging from three times a week to two. Hopefully this schedule will be more manageable, since I also make entries in a writing journal (also cutting back to twice a week) which includes free writing from a prompt, writing reflections, and a short paragraph on “My Reality Today”.

Blogging, journaling, and finishing Diamond Springs will keep me happily busy.

And, I hope the next list of projects in January 2022 will reflect life settling back to normal at last.


~~Posted January 4