Category: Life Lessons

Lessons we (hopefully) learn through our day to day lives…

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Was it a Good Day, or Was it a Bad Day?

Actually, that day in 2003 started out as a pretty normal day. I was at home in my apartment in Springfield, Missouri. I got up that morning, had breakfast and visited with my Mother by phone. She and Daddy were planning on going to Harrison to run some errands and they were looking forward to a nice day out. Mother loved to shop, and Daddy wanted to stop by and visit his friend, Bob Myers. Daddy and Bob had been friends for years, and whenever Daddy was in Harrison he liked to stop by Tom-Bar, Inc., Bob’s business on Industrial Park Road, to say hello and catch up a bit.

Mother and Daddy were going to invite an older friend to go with them. They wanted to give her a chance to get out of the house and let her get her grocery shopping done. I had been searching for a new table lamp for my living room, and Mother mentioned that she would look to see if she could find one that fit what I was wanting. She has always loved to shop!

Daddy wasn’t much of a shopper at all, but he did like to get out and about. He enjoyed people. Since his early retirement due to his Parkinson’s disease, these days were good for him. He liked driving his truck and getting out of the house. He had gotten that truck second hand from his brother, my uncle Jerry. It was a nice one, and we all enjoyed it. In fact, when I was home, I would often ask Daddy if I could drive his truck up to Sonic to get a Coke. It was pretty sharp… and also a fun truck to drive, so I know Daddy was looking forward to a pleasant afternoon.

It looked as if was going to be a good day for all.

Just before lunch, my cell phone rang. Mother called to tell me about a lamp she had found. She was excited – she thought it was exactly what I was wanting. She said it was a tall, narrow table lamp with an antique brushed gold colored finish. It sounded perfect. I told her to buy it and I would give it a try. I was happy she had found something and so was she. She loves to help! In fact, she would make a great personal shopper!

After lunch, I was doing some computer work when my cell phone rang. I looked at the number and smiled when I saw the name “Mother” displayed on the screen. I wondered if she had found another lamp she liked better – or if this was perhaps going to be a call about a good buy she had found on a package of ground round or a 5# bag of potatoes, wondering if I might want one also. Pushing away from my desk and leaning back in my office chair to relax, take a break, and visit a bit, I flipped open my phone. Everything changed instantly when I heard a strange voice say, “Is this the daughter of John and Jean Carlon?” Jerking up in my chair, I quickly replied “Yes, what’s wrong?” The strange voice continued, “They are all right, but they’ve been in a pretty bad wreck. Your mom is hurt worse but she is awake and talking. Your dad seems to be okay. They are taking your mom and the older lady that was with them to the hospital by ambulance. The older lady seems all right – just shook up. This is Bob Myer’s daughter, Laurie. I will stay with them until you get here. I’ll keep your mom’s phone if you need to call me.”

I hung up in shock – rushing to grab my purse and put on my shoes so I could get out the door and on my way to Harrison. I’m typically pretty calm – but this hit me hard. I called my friend Kay and asked if she could ride to Arkansas with me NOW. She was wonderful – waiting outside when I drove in to pick her up. We headed for Harrison – an hour and a half away. The thing I kept thinking about was that Mother hadn’t talked to me. Since I was a little girl, she has always worked so hard to reassure and protect me. I knew absolutely that she would have asked to call me and let me know she was okay if she could at all. It would be one of her priorities. She hadn’t called.

We got to the Harrison hospital emergency room as quickly as possible and I saw Daddy sitting in the waiting room. Laurie Myers was there also, as she said she would be. She handed me Mother’s phone and purse and updated me on all that she knew. She gave me her phone number on a piece of paper and told me to call if I she could be of any more help – then she said goodbye to my dad and left. My strong, quiet, kind father was sitting in that waiting room looking so shaken and lost. The physical and emotional trauma of the accident, coupled with the fact that he had now missed a dose of his Parkinson’s medicine, had left him unable to walk or talk well. Without his medicine, his body would just sort of lock up and his voice would reduce to barely a whisper. I hugged him and asked him if he was okay. He assured me he was and whispered urgently, “Go check on Mama.” I headed for the emergency room.

Mother was definitely hurt. Her knee had hit the dash hard and broken the truck’s stereo completely in half. The knee was badly injured, and her leg was gashed so deeply it was alarming to see. She was struggling a bit to breath due to the pain of multiple broken ribs, but she smiled when she saw me. Even though her eyes definitely showed she was in pain they were bright and clear. I instantly felt reassured.

The lady with them was also glad to see me. She was lying alone in the emergency room bay, and she looked relieved when I walked in. Her injuries were not as severe. Mother was definitely the one hurt the most. The doctor discussed the details and assured me that she would be fine – it would just take time for her injuries to heal. I was so grateful.

Mother and Daddy’s pastors, Mark and Joanna Bryant had arrived at the hospital before me. They had stayed until I got there and had prayed for Mother in the ER. When I arrived, they said they were going to check on Daddy’s truck – that Mother had mentioned that she had bought a lot of groceries that day. I will never forget the Bryant’s kindness. They somehow found the lot where the truck had been towed and gathered up all the spilled groceries and other items (including my new lamp) from Mother’s shopping. They came back by the hospital to tell me they had retrieved them, and would take them back to the church so the groceries could be kept in the refrigerator until we could pick them up.

The wreck, it turned out, really was a pretty bad one. Daddy was driving west on Industrial Park Road in Harrison. Mother was sitting on the middle seat, which was set a little higher than the main bucket seats. Their friend was sitting in the bucket seat to the right. As Daddy went through the intersection of Industrial Park Road and Speer Drive, a car driving south on Speer Drive was traveling fast and ran the stop light, hitting Daddy’s truck on the front driver’s side and knocking Daddy unconscious. The hard impact turned the truck to the right, headed straight toward Vikki Hudson’s Insurance Agency. Crossing the intersection diagonally, the truck headed over a brick retaining wall and crashed down onto the parking lot below. Still moving forward, they were headed straight toward the corner of the insurance company’s brick building. Despite her injuries, Mother half stood and got her leg over Daddy’s to slam on the break and stop the truck. They were just a few inches from hitting the building head on.

I stayed at the hospital until Mother and her friend were settled into a room and as comfortable as possible for the night. They were exhausted but smiling when I left – and I felt comforted knowing they were in a room together. I took Daddy, now completely exhausted, home to get his medicine and get some rest. When I laid down that night, I finally let myself relax and think everything through. I thought about how pleasantly the day had started and about the phone call from a strange voice that abruptly changed everything. I thought about Laurie Myers Mayfield giving up her time to stay at the hospital until I arrived. Even though I had never before met her personally, I felt comforted knowing she was there with my parents and would call me if the doctors needed to speak to me or if anything happened I needed to know about. She was my lifeline that day, and I will never forget her kindness. I thought about Mark and Joanna Bryant who dropped everything and rushed to the hospital when they heard about the wreck. I thought about them going to the trouble of locating Daddy’s truck and working patiently to gather all of the items from the day’s shopping and keep them safe for Mother. They didn’t have to do that – but it meant so much that they did. I thought about the EMT’s, police, and others who worked the wreck that afternoon, caring for my parents and getting them the help they needed. I thought about Kay who rushed to be with me at the hospital and had been there to help in any way she could. Lastly and definitely most of all, I thought about the fact that my Daddy was safe at home resting and that my Mother was safe, and stable in the hospital – her body already beginning the slow process of healing so that she could come home.

The lamp Mother bought that day was slightly bent in the wreck, but the damage is difficult to see unless you examine it closely. I did keep it. In fact, it still sits in my living room today. When I look at it, I often remember that day 16 years ago.

As it turned out, that day was a very good day.

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Meals Are Important

I made one of my absolute favorite recipes for supper this evening. Many of my friends know it as my Mexican Chicken recipe, because I make it often. In truth, it’s really my Mam-ma’s. It was one of my favorite meals when I was a child – and it still is one of my favorites today. Even though I know it by heart, almost every time I prepare it I drag out my copy of the Morrilton Assembly of God cookbook and turn to page 58, middle of the page. The recipe, just as Mam-ma wrote it years ago, is there for me to follow. I always smile when I get to the sixth ingredient listed – “½ of a 43 cent package of Taco Flavored Dorito”. In case you ever stumble onto this cookbook (which is not likely!) and want to prepare Mam-ma’s Mexican Chicken – let me translate that for you… The “43-cent” means the 9¾ ounce package – and it will cost you around $3.00 today.

I was only a toddler when this old cookbook was published and sold. To have one of my own, I had to run photocopies of my Mother’s cookbook – and I’m so glad I did. The recipes are treasures – and so are the names listed inside and faces they cause me to recall. Preparing this old casserole recipe brings so many precious people and wonderful memories to my mind. It connects me to people and places that I enjoy thinking about.

Cooking is like that for me. It connects me to others in a lot of different ways. Recipes that have been passed down, meals that have been enjoyed…..they all link back to people. When I make Mexican Chicken, I think of my Mam-ma. She was a driving force in my life, and I was so blessed to have her with me for my first 21 years on this earth. Mam-ma’s recipe originally required boiling and deboning a chicken – a task I’ve never really enjoyed. This past year, I purchased the Magnolia Table cookbook. Now, I follow the “Poached Chicken Breasts” recipe on page 85 – and I am grateful to Joanna Gaines and her team for the wonderful shortcut. What a great time-saver – and another connection. I also think of many great evenings when I served this dish to different guests and we spent time around the table laughing and talking.

Several weeks ago my pastor, Billy Burris, shared a brief devotional before our communion service that has really stuck with me. He talked about the significance and the intimacy of sharing a meal with others. When we eat together, bonds of friendship and/or family ties are strengthened. He talked about the importance of making meals special – of setting the table nicely, of preparing things well, of setting aside time to listen and connect. At mealtime, he said, we become vulnerable. We serve one another. We desire to share with others that which nurtures us. Bro. Burris’ message was a good one, and I have thought of it often since. Meal time is important!

Having a meal with someone is often a game changer. Acquaintances become friends. Friendships grow closer. Family ties are strengthened. Memories are made.

I remember seeing a T.V. interview with Dr. Maya Angelou many, many years ago. Oprah Winfrey was conducting the interview and she started enthusiastically talking about the fabulous meals she had eaten at Dr. Angelou’s table. Maya Angelou smiled and stated that preparing a meal for others is a very important task – because sharing a meal is a most intimate experience. She talked about the importance of every ingredient – and how she thinks carefully about her guests and what they would like. She talked about the opportunity you have to make others feel special by preparing a meal for them. I have remembered it until this day. Meals can be important events – with joy, strengthened bonds, and treasured memories as a result. People will remember the good experience!

Here’s an example. My Mother is almost famous for her tacos. (Its because they are incredible!) She has made thousands of them through the years – and people still (routinely!) ask her to prepare them. They are really, really good! In fact, several years after my Mam-ma passed away, her husband Harry (my mother’s stepfather) called to ask a favor. Would Mother be willing to drive down to North Little Rock and make tacos for him? He was getting older, he said, and he would just love to have her tacos one more time. He mentioned that he had tried to explain to his new wife how to prepare them, but they just weren’t the same.

That next weekend, I rode with Mother down to Harry’s. We carried in all the groceries and she settled in and went to work. When she got ready to fry the tacos, Harry (who usually always sat in the den watching T.V. until the food was ready) was this time sitting at the table waiting eagerly for the delicious meal he was anticipating. Mother heated the grease and dropped the first taco in to fry. The hot grease sputtered and began to sizzle loudly. I saw Harry’s face just light up. He looked at his wife beaming and said, “There! That’s it! That’s the way they always sounded!” It makes me smile now thinking about it. Those tacos brought Harry a lot of joy that day – and we all had such fun sitting at the table eating and sharing.

Meals are important.

If you would like to try Mam-ma’s Mexican Chicken, click here for the recipe:  Mam-ma’s Mexican Chicken

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Thank you, Mrs. Turner – Teachers Make a Difference

I remember a time a few years ago when a good friend of mine, Bob Leftridge, asked me if I knew the answer to a trivia question – and thankfully I did. He chuckled when I told him the answer – and then said in his pleasant, musical drawl – “Well, that’s pretty good, but I’ll bet you can’t say your alphabet backwards!” I instantly lit up – because, in fact, I CAN say my alphabet backwards…..really….and I had been waiting many years for someone to ask!

I learned to say the alphabet first from my Mother. As a toddler, I had a little desk with all the letters of the alphabet painted around the edges. I would point at them one at a time while she would tell me the names…until I could finally identify and say them by myself. I thought it was great fun! When I turned five years old in April of 1972, kindergarten was not offered in Conway County, Arkansas public schools. I loved to learn, so Mother and Daddy enrolled me in Mrs. Reba Turner’s half-day kindergarten that fall.

I was so excited and nervous the first day of school, but Mrs. Turner quickly put us all at ease. I looked forward to going to school every day. In her kindergarten, we started every morning with a prayer – and then we said the alphabet together. Mrs. Turner had the alphabet strip neatly tacked on the wall above the chalkboard. She would lead us by walking along and touching one letter at a time with a pointer. When she got to Z, she would slowly move back up the list until we returned to the letter A. Therefore, to this day I know my alphabet forwards and backwards.

Mrs. Turner’s kindergarten was held in her home. I suspect our little school was originally a carport – but it now served beautifully as our classroom. She had a lovely space for us to learn – and a fun playground out back. She was strict but kind, always well-prepared, and conscientiously dedicated to our success. I can remember one day when one of my classmates showed us how much fun it could be to break crayons using only one hand. We watched his demonstration carefully, then excitedly dug into Mrs. Turner’s big bucket of crayons and began practicing our new skill. When Mrs. Turner saw what we were doing, she had a talk with our little group about the importance of respecting others’ property, and how we should take care of things rather than ruin them. I still remember that lesson to this day. (I truly think we broke every crayon in the bucket.)

Of all my days at Mrs. Turner’s kindergarten, one in particular has always stood out in my mind. Mother dropped me off as usual that morning and I went into our little classroom. The lights were off, and there was no one to be seen. I went up and knocked on the door that led into Mrs. Turner’s home. She came to the door, and I could tell she was a little surprised to see me. She quickly apologized for not being in our classroom to greet me and started turning on lights. She explained that every single one of my classmates would be absent that day because it was “Orientation Day” for upcoming first graders at Morrilton Elementary. Because I lived out in the country, I would attend a different school that fall and was not involved in the special day. In other words, Mrs. Turner obviously thought she had a day off – until I showed up. As it turned out – it was a wonderful morning…because I had Mrs. Turner all to myself. I sat in her lap while she read to me. We colored a picture together. We sang songs, and I got to help her straighten up our classroom. I loved every single minute! When Mother came to pick me up at lunchtime and found out that I had been the only one there all morning, she was embarrassed and apologetic. Mrs. Turner quickly and calmly assured her that it was fine – there was no reason to apologize. Years later, I would have to agree – because it provided me with a pleasant memory I cherish to this day.

Mrs. Turner’s little private kindergarten was a wonderful way to begin my many years of schooling. She started me off well on my educational path, and I am forever grateful. I can honestly and wholeheartedly say I owe her a lot.

Before she began her home kindergarten, Mrs. Turner taught all grades (1-8) together in little one-room schools. In fact, she taught my mother and my aunt in a small community known as Lords Schoolhouse. Even though Mrs. Turner grew up only about 10 miles or so from that little neighborhood, she boarded with my grandparents while she taught school there. In rural Arkansas in those days, it was the school parents’ responsibility to house the teacher. Room and board were part of the compensation teachers received. Reba Turner moved in with my grandparents and stayed until the end of the school term. Just little girls, my Mother and Aunt Helen would walk with her to school each day. They lived almost a mile from the school, so when the weather was cold or rainy the walk was a challenge. My Pap-pa bought an older used car for Mrs. Turner to drive to school. Even though it was not a great car, and from what I have heard it was often hard to start – it was still appreciated. One morning, my grandparents left home early, leaving Mrs. Turner at home with their two little girls. When it came time to leave for school, the stubborn old car once again wouldn’t start. Mrs. Turner had an idea. She and her two little students pushed the car to the edge of the drive just before it sloped sharply down to the highway. She pumped the gas pedal a few times to get it primed, then Mother and Aunt Helen worked together to give it a push and started it rolling down the incline to the road. Using that momentum, Mrs. Turner got the car started and carefully braked so that her two waiting students could catch up, get in the car, and head to school. They worked together to solve the problem – and it makes me smile to picture it in my mind.

Through the years, I have often thought about what Mrs. Turner (and others) modeled for me regarding education. When I started out as an educator, I patterned my teaching after those I had learned from myself. From their examples, I firmly believe one of the most important things a teacher can do for their students (of any age) is work to build relationships from day one. Getting to know students and letting them know you care is a critical element to their academic success. Students, just like everyone else, need to connect with someone. When they view their teacher(s) as their partner(s) in learning, their attitudes, their self-esteem, and their chances for success improve drastically. I tried to always remember that during my years spent teaching in the classroom, because it’s a great practice. I know. I learned it in kindergarten.

Mrs. Reba Turner passed away this month at the age of 86. According to her obituary, her remarkable teaching career spanned 58 years. During that time she taught approximately 2200 students.

Thank you, Mrs. Turner. You made a difference in our lives. We, your students, are forever grateful.

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Mismatched Shoes

Mismatched Shoes

This past week, I posted a story on Facebook about a silly mistake I had made – and many of my friends and family quickly began posting their smiles and comments. I had to laugh at myself – it was just so silly!!!

I left home that morning thinking I had done everything correctly. As I headed to my car, I said good morning and visited for a few minutes with my neighbor who was out taking his dog for an early morning walk. Then, I got into my car and headed to work just like every other day. When I got there, I pretty much had to hit the deck running. My morning schedule was crowded, and I stayed very busy. I finally settled into my office about 12:30 and relaxed a bit while I ate lunch peacefully at my desk. It was nice to slow down, quiet my thoughts, and catch my breath. I really enjoyed the break.

After lunch, I headed out to another obligation. As I stood and walked out of my office into the hallway, I suddenly felt like I was limping. I couldn’t imagine what was wrong….until I looked down and saw that I had two completely different shoes on my feet. Well, to be completely honest – they were at least a little bit similar. They were both black! However, one was a heel and one was a flat. I was walking like Chester on Gunsmoke! (For those of you too young to remember Chester – he was a deputy sheriff on the popular television show Gunsmoke – and his character walked with a pronounced limp.)

I had to chuckle at myself. I mean, good grief! How busy was I that I hadn’t even noticed I was wearing two different shoes? It wasn’t only that I had left the house that way – but I had worn them for over half the day without even noticing my mistake??? I shared it with others – hoping to bring smiles and laughter……and I think it did.

It got me to thinking, though, What else did I miss that day? What things do I miss every day? What other mistakes do I make when I think everything is going along okay?

I thought about the many times when I have said things without thinking – things that came out out of my mouth before I thought them through as I should – in other words, when my words were not delivered as I intended. I thought about times when I rushed by friends and colleagues with a quick smile or hello, hurrying past them to get to my next meeting or responsibility instead of taking a quick moment to enjoy their company.

I thought back to something that happened a few years ago. It was my first year in a new career change. The responsibilities of my job were huge – and I was having to learn as I went along. It was an incredibly stressful, hectic year. My Mother stopped by one day to drop off lunch for me at my office. I was glad to see her (I always am!), but I was in a hurry. I had several obligations I had to take care of before my work day ended. Mother could tell I was busy, so she quickly dropped off my lunch, hugged my neck, and left. As I turned to go on with my work, I saw the taillights of Mother’s car as she drove away…….and I thought of how many people I know who do not have the opportunity to see their moms anymore. I thought about how fortunate I am…..and I made up my mind that day to always have time for my Mother any time she is there. If pressing obligations cause me to stay later at the office, so be it. You know what? It’s worked out just fine.

I am going to try to use my silly blunder this past week to (hopefully) make even more positive changes. In the future, I’m going to TRY to move a little slower, to think about what I’m doing a bit more, and most importantly to appreciate each moment of my day as much as possible. By doing so, perhaps I will wear the right shoes next time! More importantly, maybe I will be wiser with my words, my choices, and my priorities. I do so want to enjoy the people and the world around me. Each day is filled with so many amazing blessings – and I want to take the time to appreciate them. I want to remember to focus on and think on GOOD THINGS.