Family Resemblances

By Kathy Carlton Willis

In walked a woman opening the door for another woman with an oxygen tank. Behind her was a wheelchair filled by a matronly figure using the oxygen, being pushed by yet another woman. They huddled in one of the waiting area sections, and talked about an upcoming wedding. I searched one face, and then another, and another until I circled the group with my gazes. A mother and three daughters. Probably together for unpleasant reasons (the mother’s health), yet they were making the best of it by talking about an upcoming celebration.

Then I allowed my eyes to visit the filled waiting room, picking out family units. Daughters resembling mothers. I detected at least five families with similar facial features. An elderly woman came out of the doctor’s office, her petite frame stooped over. A taller version of the woman followed behind, surely a daughter.

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Winter Wonderland

By Kathy Carlton Willis

“The following school districts are closed today, due to snow: Bowling Green, Clarksville, Louisiana…” Anytime snow fell, we huddled around Dad’s radio to listen to KPCR’s school closing listings. I grew up in Louisiana, Missouri, and it took quite a few inches to have a snow day. We loved having these free days off. No homework. No cares in the world. Just glorious snow calling our names.

First we bundled up in our winter clothes to enjoy the imaginary land of Eskimos and Snow Angels. When ice crystals hardened our gloves into crunchy wool, we stomped inside for a warm-up. With hot chocolate in our systems, we wanted to go back into the cold white snowy paradise. Before Mom allowed us to go outdoors again, we had to strip out of our cold, wet garments, and into dry warm ones. Often we covered our cold digits with socks to shield them from the frigid temperatures, while our first generation of winter garments stayed inside without us, draped near the gas heater to dry out.

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Creating Opportunities

By Virginia Smith

I collect Christian tee shirts. Some of them have catchy phrases like, “Know Jesus Know Peace—No Jesus No Peace.” One has a big smiley face with the caption “Psalm 92:4.” And one of my favorites displays those universally recognized letters, “WWJD.”

I was wearing that shirt on the London tube during a trip with my mother. We had remarked earlier that everyone in London seemed to wear nothing but black, especially the young people. So I stood out in my white tee shirt with those letters embroidered in shiny gold thread across my chest. In fact, one black-clad young man wearing more jewelry on his face than I had packed for my entire vacation caught me in a direct gaze across the aisle and nodded at my shirt.

“You one of those religious nuts?” he asked.

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Locker Room Grace

By Cynthia Ruchti

Our adult small group left our open Bibles and notebooks and coffee cups to spend some time voicing our support of and prayers for the young people who met at the same time in another part of the church. We walked into the multi-purpose room to stand in an embracing semi-circle at the back while they worshiped in all-out abandon.

“We’re here and we care,” we wanted to say.

We had to hurdle something to get into that room packed to the wall studs with teenagers. It smelled like a locker room in there. Teens with lots of energy but too little deodorant and an excess of gym shoes and two-day-old socks.

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Putting the Past Behind

By Sharon Autry

Our train is here!” my husband shouted. We hurried down the steps, one child in a stroller, the oldest on her own feet, and Crislynn holding my hand being dragged behind me. From the train platform, my sister Laurie watched the whole ordeal as we ran toward her through the subway station. 

She described how Crislynn desperately tried to pick up all the used subway ticket treasures that were scattered on the concrete floor. But I was pulling her along. She’d look up briefly and find a pole in front of her. So her little arm would fly up in front of her face as protection in case she rammed into the pole. As soon as we passed one pole, she’d look down and grab for some lucky ticket only to find herself on a collision course with another pole. Arm in front of her face, she protected herself again.

This repeated three times before we finally made it to the train where we found Aunt Laurie laughing hysterically.

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