Driving in Houston

 

Pixabay

I failed my driving test twice before I passed it. I was sixteen at the time and had a beginner’s license. The written test proved a breeze, but with the grading officer as a passenger? Well, the experience grew brutal.  After starting the car and maneuvering fifteen feet ahead, he had me drive around the block and park back at the DMV office. I don’t remember what I did or didn’t do in that short ride, but mortification joined me that day.

My mom, sister, and cousin were waiting to congratulate me on getting my license and witnessed my quick return. With wide eyes, they asked, “What happened?”

I shrugged. “I failed.” Humiliation clung to me without limits. Why couldn’t the Earth open a hole so I could crawl into it? My mom drove us home.

I never had a chance to practice driving before the test. My mom refused to let me take her vehicle because she feared I’d wreck it. Her prediction came true when we moved to Houston. I had nine wrecks that first year, but it wasn’t in her car. Yes, you read that right. NINE!

But I’m getting ahead of myself. At the age of 18, I married. Hubby’s ten-year-old clunker became my wheels, too. The thing didn’t even have heat or air conditioning. We sweated torrents in the summer and broke icicles away from our noses in the winter, but I gained experience as a driver while we lived in Oklahoma.

When we moved to Texas and pastored a small, country church, we bought a stick-shift sedan. It heated us in the winter, but it had no cooling for summer. The temperature registered 116 F for days at a time during the summer months. When we exited the car, we looked as though we had been swimming in our clothes. The land cracked under this brutal heat, but we watered it with dripping sweat each time we went outside.

Winter or summer, I drove our stick-shift around country roads and didn’t see other vehicles for miles at a time. Not one accident in the five years we lived there. I’ve learned, right? Wait till I move to Houston! Remember? NINE in one year!

From the north plains of Texas, we moved about 100 miles east and arrived in Irving, TX. Uh oh! It is the city where I failed my first driving test, but now I have my license, and I’m experienced. I’m familiar with streets and locations, and I don’t drive into the big city of Dallas. No worries.

But! Houston is ahead of me. NINE is in my future.

After almost four years in a lovely Irving church where my hubby was pastor, a church in Houston wanted us as their first family.

So, we headed south.

Houston, TX

Huge Houston contains zillions of highways with multiple loops to ring the city, and it is widespread. The Med Center is well-known, but it requires a good car to get through the maze to visit sick parishioners, and our stick-shift had seen its better days.

We left Houston and drove south to Dickenson, Texas to buy a Gay car.  Yeah, yeah, I know my name is Gay, but the dealership in Dickenson is also named Gay. The dealership isn’t homosexual, and neither am I, but we are both Gay.  I drove a Gay Pontiac with my name, Gay, on the back fender. Crazy, huh?

Then the accidents began.

My name on the car had nothing to do with the collisions. I had never been forced to drive defensively, but Houston requires that style of motoring, and I hadn’t learned that technique yet.

The first catastrophe was my fault. Yes, I admit it. I did it. Fortunately, I was alone when a driver, who had the green light, zoomed into the intersection and crashed into my passenger side.

Police

The officer asked me to sit in his squad car. We needed to get out of traffic, and he wanted to ask a few questions.

“Officer, my light was yellow when I went through it. I didn’t know it was about to turn red.”  He issued me a warning. Nice guy, really nice.

I drove home to show my hubby. The entire passenger side of my station wagon was caved in. I assume the other driver’s car took a big hit too, but at that moment, my sympathy was for myself.

We took our beautiful, blue and white Pontiac back to the dealership for repair. A costly repair.

The next month, to the day of the first accident, I had crash number two. Yep. You read that right. Month to the day. But I was innocent!  Except for that defensive driving thingy. When in Houston, one must anticipate someone running a stop sign. (Bear in mind, the driver who hit me didn’t think about me rushing a yellow light. turning red)

A lady ran a stop sign, broadsided me, backed up, and fled the scene. I chased her in my car, and a kind man followed us. When the police arrived, the Good Samaritan explained how the woman ran the stop sign and barreled into me. The lady was not a citizen and had no license. That’s why she bolted. She got a ticket. I later learned she never paid for it.

When we returned to the dealership for repairs, the head honcho scratched his head, “Didn’t we just replace the side of this very car?”

Bright red with embarrassment, I turned around and left hubby to explain. Now get this! The repair bill was less than $100 of the first restoration. Wow! They gave me the preferred customer discount!

 

To Be Continued. Stay tuned. You don’t want to miss the next wreck.

Sarah Series

 

Remembering My Mom on Mother’s Day

 

My mother lives in heaven now. I hope your mom lives on earth, and if you are fortunate, she lives near you. Mine left Earth thirty-five years ago, and I miss her every day.

Other than a faint resemblance, we are nothing alike.

This petite lady loved vanilla ice cream and ate it every day. I’d tease her and say, “Try one with pecans in it.” She’d respond, “Why? I like this one.” No matter her diet, she weighed one hundred pounds to the day she died. She ate anything and everything. As for me? I work hard to keep from gaining, and most of the time, I don’t succeed.

She was famous for her meals. And boy, oh boy, do I wish for those. I wish you could sit at her table and enjoy smothered steak, gravy, creamed potatoes, corn cut from the cob, slathered in butter, and fresh snapped green beans. Top off the meal with banana pudding for dessert. And those chicken and dumplings? Fried pies? Oh my. Delicious memories.

I hate meal preparations, and it shows in my cooking attempts. Even when I follow her recipes, my dishes don’t taste like hers. Some people can cook and others can’t. I’m in the “can’t” section.

She also baked and kept goodies on hand. Her Devil’s Food cake was beautiful. I buy cake mixes and hope for something similar. It’s not anywhere near the same.

Mom refused to read or pray in public and often declined to attend a Bible study for fear she’d be called upon to do so. Such things are normal for me. She bragged on my speaking abilities, and I boasted about her cooking and managerial skills.

Our relationship was like oil and water. She wanted to cling to me, and I ran like a maniac toward independence.

I’m thankful we spent the last ten years of her life in harmony. We truly loved each other and came to admire our differences.

Stepmoms and adopted moms hold special places in the lives of children. Their kids were born before they met them. Applaud them for loving the child from another woman’s body.

Let’s not forget the unsung heroes. Teachers who work with kids each day, and others like our daughter who care for the hurting, abandoned little guys. Aunts. Grandmothers.

Authors who write children’s books. Women play an important role in the lives of children.

 All Women influence children.

 I hope each of you ladies have a wonderful Mother's Day.

I wrote a book about a woman who wanted to marry and have children but couldn't because of a family scandal.

 Family Secrets

 

 

 

 

 

 

Digging into the Past and Finding Worms

 

 

I recently signed up with Ancestry, the online business that helps build family trees and solve mysteries.

Why didn’t my folks share stories about their past? Why don’t I ask questions about our ancestors? If they had shared, I might not have signed up for this DNA place.

My family seemed to take pride in keeping secrets.  Years ago, I wrote a book about family secrets. It’s a good read, even if I say so myself.

                                                            On Amazon

I wrote a blog previously about my aunt. She told me she would go to her grave without revealing a family scandal. I asked her to tell me what or who it involved, but she refused. And so she did what she said she’d do…died without telling me. But why mention it to me at all?

I’m discovering a few crazy people in my ancestry tree, but I already knew my aunt was one of them. This lady kept a picture album, and underneath a photo of a barn, she wrote, “This is where my heart was broken.”

Did my aunt’s heartbreak have something to do with the family scandal she mentioned? I doubt Ancestry will have the answers to that question. I want to know about the lives of my family, not just their names.

While searching Ancestry, I discovered the name of my dad’s first wife. I knew he had one, but I haven’t learned the year they married or the year they divorced. Evidently, they had no children. I think I would have known about their possible offspring, but then again, maybe not. 

My dad, in his elder years, had a stroke and lived in a facility. After my mom died, he told me his first wife came to see him. He told her he would never marry again. Was this story true, or was it imagination in his challenged brain?  He also spoke about a son he had by a woman other than my mom, or his first wife, but he couldn’t tell me anything about the guy. So now, I’m looking for answers in Ancestry.

My lineage came from England and Ireland. This, I knew already, but I want to know when they came to the United States and their stories about living in their new country.

So far, I’ve discovered they farmed after their arrival, but farming was a common occupation back in the formative years of the Republic.

I have a niece and nephew who are interested in our family background, but other members of my family don’t care about it.

The one thing that comes to mind is this: my folks didn’t want people to know their secrets.

But then, who does? How many secrets will you take to your grave? In the future, if a relative digs into your past, will they find a half-brother you didn’t know existed?

Or you might find no records of your parent’s marriage. Perhaps you will discover your father was a polygamist.

DNA connects us to people, but those people may not want to be found. My daughter used a different research company and found a perfect DNA match. This guy has the name of my grandfather, and he looks like a young version of my grandfather. I sent him two private messages, but he doesn’t want to correspond with me. I know he is a relative. Perhaps he doesn’t want to hurt someone or know his ancestor’s secrets. But why sign up with a company that helps you find info?

I suppose digging into the past can open a can of worms.

worms

https://foxmind.com/games/can-of-worms/

 

God or Not?

 

Is It God?

I find myself lost often. It is no big deal. I’m used to it. I diagnosed myself with spatial dyslexia. I have no sense of direction. You can read about it at this link. Spatial Dyslexia.

Reading is not a problem, but I’ve never been able to understand maps.

 Should I go left? Right? Up? Down? I take a guess and go. I live in the Houston area and often travel the Katy Freeway. It runs east and west. That freeway, I get.  The other plethora of roadways? Forget about it.

GPS is my lifesaver these days. Once upon a time, I’d stop at gas stations to ask the proper way to a certain place. I seldom do that now, but even with a handy-dandy GPS, I give myself time to get lost. After I find my destination, I can lose my car in a parking lot.

One day last week, after taking a wrong exit off the Katy Freeway, I arrived at my destination and parked in a large garage. I made a mental note that I left my car on the yellow level. When I returned, I discovered all the levels were marked yellow!

Bummer.

I felt blessed that we aren't in the middle of summer yet. I’ve lost my car in the wretched Texas heat and walked miles looking for the (bleep, bleep) thing.

Security wasn't in sight. No one to help.

Then this thought hit me. Oh wait! My iPhone can tell me my car’s location! I’ll ask Siri for directions to my vehicle. As I stood by the elevator, I punched the button for Siri.

Our conversation went like this.

Gay: “Siri, find Gay’s car.”

Siri: “Here is a list of merchants who sell vehicles to lesbians.” Siri gave me a long list of local car dealerships.

I told you my name is sometimes a problem.  Well, duh. That is one example.

Sigh!

I didn’t need a new car. I needed to find the one I currently own. 

Siri was no help, so I set out on my own. I rode the elevator and got off on each level. After a lot of riding the elevator and walking different levels, I finally found my white Honda.

Fast forward a week. I had to go back to the same location, and I prayed ferociously. “Lord, You know I get lost. Remember last week? I couldn’t find this vehicle. Please find me a parking space outside the building, right in front.”

I rounded the corner, and boom! I saw two ladies getting into their car. I clicked my blinker on and waited. Sure enough, they vacated the space in a hurry. (an unusual event for women, we take our time)

I parked and knew I would be able to find my car when I returned. Yay!

I was so excited and could hardly wait to tell someone. I bubbled over with enthusiasm as I recounted my experience at home. Uh-oh. To my story, my preacher hubby replied, “That is a mere coincidence.”

To me, it is God.

Why do we write off a coincidence as a mere chance? God does intervene. Really and truly! He does.

I have a new friend. He is an author and a musician. We exchange books.  John Vigil believes in divine intervention. That’s another euphemism for coincidence, and I prefer it. Here’s a true story he shared with me.

Coincidence or Divine Intervention?

John Vigil

A few years ago, a life brother of mine and I were headed to a gig in Colorado. He was driving and not long after we passed Trinidad, CO. going north on I-25, he pulled off to the side of the road just before the off ramp to an overpass. We were out of gas. He had anticipated we had enough to get to Walsenburg to fill up, but he miscalculated. We decided one of us had to go and get gas while the other one waited with the car and equipment. So, I volunteered to hit the road. I figured Walsenburg was only a couple of miles further. It was late fall or winter, and the ground was snow-covered. I had just started walking and put my thumb out for a ride when it seems the first car passing pulled over. I ran up to it

and got in. The driver was late 20’s or early 30’s with twin boys around 2 years old sitting in car seats in the back.

He said he was headed to Ohio for a family funeral. I thanked him for stopping for me, and he said “no problem.” Although he wasn’t sure why he stopped. I kind of wondered myself since he was traveling alone with only the two toddlers. It turns out that Walsenburg was actually about 20 miles from where we ran out of gas. As we approached, I told him he could just drop me off on the side of the freeway and I’d walk across the overpass to the truck stop, but he insisted on driving me all the way and dropped me right at the front door.

I went in and was looking at the fuel containers for the largest I could carry at the cheapest price. A man stood behind me and asked if I had run out of gas. I said that I had. He said that I really didn’t want to waste my money on those over-priced gas cans, and that he would give me a container and to just wait a couple of minutes. I did wait and saw him at the register as the attendant signed off on a clipboard he had. I followed him outside toward the back and up to his truck. He was driving a fuel tanker and had just finished dropping fuel in their tanks. He took out a 2 ½ gallon plastic container and opened one of the tanker valves. He let fuel into it. Then he swished it around as if rinsing and dumped it out. “Diesel additive” he said. Then he opened the valve back up and we watched as the container filled to the top and then just stopped on it’s own. “You got the last drop of unleaded” he said and chuckled. I asked him what I owed him and he said, “Nothing”. He asked where I was headed and I told him about 20 miles south toward Trinidad. He said he was headed west toward Fort Garland but pointed to a red service truck and said, “You see that guy over there? He’s in from Trinidad and I’ll bet he’ll give you a lift.” So, I thanked him and headed toward that red service truck. I told that guy my predicament and asked if he could give me a lift. He told me that he was finishing up but to just wait for him up front. I did. It was cold. I waited about 10 minutes and he pulled up. I got in. We headed south on I-25. I pointed out the vehicle on the northbound side of the road as we approached and told him he could just let me off on the side of the freeway. He instead drove up the off-ramp, across the overpass and down the northbound off-ramp with his emergency lights on and dropped me off right in front of my friend’s car. I think my buddy was a little startled. I got out and asked what I owed him. “Nothing” he said. He waited while we poured the gas in the tank and then we continued onward without being late to the gig.

John had an amazing coincidence. Or was it a God Intervention?

How about the immediate answer to my prayer? God or coincidence?

What do you think?

Sarah, the angel I write about, is like me. She's always lost. You might enjoy reading about her.

Sarah Stalks the Wrong Stalker

 

Kade's Worth

 

Cusomter Service

 

Where Did Customer Service Go?

Are you lost in cyberspace? Trying to figure out what to click on next?

Yeah, me, too.

Why do sites make it so hard? Is that fun for them? Do they enjoy frustrating us? YES! I  think they do! 

Young people have this problem too. It isn’t just us senior citizens. Why else would humanity be groping around and paying for extra help to get to the right place? Is it humorous? As a question, I’m asking, do sites enjoy this humor? 

And what is the business of AI entering my workspace? If I type a sentence, and AI finds fault with it, AI underlines my words in red. When did we allow AI to take over our lives?

Big woopty do!

Oh well, the reason for my tirade isn’t AI invading my documents. Not today, anyway.

At my husband’s earlier suggestion this morning, I enrolled in Ancestry.com today. He received an advertisement stating that one of their programs was on sale for $34.00.

WRONG!

That’s another thing. Why do we receive so many emails with the intent of scamming us?

Anyway, I digress.  I clicked on Ancestry, and it was way more than $34.00.  More like $54.00.Yeah, right. At least it was after I added another part.

I’d been wanting to investigate this site, and now that my book, Kade’s Worth, is finished, I have time. Kade’s Worth is found here.  https://www.amazon.com/Kades-Worth-G-N-Lewis/dp/B0GNJG1QS6/ref=sr_1_1?crid=GOP8TCLYRWQW&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.4f6ekZWAujUKJrDZcFgIlpcW4h87S6EMy2uMhJ0Wp7qXVT0x4zrGaJG0e0ec66AbEEjMxrI6eOrVe4Wg5pOjZ9805qlS69nhDbCoSaPHfK0J7uwE3x4h87Z8AWEA_MFCaD2pjeYe0Q1o9SF-Rayi0DhZPXUja4Gr2bSQ3EloqTdL9kboIb_WZ0jxhOY0m8jd.xYztgU6iQRtk4NyeT9EFJvYJzAgPL6_TVyx0AnyUg0E&dib_tag=se&keywords=kade%27s+worth&qid=1773783639&sprefix=%2Caps%2C167&sr=8-1

I inserted my email into the Ancestry.com site, but the site claimed I already had an account. Well, Poopty doopty! Who knew? I don’t have a record of enrolling, but I must have done so long ago. Maybe I forgot.  Either that, or someone else used my name.  Anyway, I requested a new password.

One came back, and it was for my mom! Oh my! I must have used her name with my email address, and it was too many years ago to remember.

How do I change this account to my name?  No information on that topic. Okay, I’ll go with my mom’s name. I click on the site. After all, we have the same DNA, and she’s the one I wish to research.

On the site, there are “free clues.”  Wait? Whaaat?  I paid a lot of money to subscribe to this site, and now it says, “two for free?” If there was an explanation for these "free clicks," I missed it.

Must I pay for each additional click?

I quickly open a new window to YouTube (I’m on there as Gay N. Lewis. (By the way, I have figured out how that site works. Sort of, anyway.)

On YouTube, I ask for Ancestry. I found a nice guy. He gave me basic information for that site.

He didn’t help me at all, but he seemed knowledgeable and friendly.

So, now, I need to call customer service and ask someone at Ancestry for help.

But customer service is a dinosaur of the Dark Ages.  It no longer exists anywhere in the world today.  Too bad. I believe a company would make millions of dollars and do the population a favor if it restored the old customer service.

I’ll email Ancestory.com. Maybe. However, most sites don’t have emails. So then, what? Perhaps they have a "help center." I have a lot to learn.

I’d like to find my distant Alabama relatives. They don't live in Alabama these days. They moved to Texas, but why did they pick up and go west? I don't care about family trees. I want stories and pictures, if they exist.

 Stay tuned. I’ll let you know if I succeed in finding ancestors.

Sigh. I hate this. Come back, Customer Service? Make it easier on clients! 

Gay N Lewis

My New Book!

 

She surrendered her son. Now she wants revenge on his father.

Natural beauty Kade, a nonbeliever in God, read at the age of two and designed computer programs at the age of four. But her intelligence doesn’t save her from a sexual assault at the age of thirteen, ending in pregnancy. Though she loves her baby, she must give him up.

Seven years later, she meets and marries Toby, keeping her baby a secret. After Toby dies in a car crash, Kade’s self-worth vanishes again. She can’t bring her baby or Toby back, but she can find the two men who assaulted her and vows to kill them.

She moves back to the Denver area, where her parents live, and the attack of her youth occurred. She hides her shame, her looks, and her intellect by day and surfs the dark web at night.

Then Kade meets David Worth, a Christian therapist and radio host. He attempts to convince her she is valuable and worthy. The rape and Toby’s death are not her fault.
Can he succeed, or will Kade become a killer?

Kade’s Worth is an edgy, provocative Christian book filled with suspense, trauma, and a touch of romance.

On Amazon

Unexpected Kindness

 Hubby and I traveled to Arlington, TX, this past week and stayed in a hotel near Six Flags, The Hyatt Place located on 360.

This hotel is about to undergo a renovation. Despite needing one, it provided a comfortable stay.

The staff made us feel welcome. The morning lady at the front desk was friendly and helpful. So was the night lady on duty. We asked for the engineer to check our A/C unit, and this woman turned out to be Johnny-on-the-Spot available. She knew her stuff and fixed us up quickly. No grumpy attitudes here. Everyone seemed pleased to take care of our needs.

Like most hotels, this one provides a free breakfast. We enjoy a good first meal of the day, but most affordable hotels don’t produce a high-quality one. They serve bagels, pastries, boiled eggs, and oatmeal. 

The first morning I arrived at the Hyatt Place hotel’s buffet, my eyes feasted on a beautifully arranged display of tempting foods. Vivid colors and organization gave me a clear sense of freshness to the cuisine.  Spotless surfaces made the spread look inviting. Yum!

I chose a mixture of blueberries, blackberries, strawberries, and raspberries. The chef surrounded these berries with an ample amount of juice. I lathered this red berry mixture with yogurt.  I don’t care for Greek yogurt, but the sweet berries made this one unforgettable, and I enjoyed every bite.

Arranged at the subsequent venue, I found a platter of assorted melons and grapes beckoning for my attention. I added those morsels as well. I really like ripe cantaloupes.

I set my bowl of fruit down on a table and returned to the buffet for a new plate. I like keeping foods separated.

Protein came next. I selected a flour tortilla and filled it with scrambled eggs, bacon bits, salsa, and cheese.  Link sausages winked at me from the following container. How could I resist one or two of those little critters? Well, you know, I couldn’t, and so I didn’t. I also added the breakfast potatoes. I’ll diet at home, right?

I set my taco down near the fruit and headed for the fresh coffee. Then, to the juice bar for apple juice.

Now I’m ready to indulge in a great feast, but I waited for my hubby.

He busied himself with choices. Hubby skipped the berries and yogurt and went for the taco, sausage links, potatoes, and then headed for the pastries. He added a bagel, cream cheese, and jams. 

We sat across from each other, held hands as we asked God to bless the food and the one who prepared it.

I think Hubby went back for seconds on several items while I savored my coffee. If a waffle maker had been on site, he would have made one.  If we had stayed long enough, I’m sure the chef would have had pancakes.  She prepared a different variety of choices each day so stay-over guests don't tire of the same thing. Hubby doesn’t get pastries at home, so he indulges in them while away. 

The next morning, my husband headed to the gym for his workout. While he exercised, I chose not to join him. I prefer to get dressed and do my makeup before seeing people. Once he finished walking two miles on the treadmill, we both made our way to the breakfast area together.

No sausage links today, but the chef had sliced ham.

Oh good! There’s a food I can skip. I thought this to myself.

I eat ham, but when so many other items are waiting for me, I’ll pick something else. This time, I chose crumbled chorizo sausage to accommodate my taco. The biscuits and gravy tempted me, but I didn’t yield. Can I get a pat on the back?

The chef came out each morning to make sure we had everything we wanted or needed. I complimented her on the beautiful presentation and told her how much I appreciated her organization and attention to detail. The yummy food is even more delicious when presented well, and I told her so. This lady loves her job, and it shows.

This beautiful woman and I became instant friends. On our last day there, she gave us a goodbye memento! Talk about surprise!

We’ve never had a hotel employee offer us a keepsake before, and I’m sure it will never happen again. This lady typically does not give gifts to hotel guests, but she made an exception for us. In our conversations, she discovered we are Christians. Her amazing gesture included some of our favorite Bible verses, and she knocked it out of the park with her selections. Hubby and I will return to this hotel because of her.

I’m sure hotel workers aren’t appreciated as much as they should be. It’s a hard job, folks! It can be a disgusting, unappreciated job! These workers don’t receive enough unexpected kindness, compliments, and gratitude gestures from consumers, so give them some!

When I offered her genuine compliments, I was sincere, and she didn’t expect them. 

This small act of kindness seemed to leave a positive impression on her. In return, she surprised us by expressing her gratitude with a thoughtful memento, leaving a lasting impression on us!

You never know where you’ll find new friends because of a smile, a compliment, or an act of unexpected kindness.

                     Gay's Author Page

 

 

 

Subtractions and Additions

 

In my hallway, I have two family pictures. I pass by them often, but I stopped and looked at them today. I stared until I grew tired of standing in one spot.

One photo is ten years old. The second one is two years old. There are eight years between the images, and they remind me of the changes in our lives.

With the dawn of 2026, I wonder what the new year might bring, let alone the next eight. There will be lots of modifications, and I won’t like all of them.

In the oldest picture, three family members are missing today. Two left Earth by death, and one exited by divorce. Everyone is smiling. We had no idea of the challenges to come to the eleven people in the photo. Thoughts of cancer, dementia, and death never occurred to us.

We are standing in a forest, and the trees provide a tranquil scene. As I gazed at the photo, the piney fragrance came wafting back to me. The day supplied happiness and laughter. Lots of food, too. My hubby and I presumed we’d shove off to glory before any of the others.

The future doesn’t always agree with our plans, does it?

Burying a child is not easy. Grieving with a daughter over the loss of a husband who walks out of her life isn’t fun either.

But God never promised humanity a trouble-free life. He promised to be with us in dark times. So, despite the shadows of the last eight years, we enjoyed sunshine, too.

In the newer photo, twelve people stand together. Four new members joined by marriage, and a new baby by birth. The four new members and the sweet baby bring happiness.

As I gazed at the framed photos, I also noticed other losses. Several members lost hair. One lady lost fifty pounds. Three teenagers lost their look of innocence. Several members knelt on their knees, but eight years later, they are standing. Knees lost their ability to bend.

Our bodies change with the years, and we don’t notice them until we look at old photos.

Losses will continue. So will additions. The primary addition I would like to see is that all my family add God to their lives. Some members walk with the Lord, and others do not.

We can’t see God in the photos. He lives in hearts.

If you are reading this and haven’t added God to your life. Do it now. He comforts during the dark days and gives hope for the subtractions and additions to come your way.

   Gay's Author Page