Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Dueling Duo


Dee at My Heart's Dee-light is hosting Fiction Fridays today, so hop on over there for more great fiction.


Dueling Duo


Jan jerked the slippery strap of her purse back onto her shoulder for the umpteenth time. She could feel her frustration rising with each strained step.

“I SO do not need this today,” she grumbled. “Stupid school. This’d better be important.”

She flipped her overgrown bangs from her face as she approached her son’s fifth grade classroom. Opening the door, her purse slid down to her wrist yet again. She grumbled and then looked up to see that Mrs. Kern was not alone.

“Helen?” Jan grimaced at the sight of her mother-in-law sitting in front of Mrs. Kern’s desk. Just add to my nightmare.

Helen smirked, looking at her watch. “Yes, Jan, at least one of us was here on time.”

“Well, some of us have a full-time-job,” Jan snipped.

“I had a job, too, remember? It was called Full-Time Mom.”

Mrs. Kern cleared her throat. “Hello, Mrs. Jacobs. The other Mrs. Jacobs and I have already become acquainted.”

Reaching out to shake Mrs. Kern’s hand, Jan was suddenly aware of the pitiful scene her son’s teacher had just witnessed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kern. I’m sorry, Helen. I’ve just had a tough day.”

“And I’m sorry, too. That was disrespectful of us to carry on in front of you, Lois.”

Did she just call Mrs. Kern “Lois”? Talk about disrespectful.

“It’s okay.” Mrs. Kern forced a semi-smile on her face and continued. “The reason I called you both in here today is to discuss Justin with you.”

Helen gasped. “Justin’s not in trouble, is he?”

“No,” Mrs. Kern reassured her. “He’s a good kid. But—um—he’s been rather—sad lately.”

“Sad? What on earth makes you think he’s sad?” Helen squawked.

“Helen, just let her talk, for goodness’ sake.”

Mrs. Kern squirmed in her chair. “Well, he hasn’t been participating much, and he’s been doodling and daydreaming during the time that he’s supposed to be learning.”

“You called us here about some doodling and daydreaming?” Jan complained.

“Well,” Helen chastised, “some people would call that a problem.”

Jan deliberately ignored Helen’s remarks. “So, Mrs. Kern, if you don’t mind my asking, why did you choose to involve Justin’s grandmother with this?”

“She obviously doesn’t think his mother will take care of it on her own,” Helen mumbled, tucking her chin in her neck.

Clearing her throat a second time, Mrs. Kern brought out some papers from her top desk drawer. “I want you to see the poem Justin wrote for English class. Since both of you are subjects of the content, I thought it wise to invite both of you to come in and read it. But before I show it to you, I’d like to tell you one more thing: After class on the same day he turned in the poem, Justin asked if he could have it back. Now I had already read it, but he didn’t know that. I thought maybe he was embarrassed and wanted to re-write it. However, when he returned it to me, he had added the last stanza. That last stanza is the reason I asked you here today. Please take your time reading it and discussing what Justin felt compelled to share. Thank you for coming.”

At that, Mrs. Kern handed them a copy of the poem and made a deliberate exit, shutting the door behind her.

Unsettling silence hung over them as they each read Justin’s poem.
Dueling Voices
by Justin H. Jacobs

Mom tucks me in and reads me a story.
Grandma gives me hugs and tells me not to worry.
Mom sings me songs and helps me with my math.
Grandma tells me jokes and always makes me laugh.

But I’m sick of them both just acting like kids!
Don’t they know what it’s like when they blow their lids?
I wonder why they can’t just try to get along.
The Bible says that their attitudes are wrong.

As my teacher, can you please give them both a detention?
Then—maybe then—it will get their attention.
“Gramma, love my mom. She’s your son’s loving wife.”
“Mom, respect Gramma. She’s lived a long, wise life.”


They looked up at each other, stunned.

Helen’s face was as white as a blank sheet of paper. Jan shifted awkwardly in her seat, pinching the temple of her throbbing forehead. The sound of the school bell shattered their silence.

“Well, well, well,” Helen declared, “I do believe that Mrs. Kern has given us an after-school detention.”

“Yes, Helen—And Justin’s definitely managed to get our attention.”



In the Key of HE,

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Supernatural Acts of Kindness

***Posted for Patty Wysong's Fiction Fridays. For more great fiction, click here: http://pattywysong.blogspot.com


To: Elaine__emeyer@friendmail.net

Subject: I’m DESPERATE!

On 4/16/07 10:55 AM, Jennifer Miller wrote:

Lainey,

I’m sorry I haven’t called you back, but I don’t think I could talk if I wanted to. I’m really strung out taking care of grandmom right now. I’m so afraid she’s going to fall that I can’t even sleep. Sheer exhaustion.

The medicare office said they’d send someone over for TWO lousy hours a week, Lainey! How am I supposed to do all this and manage the kids, too?

I know this stress will pass, but PLEASE pray for me. I could use a supernatural touch.

Love,
Jenny
____________________________________________________

After pushing the send button, I fell to my knees in prayer. Lainey will pray, Lord. But I feel like I’m beyond help. I know You’re there, but I beg you to let me feel You in a real way.

I spent the next few minutes pouring out my weary soul to the only One that could fully understand. A deep thump and a clank sounded. I knew that Grandmom had fallen and hit the side of the bed’s metal frame.

“MOM!” my nine-year-old screamed from the bottom of the stairs, “Grandmammy fell again!”

“I’m coming!” I yelled as I flew down the stairs.

When I got to her room, Grandmom was trying to pull herself up using the iron post of the bed. I stood over her and carefully grabbed her arms. “Here, let me help, ok?”

She smiled, and her eyes twinkled a "thank you," though they had that far away look in them again. “Okay,” she feebly responded.

While straining to get her back in bed, I gently scolded her: “Grandmom, you’ve GOT to stay in bed unless I help you, ok? It’s not safe for you to do it by yourself. Please use the bell to call for me, alright?”

It was only moments later that she was asleep again. Thank goodness. I tiptoed out of the room. My little ones were anxiously waiting outside the door.

“Mom, is Grandmammy ok?”

“Did she fall?”

“Yes, but she’s all right now,” I reassured them tenderly.

“Mom, Mrs. Jones called. She said that she wanted to bring you over some dinner tonight,” my daughter reported.

My youngest chimed in, “Yea, lasagna—YUCK!”

Oh, Lord, please give me patience!

The phone rang, and I saw it was my mentor at church. I can’t face her right now, I thought. Yet as the answering machine picked up, I heard her lift up a prayer on my behalf. It moved me.

The doorbell interrupted her prayer message, and the dog began barking at the door. What now? Impatience built with each disruption.

“Stop barking, Sally!” I snapped.

I opened the door to find my dear friend Laurie standing there. “I’d like for them to come and do homework with us for awhile, if that’s okay?”

My kids began to pull and beg at me.

“I don’t know what to say, Laurie," I spoke as the tears welled up in my eyes. "Um, sure...sure they can go. Thanks.”

She gave me a big hug and a knowing look. “Oh, and here’s your mail.”

I waved as she drove away with the kids in the back of her Suburban, and I collapsed into the first chair I could find. A feeling of thankfulness overwhelmed me. Thank you for the break, God.

As I remembered the pile of mail in hand, a card from my Bible Study group was on top. I hadn’t been able to go for several weeks, and it had just added to my sorry state of mind. When I flipped open the card, all of them had written a personal note, but it was the scripture in the center that grabbed me:

“You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted;
You encourage them and listen to their cry.”

Psalm 10:17



Oh, Father—You heard my cry…

It was as if God had reached down and caught my fallen spirit through the words and actions of the Christian friends He had provided for me. Refreshed and renewed, I went back to Grandmom’s room to show her the mail that had come for her: Two cards from her dear church friends, and a note from the Pastor. I was glad to find her awake.

We both cried together and spent some time by the side of the bed, thanking God for His supernatural acts of kindness.



***********inspired by my own life experiences***********