HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!  Annette Smith Bisbee   As I was looking forward to my 79th birthday, I began to reflect on my past. Just over 50 years ago, in 1973, I was diagnosed with the dreadful disease of Multiple Sclerosis. I had never even heard of it! With my heart pounding, unsure of what it meant, I asked the doctor how long could I expect to live? My neurologist responded with, “At the most…about 15 years.” My right side was almost paralyzed, to the extent of having to drag my leg instead of picking it up. The doctor continued, “You are lucky that the spinal fluid came back positive,…

Come on, I’m going to  be real here. Sometimes I wish I had a best friend like Ethel who would run away with me and never come back…sort of like a Thelma and Louise trip but with a different ending. Sometimes I wish I was the kind of person who never felt like giving up, who never procrastinated, who always had a spotless house and dressed like Mrs. Cleaver. And sometimes I wish I could just be me knowing my uniqueness is the way God made me, and all I had to do was live my life while following Him. But NO, my mind tends to get lost in self-deprecating…

Little Johnny was only five and as far as he knew his life was ok. Then that tragic day came. A loud “BOOM!” Daddy was on the floor, the gun still in his hand. Life went on, Johnny was all grown up – he thought, and was now on his own. His mom had remarried and all was okay. He had learned to be funny to cover the pain of the memory and the responsibility he felt for his dad’s suicide. Was he to blame? Did he make daddy so miserable that he wanted to die? Was it his fault? Soon he found a new friend…the bottle. It brought him…

  Driving to work, my heart was heavy with grief. I was newly divorced and was suddenly thrust into the role of sole provider. Questioning God had become my favorite past-time, but mostly He just assured me of His love rather than explaining purpose in my situation. I had reached my limit and began to wonder, “Is God still here? How am I going to make it.”  For some reason, I had an urge to change lanes. Just as I did, the car which had been behind me, hit the car in front of him, (which had been me), that car hit the next and out the sideview I saw…

Many memories come to mind when I revisit my childhood. One in particular came to visit today. It was in the springtime of 1953. We were the Smiths and the Jones lived across the street…. honest to goodness truth. About 20 yards behind the Jones’ house were the railroad tracks, the view partially blocked by the grain elevators. We were at the end of Cleveland Street with only two houses closer to the tracks than we were. I wasn’t sure which side of the tracks we were on – the wrong side or the right. My 7-year old mind hadn’t yet acquired such knowledge. Our house was a huge, white, two-story,…

It was in the spring of 1953. We finished up the biscuits and sausage gravy, and washed the dishes. The cotton fields were waiting, but first Mom prepared as much as possible toward lunch, because she worked right alongside Dad and the rest of us. Some of us “looked” the beans, picking out the stones and odd-colored beans, sliding them to the side. I was only 9, but I still did my share. We washed and added the Great Northern beans to the pot, and added water, dropping the bean pot down into the slow cooker. That was the strangest thing, that stove. It was electric, with 3 burners on…

By:  Annette Smith Bisbee It was 1952. All was well with the world. It was summer time, and we’d been out of school two months. Finding stuff to do to occupy our minds was becoming quite the challenge. My two sisters, Naomi and Sue, and I played outside – how we ever got chores done for this leisure, I don’t know. I was only 7 at the time, and concerning myself with such high and lofty matters, hadn’t yet taxed my brain. It was almost August and in southern Missouri, that meant high humidity and high temperatures. Bored and sweating, we ran to the house; maybe mom would have the…

OK, I’m going to broach a subject a lot of Christians shy away from…depression. I’m no expert when it comes to depression, but I CAN tell you I have experienced it. So, does this make me a ‘weak’ Christian? Perhaps I just need to pray more, read my Bible more, and have more faith. I need to push myself. Be strong, not be lazy. I need to get going. Ignore it; pretend it’s not there. These are all the negative voices of the past when the subject of someone being depressed would arise. I experienced the worse day of depression I have ever had on a Thursday. It was at…