FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND 

Walking the beach and listening to the sounds of the ocean, soothes my troubled soul and mind.   Feeling the fine grains of sand on the soles of my feet, hearing the roar of the waves, and soft whisper of the water as it reaches the shoreline erases my doubts and fears and gives me hope for the days to come.  

Looking out over the ocean and up to the white clouds in the blue sky, I see the hand of a mighty and powerful God and remember He created all of this beauty. He spoke it into existence and controls every wave which crashes on the shore.  He calms those waves as they move along the sands of the seashore but there is still his mighty power in them as they recede back into the sea carrying sand and shells back into the waters.  

As I walk the sandy seashore, pray and meditate or simply enjoy the sights and sounds of my favorite place, I always notice the many footprints left in the sand.  Each print is unique and represents a person or wildlife  which walked or ran along this shore. There will be footprints, shoe prints, bird prints, dog prints, and some I can’t identify.  Everyone and everything leaves an imprint in the sands until the tide comes in and erases all or some of them. 

Sometimes I try to walk in a set of prints and wonder about the person who left them in the sand. Was it a woman, man, child or adult?  Is this person old or young or somewhere in between? Is it a person who would lead me in the right path of life? Where would these prints lead me?

What kind of prints did I leave in the sand yesterday?  Looking back on my footprints, I saw that they meandered along the shore weaving a crooked path following no particular plan.  Knowing my thoughts during this walk, I knew that they too had meandered from subject to subject, worry to worry and were troubled and seeking guidance. I remembered I was praying, as I usually do on my walks, for guidance and peace in these troubled days.  

The days are filled with violence, civil unrest, poverty, and diseases.  When I take time to watch the news, I see a world filled with bad news, pain and suffering, but sometimes kindness toward others.  Seeing the pictures of the olympics and the joy on the faces of the competitors as they win or when their team wins brings a smile to my face as well.  It is good to see the fruits of hard work and sportsmanship.  

However; these years in my life have brought me to my knees seeking God’s peace and guidance as I walk through these days .  I know if I walk in Jesus’ steps, they will lead me to his Father, The Great I Am, and my Heavenly Father.  Psalm 25:4 “Make me know Your ways, O Lord;Teach me Your paths.” is one of the verses I have been leaning on these  days.  As I study His Word and seek his guidance, I will understand his ways and know which path to follow as I walk through each day. 

My Father, God always opens up His Words when I prayerfully seek his guidance and walk in his steps. Psalm 119:133 “Establish my footsteps in Your word, And do not let any iniquity have dominion over me” reminds me to build my days on his Word and plant my life firmly in them, that nothing in this life can have dominion or rule over my life. What a joy to have this assurance!!

The 1st verse of the beautiful hymn by Mary B. Slade, "Footprints of Jesus"  says it much better than I can:

“Sweetly, Lord, have we heard Thee calling,

Come, follow Me!

And we see where Thy footprints falling

Lead us to Thee.

Refrain:

Footprints of Jesus,

That make the pathway glow;

We will follow the steps of Jesus

Where’er they go.”

Whose footprints am I following and what prints am I leaving behind?  Questions I have to ask many times each day. I know without a doubt if I will follow the footprints of Jesus wherever they lead, read and ponder His Word, my steps will be anchored in Jesus and my footprints I leave will be straight and lead others to Jesus.

Thank you Lord for being my guide, comforter and Savior. 

Amen

Frances 

 SCHOOL DAYS ARE HERE

I loved school! My brothers enjoyed school! It was an opportunity for us to have other kids to play with because we lived out in the country and had no close neighbors. By the time the school year rolled around we had played with each other all we wanted to. Of course we had church activities and friends who visited but for the most part, we just had each other, the farm and our imaginations to keep us occupied.

Back in the olden days school didn't start until the Tuesday after Labor day. It was a day I anticipated and prepared for weeks. Mama would have been sewing for many days to make me new dresses. She would have gone to Liddell's, Weatherbees, and Williams department stores to buy pretty gingham checks and plaids to make me new outfits. I always wanted to wear them before she washed them and I loved the smell of new cloth and would preen before the mirror while mama plaited my hair or tied it in pony tails thinking I had to be the best dressed girl in my class because Mama was a master seamstress.

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The shoes would have been purchased from Myers in Selma and most likely were Buster Brown lace up or had a strap. Mama and daddy didn't think loafers were a good bargain so we didn't have them. We would go to Myers and put our feet under an x-ray thing which would show the bones of our feet and tell you which size you needed. We always bought about a half size larger than we needed so we wouldn't outgrow them by Christmas. You would stand up with your new shoes on, mama would press her thumb on the toe of the shoe and if she didn't have a thumb's width at the toe we got the next half size up. We had plenty of room in our shoes to grow. You just laced them up a little tighter or pulled that strap across the instep a notch tighter so they wouldn't slip up and down. I didn't wear them out of the store because I wanted them to look brand new on the first day of school with my new dress.

My brothers didn't have to have new shoes  because most of the boys in Wilcox County Alabama didn't wear shoes to school until the 7th grade. They all went barefoot but in new jeans and knit shirts. The jeans were bought at Southern Wholesale in Selma through Mr. Leatherwood. Can't remember how we got this privilege but it sure helped out when outfitting 3 kids .

We would all five make the trip to Selma to buy our school clothes. The boys would get 6 pairs of jeans, 6 knit shirts - long and short sleeves, 6 pairs of underwear and undershirts, and a package of 6 socks. The jeans were always too long and rolled up to last all year. Sam was always difficult to get the right size for he was a skinny little rascal and they would always be too big in the waist and mama would have to put tucks in them or buy the ones with elastic in the back. I would get the underwear, cotton of course and sometimes mama could get some material to make my dresses.

I can remember those jeans smelling new and so stiff they would chafe the inside of the legs when you wore them. Mama would wash them to help but back in those days we didn't have clothes softeners so you had to wear them to break them in. They would look so handsome on the first day of school with new jeans rolled up, new knit shirts (striped of course), fresh haircuts, thanks to mama or daddy, and their new book satchels. The bare feet would be peeping out the bottom of the jeans with soles as tough as leather.

We would wait anxiously for the big, yellow bus driven by Mrs. Tubberville to appear over the little hill to our left. Hair shining, teeth brushed, clean as whistles, and jumping with excitement we waited impatiently. The bus would almost be full by our time to get on, but someone would always save us a seat. The elementary kids sat up front and the big kids in the back but there was usually no trouble for Mrs. Tubberville was tough. She didn't put up with any foolishness especially if some of the big kids were picking on a little one. She was fiercely protective of her little ones. We all loved her and she also ran our lunchroom. Except for the overcooked cabbage, the food was  good.

When we got to school we would run to our classrooms and I mean run unless you were in high school. That would not have been cool. Our teachers would be waiting on us and we would enter that room which smelled of chalk dust, paste, and little bodies. I loved that smell because it meant we were going to learn something. It was exciting, challenging and FUN. Yes we had fun! I will tell you more about that later. We knew our teachers personally and they knew each of us and our parents. If you were "from" there, they also knew your whole family for generations. It was comforting and secure.

It's sad that in some cases this is no longer true. School to us was a magical world of reading, writing and arithmetic with a caring teacher and administration. This magical world is why I became a school librarian. I wanted to be a part of this wonderful place of learning,  

Nuff Said

The Georgia Peach (transplanted from Alabama)