“She Never Believed In Angels Until….”

She never believed in angels until one stood in front of her but this angel had no wings, there was no bright light, it was just a simple man dressed plain.

A thin man in a white linen suit she thought, wearing a white fedora with a black band wrapping the crown, his shoes being brown she remembered.   His clothes fit the season, spring.   He said, hello Pam, and her heart nearly stopped but before she spoke, He says don’t be afraid I’ve known you for a very long time, I’m an old friend, you’ll remember me by the time we finish our walk, shall we?

She again try’s to find words and the man speaks so gently; “I remember when you were five, it was Christmas, you received a Raggedy Ann doll didn’t you, you cried after pulling off her button eyes, your mom sewed them back on”.  She gasps, how do you know this, who are you, and this man again says I know you, all about you, shall we continue our walk?

Her heart pounding but not fearful she continues this walk speaking about her life, He listens.  At the end of the walk and with the sun sinking into the sea, the man turns to ask her one question – “if you had only one minute to live, one person to call, who would it be, what would you say, why are you waiting?”

As she thought about her response the thin man took her hand, she sees His scars and discovered her answer.

VinceS

Kevin McDonald lives in Washington State and provided the title “She Never Believed In Angels Until…” which inspired me to write this story. Hope you enjoyed reading it.

THE PRISONER

It’s cold, space small, no window, time passes

Questions spiral through my mind

Reflections of life, habits, questions not asked, stories not told

Gate keeper arrives, doesn’t speak

Leaves food and water at the door

Now I know time of day

Very tired, bed of stone, body aches, block out pain, won’t cry

I think it’s raining, room now cooler, no blanket

No pen, no paper, no book, only thought, must live

Room is silent except my thoughts

I hear my heart, feel my breath, want a bath, no shoes

Gate keeper peeks through key hole

Don’t cry, bones broken, can’t surrender, I pray

Days pass, lose count, but alive

Days more, don’t know

First day of dawn comes, blinding

Friendly touch, how simple can’t explain

Laughter, explosive and welcome

My spirit never broken

Forgotten not

Now free

I with new shoes!

VinceS

“WE” is “ME” flipped upside down!

“Assemble many people like “ME” believing in a common goal, and collectively and collaboratively “WE” will change the world”.

Remember this - "A TEAM is a group of individual contributors who collaborate together toward a common goal".

A quarterback leads his team, a blocker protects his quarterback, the receiver catches a ball. Each person on a team has an individual skill and task to do, but they collaborate together to collectively reach a common goal. Touchdown!

So get comfortable speaking about your individual skills & achievements in the first person. The people who matter most want to know what you’ve accomplished, what you can do, what value you bring ……. they’re hiring you for the job!

“It ain’t bragging if you can back it up!”

Vince Stewart

"I'm an American Baseball Player"

This story is written by my 12 year old nephew and it's presented exactly as Michael wrote it during his English class.


"I am from a baseball bat from Wilson, Easton and Rawlings.

I am from wood carved of oak or pine with a shiny finish.

It is smooth with a natural color.

I am from the Georgia pine tree, the root runs deep, sturdy, flexible, but very strong.

I am  from Thanksgiving Dressing that Grandma Sylvia makes, athletic from John, southern from Ava, strong as well as proud from Pawpaw David.

I'm from the outdoors, stand for right, love Jesus, never give up, and work your hardest.

From the lies I was told not to tell and to always do your best, never give up, and pray.

I'm from God. He has helped me get where I am today.

I'm from the Royal Stuarts of Scotland and the non-royal Wein's.

Yes, Scottish ancestry of fight and Southern ancestry of pride run through my veins.

From the family stories Grandma Stewart tells; the strenght, love, and steadfast hand of her and you can see in a pile of office photos that she loves me.

I am Michale.

I am from the red dirt found on a baseball diamond scattered across Georgia.

I am an American baseball player."

Michael W.
Age 12
March 2013

“I AM THE SOUTH”

I’m a culture of people established and confirmed in strength; a land of hills and valleys, bayous, gulf streams and blue skies, I’m like no other.  I am the South.

See my Spanish moss swaying in the breeze from timeless oak trees, reflections bouncing off black bayou waters; you’ll not notice where the sky ends or the earth begins.

I went to war and found compassion; weeping for fifty thousand spirits that lie still on grassy fields where a hundred thousand brothers stood opposed; a battle of civil rights we would fight and still fight for a century more; ‘til the back bone of segregation had broken.

You’ll sit on my white sand beaches and watch the sun melt into the gulf; as the moon rises and bashfully hides his face behind a cloud, you may hear a whippoorwill singing the blues or listen to a train whining low near midnight, perhaps see a fallen star light up my dark purple skies.

And when you fall for me I’ll blush in hues of red, orange, yellow, and plum. Rome jealous of my coliseums known as Bryant-Denny, Swamp, and Death Valley; where gladiators’ roll in on a Crimson Tide, greeted by Seminoles, Tigers, and Volunteers. Under blue skies these warriors step onto green fields, equal; to be judged only by their character; where victory and loss are received with a handshake and smile.

I roll with thunder of a thousand horses; when younger my path was red stone carving through blue-ridge Mountains as blue grass bent in my breeze. Today I roll across earth black as coal through towns called Charlotte, Darlington, Talladega; at paces that step us back to a childhood dream.

I’m a muse; heard in music halls, street corners, and churches; called country, gospel, blues, and jazz. You’ll listen to the tenor in my voice as I tell stories of journeys old and young from cities and towns without pride or prejudice.  It’s an ensemble you welcome to a marriage; hear in a childs laughter; recording moments in time. 

I’ve risen from the ashes like a Phoenix, embracing a steadfast love for our beliefs, way of life, and declaration of who we are; I am the South. 

VinceS

Rusty

James Russell Wilson, his family just called him “Rusty”, as did his friends.

Rusty loved people and working was a pleasure for him.  His greatest outdoor love was anything to do with yard work; mowing the lawn, raking leaves, or chopping wood.

Rusty always loved his family but his love for his mom was unconditional from childhood to adult hood.

Rusty always liked a watch, his boots, and his wallet containing a few nickels, dimes, and dollars. 

Rusty always had a smile on his face and did not allow his physical challanges to handicap his life.

Easter time is so precious and our family is so happy to know the Lord called Rusty home – Holy Thursday five Easter’s ago. 

Rusty, you are missed.

VinceS

Stepping Out - Don't Look Back

As I travel through life I expected life to toss me a few lemons; instead life threw stones.  I took these stones and built a road which I now stand above.  Jesus give me the faith to step forward, the strength not to look back, and the courage not to fear what I do not know.  My dear Jesus, thank You for loving me, Amen.
VinceS