Electric or Gas and Change

I am an electric girl--twice over. My father started an electrical contracting company when I was a child and my husband is now president of the company. Until we moved into our current residence, I never had gas heat or gas anything.

I've always been told it's efficient and warm and cheap (gas---cheap?---not any more!-- but I digress). Last night the evening news showed a house that was blown to smithereens in a gas explosion, killing a one year old little girl and severely burning her parents. That house was less than 10 miles from my own.

The most heinous aspect of this tragedy is that our local natural gas company and fire departments were called to investigate a gas odor in the area and their meters (along with their own noses {I'm guessing here}) were unable to detect a leak, therefore no evacuations were ordered resulting in the drastic altering of three lives in a split second.

Admittedly, there are similar horrors relayed on each evening's news, but the fact that my own little infant granddaughter was sleeping in the house behind ours made this particularly difficult to hear. I thought of how protective we all feel about her--how hard we work to ensure that to the best of our ability she is safe--physically and otherwise. I am confident that the little girl who died last night had parents who felt the same way. They were in their own home going about their own routine when everything changed.

Change. It's a word I keep hearing repeated as political candidates make promises that are in all probability inflated and impossible. It's something that sounds appealing because we associate it with "better," yet in the case I've mentioned above, it's anything but.

I hope anyone who stumbles across this blog will remember to pray for the family affected by the explosion -- two burned parents and one dead child. And when you do, remember that change is not always good and doesn't always result in a desirable outcome. As my son-in-law would say, "I'm just sayin.'" ©

Blessings and Beggars

Today I am thankful for many things, not the least of which is the ability to get out of bed to enjoy the glorious spring-like summer morning we've been blessed with today in the usually sultry south.

As I was praying earlier, recollection of an event from yesterday tumbled into my thoughts and disturbed my prayer.

While meeting a friend in an uptown parking lot who wanted to share bags of hand-me-downs for sweet Ava Grace, we were approached by a beggar who quickly spun an implausible yarn about his hard luck and needing $35.00 for a bus ticket to Davidson. My immediate reaction was anger--this guy was taking us for fools who were gullible enough to think his ridiculous tale was true. I told him that I didn't carry cash, only a debit card so I was unable to help-- and my friend chimed in saying, "yeah, me too."

He stomped away, obviously as disbelieving of me as I was of him.

This morning, I have imagined a different outcome and regretted my reply. I wish I could turn back the hands of time and do and say what I should have done and said. No, I'm not certain I would have given him money, but I think I would have engaged him in further conversation--hopefully directing him to the help he actually needed.

Maybe he was mentally ill, strung out on drugs, or otherwise incapable of understanding what I think I should have shared--but irregardless, I know if God ever allows me to be in that situation again, I think--no I HOPE-- I will respond differently.

Why? Because it occurs to me this morning that I'm a beggar too--and apart from God's mercy, I have nothing. Lord, thank you for giving me another day and for forgiving me another failure.©