6 minute read
Once Upon a Time
from March 2020
28 // March 2020 by Bridget Gray
Bridget Gray is a native Roman & received her BA in English from the University of West Georgia in 2002. A self-professed “book nerd”, Bridget enjoys roaming through Barnes & Noble in her rare free time. Bridget & her family (husband Jarrett & daughters Carter & Avery) attend LIFE Church. About The Author “M ama, just one more story…”
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“Grandmother, will you tell me a bedtime story?” “Nana, will you tell me a story about when I was a baby or when my mama was a little?”
When I was a little girl, I used to LOVE to hear stories. My Nana used to sit with me on her front porch swing, and we would spend hours swinging in the summer breeze. I used to ask her, “Nana, tell me a story about a long time ago.” She often would tell me the story of how her house used to sit somewhere else, but that it was moved to its current location. But in her version of the story, she was a little girl and had been playing with her dolls and just looked out the window one day and the house was going down the road— with her inside—almost like Dorothy, sitting in her house while the tornado picked it up on her way to Oz! It was years before I realized Nana had made that part up.
Nana would also read to us from old nursey rhymes or the old Dr. Seuss books. What I didn’t realize as a little child, though, was that Nana was improvising half of the story to make it “more fun.” Evidently, I’d go home and ask my parents to read me the same story, but my comment was always, “That’s not how Nana told it!”
My Grandmother Moore relied more on the old faithful stories—Goldilocks and the Three Bears, The Three Little Pigs, and The Billy Goats Gruff. Whenever I spent the night with her, I would always sleep in her bed, and I just couldn’t even consider going to sleep without hearing a story from her. When Grandmother told the story, though, the Big Bad Wolf wasn’t so bad. The Billy Goats weren’t so gruff. Her sweet little voice made, “I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down” sound like nothing more than a little tease, not a ferocious threat.
And now, it’s my turn. My two blonde-headed little girls absolutely LOVE their story time at night. If you need leverage to get them to clean their room, threaten to take their bedtime story away. Cue the crocodile tears. Our nightly bedtime story routine is more than just sharing my love of books with them. It’s more than just entertaining them or getting them to wind down. It’s spending those few special minutes with them when you have their complete, undivided attention. They hang onto every word. Often, after turning the lights off, I hear, “Will you tell me a story about when you were little?” These are the moments to share those special stories about grandparents they only know through stories. And guess what? Those stories—the ones about the people they love, even though they have never met them— those stories are the ones that they ask for over and over.
Epiphany: The AHA! Moment
by Angie Bishop
Do you ever have that moment where you go, “Aha!”? Today as I was making my bed, thinking of my husband who passed away exactly one year ago on this day, I reflected back to a few years past when I was making my bed then. So often, when I’d return home from a long day’s work and running the kids here and there, getting this and that errand done, along with all the other tasks we moms and wives have, I’d run into my house and expect perfection! After all, my husband stayed home all day due to his illness.
Needless to say, and much to my own hopes and dreams’ getting crushed, the walls were not shining, floors were not glowing, dinner wasn’t always cooked, and my bed, when made, wasn’t made the way I’d do it. Heck, sometimes it didn’t even look like he tried! This frustrated me until one day, that aha moment took over and I vowed to myself I’d let those frustrations go because I was struck with the realization that changed the rest of our story as we knew it.
Oftentimes, even though my husband was sick, on his good days, I’d complain about the lack of help. Nag! But in
my small task of making my bed that day, I realized that one day, he wouldn’t be here for me to miss the way he did or didn’t do things. It softened my heart and helped me to extend grace and keep my mouth shut instead of unloading frustration on him. It made me aware of what’s really important: him, and time with him. It wasn’t about the little things that don’t matter or how I obsessed over having things done just right or my way!
If you’re married, this is for you. I get not all marriages happen for the right reasons—therefore, not all marriages last—but if yours happened for the right reasons and your intent was to spend a lifetime with the person God gave you, then pay attention. Marriage isn’t perfect. In fact, it’s hard! Even in good marriages, there are just reasons to call it quits. I had several reasons I could have walked out on mine, but I had one reason to stay: LOVE. Agape love for my soul mate! The deepest and highest form of unconditional love. The kind our Father in Heaven has for us. That kind of love helped me grow into the wife God ¬¬intended me to be. It taught me grace was better than my grumpy attitude and helped us survive through the hard times. If you have a spouse and you find yourself finding more faults in him than all the good you once saw and you’re constantly nagging and complaining, step back and assess! You may have an epiphany like I did. Ask yourself what’s important: the way he “makes a bed,” or him? Allow that aha moment to be a reset, letting it show you how to extend grace. Make every day count with each other. Life comes and goes so quickly, and you want no regrets in the end!
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