"When is the right time to introduce my girlfriend/boyfriend to my kids?" is a question single parents frequently ask.
The little town where Mama grew up was so small that, whenever there was a funeral, any child who wanted could leave school to attend. The church bell would ring and teachers would announce, "If you are attending the funeral today, you may leave now." Mama, whose career goal at age 10 or 12, was to be a "funeral home lady," never missed an opportunity to show respect, express condolences and observe the tricks of the trade.
After a steady stream of requests, Hal and Adam Waters have expanded their moving and storage operation to include large portable storage containers.
This past Sunday, our choir sang a beautiful rendition of Psalm 139, and I was truly touched by its powerful words. While some may say it is a psalm of lament or sorrow, I want to say it is a psalm of great comfort.
I really can't help it, this thing I have about words. This fascination with their power, this wonder at their flexibility, this compulsion to string them together into necklaces of sound and rhythm that sway around my neck as I walk. The way they feel spilling out of my mouth, puffs and bursts of air shaped by throat and teeth and tongue. The way they look on a page, black lines and squiggles that stand at attention, but only barely so. There is nothing quite so magical as the read, the written, the spoken word.
It's never too early for hype, and the Georgia Southern Eagles already have plenty of that.
We have been watching the construction at the Statesboro Mall for months now, anxiously awaiting the "new" Belk to open. According to Darrell Williams, manager of corporate communications for Belk, Inc., building is almost complete and a move-in date has been established.
I think it would be difficult to overstate the importance of setting a good example. If we have someone to follow in life who is willing to show us how to live, who understands the importance of doing the best job possible in everything, we have a much greater chance of being the best we can be of being what God wants us to be.
It was in the late summer of 1973 when a major change happened in the United States - and I'm not talking about Watergate. Prior to the "happening," gas prices were around 40 cents a gallon, a dozen eggs cost some 45 cents, the average salary was approximately 13,000 dollars a year, and a new house could run you $32,500. Then OPEC shut down its production and oil prices escalated 200 percent! Talk about overnight inflation!
Q: In your book on 2-year-olds, you recommend reading to a child from early on. My problem is that every time I attempt to read to my 16-month-old son he grabs the book away, closes it, or wants to flip the pages himself. If I try to take it back from him, the battle is on, one that I do not wish to engage in. I am an avid reader, and I had hoped to instill a love of reading in him as well. I certainly don't want to make reading an unpleasant experience for him. I'm sure ...
Nobody wants to go out with a loss.
The month of June seared the pages of 2011 with gusto, breaking record-holding temperatures along much of the east coast. Don't let the premature heat get you down; technically, it's not even summer yet! Celebrate some of these cool holidays with your family; make warm memories with loved ones, and enjoy every moment of the summer season.
I am genuinely tired of having to report news symptomatic of our economic woes, but yet again, I must. As many of you know, a member of our restaurant community closed their doors last week.
I went out early to go running. The grass was still damp with dew that did nothing to disguise the drought. Even at 7:30, the sun was already high enough to bounce off my bare shoulders with warmth like a toaster oven. I twisted the ear buds to my iPod into my ears; maybe the sound of someone else's voice, instead of my thoughts, would induce some sort of runner's zen state.
A journalist called me the other day wanting me to make some pithy, erudite comments on the subject of the so-called "stepfamily." I am eminently qualified, I propose, to remark on the subject because I was raised in one, although it was not called a stepfamily back then. We were a family: me, my mother, my stepfather, and their two children. We weren't really any different than any other family, at least as far as I could tell. He was my stepfather, but I called him "Dad." And by the way, my other father, the one I saw in ...
The local, as in Savannah, public radio station is off the air right now as a result of damage from a lightning storm. Without the voices of Steve Inskeep and David Greene and - since it's October and the Supreme Court is in session - Nina Totenberg igniting the pilot light of my brain, I have been left to entertain myself as I perform my morning ablutions. So I sing.
As a surgical oncologist focused on treating breast cancer, I see daily how devastating a breast cancer diagnosis can be. But I also see daily how new and often cutting-edge treatments give women the hope and courage they need to help manage or overcome the physical, mental and emotional challenges of breast cancer, and in many cases, beat the disease altogether.