There are times that I feel down and out. We all have had that feeling – paying more attention to a small trouble than giving thanks for what we have. There is usually something that snaps you out of it but sometimes the feeling just lingers.
For me, sitting in the waiting room at the Kirklin Clinic in Birmingham is therapeutic magic. You see the Kirklin boasts seven-hundred physicians in thirty-five specialties and is most times the last ditch effort for those seriously ill. Within minutes my seemingly small problems just meld away.
The University of Alabama in Birmingham has gained fame for being among the best there is at what they do. Their clinics are becoming more and more crowded with those who have been everywhere else and have no where else to go. I watch those desperate souls and want to drop to my knees and yell out loud “Thank you God for the healthy life you have given me.” I highly recommend their waiting rooms for a quick pick-me-up.
Today I found yet another reason to thank my creator for little things. I went to Catoma Creek in western Montgomery to look for fossils. I packed my rather large forty-four pistol in a bandolier scabbard in case that I might run into problems. I think the huge cannon of a pistol is more of a show saying that I am packing so leave me alone. You see, west Montgomery is known for its crime.
When I arrived at the creek I found only families fishing and enjoying a holiday away from work. No one caught many fish but all enjoyed the sunshine and relaxing sound of water over the falls. My fourteen year old Chevy was most likely the fanciest vehicle parked on the hill. The gentle jeering and laughter and the noises of children playing cast a joyful glee along the creek. I left my hardware in the truck and I found only honest, hard working folk who were enjoying what they could afford to do. My biggest problem was explaining that several million years ago this area was a beach and I was out there picking up the fossils of animals that lived in the sea. I’m sure that they thought “You just ain’t right.”
The hardest lesson of reality came when I started home and found that my truck was overheating. I stopped at a service station on the corner of Old Hayneville Road and the Western Bypass. The store was small and sported burglar bars on every opening. I felt that I was the only Caucasian in fifteen miles. I took interest in the young man out front selling incense. The “guard” on the door finally let me in and mercifully I found my gallon of anti-freeze. I stood in line to pay and listened to the most wonderful and down to earth folks talking and joking amongst each other. One young man counted his pennies and bought three cigarettes. Mind you – not three packs of cigarettes but three cigarettes
I felt guilty paying for my anti-freeze with a twenty dollar bill and went on my way. As I drove home I found myself once again saying “Thank you God for the life you have given me.”
For me, sitting in the waiting room at the Kirklin Clinic in Birmingham is therapeutic magic. You see the Kirklin boasts seven-hundred physicians in thirty-five specialties and is most times the last ditch effort for those seriously ill. Within minutes my seemingly small problems just meld away.
The University of Alabama in Birmingham has gained fame for being among the best there is at what they do. Their clinics are becoming more and more crowded with those who have been everywhere else and have no where else to go. I watch those desperate souls and want to drop to my knees and yell out loud “Thank you God for the healthy life you have given me.” I highly recommend their waiting rooms for a quick pick-me-up.
Today I found yet another reason to thank my creator for little things. I went to Catoma Creek in western Montgomery to look for fossils. I packed my rather large forty-four pistol in a bandolier scabbard in case that I might run into problems. I think the huge cannon of a pistol is more of a show saying that I am packing so leave me alone. You see, west Montgomery is known for its crime.
When I arrived at the creek I found only families fishing and enjoying a holiday away from work. No one caught many fish but all enjoyed the sunshine and relaxing sound of water over the falls. My fourteen year old Chevy was most likely the fanciest vehicle parked on the hill. The gentle jeering and laughter and the noises of children playing cast a joyful glee along the creek. I left my hardware in the truck and I found only honest, hard working folk who were enjoying what they could afford to do. My biggest problem was explaining that several million years ago this area was a beach and I was out there picking up the fossils of animals that lived in the sea. I’m sure that they thought “You just ain’t right.”
The hardest lesson of reality came when I started home and found that my truck was overheating. I stopped at a service station on the corner of Old Hayneville Road and the Western Bypass. The store was small and sported burglar bars on every opening. I felt that I was the only Caucasian in fifteen miles. I took interest in the young man out front selling incense. The “guard” on the door finally let me in and mercifully I found my gallon of anti-freeze. I stood in line to pay and listened to the most wonderful and down to earth folks talking and joking amongst each other. One young man counted his pennies and bought three cigarettes. Mind you – not three packs of cigarettes but three cigarettes
I felt guilty paying for my anti-freeze with a twenty dollar bill and went on my way. As I drove home I found myself once again saying “Thank you God for the life you have given me.”
