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An inspirational book from Linda Wallace
The pictures and stories in this book span generations. The collection will awaken your
memories of people who have loved you! The stories encompass
true life experiences of love, encouragement, and perseverance. Following each
story is a Bible reference that exemplifies the story’s message and brings
God’s wisdom to your very soul.
Dear Ruby Mae
Mama, I cried for you tonight. I didn’t know why at first, but then I remembered when you would rub my
back with lotion. I was so little then. My blond pigtails would touch the floor, when I lay on your lap. Your
fingers were always warm. Sometimes, I’d hear your voice singing softly to me floating on the air.I loved holding your arm and helping you up the stairs. You’ll have your knee replacement operation soon. You walk much slower now. I don’t have to run to catch up with you. I don’t have to do what you tell me to do. But it’s funny, I still do. In fact, sometimes I surprise myself because I hear your words coming out of my mouth. Words I said I’d never use. But it’s funny, they seem right, now!
I think it’s your hair that fascinates me most. It’s so fine and white. It’s hard for me to see you differently. I feel the same. You should be the same, but when you drag your left leg, and I see the bow in your back, I picture two five gallon buckets filled with milk in each hand. I hear you say, “Grab hold. Lindy. Diane, you get the other side. Help me carry this milk to the separator.” In the early morning air, the three of us labor toward the house from the barn. I often remember seeing the steam rise from the buckets and our breath float out into the brisk air.
We laugh as we walk and you tell us stories about when you were a little girl.
One of my favorite stories happened when you were six. You and your sister walked home from school down an old country road. You had walked about two miles and were getting tired. All of a sudden a snake slithered across the road. You screamed at the top of your lungs and Aunt Dena had to carry you the rest of the way home. Aunt Dena was only three years older than you. I could see you jumping on my aunts’ back, crying your head off. Aunt Dena, who was pretty skinny then, carried you another mile home.
Now the buckets are gone. The separator is rust, and your back is round. You smile, when you look at me all grown up. I feel your love warming me all over. Your advice is always heard. I know you think I’m not listening, but I do hear you . . . every once in a while, like a whisper in the wind!
