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WRITE 2 THE HEART
Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart"
September 14, 2004
Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator @ write2theheart.com
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Mother’s of young children know what a luxury privacy is. A
closed door is always an invitation to visit. I can remember a little
voice wailing beside a closed and locked bathroom door,
“Mamma, what are you doing in there?”
The Price of Privacy
By Pamela Jenkins
The couple who built our home twenty-five years ago chose
some very unusual door fixtures for the bedrooms and baths. They
are antique now and almost impossible to replace. This hasn't
posed much of a problem until today.
The doorknob to our bedroom door doesn't work very well. It
must be stripped inside, because the handle will turn around and
around before it finally gets a grip and opens the door. At times,
the knob simply comes off in our hands. Still, we learned to live
with this minor annoyance until we just couldn't use the doorknob
anymore.
My husband removed the knobs on both sides of the door this
week. He took them to the local hardware stores and lumber yards,
but he wasn't able to find replacements for them. They're out of
production, he was told. So there the knobs sit, still on the seat of
his pickup truck.
This morning I was getting ready for work, and here came Erin
and Austin. If I'm ever trying to put on my makeup, get dressed or
iron my clothes, there I find my little darlings. The children were
underfoot and zipping around, bouncing on and off the bed in a
vigorous game of tag-me-if-you-can.
So, like every morning, I tell the little ones to hustle out of the
room and leave me alone. But this morning I added, "And shut the
door..." Oops! Too late, I couldn't take the words back before the
kids ran, giggling, out into the hallway.
Slam. Click. I was locked in.
I looked at the door, thinking, I'm locked in this bedroom with
no way to get that door open. But then again, the little ones are
locked out and won't be able to bother me.
I wasn't very concerned about my imprisonment, though. My
bedroom has patio doors that lead to the outside. They are seldom
used, but they offered an avenue of escape. I was glad that I
wouldn't have to climb through the impossibly tall and skinny
windows. I could just let myself out the glass doors and walk
around to the front of the house. I wasn't worried about a stuck
bedroom door.
As I stood wondering what my children were up to at the
moment, I heard voices from the hallway. A tiny finger was
feeling out the hole that the missing doorknobs had left. A hushed
voice said, "Look what you did!"
Another whispered voice answered, "I didn't do it! And
besides, you made me!"
"You are in so much trouble."
"Mom's going to be mad."
Then I heard my teenager telling the little ones to get away
from the door and leave Mom alone while she's getting ready for
work. Knowing that the small ones were being watched by the
older kids gave me peace of mind.
I was laughing as I stepped into the bathroom and ran the water
to wash my hair. Later, when I came out of the bathroom and
turned to face my mirror, I was surprised to hear a little voice
behind me say, "Hi, Mom."
I whirled in surprise to see Erin was sitting on the bed waiting
for me.
I asked, "How did you get in here? I thought the door was
stuck."
She told me that her younger brother had been very upset that
Mama was trapped on the other side of that door. Austin had taken
some of Dad's tools and worked on that door until he got it open.
Locking Mom in her room must have really been worrying my son,
as he knows that Dad's tools are off limits to little hands.
This evening, my husband repaired the bedroom door with
hardware that he removed from my closet door. All is back to
normal now.
That is, unless the kids lock me in my closet tomorrow.
Pamela Jenkins
bunnies-n-birds @ juno.com
Pamela Jenkins lives on a farm in Oklahoma with her husband
of twenty-four years and their four children. She is the office
manager for a veterinary clinic and enjoys writing in her spare
time. She is a contributing author to Chocolate for a Woman's
Soul, Chicken Soup for the Grandparent's Soul and Chicken Soup
for the Fisherman's Soul.
You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know
what you think of their story. Have a comment on today's story?
Send it to: moderator @ write2theheart.com
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Letters From Our Readers
Michelle’s story hit home. I’m afraid I make quick judgments
of other people based on outer appearances. I’m embarrassed to
say I have looked at people and decided I knew everything I
needed to know about them based on how they looked and dressed.
I will try to keep in mind from now on that I don’t know what that
person may have gone through or be going through. I’m glad God
judges by what is inside.
Lindsey
Military Prayer Reminder
As you read over this list of names, please take a moment to
pray for these young people and their families:
Chris Speir
Tim Speir
Alan
Todd Holland
Graham
William
Julie Sagel
Jessie
Marshal Thompson
Jason
Eric Hernandez
Kristin Danielson
Ken Prieur
Ryan
Larry Miele
Daniel
Amy
John
Joanne
Gary Boardwine
Josh
Hadassah
Chanz Wackerly
Robert Henderson
David Habighurst
Please continue to pray for our country, our leaders, and
our troops at this time. If you have loved ones in the military,
or who are being called to go overseas, send their names
(first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer
reminder.
Cheryl’s Corner
Tim had an overnight pass last Saturday. All of the family
gathered in my backyard for a cookout. While we smoked chicken,
the grandsons played in a swimming pool and a blow-up
trampoline.
After eating everyone came in the house and mellowed out.
That really means that everyone overate and couldn’t move for a
while. Aaron got up and announced that there would be a Speir
brother meeting in the backyard. The girls and I laughed at them.
We know they are going outside to play their guitars and help each
other with music they are working on. All brothers went outside
except Jeremy who wasn’t here.
Youngest son Jeremy had followed his heart to Colorado two
weeks ago. It turned out to be a bigger adventure than he had
anticipated. The funds he had planned on using to return home was
delayed, so he ended up having to stay there for a week longer than
anticipated.
He came home yesterday with tales of having seen his first
snow capped mountain, and told his dad that their next motorcycle
trip should be out west to visit Pike’s Peak. David got that gleam in
his eye that told us he was taking this suggestion seriously.
Now as I sign off, it is to prepare for hurricane Ivan. Everything
in the yard has to be picked up and stored so that the wind won’t
use these objects as missiles to crash through someone’s window.
David wants to board up the house and drive toward Arkansas. I
want to wait and see. It’s so hard to anticipate where these storms
will hit. If you don’t hear from me Thursday, it will probably mean
we have lost power.
Cheryl
Copyright © 2004, Write 2 the Heart
Nothing may be reproduced or published without
the written permission of the individual author or
copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.
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