Philly Story (after the storm)

"Jay, you know I don't drink liquor. You know what it does to..."

He interrupted, "that's why I gave it to you. I have never seen you so upset. You really scared me."

Moving closer to her, he put out his hand to help her off the settee. Glancing deeply into his eyes, she turned as a tinge of emotion welled up again. He leaned in and pushed her wet bangs out of her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His grip on her shoulder electrified her and firm enough that she knew he was serious. "Come on, I'll get you into a cab. I informed your assistant that you were not feeing well and going on; she will make your apologies for an abrupt departure."

No!! she could feel herself screaming loudly, but only she could hear. Feeling her world crumble around her, she wanted to frantically grasp all the pieces and somehow hold them together.

As she stood up, she could feel the effects of the brandy. Coupled with the glass of champagne she had at the ribbon cutting, Deandra knew she would be asleep before long. As Jarvis led her out the side door of the minister's office toward a waiting taxi, she contemplated each move, each word to maneuver him out of her way.

He opened the door for her and was holding her hand to steady her inside; she resisted.

"Lemme put my stuff in first," she drawled slowly.

He complied and handed her her bags and purse. She slid them into the seat and turned to face him fully. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and in the distance behind the skyline, she could see flashes of lightening. "I miss West Texas sometimes," she sighed.

Jarvis tried to help her into the cab, smiling at her but impatience growing.

She pushed into him and kissed him. It created the desired effect, so Deandra had the opportunity to climb into the cab quickly while Jarvis recovered from shock. Closing the door, she lowered the window.

"I am sorry, too. Thanks for everything; I appreciate you calling me a cab."

"Deandra, wait! Please permit me to see you home." He tried to open the door, but she had locked it. He could see her mumbling to the driver as the window was raised. "De!!!"

The cab pulled from the curb and into the street leaving Jarvis Williams standing in the drizzle confused and angry.

"Radisson Warwick, 17th street," she said before she slouched into the seat and allowed the tears to overtake her. Deandra Shelby had worked very hard to control her emotions, to push them out of reach, but the events of the afternoon were too much. The first few months she lived in Pennsylvania, Deandra could barely go anywhere without thinking about Jay and all the pain she felt. Taking the job with the Philadephia Historical Commission was a risky move for her, but so was turning down the job just because she had some painful memories of her time with Jay.

As the cab rolled down Lombard Street, Deandra watched the sights she knew so well and struggled to compose herself.

Your thoughts only, she thought. Remember your time here.

Mitchells in the Revolutionary War

The next line I tackled was the Mitchell family. My great grandmother was Artha B Mitchell (1883 - 1977). I can barely remember her. I was ten years old when she died. She was the daughter of Francis Marion Mitchell (1855 - 1904). It is Francis's grandfather, Andrew Mitchell, Jr. (1760 - 1824) who served in the Revolutionary War. It is truly a story worthy of legend. Andrew was one of 3 sons born to Irish immigrants Andrew and Mary (McGowan) Mitchell. The young family came to the colonies in 1752. They began their journey in a Scottish - Irish community in Eastern Pennsylvania before migrating to Orange County, North Carolina. Besides the boys, Andrew and Mary had 2 daughters, Margaret and Nancy. At the time of the Revolution, my 5th great grandfather, Andrew, Jr was just starting his family. He had married Mary Tate in 1781. He was in service but took furlough to be with his ill wife. This informa...

Revolutionary War beginnigns

With the 4th of July only a couple days away, I thought I'd spend some time visiting with the family and share some of our family heritage. As the United States turns 236 years old this week, thinking about those unique ancestors who risked so much to bring about the American independence takes me back to Virginia, North / South Carolina and Maryland and the original 13 colonies. We all get so wrapped up in our lives that we forget to honor the past; or, as is often the case, families are unaware of the past. Technology opens the coffins of complacency and sweeps away the dust of indifference. I love learning about my ancestors. They are some unique individuals who lived life in another time and place but who are still present in our genetics. Think about it...........the same DNA that existed in a person 236 years ago is chronicled in my own DNA. It is almost like a message left in a bottle...........all I have to do is open the bottle. Our col...

PATIENCE Heard a devotional this morning about patience from Women of Faith . Patience is one of those characteristics many of us feel we need to improve. From the word "macrothumia" meaning long fuse. There are two Greek words that lie behind the word “patience” that is used in the English New Testament. The word used here in Galatians 5:22 is macrothumia. It’s from two words thumia from the root thumos. Thumos most commonly is translated “anger.” It originally carried the idea of a violent movement of air, of water, or a violent movement in the ground or in animals or even humans. It carried the idea of something that boils up. Or something that goes up in smoke. I really believe women have the ability to be inspiring. A Christian woman can truly inspire others with patience, forgiveness and kindness. To me, these qualities help support and encourage others around me. I am struggling with the possibility that my not being promoted is a personality difference with...

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