Madison Sanders Writes

In the South, we were raised to treat others with respect. My Mama raised me to say "Yes and No. please and thank you." Not huh. That is so disrespectful. People plan their schedules around football season. (I'm one of the rare people who doesn't like football, though). Guys (and girls) go muddin' Yes, that's how it's said. You would be slapped if you said mudding. That just wouldn't be right. Muddin' is where a group of people take their trucks and get them so dirty, you won't even recognize them or their vehicle when they come back. Sometimes, they wait to wash them because they know it will just get dirty again. We find any excuse to eat. Some people even make up reasons. For example, a job promotion calls for a dinner. If a friend comes over, it's impolite not to ask them to stay for dinner. Any holiday is a given. Every Sunday is marked off as a family dinner with all the fixin's. Fixin's is just a word that means all kinds of

For the previous edition, click here . Days passed with no response. The silence was almost deafening. "A simple thank you would be nice," she thought to herself. She dared to hope that things would change. Dominique loved him in spite of everything. It still hurt. It hurt beyond words to give love, yet get nothing in return. Out of boredom, she checked her voicemail. That unmistakable voice was on the other end. "I just called to invite you to dinner. Let me know if you can come," he said. Dominique dropped the phone as she caught her breath. Why could he not be thankful that she wrote him? The world did not revolve around him. Instead of getting anxious over nothing like she had done in the past, Dominique said a prayer. "Father, help him to see Your love for him knows no boundaries. Heal his broken heart. Help me get past my hurts so I can help others get past theirs. Show him I am not the same person I once was. Give me Your peace as I deal with this in the

I watched as Granny hung each garment on the clothesline. The sun was shining so bright I had to squint my eyes. Papa's old flannel shirts flapped in the breeze beside Granny's flowered house coats. There was something magical about that clothesline to me. I was intrigued by the simpleness of it. No whirring of the dryer. The clothes became drier as the day wore on. The next day, Granny would take her brown clothes basket to gather the clothes. One by one, she slipped the clothes pins off. It was almost as if she had her own rhythm. I stopped at the sliding glass door, lost in my own thoughts. That old clothesline had been in the backyard for years. The rough hewn posts were sturdy and solid. They told their own story, marked by the pelting rain and other elements. I hurried inside as Granny came in. I grabbed a shirt and pressed it to my face. The smell of freshly cleaned clothes was intoxicating. Now, most of us use washing machines. I still remember that clothesline and am

Blogs are filled with people from big cites, so I thought I'd give my two cents on being from a small town. Well manicured lawns dot the landscape on Benson Street. Houses with columns and graceful arches beckon you inside. Several houses make me wonder what kind of family lives behind the doors. The Pre-Fourth Extravaganza is the closest thing to a big celebration that your going to get. Oh, you might get bit by a few mosquitoes, too. My brother has always glared at me because they don't bite me for some reason. (Almost) everyone knows you and your family. This can be a good thing or a bad thing. If you need a cup of sugar, it's a good thing. If you don't won't everyone in your business, it's a bad thing. As kids, my brother and I could play outside late at night without fear of strangers because we lived out in the country. We had a few neighbors, and that was it. In a small town, you go to school with the same people from elementary school through high school

Looking through a kaliedoscope © Barbara Bar   Have you ever thought you reached a mutual understanding with someone only to realize you couldn't be more wrong? That happened to me recently, but I waited to post it because I wanted to be sure I crafted my words with care. Someone I know had made some subtly rude remarks about disabled people a few years ago. I wrote them an email, and they thanked me for telling things from my perspective. I forgave them and moved on. Fast forward to a few weeks ago. A friend of this person said they believed in helping disabled people. I couldn't believe it. It saddened me to think a friend who thought they knew what this person stood for didn't really know them at all. How can you judge someone [for their limitations]* when you are in a box yourself? I'm talking about a box that dictates what you say and to whom you say it. Be real with those around you. Don't put up a facade to impress people because your true self will

Today's Memories Rewind is going to be a little different. I'm going to share a story of mine that got published in my middle school literary magazine Da Bone . Everyone has a favorite place. I'm no different. When I think of my favorite place, a smile of warmth creeps across my face. My favorite place to be is in my room looking at the sunset. I lay there in the evening looking out my window and marveling at the sight. The sky is like a big canvas painted with colors of depth and richness. The sun is like the center of a flower with sprinkles of the finest dust inside it. The colors around the sun accentuate the whole picture. The beauty of the sight makes you feel as if you could just jump right in it. I know you may think that your room isn't a good place to view a beautiful picture, but just looking out of a window can open the door to the beginning of a wonderful imagination. Keep in mind I was in sixth grade when I wrote this. I have learned a lot about writing s

This accidently posted early(as in last week when I was editing it), so I apologize to those of you who didn't think I posted today. Those of you who faithfully read were rewarded. :) I was recently tagged by Kelly from MayShe Dream to do a Q&A post. These are questions that she made up, so this should be fun! 1. What's your favorite musical? Phantom of the Opera without a doubt. We had to watch it in my high school chorus class. I can identify with the phantom because he had facial deformity that he was mocked and taunted for. While I don't have anything wrong with my face, I've endured my share of teases and jokes from people because of my disability. I have a lot more to say about scars, but I'm saving it for a future post. 2. What's your worst fear? I guess I would have to say water. I almost drowned when I was younger, so that really scared me. I've taken swimming lessons since then, but it takes a person with patience and understanding of my disabi

School is in full swing. I've got my syllabi's and have already started working on assignments. This may sound crazy, but I always like starting back to school. Dare I say, I almost anxiously await the start of the new semester because the school work keeps my mind occupied. Otherwise, I focus too much on my pain and get down in the dumps. It's not a pretty sight, my friends. I'm excited because this semester I'm taking even more classes that pertain to my major. I'm the first Communication major at my school to be in a wheelchair, so they have had to modify the video stuff just a little. "I'm willing to work with you if you're willing to work with me," I said. I'm blessed to be at a school where my professors want to see me do well. They have went above and beyond the call of duty to help me since I've been there. (Shout out to all of my EC classmates and professors!) Things are a little different this time. I'm doing three class

Memaw went to the freezer to grab a bag of frozen peaches. The whole family looked forward to Cheek's orchard opening up so we could get a few bushels of that fruity goodness. The peaches thawed out, so I grabbed my bowl of peaches. I'm a no fuss kind of girl, so I just added a little sugar. "Grandaddy, "Do you want some vanilla ice cream with yours?" "Now, you know I've never turned down any ice cream," he said. Memaw put a few spoonfuls on top of his peaches. Soon, all of us grand kids were around the kitchen table. Somehow, everyone came running when food was involved. You didn't have to say a word. I took a spoon full, and my taste buds were on the ride of their life. Those peaches were just sweet enough, but not too sweet. Before I knew it, my bowl was almost empty. I couldn't tell if I had a stomach ache from the peaches or feeling sad because they were gone. I licked the juice off the spoon and turned up the bowl. I wasn't going t

America is obsessed with this idea of love. You know, the kind of love that is written about in Hallmark cards. This love is overflowing in the form of flowers, cards, and dinners. Guess what? This kind of love is silly compared to the kind that I’m going to tell you about. This love knows no boundaries. This love is waiting with open arms for the hurting, for the old, and for the young. This love is still available when you royally mess up. You don’t have to call a 1800 number to feel it either. Still confused? That’s okay, most people are. I’m talking about the agape love that Jesus Christ has for each of us. Yes, even for the sinners who think there is no way to get on God’s good side. I believe that love is all about perception. I may see love in a knowing smile or a silly laugh. You may see love when someone does something nice for you because they want to, not because they have to. You see, God didn’t have to sacrifice His life for us. I’m so glad He did! He could have said

Since I've had a few rough days, I thought I would cheer myself up. Having a good attitude is a choice, you know? When I'm laying in bed dealing with muscle spasms, I'm thankful for the sunshine outside my window. I'm thankful that I have two good hands to type with when my legs have to rest. I've had to refocus here recently. It's not about breaking a record when I sit in my new chair, it's about doing something . Anyone can whine about their situation, but not many do anything to change it. The breeze blowing is a welcome visitor in this sweltering heat. A funny story told by my mom makes me laugh through my tears. I have a song in my heart even when it seems like I shouldn't. My brother putting on a funny looking hat makes me smile anyway. A good book leaves me feeling refreshed and thankful for what I have. I'm not where I used to be, and I'm not where I want to be. I can say that I'm getting there with each step. Living with a disability

We woke up refreshed and ready to go. The beautiful sunrise in Panama City was beckoning us to come outside. Eli and I ran out ahead of our parents because we were on a mission. Our Mama taught us at an early age that the best seashells are found in the morning. I grabbed a rusty white pail, taking my time to pick out the most interesting ones. Eli, on the other hand, grabbed every shell in sight. "Look how many I found, Madison!" he said. I turned back for just a second. Eli swooped in with a flick of his wrist and plopped a black and white shell into his bucket. Ugh. Brothers. I moved away from him. I was going to find my own shells. I bet they would be prettier, too. I soon forgot about his mischievous ways when I found a beautiful sand dollar. "This is so cool." I muttered to myself. Afterwards, I loved to take each shell out of the bucket and let the salty water wash all the sand off. I carefully laid each one back in the bucket to dry. I couldn't wait to

I gazed at the beautiful photograph as summer-time childhood memories danced in my head. The hydrangeas contrasted beautifully with the rustic fence. The blooms were bright and full, so inviting I could almost smell them. “This bush finally had blooms about 5 years after I planted it," my friend said. "I don't know whether to say I was patient on waiting for it bloom or stubborn because I wanted to leave it planted there. Turned out nice, though." I wondered how many of us would have left the bush there for that long, when it seems like it wasn't producing. Still, she left it there because she loved the plant. Five long years had passed with no blooms, but now the plant is flourishing. The photo was beautiful, but no one saw the waiting period. That plant was getting ready to blossom in the midst of the dry spell. Anyone can marvel at the bush's beauty now; only a gardener could appreciate the process. You may be like that hydrangea,