Daisies & Thistles: Fellow Travelers on Life’s Journey

By Betty Street

God may have placed someone in your life to guide you toward his purpose—a family member, friend, or acquaintance who inspired or connected you with someone who influenced your decisions. In moments of crisis, unseen angels may have surrounded and protected you. Betty’s biographical account describes those relationships as divine appointments.

Remarkable stories are shared so that your interest may be piqued in the supernatural, recognizing the fact that we are not alone. God is always near, lovingly guiding us along life’s journey.

Fleeting, temporary, and lifelong acquaintances cross our paths. Some encourage us onward by instilling wisdom and advice. Others inflict pain, trap us, and are in need of forgiveness. Choosing bitterness keeps us stuck on that path. Forgiveness offers freedom and moves us forward. Inviting Jesus to walk with us allows us to be forgiven and enables us to forgive others and ourselves. Ultimately, God places people on our path for a purpose.

Do you recognize people on your own path who fit this criteria? If so, it is a definitive moment for you. Leave your troubles with God, and trust him completely. Celebrate the easy roads, and learn from rocky trails. Then give thanks to God and give him all the praise.

This book is meant to encourage you to view your life from a new perspective. Since the Lord is our loving, forgiving, and protective God, Betty suggests that you observe every incident that you have with other people and determine God’s part in it. You may encounter a divine appointment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781973661108

Betty Street

Betty’s career spanned 29 years consisting of Drafting and Computer Graphic Design. Photography has been an interest as well. Betty was married to Dean for 53 years, raising two daughters together. Upon retirement, she began writing books for her grandchildren where they were the main characters of the stories. It resulted in publishing an instruction book. She self-published several books, recording family stories and photos; concluding with pictures and the history of her ancestors. Today she is living in an apartment for senior living, near her daughter. She enjoys spending time with Louise, her husband, and two grandchildren. She also likes visiting her second daughter and husband who live in a neighboring state.

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Copyright © 2019 Betty Street.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervvan

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are taken from the King James Version.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN: 978-1-9736-6109-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-6108-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-6110-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019904975

WestBow Press rev. date: 05/09/2019

Contents

Introduction

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Child’s Path

Chapter Two

Teen’s Path

Chapter Three

Married Path

Chapter Four

Parents’ Path

Chapter Five

Empty Nest Path

Chapter Six

Widow’s Path

Conclusion

Plan of Salvation

Introduction

It has been noted that life is a jumble of coincidences. However, evidence recorded here proves something quite different. God deliberately arranged for people to cross my path, which ultimately influenced the direction of my life.

My perspective changed when I realized, we are a product of those who either inspired or those who injured us. I refer to them as Daisies and Thistles.

²⁷ The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’ ²⁸ ‘An enemy did this,’ he replied. Matthew 13:27-28 New International Version

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Jesus said, I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. John 8:12 NIV

One might wonder, "What was God’s purpose for each person in my life? Time after time He introduced me to someone and it was up to me to interact, use wisdom, and set boundaries. God’s purpose may not have been known at the time, but one thing I do know; when I yielded to God and His Word, remarkable things happened.

God’s Word is a road map to the Right Path. We are to stay on His Path. It is reliable, tells the truth, and is never wrong.

In all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:6 NIV

Every prayer we pray, every gift we give, every sacrifice we make, and every step of faith we take is a legacy for the next generation. Our prayers live on in their lives long after we leave this earth.

My life’s journey is recorded here to glorify God and give Him all of the praise thus leaving a gift to the next generation. It is meant to give those who follow after me the opportunity to have the joy and peace of knowing Jesus Christ.

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth. Worship the LORD with gladness; come before Him with joyful songs. Know that the LORD is God. It is He who made us, and we are his, we are his people, Psalm 100 NIV

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Tomorrow’s plans I do not know.

I only know this minute;

But He will say, "This is the way,

By faith now walk ye in it."

What need to worry then, or fret?

The God who gave His Son

Holds all my moments in His hand

And gives them, one by one.

Taken from the poem, Step by Step by Barbara C. Ryberg

Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path. Psalm 119:105 NIV

Acknowledgements

This book could not have been written without the support of my family; Daughters Nicole and Louise and their husbands Wayne and Tom; my grandchildren Beth and Jacob. They are an integral part of my life and I thank them for allowing me to tell a part of their story.

I am forever grateful for the support and editing from my sister Melody. Also, the ideas and encouragement from my sister Jane. They both have allowed me to tell part of their stories. Our lives have been interwoven from the very beginning of our life’s journey.

My life has been filled with interesting, humorous, wise, strong, loving, ethical, and a few hurtful people. I give thanks to God for all of them, because I am the result of each person’s contribution. I truly believe that God put people on my path for a reason.

The following stories paint colorful and sometimes dark pictures – I describe them as Daisies and Thistles.

Chapter One

Child’s Path

C ome with me as we travel back to the very beginning. Hopefully, you will recognize that my birth family has had the most significant impact on my life. God had a purpose when He created six unique personalities that shaped my family. Hopefully, you will appreciate how God created and guided this mismatched collection.

You wouldn’t think that a meager family, living in a basement apartment, was anything special. But they were perfect for me. Daddy had been working out of town when he was told to get home quickly. The time had come for my birth. As he rushed toward the house, he could hear me squalling. He was late. The first thing he noticed as he walked into the room was my sister Melody standing quietly in her crib. She burst into tears when she saw him. He picked her up, carried her over, and introduced her to her new baby sister. She had no idea that we would become inseparable, friends.

Today I realize my childhood was privileged compared to the lives of my current friends. It was hard to believe that Angie, while living in a southern state, picked cotton as one of her tasks. Daisy lived in the far north where snow covered the ground most of the winter. She lived on a farm and had countless chores to do. Neither one of my friends had much spare time to play.

Two other friends grew up in Britain during World War II and shared their stories. At the age of six, they were living in large cities. Each remembers being required to hide in air raid shelters when the alarm sounded. Liz was required to carry a gas mask to school. When the bombing raids increased, Edith’s parents sent her to the country to live with strangers. Both heard planes flying overhead, bombs dropping and felt the ground shaking. The city was devastated after the war. Buildings were damaged, and jobs and food were scarce. It took several years to recover. My friends had a traumatic childhood.

Today, I’m embarrassed to tell you about my growing up years because I was fortunate compared to what they suffered. It’s the difference between living in a dream or a nightmare. Nevertheless, each one of these women turned to God for help and peace that only He can give. Strange as it may seem, I also depended on God for support. That’s what my stories are all about; God’s guiding hand.

PLAYTIME

At first, we didn’t know what to do with the shiny new tricycles from our grandparents, so Mama had to show us how to ride them. We were proud of ourselves when we finally caught on. Every week we peddled circles around the driveway. After we grew tired of the same old thing, we pretended to be circus clowns and performed for Mama and Daddy. The more outlandish the stunt was, the more attention we got. After all, Mama always did call us little monkeys.

Mama gasped as I stood on my tricycle seat. With a big grin on my face, this four-year-old let go of the handlebars and said, Look at me, Mama. Copying my sister Melody turned out to be great fun. Three-year-old Jane began to climb onto her trike. Mama rushed over to catch her, but by the time she got there, Jane was balancing just fine.

Our tricycles were not forgotten when it was cold outside. The pent-up energy had to go somewhere, so we rode them inside the house. We also were kept busy with coloring books that had pictures of cute animals and storybook characters. There may have been a few disputes, but for the most part, my sisters and I played well together.

When we were older, we played with jacks, jumped rope, and cut out paper dolls. We spent our ten-cent allowance at the dime store and wandered through the neighborhood looking for the next adventure.

A Mulberry tree grew at the edge of our yard, and some of its branches hung over the neighbors’ yard. Every summer, we hollered back and forth with the neighbor kids, arguing, The Mulberry tree belongs to us. But there was never a conclusion. My mouth waters at the thought of Mulberries floating in a bowl of cream and sugar.

What can we do today? The question was asked by my sisters, the kids next door and me. We sounded like The Little Rascals from a movie we had seen. Bart opened the garage door and saw a bundle of wood planks. He found a hammer and some nails. Soon we were piecing together a frame. Then a doorway. Then a roof. Finally, our clubhouse was finished. The structure was shaky, and we were afraid to go inside. Oh well, it was time for supper. We all went home satisfied with a productive day. I often wonder who was elected to dismantle the so-called building.

Summer called for roller skating up and down the sidewalk. Races usually followed. In that day, we clamped our roller skates on the bottom of our shoes. A key was used to tighten them securely. It was frustrating when they got loose because I would have to stop and tighten them, fearing I would lose a race.

Several kids joined in the fun when we played typical games of that era: Hide-and-go-Seek, Softball, Kick the Can, and Mother May I.

After my siblings and I were finished reading ten-cent comic books, we stacked them in the red wagon. Comic books for sale or trade, we announced while hauling them through the neighborhood. We usually got back home with something new to read.

Mother used a whistle to call us home for dinner. Each of us had a different sequence. It reminds me of a movie where the father used a pipe to call his children.

It was the dead of winter, cold outside with sidewalks covered in snow. My sisters and I carried roller skates to the warm basement, put them on our shoes and tightened them with a key. Then we began skating in circles around the open space. I’m getting bored with this. There must be something more exciting to do, I whined. But Daddy had an idea. We stood and watched as he gathered long pieces of wood from a shelf. Then he propped one end on a box and found a soapbox for a step. We knew what to do. I climbed onto the top and rolled down the new ramp. Over and over again we skated down the slope, competing with who could go the fastest. Whee. Our bundle of energy was put to good use, and Mama and Daddy went about their work undisturbed. It kept us busy for hours. Adrenalin rush, excitement, laughter, and competition all rolled up into one.

When mounds of snow filled the yard, my siblings and I built a snowman. We had the most fun when we made a fort, and the neighbors built one in their yard facing ours. I don’t know who threw the first one, but wild snowball fights followed. There were no winners; it was just plain fun. We laid down on the ground, swung our arms and legs and made snow angels. We played until we were to frozen to continue. I was miserable trying to get warm after being out in the cold for so long. Prickly pain spread through my feet as I held them in front of the heat register. It must have been worth it because the very next day I was out playing in the snow again.

Daddy owned a Design Drafting business and worked out of the basement. Sometimes he let me use a small drafting board and T-square. I drew pictures trying to mimic Daddy. It’s what sparked my desire to become a draftsman one day.

Jane thought it was her duty to tell Mama when she saw me doing something wrong. I don’t know if she was being a tattle-tale or trying to protect me, but it got me out of some tight spots. I’ve always been able to count on her to be there as my friend and supporter.

I had been begging for quite a while when Mama said I was finally old enough to use her sewing machine. With my dime allowance, I walked a couple of blocks to a dime store and picked out some lovely fabric. I asked the clerk, Please cut each piece four and a half inches long. At home, doll dresses of my design were cut out and sewn together. They didn’t even resemble dresses, but this little girl thought they were perfect. However, the seed was planted and grew into a sewing ministry decades later.

One summer day I coaxed a few of the kids to allow me to teach them how to embroider. A makeshift crate provided our shade. My favorite design was of a Mexican wearing a sombrero, sitting beside a tall Socorro cactus plant. It didn’t take very long before they grew tired and scattered elsewhere to play. But, a seed was planted and developed into a teaching ministry years later.

MY PARENTS

Europe had been engaged in war with the Germans. Then, Japan bombed our troops at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii; December 7, 1941. President Roosevelt immediately declared war which meant the United States would send troops to fight and defend Europe and our Nation. World War II had begun for the United States.

Daddy had moved to Canonton and was working at a factory that built military equipment for the war. He told Mama to pack our things, buy train tickets, and join him.

The clanging train pulled into the station, reminding me of a charging rhinoceros. I clung to Mama as my sisters and I joined the crowd who were clamoring to board the railroad car. A smiling conductor took my hand and helped me up the steps. That’s when I knew I would be okay. As the miles flew by, I made every excuse I could think of to be allowed to go the restroom. I was restless and bored. My sisters and I had fun stopping at the water fountain for a drink. At 8 o’clock the conductor pulled down a bunk from the ceiling of the Pullman car. We put on our flannel pajamas and climbed up the ladder into bed. I knew it was time to go to sleep when the conductor pulled a maroon curtain across the opening. I heard people walking down the aisle, so I peeked through a crack in the curtain to see what they were doing. The clacking of the wheels of the train finally lulled me to sleep.

When we arrived at the depot in Cannonton, I searched for Daddy in the crowd of people and jumped up and down when I finally saw him. We found ourselves living in a motel for a couple of days until Daddy found a permanent home. Melody, Jane and I sat on a suitcase while Daddy took a photo. Later Mama pasted it in the family picture album.

My parents sheltered me from the horrors of war, but two memories come to mind. I was afraid when I heard loud sirens, announcing air-raid drills. Mama rushed around the house covering the windows with black roller shades. She said it was to keep the enemy from finding us. The second memory was when our family took a cousin to the airport. Daddy said, Buddy is going off to war. We watched as he picked up a duffle bag and walked into the black night. I thought he was marching onto the battlefield, but he was