A Crack in the Ceiling: A Memoir of Life Lessons & Other Teachings

By Brenda A. Gates Holt

What if you secretly felt like God shortchanged you in some way or another and all your turns were predestined to be crooked ones? People around you talk about their purpose, passion, and giftedness, and you have yet to fill in the blanks. Maybe you grew up in an adverse environment that mangled and muddied your hopes and dreams. Perhaps you earnestly intended to break loose and break free but were too afraid to get out of the cage because a lion was guarding the door, and now lurking fears have immobilized you. Yes, you pray, attend church services, give, and do other things that may count as good stuff, but there is no fire in your bones, no passion in your praying, or peace in your soul; and that once upon a time inexplicable joy took a hike a long time ago. You know that there is a gulf between you and God, but you hesitate to discuss it with Him.
Here’s inspiration for anyone feeling like they are stuck in neutral, in too deep or never had a chance in the first place. The author weaves compelling life stories into life lessons that we can all benefit from, especially if you struggle with staying on track, grappling with your past, familial upbringing and getting to the root of where you are out of sync spiritually and your walk with God. You’ll read how He can speak to us in glowing terms of nature or as simply as a crack in the ceiling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LifeRich Publishing
• Release date: Sep 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9781489748829

Brenda A. Gates Holt

Mrs. Holt lives with her husband in South Carolina. She is a proud mother and joyous grandmother. She holds a M. Ed from Charleston Southern University and is a retired elementary school teacher. Her love of writing came before her love of teaching. Now the two have come together in this book. She is passionate about inspiring and educating children, motivating the unlikely hero, and helping others, especially during challenging times. When Mrs. Holt is not enthralled in her writing, she enjoys time with family and friends, long walks, good music, reading and the awesomeness of nature.

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Copyright © 2023 Brenda A. Gates Holt.

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ISBN: 978-1-4897-4883-6 (sc)

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2023915168

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 09/18/2023

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CONTENTS

Preface

Introduction

Chapter 1 A Crack in the Ceiling

Chapter 2 The Start of Something

Chapter 3 The Angels near the Train tracks

Chapter 4 A Good Name

Chapter 5 Drowning Sorrows

Chapter 6 Putting Down Stones

Chapter 7 Imperishable Riches

Chapter 8 Standing in the Gap when You Don’t Want To

Chapter 9 The Party and the Pain

Chapter 10 God Bless the Children

Chapter 11 Flying Solo

Chapter 12 This Bird Has a Broken Wing

Chapter 13 The Meeting

Chapter 14 The Process

Chapter 15 The Steady Diet

Chapter 16 Rough Spots in the Road

Chapter 17 The Façade

Chapter 18 Raising them Right

Chapter 19 That Kind of Pride

Chapter 20 He Knows Me and Yet He Loves Me

Chapter 21 Too Heavy for Me

Chapter 22 Changing Seasons in Due Time

Chapter 23 Twilight

Chapter 24 Struggle Makes You Stronger

We all have areas of our lives that we get a bit dismissive about. Things that for now, we deem not that big of a deal. However, we realize that at some point, and for whatever reason, while we wait, look away, or anything synonymous with get distracted, our little areas are no longer so little anymore. The small crack in the ceiling has seemingly spidered out overnight. Now what? Can this be fixed? If we wait, might some foundational issue give way and come crushing through? What if I get caught in the avalanche? How do I dig my way out? How do I ever get back up again?

His name is Jesus. I pray his Spirit permeates these pages and penetrates your heart.

DEDICATION%20IMG.jpeg

I dedicate this book to the memory of my maternal grandmother, Mrs. Maebell Eppinger Gates, who loved God.

But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither

have entered in the heart of man, the things which God

hath prepared for them that love him.

- I Corinthians 2:9 (KJV)

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Be still and know that I am God.

—Psalm 47:10 (KJV)

PREFACE

I’ve always enjoyed writing, just for the sake of writing. It’s a passionate yet therapeutic thing for me. At times, it’s an outlet for my outlandish imagination or a place to pencil down my thoughts, whether brimming with delight, aching with sorrow, or seething with anger. Getting out my journal; my laptop; and even some years back, my typewriter brought healing to my heart and settled my thoughts. Sometimes I’d go back and read something I wrote months earlier, and I’d barely remember the words that had gushed out of my mind. When I finally got up the courage to share some of my more serious work with friends, I was frequently encouraged to publish. I so wanted to share my soul’s groaning and the things that God was teaching me in hopes that perhaps someone else could be helped. But that old fear thing would partner up with its trusted friend procrastination, and the words got shelved, my mind pivoted, and time passed on—until now.

It has taken me more years than I’d care to reveal to even dare to do this thing that I’ve always wanted to. Dearest friends have urged me to get on with sharing my unveiled passion. Charlotte, you were the first one to read my manuscript and give me an honest opinion. Barb, you rarely spoke to me without asking how I was progressing with my writing. Linda, you did the same, sometimes without even saying a word. I could almost feel you thinking, now when are you going to get on with your writing? Georgeanna, God brought you into my life at just the right time to give me the final push. I am so blessed to have friends like you.

My dear Aunt Roberta, as the last surviving sibling of my mother, I owe you a debt of gratitude that I can never repay for all you have shared of our family history. Our many conversations brought clarity to much of what I had already heard and revelations I had not imagined. Your perspective has been invaluable. Your love of history and clear recollections of people, events, and places have left me in awe. Without those conversations, there would be large gaps in this book. Thank you for encouraging, supporting, praying for, and most of all, loving me through all kinds of weather. I am humbled and deeply grateful that God saw fit to give me the opportunity to be blessed by your wisdom. You are a true matriarch. It is with great love that I hope, along with my grandmother, you are honored with every word.

Thank you to my children. You are all a gift from God. The thought of you still inspires my heart and motivates me to keep going. I know you all have your own stories to tell in your own words, which will truly help so many people. You have blessed me with the most amazing grandchildren—ever! They ignite a joy and vigor in me that is unexplainable, and their innocent little faces keep my heart brimming with joy.

Finally, I want to thank my patient husband, Lamar. You recognized my tendency to get fired up, get distracted, sputter, and repeat the cycle. You didn’t mind making a not-so-subtle nuisance of yourself because you wanted me to feel the joy of having completed this project. My acting annoyed that you’d dare ask about this again didn’t faze you a bit. You have always believed in and gave me more credit than I gave myself. Thank you for your prayers, advice, and tenderness during the rough times that came while I worked to complete this manuscript. I am so blessed by your motivating words, strength, and persistence, but mostly your love.

INTRODUCTION

Heart lessons transform. They go deep enough to challenge your perspective, fertilize your soul, and resurrect the best of you. Educators of children travel heart roads. They aim to teach from the heart. I’ve had the privilege of journeying alongside many protégés from a long lineage of educators. They had the art flowing through their very veins. They were fueled with the passion to make a real difference. They were perfectly at home in front of classrooms. They thrived on interacting with students, the educational community, and all its intricacies, as they answered their calls and pursued their lives’ work.

For me, the idea of becoming a teacher held no such appeal. It didn’t stir any longing in my heart or incite any ambitious notions to even be part of all the endless raucous. The volunteer work I did in schools was solely and shamelessly to benefit my own children. I simply wanted it to be clear and certain that I was not shoving my children off to the educational system and washing my hands of them until two thirty or three in the afternoon. I intended for those teachers up there in that school to know that I would be present, involved, and willing to roll up my sleeves and dig in with them. My children were the very heart of me.

Well, this little excursion of volunteering in the schools was supposed to be just about my children. Those other children had their own parents and caregivers, so they were responsible for their own kids. However, something happened in my heart as I took care of my own. I was fueled by those other children, and a real and genuine love, which I couldn’t humanly explain, grew. I had not given birth to them, but they gave birth to me, stole my heart, and set ablaze a path that I would never forget.

As a mom, it was unconsciously easy for me to relate to children. An unintended intrigue began brewing when I started volunteering to read to classes on a regular basis. When I entered the doorway of their classrooms, I’d notice how the children perked up and commanded my attention. Then they’d erupt into raucous applause. The overgrown kid in me came out to play, and I couldn’t wait to mesmerize my awaiting audience. I looked forward to their laughter at my outlandish expressions, their hanging onto my every word—often in imitative voices even I barely recognized—and then their precious moans and groans of disappointment when the story ended. I had to press my way to the door to make my dramatic exit.

Summarily, I reasoned that this little knack that I had with these kids might prove to be quite a profitable thing for my family. So, I decided to go back to college, become a teacher myself, and really be resourceful in the education of my own children. I figured that these teacher hours would still allow me to have the flexibility and availability I needed, which was the reason I was a stay-at-home mom in the first place. Also, summers off meant I’d be free of the encumbrances of school while enjoying time with my family. Besides, I was already spending a grand part of my days at the school, so I embarked on this new journey.

Thankfully and by His grace, I was admitted to Charleston Southern University’s school of education. I was even able to transfer credits from over seventeen years earlier, impress my instructors as a future teacher, and ultimately graduate quite honorably. Yes, I had it all figured out.

I was employed immediately after graduation. It wasn’t long until the art of teaching had me firmly gripped in its clutches. Surprisingly, I really loved teaching and initially had some misplaced guilt about getting paid for a job so fulfilling. Admittedly, that notion was short lived.

The hours proved to be not so ideal. They were long, arduous, and unpredictable. Because they were crammed with endless preparations, plans, meetings, classes, and whip-lashing changes in the education system, even through the summer months, there was little time to watch the hands of the clock sprint to the end of the teaching day. The wheels of my mind were in perpetual motion, searching for innovative ways to be more effective, reach more kids, leave none behind, and daily strive to give my students exactly what I would want for my own children. By now, it felt like they were all my own children.

Time management loomed large. Every time I thought I had fine-tuned my procedures, they would get thwarted by a new demand. Being faced each year with little elementary faces staring back at me and knowing that many of them were ill prepared or not at all kept me fervently raiding my arsenal of tools and that of others to decipher the intricate layers and build and/or rebuild a core that was insufficient at best. It takes a lot of time to address those inadequacies if being effective matters to you. It very deeply did to me. I found myself scrambling to prioritize my own family. Sleep deprivation was an occupational hazard that wouldn’t be tamed. The thing is that I never expected to even want to embrace the art of teaching, but it embraced me back so passionately