Family, Short Stories

Bad Hair Day

What do you do when you experience a bad hair day? It can really get you off to a bad start unless you have access to a lot of attractive caps or hats. Ladies, it may not be a bad idea to keep an affordable easy care wig on your closet shelf.                                                        

Pam Ford Davis

This is a true experience about my worst hair day. It all began with a routine home perm. In my mid teens I had frequent perms done by my mom. My perms started when just a toddler with a Tonette. I had no reason to believe this hair treatment would have different results than all the rest.

She did the perm and then I rolled my hair on rollers for the night. The next morning I got dressed for school and began to style my hair. Something went terribly wrong! I could hardly get a brush or comb through my hair! It seemed to Mom that she must have got the perm solution and neutralizer switched. My hair was fried!      

 How could I go to school looking like a freak? I know Mom felt terrible. I stood before the bathroom mirror crying and trying to do something, anything with my hair. I remember nothing about going to school that day. I could not hide forever. I remember getting it cut very short, soon after and rolling it on very small rollers, which created a cute style. It eventually grew out.

My hair is not the issue. Dad is the highlight of the incident. That morning before school as I stood before the mirror crying, Dad came up behind me and started brushing my hair. He really understood the way I felt and did the only thing he knew to help; he brushed my hair. He did not have a magic touch; my hair still looked terrible. Yet, I knew that my Dad cared. That is what every daughter needs most. It does not take away all the problems of life; it does take the sting out of the wounds.          

Moms are usually there to help girls with their hair, clothes and makeup. In a pinch a tender hearted Dad can really make a difference, maybe not noticeable on the outside, but in your heart where it really counts!

Short Stories

Planting Time For Joshua

“Planting Time For Joshua”

Pam Ford Davis

Gardening is always pure joy to Joshua; and he eagerly looks forward to planting time. From the first day he walked in the garden area, he knew he found the right spot! He saw potential! “Maybe it is dry and barren land now, but just wait until I work that soil!”     

A back yard gardener or farmer working the back forty all go through the same steps, and face the same trials. The spring of the year, a time of new beginnings is anticipated; but it can not be rushed. The land must be warm enough to germinate the seed. Waiting does not mean idleness; there are lots of preparations to be made.      

Joshua rose early and went outside just as the sun was rising. The land belonged to his father and he would not bring shame to the family name. Daddy would be proud of him! This would be turned into fertile land! He rolled up his sleeves and got ready to till the property. The job kept him busy for days. Hard dirt needed lots of turning over; and he kept at the job until he felt like he walked in fine sand!      

The days became warmer and Joshua saw his first robin. Spring finally arrived! He spread fertilizer across the garden, and then tilled it all again. The land almost begged for seeds! In his mind Joshua could see a harvest already before him; but it would take many weeks before he could see much to brag about. The planting showed his patience as he slowly walked back and forth scattering the seed. He did not want to miss any places by doing a rush job.  

The seeds were all planted; he stepped back and sighed, in feelings of relief that he completed his task, as well as a sigh of pride. Only others who plant can truly understand the satisfaction of Joshua. He did his best; now the land needed showers and sunshine. He would wait for both.    

During the growing season neighbors watched the progress of Joshua’s garden. Some were truly interested in his stories about insects, weeds, rains, or drought. Others could not understand why he went to all that trouble!  Joshua just smiled and walked down each row in the field, giving personal inspection to each plant.      

Harvest time arrived and Joshua won blue ribbons for the fruit of his field. We are that field! Our lives were broken by His tender hands, making us teachable. The Lord Jesus planted His word and warmth of love in our hearts. He fertilized with His Holy Spirit and refreshed with showers of His living water. He firmly pulled weeds of sin and fought off insects of defeat to present us unblemished to His Father, the vinedresser. (John 15:1) Like Father, like Son…Let’s keep it all in the family, and plant the seed of His word in our own back yards!

Family, Short Stories

I Am Safe

Pam Ford Davis

I’m not afraid of the darkness; are you? I know I am safe in here; my mommy and daddy love me and they wouldn’t let anything hurt me. It is like a game; I see shadows and try to imagine what they might be! I can make them anything I decide, because it is my own private game.

One of my very favorite ways to pass time in the darkness is listening to all the noises outside. When it is late at night and everyone one is very still I hear lots of exciting sounds. The sounds I like the best are laughing and music! I kick my feet and wave my arms;  I am so happy!

I’m moving around in the darkness now, trying to find the way out. I think I have almost found my door.  I need to push it open. Yes, it is opening now! The light hurts my eyes; it will take a little while to adjust to such brightness.

Now that I am out of the darkness I can hear that laughter even better; maybe I’ll hear the music, too! The Dr. just wrapped me in a blanket and laid me in the arms of my mother. Yes, that is Mommy! I know her heart beat! She is laughing as Daddy grabs my fingers! This is even better than my games alone in the darkness. Mommy is humming and rocking me in her arms, just like she used to do when walking. Each time she did that before, in the darkness she made me rock and sway! “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so…” The light brought me closer to the laughter and music; and I can see Mommy and Daddy! I already know Jesus; he showed me the way to the door…

Christian Growth, Short Stories

Tradition Transgressions

I leave early for Sunday morning worship service. Punctuality patterns began as a child. 

Father and Mother would not excuse tardiness.


 The two mile drive takes only five minutes. I’m one of the first to arrive, and park at the front of the historic Church building. My car is in show-room condition.

Pam Ford Davis

Father believed in regular maintenance for all motor vehicles. Prevention saves costly repairs. My 1980 sedan may be outdated, but it serves me well.

Locking the car and stepping up to the handicap ramp, I grip the safety rails and shuffle to double mahogany doors. My arthritic hand reaches for the brass door handle. Autumn morning temperatures are evident by the cold brass against my flesh.

 Wish ladies still wore gloves. We’ve lost so many of our cherished traditions. Mother never went to town without her hat and gloves.


“Good Morning Sister Robinson,” said the church custodian.


“Expecting early frost, weather man said.”

“I do hope my shrubbery won’t die. Such pretty blooms this Indian Summer.”


I quietly move from the vestibule to the worship center.

Good, sanctuary is empty. Soon it will be full of noisy children ignored by their gossiping mothers.  

Muffled sounds of singing voices capture my attention. The choir meets in an adjacent room.


Don’t recognize that one. Probably another long praise chorus.  Guess the old hymns aren’t good enough anymore.  


I glance at my wrist watch through bifocals squinting to see the time.

Bible Study should be about finished.


I do a wide visual sweep of the stately room.

Father and Mother donated such beautiful stained glass windows. New carpet color clashes. Nobody cares. Father always sat here, then Mother between us…


Looking at my watch again, I realized ten minutes passed. People filled the sanctuary and the organist played reverently.

“Nice to see you this morning, Ms. Robinson.”


The pastor motioned to a large number of people.

“Right this way.”

“Ms. Robinson, sure you won’t mind. I want these people to have this front pew. They are here to see our baptismal service and need the space. You can sit anywhere.”

This is my seat! I’ve sat here for eighty years! What gall!


He takes me by the arm and quickly lifts me to my feet. Stepping aside I feel faint. A long line of people find seats in the pew my family claimed decades before. With little choice I reluctantly find another place.

Knew that young pastor didn’t belong here. Hmph! Just wait till he wants a big donation!


Our worship hour begins with the baptismal service. Two large families are represented in the congregation to see their children take the step of obedience.

Remember my baptism.

Music fills time until the pastor steps up to the pulpit.

“Today we have seen a beautiful example of children’s simple faith. I hope and pray their parents will lead them in coming years to grow in that faith to strong Christian adults. Join me in the reading of Ephesians 6 verses 1- 3. I’ll be reading today from the traditional King James version.”

Surprises me he’d choose King James.

“Children, obey your parents in the Lord; for this is right. Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise; That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth.”

The pastor said, “I chose this as my opening text to honor a very special lady among us. She has applied these commandments to her life. Ms. Robinson also gave up her usual seat to visitors for our baptismal service. Can we get her to stand?”

Waves of applause filled the sanctuary. A young man beside me helped me up and smiled at me as if I were his own cherished grandmother.


Oh, Lord…


“Johnny, bring her up front.”

My escort took my quivering arm and directed me to the altar.

“Church, this fine lady always honored her parents. She gave up an opportunity to teach in a large prestigious university, in order to assist her mom and dad as their health declined. She later refused to place them in a nursing home and cared for them herself until their passing. Each Christmas and Easter she places flowers in our sanctuary to honor them. Gideon Bibles are also given in their memory. Ms. Robinson you are the living proof of our Bible reading.”

He tenderly kisses my forehead, whispering “I love you.”

How could I have been so selfish?


“Thank you Pastor.”