Where I’m From

I am from far and distant shores of giant oceans, balmy winds, and hot summer nights, from Little Women, Charlotte’s Web, Hans Christen Andersen, and The Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe story books and The Blue Angels Aerobatic Team practicing overhead and the sonic booms caused by the Military planes flying past.

I am from the mountains higher up than my head can see from below, winding roads and car sickness filled weekend travels never knowing when or where we would end up.

From strict military housing, spic and span walls and floors, quarter bounce test on the beds after being made and sliding down the hallways on freshly waxed floors knowing full well my mom was loving that we were having a good time.

I am from the tomato fields as far as one can see, watermelon picked fresh and eaten for after dinner dessert and grapes overhead growing complete with snakes sneering from above, the sassafras plants that my mom made us tea from and sugar cane we sucked straight from the stalks.  Rotten tomato fights in the fields across the road.

I am from moma’s banana pudding, fruit cakes being made and stored from October until Christmas, my daddy’s (whom everyone knew as “Blackie”) fish fry with the Statler Bros., The Oak Ridge Boys, and The Imperials all throughout the summers passed. I’m from Revivals that lasted not just three days, or a week, but for two full weeks; and when someone got saved there was a big celebration!

I’m from hand-sewn clothing well into my teens, barbie doll clothes my mother made, marching majorettes from one parade to another, ironing stiff Marine Corps uniforms and the wonderful smell of starch as it touches the hot iron.

I’m from Homer Lee King, Marion Wilson King and William Alan Poole, Phoebe Poole, and Viola A Poole.

I am from a line of women who can do anything when they set their minds to it and men who fought in Wars and fought fires to serve their country and protect their families and family time that was truly QUALITY time!

From the Cherokee nation and gypsies traveling the country and bootleggers making moonshine to help make ends meet.

I am from the Southern Baptist community and remember most Riverside Baptist Church where I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Saviour when I was 14 years old. Where the baptistry was below the preacher’s pulpit and The Lord’s Supper was like a major Christmas sale at Walmart. Where it seemed like every Sunday there was a good enough reason to have ”Dinner on the grounds” and the food was phenomenal!

I am from Beaufort, SC; Greenville, SC; and somewhere in Tennessee where the mountains meet the sky and the Cherokee Indians chant their prayers. I’m from homemade peach ice cream and fried chicken with gravy and biscuits.

From my grandmother’s beaded necklaces and my mother’s button jar; I’m sown from the stitches in time and the flicker of the many flames in my mother and father’s hearts.  I’ve been touched with God’s mighty hand like a piece of clay beneath the potter’s wheel to become,

Where I’m From.

©Nancy King – 2008

You Are Royalty

I have been working really hard on putting the past behind me, letting go of all the heartache I’ve gone through and all the mistakes I’ve made.  I always make myself feel guilty about how things turned out. Not good results, oh no, it’s much too hard to give myself some praise, and oh. so. easy. to be hard on myself when I’ve fallen or come short of the ideas of what I think I should be. I’m learning that I am okay and I am good enough to accept my mistakes because mistakes are what made me who I am. I was telling much of this to my friend and below is what she wrote back to me and I LOVE it!!

We need to see ourselves as that regal princess, traveling in that regal coach… Head held high…. And as the horses prance, we feel the joy of life… But when those horses come to the mud puddle… We don’t stomp about and complain…

We need to keep being that regal princess, same beautiful composure, just lift the skirt, and take one step at a time to extricate ourselves from the mud.

Keep taking the steps you’re walking, keep choosing to walk in Torah in your personal walk, in your family’s walk, in your community walk, in your public walk. They are all pictures of love.. All Princess footsteps. Then we get the ultimate glass slippers!!

 Ephesians 6:10-18 says,

For the rest, my brothers, be strong in the Master and in the mightiness of His strength. Put on the complete armor of Elohim, for you to have power to stand against the schemes of the devil.

Because we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against authorities, against the world-rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual matters of wickedness in the heavenlies. Because of this, take up the complete Armor of Elohim, so that you have power to withstand in the wicked day and having done all to stand.

Stand, then, having girded your waist with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having fitted your feet with the preparation of the Good News of peace; above all, having taken up the shield of belief with which you shall have power to quench all the burning arrows of the wicked one.

Take also the helmet of deliverance, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of Elohim, praying at all times, with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, watching in all perseverance and supplication for all the set- apart ones; also for me, that a word might be given to me in the opening of my mouth, to be bold in making known the secret of the Good News, for which I am an envoy in chains, that in it I might speak boldly, as I should speak.

The Night

The night was dark and cold, rain was pouring down and the drops seemed like swords hitting the windshield. I was driving as fast as I could, semi trucks surrounding me, pulling me in their path. I was at school and work all day and so tired when I got home.


Then the messages one after the other; my sister said on the other end, “call me, call me, we’ve got to get down there, call me!” I called and got the news, I knew she’d been sick, I was there with her in the past two weeks. She looked like death, the smell was putrid and horrifying.

The only way I could get the image of her sickness was to think of her from what I’d always known. My mom always had this wonderful scent about her, I can still smell it today. All the times I think of her, I can smell her. Her favorite flowers were African Violets, her daddy named her after Violets, his favorite flower, but she penned Viola as her name. The name suited her well. I let the thoughts of my childhood illuminate in my mind so I never have to 
see her pale and sickly body again.

I love my mom’s smile and the way her eyes would shimmer when she laughed, there’s just something about her face that always makes me feel warm inside. I was driving to that image, that smile and the shimmering in her eyes, I smelled her, all to familiar scent, all the way home to her. Little did I know, two weeks before that night would be the last time I would see my mom alive. I had a completeness with my mom.

I spent most of my life longing for her approval and for her to tell me that, finally, she was proud of me and two days before her passing she said those words to me…”I love you Nancy, I’m really proud of you and the way you made it through college and raising Kelsey.” Sometimes I think my very breath was hinging on those words. I wanted so much to do right by my mom, my dad too but he’s long been gone from this earth.