Teresa's Treasures

On November 21, 2016, my FB status read: "Day 33 with bronchitis. Three Dr's appointments, 2 cough meds, 1 steroid shot, 1 Z-Pak, 1 inhaler and 2 antihistamines. Please pray for me." Last night standing in my utility room doing laundry, breathing Purex laundry detergent, Downey UN-scented softener, Seventh Generation, Lavender scent detergent, that all-too-memorable tickling, drainage, and cough started again. I know the symptoms all too well, which means I know what is to come; and today it did. I am sick. Out of bed at 3:00 a.m. to cough, so Phil could stay asleep. To the recliner covered up with the electric throw like my momma had years ago. (God love her. How I miss her!)  Thermometer in mouth to see if flu instead. (No it isn't. Thank-you, Lord!) Two cups of Throat Coat. (Not bad for the first time trying it.) Leggings and sweatshirt on to add warmth to the gown, plus five-year-old houseshoes that I should have thrown away years ago. (I hate going barefoot. H

Where was God in the late-night hours of October 1, 2017, in Las Vegas, Nevada? He was in the man who became a human shield to protect someone else in harm's way. He was in the man who opened the door to the freezer truck, who said to those fleeing, "It's safe, come in here." He was in the men who loaned their trucks to transport the injured to a nearby hospital. He was in the nurses and doctors who after working all day returned to work all night without complaining.  He was in the veterans who yelled out, "I'm a trained veteran, what can I do." He was in the person who compressed the leg of the complete stranger to keep him from bleeding out. He was in the medic who was off-duty but did CPR for eight minutes only to see the man die in his arms. He was in the hand of the man at Motel 6 who opened his door to those escaping Mandalay Bay with nowhere to go. He was in the one who grabbed an abandoned phone so if in case the owner call