By Gail Kittleson
On a cool, rainy April evening, excitement filled the air in our little northern Iowa town.
Bill Carlson, a member of our country church and an elementary school principal, decided to brighten the corner where he was. One token he received from a family put a smile on his face as he revved up his disc jockey skills and amplifier out in his driveway.
From our yard several blocks away, I could hear his area of town making merry, and his elderly neighbor alerted me to the “street party” going on.
Besides playing loud music for passers-by, Bill and his wife offered pizza to friends and neighbors (from a safe distance.)
Maybe this seems like a small thing, but people here are still talking about that evening.
Bill says, “My faith can be summed up by our church motto: Love God, Love People, Serve The World. Playing music and acting silly for 60 minutes was just one way I could live out my faith to others… and seeing the smiles on people’s faces and the true joy in their eyes was a sign for me that I was doing God’s will.
Gail Kittleson: Dare To Bloom became my website’s title for a reason. I’m a late bloomer, and so grateful to be blooming! My background in Teaching English as a Second Language, college expository writing, and other courses colors my fiction, as does my rural upbringing. Honoring the heroines and heroes of the Greatest Generation motivates me, while editing and facilitating writing workshops is the frosting on my proverbial cake, although I’m gluten and sugar-free.
Until Then
March 3, 1943
Bethnal Green, London’s East End
Shortly after a quarter past eight, a siren split the air. Marian Williams lifted her sleeping daughter from her bed and darted down the stairs. Her mother and father-in-law, off on air warden duty, had left the front door unlocked.
She hugged her youngest child close. The blackout made the going difficult, but her husband’s instructions echoed in her brain: “Whatever you do, get down inside the station fast as you can.”
She hoped for a spot near the canteen, with access to milk. Uneven light shone over the paved steps. Then she tripped. Her knee hit the concrete, then something bashed her left side. Someone cried out. Another blow scraped her arm on the landing floor. Where was her baby? She attempted to get up, but an even heavier weight slammed her face down. A crushing burden descended, then all went black.
Riding in the backs of Army trucks across North Africa, throughout the Sicily campaign, up the boot of Italy, and northward through France into Germany, Dorothy Woebbeking served as a surgical nurse with the 11th Evacuation Hospital.
During World War II, US Army nurses worked and slept in tents through horrific weather, endured enemy fire, and even the disdain of their own superior officers, who believed women had no place in war. But Dorothy and her comrades persevered, and their skills and upbeat attitude made a huge difference in the lives of thousands of wounded soldiers.
Dorothy and Marian’s stories converge on a simple, hand-stitched handkerchief.
http://www.gailkittleson.com/
www.facebook.com/GailKittlesonAuthor
http://amazon.com/author/gailkittleson
www.twitter.com/GailGkittleson
@GailGkittleson
@gailkittlesonauthor (Instagram)
That was an answer to pray for many people in that community. To have our spirits lifted by someone’s kindness, is a gift from God.
So true, Joyce 🙂
Absolutely–and would you believe, last Friday night, Bill held ANOTHER street party? Maybe this will become a monthly effort. This one sounds just as loud and fun as the first!