for 24 SEP 05: T.B.S.

(BLOGGER'S NOTE: You may find this humorous, serious, or a little of both - but from time to time, we offer things to reflect upon as we keep the seventh-day Sabbath.)

I worked for more than 11 years at one section of T.B.S. in Atlanta -- Turner Broadcasting System. Yes, I met Ted Turner a couple of times. I even saw him with Jane Fonda -- and one time, even with their dogs in a hallway. But that's another story....

In fact, I worked at the Techwood Drive "mansion" near Georgia Tech when I began in 1984. This allowed me the privilege of occasionally sharing a Thursday night commissary line with pro wrestling manager Jimmy Hart - who somehow was never as loud-mouthed there as he was on TV.

But over those years, I developed another meaning for those letters - one which was brought home to me anew this past week. T.B.S. can mean "Trials Build Strength."

The trials in Atlanta could be numerous -- from two years on an overnight shift, to roommates who ran up big bills they couldn't pay, to romantic opportunities which didn't pan out. But I believed in something Ted Turner really doesn't think he hast: a God who could help me through them, and teach me lessons from them.

This week brought probably my biggest health trial since I moved to Columbus [20 Sep]. I'm thankful first of all to be able to type this entry -- because the blow to my head (really both front and back) could have been hard enough to kill me.
Besides, I have no batting helmets to wear to bed....

I'm also thankful that God is able to heal a weakened body like mine. As a believer in the power of prayer and fasting, I'd scheduled a 24-hour fast for Tuesday night to Wednesday night. I admittedly wasn't sure how long I could go -- but I went ahead, and ended feeling better than when I started. A lack of food improves supermodels' bodies, after all.

To carefully get back to normal, I did some walking at a gym Wednesday evening. Then Thursday morning, I was able to cautiously jog nearly one-and-a-half miles non-stop. I chose not to cross the Dillingham Street Bridge into Phenix City - just to be sure I didn't become seasick.

My health as I write this stands at about 95 percent of normal. My food seems to be digesting and processing normally again. And late Thursday night, I actually dared to do something fellow church members would not - I ate some of my own
brownies.

(I say I'm "95 percent" of normal because my equilibrium still isn't quite, well, equal. I can feel something in my head spin when I make a sudden turn. So please don't do that juvenile tap-the-other-shoulder trick to me for awhile....)

So I've learned several things since my close call of early Monday. God truly has strengthened me, more and faster than I could have expected. And when friends see my damaged forehead and ask what happened, I learn how many people are NOT regular blog readers.

A deep thanks to all of you who expressed concern about my health this past week. May you learn the T.B.S. principle as well -- only not the way I did early Monday. I wouldn't wish that on one of Jimmy Hart's bad-guy cheating wrestlers....

BLOG CORRECTION: We're now told the FEMA and Red Cross payments we mentioned Friday have gone directly to hurricane evacuees at The Ralston - NOT to the apartment building or its management. So the manager might want to take some of her new friends to Victoryland in that van, too....

COMING SUNDAY: Fuel's out, school's out.... or Panic at the Pump II....

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