Beverly Joy Roberts

For the past 15 years, I have led a weekly book club at my church.  At each meeting we gather together to discuss just a portion of the book and this leads to the sharing of personal stories.  Did I tell you this Book Club is all ladies?   That's a lot of story telling in one hour. In book club a few years ago, we read, The Story Keeper .  This  story revealed the responsibility each of us has to keep our stories alive by entrusting them to the next generation.  And in so doing, we make them the story keepers .   While reading this book, I became a bit nostalgic as I thought of the stories my parents entrusted to me.   My father told us about things from his childhood, how he met my mother, some of his youthful mischief, that the words “I Love You” are not to be given away to just anyone but saved for the one you will marry.  He told us when he accepted Jesus as his Savior and about his passion to someday be a missionary.  He made his five children Story Keepers.   My mo

I got me a winner! It's not too late to stop reading.  You are about to enter the embarrassing Beverly Roberts Story Zone.  You've been warned.   Blush.   When I was 15 years old, I threw all decorum to the wind and decided to pursue a young man at church who caught my eye.  I was relentless.  I actually climbed over people to sit in the empty seat next to him at church.   He didn't even know me...yet!   I watched him from afar for awhile and then decided.  He was the one.    Looking back, it is highly embarrassing.   I would gaze down from the choir loft directly at my intended target.  If by chance we made eye contacted, I'd flash him my brightest  one-dimple  smile.   If he was talking to his friends after church, and happened to turn around, there I was with a big goofy smile.       I'm dying right now! Okay...let's not drag out my humiliation any further.  Here's the happy ending:  my persistence finally paid off.  He noticed me, l

I've been on many vacations over my sixty some years.  I've stayed in rat occupied huts and luxurious hotels with terrycloth robes in the closet.  I've seen garbage dumps where people make their homes and the beauty of the Great Wall in China.   Every time I'm gone away from home something happens somewhere near the middle or end of my trip.  It doesn't matter if the vacation has fancy buffets or rice served on a banana leaf, I begin to long for home.    I know when I get home that no one is waiting to make my bed or cook my meals, yet there is something in me that longs for the place I call home.  Home is where there is family, friends and familiar surroundings.  It's a wonderful and comfortable place...it's home.   I hate to admit this, but when I'm away from home there is a mental countdown going on in my head...four more sleeps until I'm home,  three,  two, and finally one.  The night before my trip is over...my bags are all packed, a

Have you ever noticed that in the passenger seat of the car you can see everything so much better than the driver?   My husband asks me to drive sometimes, and when I'm the driver, he can become very opinionated about my driving...way over there in the passenger seat.   He tells me I'm too close to the curb or turning to fast.  My all time personal favorite is when his arms start waving around in the air and he's gasping for breath like his life is about to end.  Yes, when I'm driving he does stuff like that.  And everyone knows how much the driver loves that kind of stuff...said no one ever.   Now I will admit, there has been the rare, and I do mean rare, occasion when he truly has warned me, for real, and I have avoided an accident.  When this happened, I didn't have the same perspective that he did.  The car in question was in my blind spot...but not his.    Even then, it was my choice to follow or not follow his direction. A while ago, I made some