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By Ann Farabee

The memory:

While sitting in the auditorium of my elementary school, looking up into the eyes of a nurse dressed in white and wearing a white nurse’s cap, I remember her being quiet, polite and serious. I reached up to receive a sugar cube dosed with serum as part of the distribution of the Sabin vaccine. It was believed by scientists that it could eradicate polio.

Polio was something I knew very little about. I was too young to know. But I did know people that had died from it and a classmate at my school suffered paralysis from it.

That was enough knowledge for me.

I believed the sugar cube could protect me from the dreaded disease.

I nervously — and gratefully — took it.

I wonder how the nurse felt that day.

It was a seemingly simple task.

At the same time, it held great responsibility.

Just another day at work? I doubt it.

I believe she knew what she was doing was highly important. I believe she held hope that this would help bring an end to polio that was devastating families.

That memory of the polio vaccine from more than 50 years ago had come to mind that evening, as my husband and I walked into the pharmacy for our second COVID vaccine.

The moment:

6:45pm. COVID vaccine No. 2 — also known as the Fauci Ouchie.

The pharmacist giving us our vaccines was quiet, polite and serious. He had been giving the vaccine all day. I was No. 45.

I wonder how he felt that day.
It was a seemingly simple task.

At the same time, it held great responsibility.

Just another day at work? I doubt it.

I believe he knew what he was doing was highly important. I believe he held hope that this would help bring an end to COVID that was devastating families.

The aftereffect:

We were aware that side effects from the second shot may be greater than they were from the first vaccine.

They were — for my husband.

For me, No. 2 was much easier.

My husband: Fatigue, arm soreness, fever, muscle aches, headache, chills.

They began 24 hours after the vaccine — and lasted 24 hours.

Me: Muscle aches and headache.

They began 24 hours after the vaccine — and lasted 12 hours.

I am fully vaccinated!

We have the sticker and vaccination card to prove it!

There are differing opinions about the vaccine.

I choose to respect all opinions.

I choose to make pandemic-related decisions based off what is best for my family.

I choose to respect your pandemic-related decisions based off what is best for your family.

I choose to trust the vaccine.

I choose not to trust COVID.

Having gone through a case of COVID where I felt at times that my next breath may not come, there is one word that now comes to mind: Gratitude.

Gratitude — to God who not only forgives our sins, but also heals all our diseases. — Psalm 103:3

Gratitude — for all the world changers who go to work — or stay at home — and help keep our country in sync and in harmony as we are going through this pandemic together.

I see hope,  in all of you.

I see hope, in all of us.

For that, I am grateful.

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

By Ann Farabee

I stepped away for just a second. It was long enough for her paper towel bib to be removed and the bowl of spaghetti to land on the front of the white shirt.

She screamed, “It won’t come off! It won’t come off!”

She tried to wipe it away with all her might — as sauce and spaghetti noodles flew.

No, it won’t, sweetheart.

It won’t come off.

Apparently, it was more than a 4-year-old can endure, because tears came. Although I was the one who should be crying, I tried to comfort her. After I convinced her to take the shirt off and exchange it for a clean one, I tried to blot the stain out.

Blotting it out did not work.

I then began washing it in an attempt to remove the red stains from the white shirt.

I soon realized I had used every stain removal technique in my repertoire.

The stain remained.

It could not be made white again.

It was stained beyond repair.

It had lost its value.

Something about that white garment stained to a crimson red made a connection in my spirit.

It reminded me:

Sin will stain what it touches.

But there is a solution that can take away the stain and blot out our transgressions.

Isaiah 1:18 says, “Though our sins be as scarlet, they shall be made white as snow.”

1 John 1:7 says, “The blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin.”

Isaiah 43:25 says, “I am he that blots out your transgressions and will not remember your sins.”

What can wash away our sins?

Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Oh, precious is the flow

That makes us white as snow.

Sin won’t win.

The stain won’t remain.

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at  annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

By Ann Farabee

“You are doing a great job!” were the words my principal spoke as he left my classroom. Hearing him say those words melted my heart. I clung to his every word.

“I love you Mom,” were the words written on a note pad and handed to me many years ago by my six-year-old son. I wrote back, “I love you, too.” The look on his face melted my heart. I clung to his every word.

“You are really good at puzzles!” I said to my little grandson as he was working away. He smiled and then gave a lengthy explanation of puzzle-working strategies. The look on his face melted my heart. I clung to his every word.

Those were three simple moments in my life:

*Words from an employer I longed to hear. Words that made me want to be better.

*Words from my child — written in love, handed to me, and remembered years later.

*Words my grandson enjoyed hearing and I enjoyed saying. Words of encouragement.

What if it had been this instead?

“Hopefully you will improve the longer you teach.”

“You left out the comma.”

“Is that all you like to do? Work puzzles?”

It certainly would have taken away some precious memories.

The power of words.

Words said.

Words written.

Words heard.

They all mean something.

Choose them carefully.

They may be remembered years later.

Proverbs 16:24 says, “Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and health to the bones.”

A honeycomb is a place where bees store their honey. It seems like a good idea to have a storage place for our sweetness and our kindness.

Oh, we do have a storage place. It is in our hearts and in our spirits. God puts it there for us to give out to others.

Good words. Worth much. Cost little.

A kind word — can change someone’s day and sometimes change their lives.

Be careful of the words you say — keep them short and sweet.

You never know from day to day which ones you’ll have to eat!

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at  annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.