HE was with me

         The salty air surrounded me. My eyes drank in the oranges and red of the sunrise. A calming rhythmic sound of the waves crashing into the surf filled my ears. Soft sand tickled my toes.

         Every morning of that vacation, I would take a solo hour-long beach walk at the crack of dawn to drink in the sights, be with God, and take photos. As I stood in the surf taking a video of the sunrise and waves, I suddenly felt a hand touch me on my shoulder. When I looked around, there was no one there.

         It was one of those should of – could of moments in life. I should have yelled, “Yes, God. What do you need?” I could have gotten down on my knee in that damp sand and prayed to him. Except I did neither because I didn’t realize the significance of the moment until it had passed.

         You see 10 months prior to that moment I had lost my sister suddenly and tragically. I struggled to breath in the months to follow after her death. It was during that mourning period I had felt as though God had forsaken and forgotten me. Why had he taken my only sibling to be with him? I often asked myself that question.

         On that barrier island, I was compelled to go to a special church the Sunday prior to feeling God on that lonely beach. During the service, the pastor pulled out a guitar and began to belt out “Who am I” by the Casting Crowns. That song had become my theme song on those solo walks on the beach. I downloaded the song and played it on repeat.

         God wanted me to know that “I am Yours.” He had not forsaken or forgotten me after Tanya had died. He needed me to go through those trials and feelings of lost, so that I could find myself on that beach alone. It was then he would make his presence known to me.

         I wasn’t really alone on that beach. I had a companion – God. He was with me the whole time.

Joshua 1:9 Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.

Blessings,

Traci

Exploring Dayton, Ohio - The Oregon Historic District

Last August, the Oregon District made national headlines when a mass shooting occurred. Dave Chappelle then brought people together in a HUGE concert a few weeks after the shooting. Big names such as Kanye West and Stevie Wonder traveled to Dayton to give us support and comfort during our time of mourning.

However, the Oregon District should not be known only for the shooting. That’s only a small part of its history.

No one knows why it’s called the Oregon. It’s been the name of that area since prior to Dayton to becoming an official city. During the time after the Civil War, prominent businessmen of the Dayton area-built houses in the neighborhood that surrounds Fifth Street. During the Great Flood of 1913, the Oregon was covered in 10 feet of water which caused people to leave the area.

It was not until the 1960s when they decided to revitalize the area. Some of the buildings were razed at that time while others were preserved. In 1974, it was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1974.

I’ve been down to the Oregon Historic District several times especially when people have visited me. However, most of the time I just drive through the area while enjoying the architecture but do not stop. Since we are on quarantine and stay at home orders, Hubby and I are trying to find places to walk and visit within the Dayton area.

Last weekend, I encouraged Hubby to stop in the Oregon because he at first made a half-heartened attempt to find a parking spot during our first drive through the area. Boy was he glad we made the stop. We walked through some of the historic housing neighborhood and through the District. While walking around, we found a new restaurant that was open for carry out. We ordered food to take to our next stop so we could have a picnic.

Before I share the photos from this area, I should let you know that the big heart with the words Dayton Strong is where the shooting occurred last August. As I took the photos, I bowed my head and prayed for the lost souls. It was a surreal moment. There was a photo of some kid underneath the heart. The photo was a studio photo taken long ago. I don't know if it was one of the victims or some random photo. I didn't take a photo of the picture out of respect to the those lost souls.

Here are the photos from the Oregon District and the historical neighborhood.

Please explore your area safely - practice social distancing and proper personal hygiene. You'll never know what you'll find.

Have a magical day,
Traci

No way to social distance

My mom’s college friend invited the family down to Florida for Christmas break 1990. The plan was going to be us visiting the beach and going to Walt Disney World. The plans were suddenly halted when he decided to marry his Russian friend who visited him and decided she wanted to stay in America. Mom quickly made new plans because she was excited about taking my sister and I down to Walt Disney World.

It was a hot and steamy August evening as we got on the Trailways bus. Greyhound bus drivers had been on strike for the past 5 months, so most people were using Trailways for cross country trips. As we entered the crowded bus, I could smell the musk, sweat, and unwashed scent of the other passengers. The fabric lined seats were worn from use. People’s carry on luggage were pushed under seats or on peoples’ laps. The bus was full to the brim with people with little room for anyone to breath. If it were 2020, we would say there was nowhere to socially distance from anyone else.

As I took in the scene, my thoughts were interrupted by a man’s voice.

“Here, take your luggage,” demanded the bus driver. “There is no room underneath.”

I quickly grabbed my luggage to join the several other pieces in the aisle of the bus.

As I tried to find a seat for the hour-long journey south, I noticed that every seat was filled except for two right by the gross smelly bathroom in the back of the bus. No one offered to get up and allow anyone in my family a seat.

“You need to sit down,” declared the bus driver.

Quickly we decided who was going to sit where on the bus because there was not enough seats and we could not wait for the next bus.

Mom and Tanya ended up in the two seats in the back of the bus. Guess where I was going to be sitting? On top of a suitcase, straddling it for dear life while we drove down I-75 down towards Cincinnati.

If anyone knows this corridor of I-75, they realize that it is not the best decision to be sitting in the middle of an aisle on a bus. It is notorious for accidents and people driving while not paying attention.

So not only was I, a tiny human being at that point in my life, straddling the suitcase, it was also nighttime so I could barely see a thing in that bus. I could hear people farting, moving around, and breathing. An occasional reading light was a glow. All the while, I was holding onto the suitcase for dear life.

Once that hour-long bumpy and frightening journey was complete, we were got off that death trap because it was time for the real journey to begin. In her haste to change the plans, she decided we were going to take a train from Cincinnati to Virginia. We were going to get off the train and visit with said friend and then get back on the train in either Washington, D.C., or Richmond. Then it was going to be riding on that train the rest of the way down to Florida.

Thirty years later, I’m thankful for the chance to take a train down to Florida for my first visit to Walt Disney World. Even though I was more worried about being bored, exploring the train, and trying to find boys, it allowed me to experience a slower paced way of travel. I just wished I didn’t have to ride in the middle of an aisle on the way down to Cincinnati beforehand. I learned people don’t always show common sense manners because I should have been offered a seat by one of the other passengers.

Oh, and that marriage to his Russian friend Well, within a year of marriage, it had crashed and burned.

The Struggle

I was struggling to lift my awkward shaped trunk off the luggage carousel. Impatient people surrounded me waiting to get their own luggage, so they could begin their long-awaited vacation or finally arrive home after a long journey. Many unfamiliar languages were heard in my ear. The song “A Whole New World” could have been my theme song of the moment.

No one volunteered to offer me aid with the lifting of this awkward trunk. The blue trunk was almost my height and weighed at least half of my weight. It held all my belongings I was going to need for the next four months.

One of the luggage carousel's at the Orlando Airport

I needed to get that trunk from point a which was the luggage carousel to point b which was the Mears Transportation counter all by myself. It was almost impossible to carry because of its shape and the fact I also had my carry-ons in my hands. Questions of why I didn’t bring a trunk with wheels or why didn’t I have this shipped after I got to my destination flashed through my brain. Too late now because I was now in the predicament and needed to get out of it.

It was September 5, 1995. I was moving to the Orlando area for four months. No one volunteered to travel with me to make sure I got to Vista Way, my new home safely. It was up to me and only me to move that trunk all by myself.

I tried to carry it – NOPE. I could take a few steps at a time which means almost 25 years later I would be still moving that darn thing. I ended up doing a combination of pushing it and carrying it which was probably hilarious to see in the middle of the airport. Finally, I reached my destination. Now it was time to begin my real journey – my Disney College Program.

That probably 10-minute moment in the airport cemented the fact that I was on my own and that I could face anything that was placed in front of me during those next few months. At that point in my life, I had never lived away from home. For my first experience, I moved almost 1,000 miles away.

I can’t recall how I got the trunk from the drop off point at the apartment complex to my new apartment or how it got home at the end of my program. Those moments were insignificant because they did not symbolize my freedom and my realization of, I’m stronger than I think I am. It was also a time where I realized I couldn’t rely on my family to help me.

The Corridor I had to walk with my trunk - Taken almost 20 years later