This probably won’t be my best column ever. I always hope for the best. But doing our best takes more than just hope.

Lately I’ve been thinking about gifts. Not just the gifts we wrap in paper and give to people who don’t need them. But all the gifts we are given that make life such a pleasure and enable us to give back in some way to the world.

It was a quick stop at the market at 5 p.m. — yes, the worst time of day to shop — to pick up a few essentials: Cream for coffee, eggs for breakfast and Advil for my splitting headache.

At Christmas, we want to give our loved ones the gift of their dreams, the best gift that money can buy. Unless we’re broke.

Where do random thoughts come from? What makes them pop into mind for no apparent reason? And why can I recite a poem I learned long ago, but cannot for the life of me recall where I left my phone?

EDITOR'S NOTE: Sharon Randall is on vacation. The following column is from 2004. 

Years ago, when I met Sam and his brother Joe, I had no idea what lay ahead. Do we ever know where life will lead us?

Thanksgiving is not just about turkey and pumpkin pie. Not that those things don’t matter.

Editors note: The following column is from 2015.

If you could be anything for Halloween, what would you be?

People tell me all sorts of stuff. I’m not sure why. My kids used to swear I wore a sign on my back that said, “Confess.”

My granddaughter Eleanor is 7 years old, full of life and ready to rule the world. If you don’t believe me, ask her brothers.

What do you do when it seems there’s nothing you can do? I recently spent 10 days visiting family in the small Southern town where I grew up.

Every woman, at least once in her life, ought to be Queen for a Day. My sister Bobbie waited 80 years for her turn.

Tomorrow, Lord willing (as my grandad would say) and if the creek don’t rise (as my grandmother would add) I will fly all day to go spend a week hugging necks in the Carolinas.

What’s your earliest memory, the first thing you recall seeing and have never forgotten?

Of all the emails I read today, one made me especially glad for electronic communication.

Sometimes I just sit and think. And other times, I just sit. I tell myself I need to move. Then I sit and think about how to do it.

What’s the best thing anyone ever said to you? The most helpful, or even life-changing?

Twelve years ago this week, I held in my arms a gift fresh from Heaven. It was slightly bigger and sweeter than a 5-lb. sack of sugar. And it changed me into something new.

Editor's Note: Sharon Randall is off this week. The following column is from November 2016. 

How should I describe this? Try to imagine, if you can, the way it might feel to wake up one morning and realize that, during the night while you slept curled up in your bed, you somehow got hit by an 18-wheeler pulling a double-wide mobile home.

Memories tend to surface like starfish from the deep to remind us of things we need to know.

It was just a few lines in an email. But if you saw the smile on my face as I read it, you’d have thought I won the lottery. It came from a young man I’ll call Joe. That isn’t his name and he’s not young any more, but he’ll always be “young” to me.

Once upon a time, generations of families lived close enough to gather for Sunday dinner, help raise the little ones, look after the old ones, bear each other’s burdens and, despite their differences, try to get along.

My mother tried to teach me to see danger. Even the kind you can’t see until it’s too late.

Editor's note: Sharon Randall is off. The following replacement column is from 2015.

Parental love is a paradox, simultaneously delivering the expectation of safe harbor with the consequences of discipline. As the father of an adult daughter and son, plus the grandfather of four knucklehead boys (Hurricane, Tornado, Crash and Train Wreck), I’ve learned some things about this…

The calendar in my kitchen tried to tell me it’s still spring, but I found it hard to believe.

My dad was a simple man. He loved simple food, like the cornbread his mother baked every day. Simple people, who never tried to put on airs. And simple pleasures, like hunting and fishing and being with me.

Sunshine is the best disinfectant. That’s what my mother always said.