Posts Categorized: Peace

Colon

Colon–the sign (:) used to mark a major division in a sentence, to indicate that what follows is an elaboration, summation, implication, etc., of what precedes; or to separate groups of numbers referring to different things, as hours from minutes in 5:30; or the members of a ratio or proportion, as in 1 : 2 = 3 : 6. For example, “Both a comma and a colon were used and have been retained in this e-book.” From The Web of the Golden Spider, by Frederick Orin Bartlet.

Colon–the part of the large intestine extending from the cecum to the rectum. For example, ” The bacteria in your colon thrive on nondigestible fiber, also known as prebiotics.” The Daily Burn (May 16, 2014), “How to Choose the Right Probiotic for You,”

Colon–a seaport in Panama at the Atlantic end of the Panama Canal. For example, “I found that the program for the day included a trip to Colon on the Isthmus railroad.” From The Pirate of Panama by William MacLeod Ra.

Colon–a colonial farmer or plantation owner, especially in Algeria. Apparently, people do not regularly write about this particular use of the word colon.

On Tuesday, I wish I could stay at home and write an essay, using lots of different kinds of punctuation, like commas, and periods, and colons, and exclamation marks!!

On Tuesday, it might be fun to visit the Panama Canal, and take a trip on the Isthmus railroad to visit Colon.

On Tuesday, if I owned a plantation in Algeria, I might choose to phone the Colon, and ask him or her how things are going, out there on the plantation.

However, on Tuesday, I’ll be on the “oscopy” part of my colon. I was supposed to do that a year and a half ago.

It had been ten years since my last one, and I was all scheduled up, that October, for the next one (because physicians like folks to get that done  every ten years). I’d made my pre-procedure appointment and got all the information, but I also brought up the jury summons that I also had, for that same week. There’s a giant, punitive fee if you don’t show up for your procedure. I said that I’d let them know as soon as I knew, but it might be at the last minute. And, sure enough, I had to show up in Federal Court on Tuesday, and my appointment was for Wednesday. I didn’t know if I would have to serve, or how long I would have to serve. I called on Monday and said I might indeed end up on a jury on Wednesday, so I needed to cancel. I called the next week to re-schedule, and they said they were all full up for November, and I should call in November to make a new appointment in December. I said, “Fine,” but then I thought, “Hmmm. December. There’s a lot going on, so I’ll call in December and make a January appointment.” And then, well, January was pretty busy, and then, well, February wasn’t too good, either. And, then I just kept putting it off. So, now here I am, almost a year and a half later, needing to get it done.

However, ten years from now, I don’t plan to do it again. This is my colonoscopy swan song. I hope.

And, of course, the procedure itself is quite easy. I’ll be sound asleep. It’s the “getting ready” part that’s so miserable. They like a colon to be completely empty. And that process is, well, miserable, and keeps the proceduree up for most of the night.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to Wednesday.

 

A tender, tranquil heart will make you healthy, but jealousy can make you sick.

Proverbs 14:30 (The Passion Translation)

 

I’m working on tranquility for the next few days. And on Monday, I’ll work hard to not be a little bit envious of the rest of you, who are eating and drinking foods that you like.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like I Need to Get Busy

Does anyone ever feel like they’re completely ready for the birthday, the graduation, the big event, the whatever’s going on? It just always seems like there’s one more thing I need to do. Or, worse, one more thing that I’d forgotten I should do. It seems like I’m ready, but I suspect that there will be that Oh, No! moment when I remember that I’m NOT ready. I made cookies with a friend last weekend, and mine are in the freezer. I’ve mailed off all but one of the packages that needs to go. I’ve worked on Christmas cards (don’t you like to get them, surprise-like, a few days after Christmas?). The stockings are crammed full. I’ve put together most of the parts of our Christmas lasagna. The room where Kevin and April stay when they are here is getting close to being “guest-ready.” I might need to go to the grocery store tomorrow, and maybe the next day and the next.

Meanwhile, last weekend I went to Fort Worth for April’s graduation ceremony on Friday. Then, on Saturday, I went off to one of my favorite places to shop, the amazing grocery store Central Market. The main entrance opens onto the fresh foods area. It’s enormous. I got some apples. It was pretty chilly in that part. I walked around the corner where the meat market is, but it was really cold in there, so I turned around.

There are many vegetarian shoppers at the store, and they complained at some point about having to walk through the meat department (which includes live lobsters) to reach the other parts of the store. So, a while back, they cut an additional doorway from the fresh food section into the personal care area. I did go that way, and it’s where I get the soap I like. But, by then, I was pretty chilled.

They use the best bags there. I always try to remember to take my own reusable bags; I sometimes forget. But, since the bags are these nice, brown paper, handled bags, I save them and use them for all sorts of things. Here are my lovely apples, Snap Dragon, and Autumn Glory and Green Dragon.

 

At home, I’ve tried to sprout “micro-greens,” like I did for Thanksgiving a few years ago. I’m not having much success this time. The micro-greens aren’t sprouting particularly well, and they are all leggy. I don’t really think the mushroom spores were included in the seed packet. I guess they just wafted in from somewhere. I pulled these out, but another, tiny one has come up. Maybe our Christmas dinner salad will be micro-green-free.

 

 

 

Shout praises to the Lord! Praise God in his temple. Praise him in heaven, his mighty fortress.

Praise our God! His deeds are wonderful, too marvelous to describe.

Praise God with trumpets and all kinds of harps.

Praise him with tambourines and dancing, with stringed instruments and woodwinds.

Praise God with cymbals, with clashing cymbals.

Let every living creature praise the Lord. Shout praises to the Lord!

Psalm 150 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

How lovely that, just when we need to feel thankful to God for Jesus, here is this very nice Psalm that we can use.

They’re Just Birds, After All

We’ve had some problems around here, over the months and years, with birds. City birds. Grackles. For several years, they’ve been congregating, especially in the evenings, around intersections where there’s lots of traffic and lots of people, especially in places where people are having fast food and leaving crumbs. And dropped French fries. And crusts of buns. Etc.

I think all the instinctive behavior of eating, like finding worms and bugs, has given way to the easy route of people food. I don’t know what the biological issues are. Maybe they’re just as healthy, living on a diet of food from McDonald’s and Wendy’s and Jack in the Box. It seems like not, but they’re thriving, from a population standpoint. This is not a phenomenon I recall from my childhood, or even my kids’ childhoods. But, it’s certainly part of Peter’s childhood.

My local grocery store, years ago, planted attractive trees at the ends of the rows of parking spaces closest to the store’s doors. They didn’t provide much shade, but they looked nice, and, in time, they might have made some shade. But, after a few years, the grocery store folks cut them down. There was a whitewash of bird poop under all the trees, and also on cars that had parked at the ends of the rows. Messy and unattractive. There are some trees growing at the farthest ends of some of the rows. And, I do park there, in the heat of the summer. It’s an acceptable trade-off for me. I have to walk through the heat, and I might have to clean off the windows, but at least the car’s not scorching hot, May through September, when I get in with my groceries.

Lack of lots of trees doesn’t mean that the birds have left the area. Nope. They have not conceded.

Here’s what those annoying, pesky birds do instead. As soon as the sun gets close to the horizon, they gather themselves up, from whatever fast food restaurants they’ve been hanging around, and arrange themselves on the utility wires. And they sit there. Until the sun goes down. If you watch them for a while, you’ll see that a few of them fly away, or swoop around, and then settle back into place. If there is an empty space, a bird will drop down into it. If a bird tries to land in a space that’s not really big enough (from the birds’ reckoning), the other birds won’t give up their place. The interloping bird will have to fly away, swoop around, and find a new settling place. But, for the most part, they just sit there. Staring down at the humankind, driving, walking, jogging down below. It’s been like this for years, but it still seems creepy to me. Many years ago, I was driving my dad home after a dinner together. I commented on the precise spacing between the birds. (And, my dad passed away more than ten years ago, so, again, not a new thing the birds are doing.) Daddy looked at them carefully and said, “I suppose it’s the amount of space that they need to take off.” That does seem right, doesn’t it?

 

Meanwhile, when Peter was here a month or so ago, I was driving him to the Baylor area to meet David for their Thursday evening “Late Night at the Mayborn” museum rendezvous. We drove through Chick-fil-a to get them some dinner, and there are many fast food places in the area. So, of course, birds were gathering on the wires for their eveningtime meet-and-greet.

“Look, Mimi,” Peter said, calling my attention to the CVS pharmacy sign. “There are so many birds, I think they’re going to fall off.”

Indeed. Pharmacy birds apparently do not need the same amount of space for perching as do the other birds. Or, maybe, as Peter suggested to me, it’s just warmer up on that lighted sign than it is on the wires.

 

 

Look, if you sold a few sparrows, how much money would you get? A copper coin apiece, perhaps? And yet your Father in heaven knows when those small sparrows fall to the ground. You, beloved, are worth so much more than a whole flock of sparrows. God knows everything about you, even the number of hairs on your head. So do not fear.

Matthew 10:29-31 (The Message)

And I guess I’m also supposed to consider what it means that I am worth so much more than a whole flock of sparrows. If I’m worth that much, then so are each and every one of my brothers and sisters who are walking in this world.

And . . . It’s November

June was all right. July was hot. August was hotter. September wasn’t much better. October hurried by and now it’s November, and I’m a little startled.

We’re still a little bit behind on average rainfall, but we’ve so made up for most of the deficit. We finally had a few sunny days, and then, with no warning that I got, Thursday turned dark and nasty.

I’d gone to the grocery store, sort of at the last minute, for Halloween treats. And, for me, those treats are apples. I certainly love candy and would eat it every day if I could. Junior Mints for breakfast, M&Ms for lunch, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for dinner. If I could.

And Snickers and Mars Bars and Hershey Bars. And Butterfingers.

Yes, there’s a plate of goodies, but Kevin’s eating his apple.

But several years ago, I started handing out apples. Years ago, when Kevin was two, I took him to a family Halloween party. There were apples on the table, and every kid got one. Kevin cradled it with love. He’d never had a whole entire apple, all his own. I’ve seen the same thing with other kids; that “This is my apple and you stay away from it!” sort of attitude. So, I get apples.

Thursday morning was really dark. Heavy clouds. And then, mid-morning, pouring rain. Rain, and rain, and more rain. Then, in the afternoon, it kept on raining. Still, I opened the bags of apples and piled them into a basket and set it near the door. I turned on the outside lights. And had low expectations.

No kids live on our block or the next one up. I don’t see many kids in the neighborhood, despite the fact that there’s an elementary school at the end of the block. But, I don’t begrudge the groups of children that walk around, or are driven around, looking for houses with their lights on.

No one rang the doorbell until after 8:00. In the street, there were several parked cars with lights on. A caravan of sorts, I think, of families who were out searching for goodies. When I opened the door, there were ten or twelve kids, with their parents standing behind them. They said, “Trick or Treat!” (The littlest ones needed some prompting.)

“Happy Halloween,” I said, and held out my basket.

“Apples!” said the littlest ones, who were standing closest, and they reached in for their fruit.

“Apples?” said the older kids, as they pulled apples from the basket, just as happily.

“Thank you,” said a mom. “You are my favorite house!”

Nobody looked unhappy. And why would they, they already had loads of candy. Along with their shiny apple that was all their own.

The next, much smaller group came about a half hour later. They were just as happy with apples as the others.  And, that was it for the evening.

Only once, many years ago, two houses ago, did I have a grumpy Trick-or-Treater. The doorbell rang, I opened the door, and held out the basket with apples inside. The boy leaned over and stared down into the basket. He looked up at me and said, rather unkindly, “I don’t want an apple.”

I said, “Too bad. That’s all I’ve got.” He turned away, and walked back down the sidewalk, where his dad (I presume) was standing. When he got to the end of the sidewalk, his dad said, “What did you say to her!?!

I closed the door, smiling just a little, hoping the kid was going to get some sort of instruction about grateful hearts and being kind and thankful for gifts that are freely given.

 

Yes, God will give you much so that you can give away much, and when we take your gifts to those who need them they will break out into thanksgiving and praise to God for your help.

2 Corinthians 9:11 (The Living Bible)

 

 

The Sunday after Halloween, I usually take the basket with the remaining apples to church, to preschool Sunday School. I peel and core the apples, and the children, using nice, safe knives, cut them up (into varying sized pieces, some rather large and some minuscule). Then, we put them into an electric skillet (in an out-of-the way place) and cook them. Then we squash them with a potato masher and have yummy homemade applesauce. We are thankful.

A Drop in the Bucket

Official rainfall records began to be kept in Waco in December, 1901. Apparently, it was a late decision, as the only rainfall listed for 1901 is December (1.50 inches). As of this year, the average rainfall is 36 inches per year. (I’m assuming that this number changes each year, as they should/might recalculate a new “average” each year, by incorporating each year’s actual rainfall into all the previous years, and creating a new average.)

Here are some rainfall totals over the years.

1905-60.20–This is the greatest rainfall listed.

1919-52.07–This was a good year, too.

1954-14.92–This is the lowest yearly rainfall total.

2004-59.69–This total, just a few years ago (well, a few years ago, considering the over one hundred years of records), was close to the record yearly rainfall (back in 1905).

Meanwhile, the constant, dripping, driving rainfall that we’ve seen for the past two or three days, has waned a little. When I went out first thing Thursday morning, there were some dry spots on the driveway.

This year, in Central Texas, we had substantially less rainfall than the average, with summer monthly totals of .20, .47, and .57. Then, in September, we had 4.9 inches. As of Thursday, we’ve had 9.53 inches for October. Now, we’re trying to recall what a sunny day was like.

 

The normal year-to-date rainfall total, as of yesterday, was 27.36. The actual year-to-date total, as of yesterday, was 24.04. The weather app on my phone shows little rainy-day icons for all day tomorrow, and several days in the coming week. We might make it!

Research can be so much fun. I’ve spent quite a while looking at the maps at the National Weather Service. I understand the green parts that show Flash Flood Watches and Flood Advisories in my part of Texas. (It has been raining a a lot.) But I’m also seeing freeze warnings and frost advisories for areas where family lives, and, I got a little side-tracked by “Special Weather Statements,” that come from parts of the country where I don’t think I know anybody.

 

 

The Lord will send rain to water the seeds you have planted—your fields will produce more crops than you need, and your cattle will graze in open pastures.

Isaiah 30:23 (Contemporary English Version)

 

Okay. I don’t actually have any cattle. The only animals I have in my backyard are squirrels. But I’m grateful for the rain that nourishes my plants and trees. I’m comforted to know that the large, local lake is filling up with water for drinking and cleaning and bathing. I thank God for the rain.

 

 

Some Things ARE Remotely Possible

A few years ago, David’s car made its last trip. The car we bought next has remote ignition.  I used it for trips to Fort Worth to get Peter, because it was newer and therefore, more reliable. And then, I insisted that I drive him around town in that car. My reasoning was that, because the car would get really hot, hot, hot in the summer sun, if I could start the car (the climate control comes on when the car starts), then the interior would be at least a little bit less hot when I put the little boy into his car seat, after a couple of hours at the zoo. Also, that would mean that we wouldn’t have to transfer the car seat from car to car. It was hard not to agree, when it’s Peter’s well-being at issue.

A few years later, when my car was really old, and repairs were costing more than the car was worth, we bought a new car for me to drive. Someone had given Kevin and April an additional car seat, which they handed down to us. It’s permanently installed in my car, at least until Peter’s heavy enough and tall enough to safely ride in a booster seat. And, the car has a remote ignition, too.

The remote ignition is nice for really hot or cold days. But the more important issue is–it helps me locate the car.

I never misplace the car at the grocery store. I drive into the same lane every time I go. Maybe I park nearer the store. Maybe I park at the far, far end of the row, where there is a tree. That’s where I park on hot afternoons, when the smallest amount of shade helps, even at the expense of a few bird droppings. Even then, I will aim the car’s key at the distant car and press the remote button, to get the air conditioning going.

However, in other parking lots, I often drive up and down a couple of lanes to find a closer parking spot. As I exit the car, I gather up my recycled shopping bags, lock the car, and walk into the store. I rarely, ever, think about paying close attention to where, exactly, I have left the car.

Once, leaving Target, I started the car remotely. I walked to where I thought it was. It wasn’t there. I walked down another lane. Nope. I turned around, headed in a different direction, and heard the faint sound of a car’s motor. I walked over toward the sound, and, TA-DAH! There was my car, purring along, waiting for me to locate it.

Lights on! Engine humming!

And, just  yesterday, at Wal-Mart, I walked out of the store, pushing the cart with my purchases, and aimed my key fob towards where I thought the car was. As I walked up the lane, I thought, No. This isn’t where I parked the car. I parked with the car headed the other direction.

 

I kept walking, slowly, looking at other rows of cars, trying surreptitiously to locate my car. (I hate to look like an old woman who cannot remember where her car is, however true it is.) I kept on walking, slowly, slowly. I passed a large white van, and, right in the next slot–was my car, lights on, with the motor humming and humming away. Whew!

 

 

Jesus told the people another story:

What will a woman do if she has ten silver coins and loses one of them? Won’t she light a lamp, sweep the floor, and look carefully until she finds it? Then she will call in her friends and neighbors and say, “Let’s celebrate! I’ve found the coin I lost.”

Luke 15:8-9 (Contemporary Version)

I do rather feel like some sort of celebration when I locate the car after I’ve wandered around a parking lot for several minutes. With milk and/or ice cream in the cart. Meanwhile, in other news:

And I’m almost done sorting out all the yarn!

The Best Sprayed Plans

We moved into our current home late in November, 2006. We’d done some work in the previous months, after my dad moved into a retirement residence and we’d had an estate sale and the house was pretty much empty. The walls got repainted. New flooring was laid in the dining and kitchen area. That sort of thing.

I hadn’t really noticed how badly the paint on the front porch’s wrought iron railing was peeling and that the underlying metal was showing rust. When spring arrived, I started working on it. I was using sand paper to file down the chipping paint, smoothing things out to prepare to repaint. It was a lo-o-o-o-o-ng process. I got a sander to make things go more quickly. Or, rather, not so slowly. Quickly wasn’t really happening.

Then, my brother-in-law bought a grinder. NOW we were getting somewhere. I ended up sanding/grinding off every bit of the old white paint, the bottom-most layer having been applied in 1959. It looked great. The next day or so, it rained, and rust began to show up, within hours it seemed. And, while it’s usually hard to be unhappy about rainfall here, I was relieved when it stopped after a few days, and I smoothed off the new rusty parts, and repainted the railing a nice, clean white. Ta-Dah!

I had assured myself that I would pounce on any new cracked, rust-vulnerable portions of rail that showed up.

Actually, I didn’t exactly pounce. But when several cracked, rusty parts showed up this past summer, I made note of them and promised to deal with it when the weather cooled down a tad. And it did, last week.

I got some sand paper (there were only a few rusty places) and sanded down the problem areas. I gathered a couple of partially used spray cans of white paint from a shelf in the garage. I carefully laid down newspaper below the railing and taped it down with sturdy blue masking tape.

I sprayed the railing until the can of primer ran out of paint, apparently having been almost all used up with some previous project. Not a problem. I had a can of Primer/Paint combination. I shook that one up and kept on working. Until that one ran out.

I really did not want to change from my painting clothes to regular going-out-in-public clothes to go to Lowe’s for more paint. But what luck! I found an unopened can of white primer/paint combination, right there on the shelf. I knew it was full because I had to remove the protective piece of plastic from the spray nozzle. I got right to work and finished up the first coat and had plenty left for a second coat, too.

I went out the next day and trimmed off some leaves from the plants in the flower bed. They’d been in the line of fire from the paint cans, and I thought they might should be cut away, because those whitened leaves were probably not going to be all that important to the plant in their paint-covered state.

Then I removed the paper that had been protecting the section of porch that was underneath the railing …

and discovered that, apparently, I had also spray painted the front porch. Or at least part of it (the part not carefully protected by the taped-down newspaper sections).

I’m hoping that weathering (rain, strong western sunshine, etc.) will moderate the obvious mistake that was made. Maybe people will think it’s some trick of the sun, which really is pretty strong in the late afternoon. If you come to visit, you do not need to mention it, I ALREADY KNOW ABOUT IT!

 

Do your work willingly, as though you were serving the Lord himself, and not just your earthly master.

Colossians 3:23 (Contemporary English Version)

I was working willingly. And I thought I was working well and efficiently. Nothing like a mistake to provide a warning for next time.

Did I Tell You It Rained?

It actually did rain. A couple of weeks ago.

Then it began to pour. Rain fell, on and off, all day Saturday. Then it kept up all day Sunday. It doesn’t matter how much I water, nothing fills the bill, literally, like real rainfall.

I buy these pretty plants each spring. They are two or three inches tall when I get them. This year I bought sixteen of them, I think. They are heat tolerant and thrive in my western exposure front bed. They reseed themselves all during the summer. They were doing all right. Blooming. New ones were growing. Then it rained. The blossom count doubled, and has stayed high. See those two flowers in the middle, with the darker centers? Those aren’t flower centers. Those are bees. I’m doing my part for the local bee population and honey harvesters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, just in case I’ve lost all hope for nicer weather, the fine folks at the HEB grocery store would like to remind me that I shouldn’t feel like SUMMER WILL NEVER END! (Which is a little bit how I feel, as I do every August, and into September.) Halloween (and the END OF OCTOBER) is apparently just a heartbeat away!!

Even Peter thought it was inappropriate.

 

Celebrate and sing! Play your harps for the Lord our God.
He fills the sky with clouds and sends rain to the earth, so that the hills will be green with grass.
He provides food for cattle and for the young ravens, when they cry out.
The Lord doesn’t care about the strength of horses or powerful armies.
The Lord is pleased only with those who worship him and trust his love.

Psalm 147:7-11 (Contemporary English Version)

 

I know. If I want it to rain on me more, I should move somewhere else. I do feel fortunate that we live in an area with a very big lake. We have enough water to drink and to use for cooking and for keeping my plants healthy. I know that many other people are not so fortunate.

We’d Made a Plan

So much for plans.

After all the July 4th-ing, Kevin and April and Jeremy went back to Fort Worth to have a business meeting for the small business they own. Jeremy was due to fly back to New York on Saturday afternoon. Peter stayed here and I was going to take him back to Fort Worth Monday morning.  Saturday morning, the phone rang and woke me up. It was David’s sister with news that his mom had passed away at about 5:00 a.m. I told her David and Peter had left the house already, to go have breakfast, as is their Saturday morning custom. I hadn’t actually looked at a phone to see what time it was, and as I was talking with her, Peter walked by the door (it was earlier than I thought). “You’re still here,” I said perplexed. “Where’s Grandad?” Grandad was just walking out of the bathroom, so I handed over the phone. Then, we began to make new plans.

David and Peter did go to breakfast, then to David’s work to get some things organized. Then they went to the Mayborn Museum for a while, then lunch at Wendy’s, then back home. We moved the car seat from my car to David’s, then they went to get the oil changed (a task David had planned for Monday). Then, back to David’s work, then back to the Mayborn. Then, back home. I did laundry.

Sunday was a regular Sunday for us, and I did Peter’s laundry in the evening, and packed. We left at 7:00 a.m. Monday and took Peter back to Fort Worth, dropped off the car seat, and picked up Jeremy. At some place we got gas Monday, a car next to us pulled out. I heard a “crunch” and looked over to see two squashed drink cans on the asphalt. Along with a plastic drink bottle. “Wait!” I said, and got out the retrieve them. David and Jeremy were a little incredulous. “Frances has a great recycle bin,” I said, and in Memphis, I added those things along with a few magazines I had finished reading.

 

We drove to Memphis and spent the night with David’s Aunt Frances, who went on to Tennessee with us. We checked into a hotel, the guys went to a grocery store, and brought back some dinner for me and Frances, then they went to Knoxville to get Kevin (whose plane kept getting delayed) from the airport.

Jeremy had gone shopping Saturday and bought a shirt and slacks. He asked for a “grayish, blackish tie” from David’s assortment. I chose five for him to choose from, but he ended up using one of Kevin’s. We went to the funeral home Saturday morning for the visitation and then the service. Then, a trip to the cemetery for the internment, then to her church for lunch. Then, Frances and I back to the hotel and David to the airport with the boys. A busy few days.

Outside the church–the Lintz men, in their blue-and-white-striped shirts and their white funeral programs in their pockets. What a trio.

 

 

 

Later that evening, most of us got together at a sister-in-law’s house. At some point, someone said, “Those flowers that Jeremy’s church sent was one of the prettiest arrangements there.” And I said, “Jeremy’s church sent flowers?”

Years ago, my mother-in-law began asking family members what they might like to have from her home. David wanted a grandfather clock. Kevin wanted the hammered dulcimer. A couple of years ago, when we’d gone to Tennessee to visit, I went from there to a family wedding in Baltimore, then on to New York to visit Jeremy and Sarah. With the extra space in the car and trunk, David was able to pull down the rear seat backs and extend the trunk’s size. The clock fit perfectly. We brought the dulcimer home with us last week.  A lap dulcimer (or mountain dulcimer) is a strummed and this is how it’s played.   A hammered dulcimer is played by striking the strings with wooden “hammers” and is played like this.

 

Because of our faith, we know that the world was made at God’s command. We also know that what can be seen was made out of what cannot be seen.

Hebrews 11:3 (Contemporary English Version)

So many wonderful things God created; I suppose we all have our own list of “favorites.” Music and flowers and family are some of mine.

We Thought We’d Always Need That Thing

My children are confounded by the things we think that we should hang onto, keep on using, never get rid of. Like a land line (and I’m rather with them on that one). Like a television. Those sorts of things.

Kevin is convinced that, by time Peter’s ready to drive, everyone will have self-diving cars, and Peter won’t need to “learn to drive.” He’ll just get in a car, and it’ll drive him off wherever he wants to go. Only old fogys like me will still have a car that needs a “driver.” (And by that time, I most likely shouldn’t be driving anyway.)

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