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Showing posts from February, 2011

Dropping, Dropping, Dropping, Dropping, Hear the Pennies Fall

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Every Sunday morning my mother would put a few pennies, sometimes a dime, rarely a quarter, in my hand for offering for Sunday School.  At the appropriate time, my mother now on the small platform of the church basement would wait for the appropriate chord from the piano and she would start to sing, Dropping, Dropping, Dropping, Dropping Hear the Pennies Fall Everyone for Jesus, He will get them all One by one we would march to the front and drop our offerings for Jesus.  Often I would wonder if Jesus really needed my pennies.  I would much rather go to the candy store next to the church between Sunday School and church to get something to tied me over until church was over. Brooklyn Day Sunday School Parade My mother is the teacher.  I'm in the 2nd row on the left I've been counting change this morning.  I had a plastic bag full of it that we brought back from South Dakota.  I thought it was time to cash it in.  There was over $50 in that bag.  Not bad for an hours w

Grandchildren, dogs and refrigerator art

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We have a dog.  I've always liked dogs but having been bit by one as a small child, I've also always been a little skittish with them.  Our little dog's name is Pebbles.  She's been part of the family now for about 4 years.  Just before she became part of the family, I had prayed for a small dog.  I wanted a dog because at the time I wanted something who would love me all the time.  I was feeling pretty low so this thought appealed to me. She's not really "my" dog.  She is our daughter's dog.  Nevertheless, she loves me.  She proved that she loved me when I wasn't "feelin' the love" from any one else.  I was sitting on the couch crying.  I was feeling pretty low.  I don't remember why now, but I was telling Pebbles I should just get a small trailer and a dog and live alone.  Obviously I didn't mean it.  But that was how I felt at the time.  As my tears kept streaming down my face, Pebbles was right there.  She was licking me

Fårikål and Family

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I have often told myself that I am silly for feeling the way I do.  Maybe I am.  Maybe I am not.  The older I get the less judgmental I get about myself and everyone else.  I have been learning to “be.”  To accept who I am.  I don’t think it is unique to want to feel special and loved.  Last night I felt special and loved. Yesterday was my 33 rd wedding anniversary.  It started pretty much the same as any other day.  I was sick, which actually isn’t that unusual on our anniversary since it comes at the peak of flu season.  I don’t have the flu but I am sick.  I’m coughing and coughing and feel miserable.  I had been up late waiting for my husband, hoping to see his reaction to the anniversary present I got for him.  I wrote about it here . He came home that night with an odd but beautiful assortment of flowers.  I’ve arranged them on my dining room table.  They are pretty.  At midnight, the beginning of our anniversary we had exchanged our cards and gifts.  He muttered something abo

Old Photographs

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I came through the back door of my house last night with some groceries.   We’d been to Publix grocery store that I’ve written about before .   It’s nice to have a choice in grocery stores.   I even have a grocery store directly across the street from me but at the same time I can see deer, wild turkey, cardinals, robins, and eagles in my back yard.   I have daffodils and crocus in my front yard.   I’m home. It washed over me last night like a gentle breeze on a warm night.   I was home.   Not only was I home, but I had a home.   Not two places where I live, but a home.   The living room looks nice.   I could actually feel comfortable inviting you to come, sit, and have coffee with me.   The kitchen has a ways to go but looks good already.   The dining room has further to go but you’d overlook that because you know I just moved back.   Of course you’d have to navigate past the bags and boxes of trash waiting for the dump.   My half of the bedroom looks good.   The other half is waitin

Beating the storm

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What a weekend!   I feel like I am paying for some horrible sins – perhaps the sin of not liking South Dakota OR maybe it is the curse that people who never understood put on my exit from South Dakota.   As with all experiences of this type, you do learn.   The best thing I learned – something I did already know but was reminded of this weekend, is that my daughter Bethany is amazing.   I don’t know anyone else, family or otherwise, who would sacrifice and do what she did for us this weekend.   We had a grueling trip to South Dakota and back.   We out beat the blizzard that dumped 11 inches on Brookings SD.   We spent about 62 hours on the road covering about 2000 miles.   In between the    hours and hours in the car, and the little bit of sleep, we packed our two bedroom apartment in South Dakota and loaded it on a truck and trailer.   To say that she and her family did 95% of the work is no exaggeration.   We stopped and paid respects to my parents at their graveside.  It's almo

Wal-Mart, Target and bodily functions

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It’s been a while since I wrote here.  I’ve moved from South Dakota back to Tennessee.  I am sure most of my readers have read my farewell to South Dakota and seen the video but if not, see it here .  It was a sadder exit from South Dakota than I could have anticipated or even thought possible.  I strongly suggest you read all of this.  Get ready to laugh.   You'll be sorry if you don't read to the end. We are settling back into what is familiar and yet, now different.  You can go home, but home is always different.  Today I met with the ministerial group that I was a part of when I was pastor of The Well.  In some ways it seems like that was a very long, long time ago and yet it wasn’t.  Half the folks were people I knew and had shared community with, the rest were new.  They assured me I could come anytime.  I will have to think about that since I no longer pastor.  They listened to my short presentation about my research for my dissertation.  I think those that can, will h