Grief. It’s what’s on my mind. Not, “Good grief, Charlie Brown,” which is a phrase I’ve used often enough — though when parsing it out, one can’t help but wonder how the phrase came about — but bad grief. Real, heart-wrenching, aching grief.
Things which you can stare at for minutes at a time without getting bored: 1) Waves on the shore 2) Fire in the fireplace 3) Babies 4) Kittens Things which I need more of in my life: 1) Waves on the shore 2) Fire in the fireplace Things which get in the way of doing what you need to be doing: 1) Babies 2) Kittens
The summer I was 10 years old — or I might have been only 9 — a friend of mine came to play once a week. Her father was building a house for a neighbor who lived about a quarter of a mile away, so he’d drop her off every Thursday morning and we’d play all day while my sister kept an eye on us.
I don’t have the words (which is not something I say very often) to describe taking one’s child to college and then driving away. He didn’t turn around to wave as we pulled out of the parking lot. Which was not necessarily a bad thing.
It’s summer and that means Bible camp. You maybe thought I’d say “mosquitos.” Or “sunscreen.” Or lazy evenings out on the deck. Well, we’ve got plenty of mosquitos, and rest assured; the sunscreen was packed into camp suitcases with serious admonitions about its use. And as for the deck, which has recently completed its restoration regimen ably executed by my talented husband, yes, we’ve been enjoying it as much as the mosquitos and heat allow.
It was a warm August afternoon in the city of Eugene, Ore., when David married Kathy in a small chapel in the presence of their family and friends, 60 years ago this week. Kathy’s dress, made from silver-shot fabric her soon-to-be-in-laws brought back from Damascus, tarnished in the heat and sweat. David’s white tuxedo jacket, the height of style and panache, suited him perfectly.
Warning: It’s possible that this post will feel a little more disheveled than usual. It’s been a long week.
Way back, more than 100 years ago, my great grandfather was in the Merchant Marines in Scotland. One day, the entire crew of the ship he served on was called to come hear an evangelist speak.
There are very few summer activities that are better than picnicking on the beach. When I was a kid, whenever relatives came to visit, we would fill brown paper grocery bags and head down to the beach for the afternoon.
They say that anticipation is half the fun. I’m thinking that it might also be half the torture. Not that I’ve been tortured recently, but I did have a root canal yesterday (Wednesday). And truth be told, my anticipation of the event was far worse than the actual event.