Before I get into the title topic, was I, the victim of AOL and dial-up, the only one who had problems with blogspot yesterday?
Second off-the-topic topic: David and Faye are the parents of a new daughter, Amber Elizabeth, approximately 41 pounds, 41 inches long, and, thank God, 5 years old. Congratulations to them! There will be a drop-in party to celebrate Amber's-coming-into-the family on Saturday, June 10, from 12:oo on, at David and Faye's house.
Now to the topic, VBS! I never thought I'd be writing about something like this, but hey, it's a blog--I have my permission to write whatever I want! I love the kids at VBS. I am looking forward to each night, just to see them and interact with them. Ann, you'll be glad to know that Haley, Grace, and Addie have been there every night.
Grace seems to recognize me--she looks right at me. She had a hard night on Monday. I was standing outside the bathroom waiting for one of my kids, and Emma J was washing Grace's hands--no clue what they had done, but it was messy. Emma said they had a rough time, that Grace sat in her lap and cried the whole first hour. (God put Emma there on purpose) I chatted with Grace--she wanted to know if she could ride with me. I told her no, that she had to wait for her mommy, and she seemed okay with that. She even came back and sat in my lap at oen of the group exercises. Last night, Haley had remnants of some sort of face paint around her eyes. I said something to Kelly about it, and Kelly said, "Well, it started off as eye shadow and then turned to magic marker. We tried to get it off, but I think it will just have to wear off." She is a great mom for those girls! And baby Henry is looking fine.
Then God saw fit to put me in the same department as Alex--I don't know what it is about these Alexes in my life! On Tuesday during Mr. Mac's visit to the class (more about Mr. Mac later), Mr. Mac was discussing Heaven, and how there would be no more death in Heaven, no more cemetaries, no more funeral homes--Alex raised his hand and asked, "What about Kentucky?" Interesting comment, huh? Shows he was listening, anyway. We've had a feeeew behavior issues, but they've been manageable. I could recognize when he just needed a little time by himself away from the group, and could talk him out of some of his acting-out things. My friend Julie is right, I'm not finished with children yet!
The best thing about VBS is watching the kids listen to Mr. Mac. Ira McMillan is a pastor and has been for over 60 years. He comes in each evening and does an evangelistic message with the kids for about 10 minutes. These normally rambunctious former-first, nearly-second graders sit so quietly for him. They remember what he has told them the nights before, and they watch and listen to every word he says. On Tuesday night, he showed them a black construction-paper heart and talked about how sin made our hearts like that. Then last night, he took a red heart out of his folder and covered the black heart. He told them the blood of Jesus would cover the sins in their hearts. And then (friend-who-shall-remain-nameless, are you listening?), he took out a white paper heart and covered both the red and black hearts and said, "This is the way our hearts look to God after Jesus has covered our sins." That was a message I think they all took in. A couple of little ones by me whispered to me, "I can still see the black/red heart." I replied, yes, you can see the ones he's holding, but can you see the one inside you? They smiled, they understood.
Witnessing the faith of a little child--one of Jesus's most important messages! Remember, he always had time for the children, and he always accepted them the way they were, skinned knees, runny noses, and all. And they accept him the same way (the KIDS' skinned knees and runny noses, not Jesus's!), no questions asked. Do you suppose they have any idea that what they are doing when they choose to accept Christ into their life will affect their whole life? I remember when I made a profession of faith at age six. The most important thing to me was to go home and witness to Mike, age three--he needed to know how to be saved and how to have Jesus in his heart! I also know that there were many times over the years that I doubted the validity of that early profession. But I truly believe that the Jesus I trusted when I was six was the same one who saved me then and has covered all the sins in my life, past, present, and future. Good night, and God bless.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
I used to know a guy who always used acronyms when he talked. I thought that was really mean, especially to folks who had no idea what he was talking about, but since he didn't much seem to care what I thought, I just kept it to myself. For the three or four of you who read this blog, I imagine that you know that VBS stands for Vacation Bible School.
When I was a child, VBS was one of the highlights of the summer. The first time I remember anything at all about that summer highlight, I remember going to a VBS picnic and getting to ride in the pastor's motorboat. I cannot to this day imagine my mother, who was afraid of water, would take me out on that thing, but she did.
VBS really was something in my home town. All the churches had their schools the same week, at the same time, so you didn't get to church hop from one VBS to another, like kids do today. They always kicked off with a bicycle parade through town. All the kids (and probably many of their parents) spent a lot of time decorating bikes for the parade. I remember my main goal with my bike was to make it to the whole end of the parade and not to have to drop out somewhere along the way because I couldn't pedal any more. It wasn't until I grew to adulthood and David tried riding my bike, that I found out it wasn't ME who couldn't make the trip, it was the bike--it wasn't ride-able. It looked good enough, but even Charles Atlas would have a hard time pedalling it up a hill--I don't mean a MOUNTAIN, I mean a hill, just a little old hill!!
Back to VBS. In the olden days, we went for a full two weeks, from 9:00 in the morning until 12:00 noon. Ladies, rejoice. Now we only go for one week, 2 hours a day, and one of those days is commencement! So we have gone from 30 hours to 8. We've lost a lot along the way, though. There isn't time for the traditional opening exercises. I remember all the kids trooping in by departments, sitting with their teachers, little ones trying so hard to say the pledges and being so proud when they could do all three (American flag, Christian flag, Bible). Now they have that stuff up on the screen and everyone just reads it off. We sang a different song for each pledge--that much is still the same. Then the little folks would troop out, and those of us from the age of 8 or 9 up through at least middle school would stay for the anthem, a lengthy Bible passage to memorize, the offering, and some sort of mission story or sermonette. Anybody besides me out there remember the chalktalks?
In the classes after the opening exercises, we would have an Old Testament story and a New Testament story. In the Junior department, we would work furiously to learn the books of the Bible, all 66, in order. It seems like we had a mission story--I loved the foreign mission stories! And then there were the handcrafts. Granny always worked on the handcrafts. It would almost always involve a daytime trip into downtown Louisville to buy some sort of craft material. Once it was postage-stamp size ceramic tiles; another time it was peach baskets. For a long time, we had one of those peach baskets on top of a kitchen cabinet here at the house. A third time, the Juniors made waste baskets out of ice cream buckets. Mike pasted baseball cards all over his--don't you know he regretted that later, when he found out what things like Mickey Mantle's rookie card was worth!
There were two great closing rituals at our church. One was the VBS picnic. At the beginning, we VBSers went to Cherokee Park in Louisville, but later we started staying in town and making it a family affair. My best friend's father was in charge of cooking the chicken. We had the picnic at the county fair grounds, and he would have a group of inmates dig a barbecue pit(he worked at the penitentiary). The chickens would be quartered and would cook all day on that pit. The Brotherhood (those of you who didn't grow up Baptist might not realize that was the men of the church) would supervise the cooking. My dad always prided himself on being the one who came up with the bright idea of using children's mops to put the BBQ sauce on the chickens. Only God knows what they did before that.
The second ritual was the commencement. Each age group would get up and perform, reciting Bible verses, singing songs, the Juniors saying the books of the Bible--and all of us girls went through the four-year-old stage of showing our panties to the world! After that, the parents would go for a tour of the classrooms to see the work we had done and to check out our workbooks--yes, we had VBS workbooks! Then it was all over until the next year.
Tonight was the first night of VBS at Georgetown Baptist. Now all the VBSes around us are themed. Ours is something about Time Travel, with an emphasis on learning the 10 commandments. We have a really neat "ark of the covenant" on display at the front of the church, with marble-slab ten commandments inside. There is a window so that we can see them. I was really impressed with the work--it looks great. Turns out the local monument maker carved the commandments on the old marble slab that used to cover the baptistry, and George W made the ark. He was going to stain the wood (looks like a first-class coffin), but he and Paula did a little research and saw that it was supposed to be overlaid with gold, so they gilded it. Like I said, it looks great. I told Paula to keep her hands off it! We don't want to lose our VBS director the same way David lost Uzziah!
I went in tonight intending to register kids and then come home, but instead, I'm helping Eddie with the first-graders. Tonight we were in the medeival castle (also known as the office suites, but now with a drawbridge and moat). Tomorrow night we will be in a Mayan jungle. The other destinations include a mad scientist's laboratory, a hawk's nest, and a volcano. All I have to do is help with crowd control. At one time tonight there were five adults and ten children, so crowd control isn't much of an issue. Things have surely changed!
I'll report more on VBS later this week. Good night, and God bless.
When I was a child, VBS was one of the highlights of the summer. The first time I remember anything at all about that summer highlight, I remember going to a VBS picnic and getting to ride in the pastor's motorboat. I cannot to this day imagine my mother, who was afraid of water, would take me out on that thing, but she did.
VBS really was something in my home town. All the churches had their schools the same week, at the same time, so you didn't get to church hop from one VBS to another, like kids do today. They always kicked off with a bicycle parade through town. All the kids (and probably many of their parents) spent a lot of time decorating bikes for the parade. I remember my main goal with my bike was to make it to the whole end of the parade and not to have to drop out somewhere along the way because I couldn't pedal any more. It wasn't until I grew to adulthood and David tried riding my bike, that I found out it wasn't ME who couldn't make the trip, it was the bike--it wasn't ride-able. It looked good enough, but even Charles Atlas would have a hard time pedalling it up a hill--I don't mean a MOUNTAIN, I mean a hill, just a little old hill!!
Back to VBS. In the olden days, we went for a full two weeks, from 9:00 in the morning until 12:00 noon. Ladies, rejoice. Now we only go for one week, 2 hours a day, and one of those days is commencement! So we have gone from 30 hours to 8. We've lost a lot along the way, though. There isn't time for the traditional opening exercises. I remember all the kids trooping in by departments, sitting with their teachers, little ones trying so hard to say the pledges and being so proud when they could do all three (American flag, Christian flag, Bible). Now they have that stuff up on the screen and everyone just reads it off. We sang a different song for each pledge--that much is still the same. Then the little folks would troop out, and those of us from the age of 8 or 9 up through at least middle school would stay for the anthem, a lengthy Bible passage to memorize, the offering, and some sort of mission story or sermonette. Anybody besides me out there remember the chalktalks?
In the classes after the opening exercises, we would have an Old Testament story and a New Testament story. In the Junior department, we would work furiously to learn the books of the Bible, all 66, in order. It seems like we had a mission story--I loved the foreign mission stories! And then there were the handcrafts. Granny always worked on the handcrafts. It would almost always involve a daytime trip into downtown Louisville to buy some sort of craft material. Once it was postage-stamp size ceramic tiles; another time it was peach baskets. For a long time, we had one of those peach baskets on top of a kitchen cabinet here at the house. A third time, the Juniors made waste baskets out of ice cream buckets. Mike pasted baseball cards all over his--don't you know he regretted that later, when he found out what things like Mickey Mantle's rookie card was worth!
There were two great closing rituals at our church. One was the VBS picnic. At the beginning, we VBSers went to Cherokee Park in Louisville, but later we started staying in town and making it a family affair. My best friend's father was in charge of cooking the chicken. We had the picnic at the county fair grounds, and he would have a group of inmates dig a barbecue pit(he worked at the penitentiary). The chickens would be quartered and would cook all day on that pit. The Brotherhood (those of you who didn't grow up Baptist might not realize that was the men of the church) would supervise the cooking. My dad always prided himself on being the one who came up with the bright idea of using children's mops to put the BBQ sauce on the chickens. Only God knows what they did before that.
The second ritual was the commencement. Each age group would get up and perform, reciting Bible verses, singing songs, the Juniors saying the books of the Bible--and all of us girls went through the four-year-old stage of showing our panties to the world! After that, the parents would go for a tour of the classrooms to see the work we had done and to check out our workbooks--yes, we had VBS workbooks! Then it was all over until the next year.
Tonight was the first night of VBS at Georgetown Baptist. Now all the VBSes around us are themed. Ours is something about Time Travel, with an emphasis on learning the 10 commandments. We have a really neat "ark of the covenant" on display at the front of the church, with marble-slab ten commandments inside. There is a window so that we can see them. I was really impressed with the work--it looks great. Turns out the local monument maker carved the commandments on the old marble slab that used to cover the baptistry, and George W made the ark. He was going to stain the wood (looks like a first-class coffin), but he and Paula did a little research and saw that it was supposed to be overlaid with gold, so they gilded it. Like I said, it looks great. I told Paula to keep her hands off it! We don't want to lose our VBS director the same way David lost Uzziah!
I went in tonight intending to register kids and then come home, but instead, I'm helping Eddie with the first-graders. Tonight we were in the medeival castle (also known as the office suites, but now with a drawbridge and moat). Tomorrow night we will be in a Mayan jungle. The other destinations include a mad scientist's laboratory, a hawk's nest, and a volcano. All I have to do is help with crowd control. At one time tonight there were five adults and ten children, so crowd control isn't much of an issue. Things have surely changed!
I'll report more on VBS later this week. Good night, and God bless.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Fantastic news!
My cousins are almost over their legal battles to get another child! For those of you who don't know these terrific people, you have no idea what you are missing. For those of you who do, please thank God that He saw fit to give this child a wonderful home. And while you're at it, please let the above-mentioned cousins know how much you appreciate all they're doing for the world!
On to a different matter: How much anonymity should one use in blogging? I almost always hesitate to mention names, except for immediate family members--and sometimes I wonder if they want their names left out! However, it seems really awkward to write about situations like the above one without naming the people who were involved. I really feel they deserve credit for their deeds. The same goes to the mother and the friend mentioned in "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly". Still, I want to respect their privacy. But again, who in the heck reads this thing?
By the way, I am over my funk. Apparently the cops were not called in after my evening raid, so I guess all is well that ends. Goodbye, and God bless.
On to a different matter: How much anonymity should one use in blogging? I almost always hesitate to mention names, except for immediate family members--and sometimes I wonder if they want their names left out! However, it seems really awkward to write about situations like the above one without naming the people who were involved. I really feel they deserve credit for their deeds. The same goes to the mother and the friend mentioned in "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly". Still, I want to respect their privacy. But again, who in the heck reads this thing?
By the way, I am over my funk. Apparently the cops were not called in after my evening raid, so I guess all is well that ends. Goodbye, and God bless.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
Good first--I went to an eighth-grade graduation today. It was good. I was invited by the mother of a former student who seems to think that I was a big source of help to her and her son. The mother is one of my heroes. I wish I had the strength she has. The son is sensational. He has been one of my favorite kids ever since the day he and another third-grade boy made a drawing of a space creature. When I asked him what the name of the creature was, he replied, "Poop." I asked him where it was from. His reply, "Uranus." I honestly believe the child had no idea what he had said. I still have Poop on my refrigerator, although he made it almost five years ago.
The mother gave me far more credit than I deserve for the way I had encouraged her son. Truthfully, all I did was love the boy. I recognized some of his potential and realized that some of the things "every third grader needs to know" were things he already knew or had no need for. One day while he was in my class, his mom had serious neck surgery. He was rightfully very worried about her. That day he spent the entire school day outside the open door to my classroom stretched out on the floor and reading a book. I knew there was no way he could attend to whatever lesson I was trying to teach. He seemed to appreciate the privilege, and I know I didn't have to discipline him at all. In the years after that, he often came to my room for a quick chat or a hug. I think he sensed that I genuinely liked him as a person. I did then, I do now, and I intend to like and support him in the future. I know God has great things in store for him.
Now the bad: I finally went back into the school this evening to get "my stuff". (Like all you are saying, all she needs is more stuff!) ((That is even more ridiculous in the light of the fact that I took a carload of stuff to Faye's house last week for her yard sale!)) A good friend convinced me that I should take my things before the scavengers got to them. That way I could be sure that they were where I wanted them to be, especially since I had paid for them with my own money. I didn't want to do that at first. I had bought almost all of that stuff for my little children at school, and I wanted them to be able to use it. However, when I got to the school, I saw that all the materials I had bought had been stored away in the closets or file cabinets and weren't being used. After seeing that, I had no qualms about getting them out of there. For one thing, Faye can use some of them for Amber and Gracie, and I can use others with Alex and Mapoopis. This was good material, folks, things carefully selected to appeal to special needs children (and most young children, for that matter). It was a draining experience.
And last (and least) the ugly. I am sitting here wrapped up in a blanket because I am exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I don't know why doing something like moving those things should be so exhausting, but it was. I guess it was just another realization that that door is closed and will never be open again. I looked at the names of the sweet, sweet children whom I would never teach again and had ugly thoughts about their future. The ugly thoughts have to go. I must realize that just because I wanted to work with the children differently does not mean that my way was the only way or the best way. I must realize that someone else can love them and guide them better than I could. I just don't want to let their sweet faces or sweet spirits go. I want them to be able to develop the same kind of friendship with their teacher that Poop's creator had with me, and I am afraid that might not happen. I want them to feel respected and loved, that they are worthwhile human beings. I must realize that there are other teachers who can love them and respect them, and I must be willing to let those teachers work with them. I have to get over this, people. Here I am, crying again, and it's been months since I left that classroom. I knew there was a reason I hadn't been there before now, and I probably should have stayed away.
Back to the good again: My great, great friend, who stayed after school to help me box up my teaching days. I will always love and respect that friend. Thank you is not enough. Friendship with that person is one thing I took away from school that I will always treasure. Good bye, and God bless.
The mother gave me far more credit than I deserve for the way I had encouraged her son. Truthfully, all I did was love the boy. I recognized some of his potential and realized that some of the things "every third grader needs to know" were things he already knew or had no need for. One day while he was in my class, his mom had serious neck surgery. He was rightfully very worried about her. That day he spent the entire school day outside the open door to my classroom stretched out on the floor and reading a book. I knew there was no way he could attend to whatever lesson I was trying to teach. He seemed to appreciate the privilege, and I know I didn't have to discipline him at all. In the years after that, he often came to my room for a quick chat or a hug. I think he sensed that I genuinely liked him as a person. I did then, I do now, and I intend to like and support him in the future. I know God has great things in store for him.
Now the bad: I finally went back into the school this evening to get "my stuff". (Like all you are saying, all she needs is more stuff!) ((That is even more ridiculous in the light of the fact that I took a carload of stuff to Faye's house last week for her yard sale!)) A good friend convinced me that I should take my things before the scavengers got to them. That way I could be sure that they were where I wanted them to be, especially since I had paid for them with my own money. I didn't want to do that at first. I had bought almost all of that stuff for my little children at school, and I wanted them to be able to use it. However, when I got to the school, I saw that all the materials I had bought had been stored away in the closets or file cabinets and weren't being used. After seeing that, I had no qualms about getting them out of there. For one thing, Faye can use some of them for Amber and Gracie, and I can use others with Alex and Mapoopis. This was good material, folks, things carefully selected to appeal to special needs children (and most young children, for that matter). It was a draining experience.
And last (and least) the ugly. I am sitting here wrapped up in a blanket because I am exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I don't know why doing something like moving those things should be so exhausting, but it was. I guess it was just another realization that that door is closed and will never be open again. I looked at the names of the sweet, sweet children whom I would never teach again and had ugly thoughts about their future. The ugly thoughts have to go. I must realize that just because I wanted to work with the children differently does not mean that my way was the only way or the best way. I must realize that someone else can love them and guide them better than I could. I just don't want to let their sweet faces or sweet spirits go. I want them to be able to develop the same kind of friendship with their teacher that Poop's creator had with me, and I am afraid that might not happen. I want them to feel respected and loved, that they are worthwhile human beings. I must realize that there are other teachers who can love them and respect them, and I must be willing to let those teachers work with them. I have to get over this, people. Here I am, crying again, and it's been months since I left that classroom. I knew there was a reason I hadn't been there before now, and I probably should have stayed away.
Back to the good again: My great, great friend, who stayed after school to help me box up my teaching days. I will always love and respect that friend. Thank you is not enough. Friendship with that person is one thing I took away from school that I will always treasure. Good bye, and God bless.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Mish Mash
Slowly, slowly, I'm starting to discover things about myself. Like for instance, I have found that I can find my youth just by going to a feed store! Yesterday I went on the bimonthly trip to Weisenberger Mills to buy miller's bran. The door was open to the storage area, and I could smell the corn, oats, assorted feeds, inside. It reminded me of going to Southern States when I was a child to buy salt blocks for my pony. I had to just stand there for a few minutes and breathe deeply the innocent air of childhood. And the day before, I got to take a virtual trip to the horse barn area at the State Fair--they had just mulched the plants in front of the library with denatured horse manure! (They SAY denatured, but the smell says something else.) And I have yet to be able to go into a greenhouse in the spring, especially when tomato plants are waiting, without crying--Daddy and I often bought tomato plants together, and their smell reminds me of him. I'm glad my family doesn't like tomatoes, because I don't have to feel guilty about not growing fresh ones.
I know I already posted about the great afternoon at Libby's. I know I mentioned how great it was to see my cousin Linda, but great really doesn't describe the feelings I had. Now that Linda is getting gray, like me, I look at her and see not just Linda, but her mom, my Aunt Elsie, probably one of my favorite relatives.
Aunt Elsie was so cool. Things I liked about her: She had two Christmas trees, one fancy one in the living room, and one that the kids decorated in their family room. She took the curves in Cherokee Park on two wheels. She wasn't afraid to discipline any of us, her own brood or anyone else's kids who happened to be there. She let me have two Cokes a day when I visited, and she kept them in the refrigerator--she was the ONLY relative who had Cokes in her refrigerator when I was little. She let me have plain spaghetti when she was fixing supper and never tried to get me to eat the sauce. She had a cat who had kittens in the bottom drawer of the dining room buffet. She had two staircases at her house (well, actually one, but it went down into two separate rooms. (I dream about that house!)She had these neat colored aluminum glasses and silverware with plastic handles. And she had the most wonderful smile in the world. Her eyes really did twinkle. They REALLY DID!!! David has an Aunt Mary who is an awful lot like Aunt Elsie--I think that's one of the reasons I really love her.
Enough about Aunt Elsie for now--Good night, and God bless.
I know I already posted about the great afternoon at Libby's. I know I mentioned how great it was to see my cousin Linda, but great really doesn't describe the feelings I had. Now that Linda is getting gray, like me, I look at her and see not just Linda, but her mom, my Aunt Elsie, probably one of my favorite relatives.
Aunt Elsie was so cool. Things I liked about her: She had two Christmas trees, one fancy one in the living room, and one that the kids decorated in their family room. She took the curves in Cherokee Park on two wheels. She wasn't afraid to discipline any of us, her own brood or anyone else's kids who happened to be there. She let me have two Cokes a day when I visited, and she kept them in the refrigerator--she was the ONLY relative who had Cokes in her refrigerator when I was little. She let me have plain spaghetti when she was fixing supper and never tried to get me to eat the sauce. She had a cat who had kittens in the bottom drawer of the dining room buffet. She had two staircases at her house (well, actually one, but it went down into two separate rooms. (I dream about that house!)She had these neat colored aluminum glasses and silverware with plastic handles. And she had the most wonderful smile in the world. Her eyes really did twinkle. They REALLY DID!!! David has an Aunt Mary who is an awful lot like Aunt Elsie--I think that's one of the reasons I really love her.
Enough about Aunt Elsie for now--Good night, and God bless.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
You done good, Donna
Gee. I was going to a party tonight for my good friend Donna, but it's postponed because she is down in her back. She is retiring after almost as many years as I had in. She came when Lyd was in the fifth grade, and she has always been a special person to our family. For one thing, she shared our sense of humor to some extent and appreciated some of the things we appreciated. She was the kind of teacher who kept live animals in her classroom--I never was into that; my only foray in that direction was a betta fish who died. Back to the animals: She told me one day that she noticed Lyd was being particularly quiet. She quietly walked over to Lyd's desk and saw that Lyd was sitting there holding the class guinea pig. Lyd always loved puppies and most small mammals, but we had never had a pet at our house at that time. Donna offered to let Lyd take the pig home for the summer. Unfortunately, nature intervened, and the little critter died before we got a chance to keep it.
Another thing about Donna was how she laughed and loved life and kids. The year Lyd was in her room, one darling little boy named Carlton was also in there. Carlton came up to Donna one day and quietly asked, "Ms. Whit, may I go--" and then he held out his open palm where he had written PP. That's about the first thing I remember about Carlton, and I'm sure he has done great things by now. Funny what we teachers store up for years. It reminds me of an art song I once knew. The lyrics go something like this: "Four ducks on a pond, the green grass beyond, lalalalalalala (two more lines I've forgotten!)", and then the ending, "What a lovely thing to remember for years, to remember with tears."
Another thing about Donna was how she laughed and loved life and kids. The year Lyd was in her room, one darling little boy named Carlton was also in there. Carlton came up to Donna one day and quietly asked, "Ms. Whit, may I go--" and then he held out his open palm where he had written PP. That's about the first thing I remember about Carlton, and I'm sure he has done great things by now. Funny what we teachers store up for years. It reminds me of an art song I once knew. The lyrics go something like this: "Four ducks on a pond, the green grass beyond, lalalalalalala (two more lines I've forgotten!)", and then the ending, "What a lovely thing to remember for years, to remember with tears."
Monday, May 29, 2006
The family of God
I'm so glad I'm a part of the family of God. I'm also glad I'm a part of the family of Banta/Hatfield. We just returned from a "cookout" (which turned out to be a cook-in--no grill)with my dear, dear cousin Libby and her family. There were folks there who were related by blood or by marriage, even folks who were once related by marriage and are now just related by love, and several good brothers and sisters who were only related because we were brothers or sisters in Christ.
We (David and I) had the privilege of taking our good friend Sam and his little boy Alex with us. Sam is one of our friends from the Plum Tree. He wrote to me this weekend that his wife, Ting, had gone to Seattle for the week, and he was taking care of Alex by himself. I sent him my home and cell phone numbers and also sent him an invitation to go to Libby's with us today. David and I thoroughly enjoyed our ride into Louisville with Sam and Precious Baby. I promised Sam that there would be at least six mama's there to help him with Alex--I hope they helped. I got to hold Alex several times myself, and boy, did it stir up desires to hold my own little grandbaby! Sam said he hadn't been to a party in quite a while, and he seemed to enjoy the activity.
Anyway, do you suppose that is what Heaven is going to be like? A continuous party with all the folks we hold near and dear? And most wonderful of all, with Jesus? Ponder that--Love you, and God bless.
We (David and I) had the privilege of taking our good friend Sam and his little boy Alex with us. Sam is one of our friends from the Plum Tree. He wrote to me this weekend that his wife, Ting, had gone to Seattle for the week, and he was taking care of Alex by himself. I sent him my home and cell phone numbers and also sent him an invitation to go to Libby's with us today. David and I thoroughly enjoyed our ride into Louisville with Sam and Precious Baby. I promised Sam that there would be at least six mama's there to help him with Alex--I hope they helped. I got to hold Alex several times myself, and boy, did it stir up desires to hold my own little grandbaby! Sam said he hadn't been to a party in quite a while, and he seemed to enjoy the activity.
Anyway, do you suppose that is what Heaven is going to be like? A continuous party with all the folks we hold near and dear? And most wonderful of all, with Jesus? Ponder that--Love you, and God bless.
Happy Memorial Day1
We just came back from eating breakfast with Aniel (or Ann and Daniel) at the Cracker Barrel. It was a great chance to just sit around and visit, drink coffee, and eat too much. David overheard someone wishing the waitress a happy Memorial Day and commented something like this, "Well, I guess it would be a happy Memorial Day, except for remembering Mom, Dad, and all those other folks who have died." So I guess we ought to be careful to whom we wish a happy Memorial Day!
Speaking of Memorial Day and associated customs: My mom and I used to love to shop, and not just malls! My favorite stores were Dollar Stores, Big Lots, the Dollar Tree, those bargain-hunters' paradises. Often in the days preceding Memorial Day, I would pick up a really tacky plastic flower display that boldly said Mother and carry it over to Mom. I would tell her, "Here's what I'm getting you for Mother's Day!" Now mind you, I was an adult, way old enough to know what I was doing. She would back off, laughing the whole time, and say, "Don't you get me that tacky thing!" Now I have an almost irresistable urge to buy one and plant it on her grave. Maybe she would come back for just a moment and fuss at me.
A great Memorial Day memory: Daddy and I would ride over to Shelbyville, to the cemetary with a load of peonies from their back yard. Then we would drive around the cemetary until we found the "family plot" by the water tower. We would get out of the car with the bucket of peonies, and Daddy would lovingly place some on each of his family graves. I remember what he said when he put flowers on Grandmother's grave: "These are for you, Mama. I know you didn't want any plastic flowers on your grave." Maybe that's why I am so drawn to putting plastic flowers on my mama's grave, but probably it would be better to take some real flowers to Shelbyville for the old folks' graves there. Morbid enough to suit you?
Really, we plan to celebrate M.D. in style, at Libby's for a cookout. Ann convinced me that would be the way Granny would want it done. Love you, and God Bless.
Speaking of Memorial Day and associated customs: My mom and I used to love to shop, and not just malls! My favorite stores were Dollar Stores, Big Lots, the Dollar Tree, those bargain-hunters' paradises. Often in the days preceding Memorial Day, I would pick up a really tacky plastic flower display that boldly said Mother and carry it over to Mom. I would tell her, "Here's what I'm getting you for Mother's Day!" Now mind you, I was an adult, way old enough to know what I was doing. She would back off, laughing the whole time, and say, "Don't you get me that tacky thing!" Now I have an almost irresistable urge to buy one and plant it on her grave. Maybe she would come back for just a moment and fuss at me.
A great Memorial Day memory: Daddy and I would ride over to Shelbyville, to the cemetary with a load of peonies from their back yard. Then we would drive around the cemetary until we found the "family plot" by the water tower. We would get out of the car with the bucket of peonies, and Daddy would lovingly place some on each of his family graves. I remember what he said when he put flowers on Grandmother's grave: "These are for you, Mama. I know you didn't want any plastic flowers on your grave." Maybe that's why I am so drawn to putting plastic flowers on my mama's grave, but probably it would be better to take some real flowers to Shelbyville for the old folks' graves there. Morbid enough to suit you?
Really, we plan to celebrate M.D. in style, at Libby's for a cookout. Ann convinced me that would be the way Granny would want it done. Love you, and God Bless.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Monkey Mama's News
Hello, Blogworld! I finally took the bait and decided to start a blog. Why, I don't know, except that was the only way I could post on a friend's. It amazes me that anyone would want to read my ravings. I doubt seriously that there will be many postings on this blog since I am from a fine family of procrastinators. Today has been like every other Sunday of the last fifteen years, church, then lunch at the Plum Tree, then a nap--except this afternoon we went to a drop-in reception for a friend who received her doctorate. As the card I sent her said, "Ding! You're done!" And I guess she is, for now at least. We are also awaiting the arrival of our newlywed daughter and son-in-law who are coming up to pick up some of their stuff (I hope). I'll let you know more about that when the urge to blog strikes again. Love you all, and God bless--don't I sound like Red Skelton?
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