ASHES TO ASHES

I snapped this sunset on my cellphone.

ASHES TO ASHES

By: Lillian Carol Russell

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

Things of this earth will end as we know they must.

Only that which is done for Christ will last,

So grasp the Savior’s promise and hold it fast.

For He has said that who ever will trust and believe,

Eternal life in heaven is the gift they will receive.

When the days seem so long and each burden hard to bear,

Remember that God loves us all and is keeping us in His perfect care.

When we transfer to glory, aches and pains will all be gone away,

We will be filled with joy and gladness on that great day.

When friends desert us and never find time to call,

Remember that God is watching over all.

He knows our every sorrow and has compassion for our pain,

And He always sends sunshine to follow the rain.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

I Am Of Ireland

By: Lillian Carol Russell

I may never see her emerald shores or walk in the mist of the morning there,

But my heart yearns for Ireland in some long forgotten prayer.

My ancestors from her shores so long ago they came,

And all they brought that still remains is just my family name.

Iley McDaniel, my grandfather, descendent of the emerald isle,

What laughter I remember in his mischievous and loving smile.

Somewhere inside my heart she lingers there,

The memory of her buffeted by waves of time and care.

But always on St. Patty’s Day, there is a longing in my heart,

To see the land of Ireland of which I am a part.

These Irish Blessings I wish for you:

I-rish you a very nice place to live, 

I-rish God's greatest gifts He'll give. 

I-rish you health, and wealth, and more-- 

I-rish your smilin' face were at my door

 A world of wishes at your command. 

God and his angels close to hand. 

Friends and family their love to impart, 

And Irish blessings in your heart!

May God grant you many years to live, 

For sure He must be knowing. 

The earth has angels all too few. 

And heaven is overflowing.

May God grant you always... 

A sunbeam to warm you, 

A moonbeam to charm you, 

A sheltering angel, so nothing can harm you.

May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light. 

May good luck pursue you each morning and night.

May good luck be your friend in whatever you do.

 And may trouble be always a stranger to you.

May joy and peace surround you, 

Contentment latch your door, 

And happiness be with you now, 

And bless you evermore.

May the friendships you make,

Be those which endure,

And all of your grey clouds

Be small ones for sure.

And trusting in Him

To Whom we all pray,

May a song fill your heart,

Every step of the way.

Sorry I haven't been writing, but the grandchildren are spending spring break with me and I am enjoying their company. We are getting flower pots ready for spring planting with fresh potting soil. It is still too early to risk planting in this area. Though we will be setting out my Geraniums this afternoon if all goes according to plan. Next week I Hope to get back to writing again. 

MEMORIES OF SPRINGTIMES LONG PAST

We've had some warm days, and I have had a touch of spring fever. I've really wanted to plant something though it is still much too early to do that in this area. We could still be in for snow, so I'll have to wait it out. This warm weather brings back a lot of sweet memories. I remember in the spring when we were children; following behind grandpa McDaniel as he turned the soft warm sod, it felt good to our bare feet and was the first time since winter that we were allowed to get barefoot. I love remembering the smell of the dirt, what a heavenly scent, especially after a spring shower. He yelled gee and haw to Prince, the old plow horse that knew the commands so well. Gee; turn left and haw; turn right. The rows were always straight as an arrow. The plowing was repeated until the rich brown Louisiana dirt was as soft as silk beneath our toes. The vegetable garden was always so exciting for us, they always let us help plant the seed. We couldn't wait to watch the new green plants peeking out from the earth.  We helped set the tender green tomato plants and rejoiced  that they let us run back and forth to the water faucet to carry water to each baby plant. When those tomatoes came in we felt like we were just as responsible for them as grandma and grandpa.

New tomato plants.

The fruits of labor.

I cherish these memories; they truly were the good old days, before television, before video games. You never heard us say: “I’m bored, there’s nothing to do.” We knew how to play and entertain ourselves. We had a grand playhouse between the wash house and smoke house. Daddy even put an old two burner wood heater out there and forbid us to ever put a fire in it. He put nails on the walls and hung old pots and pans there for us. Back in those day pots would get holes in them and when they did we got them for the play house. Our cousins would visit and we had the best time playing in that old playhouse. We made many a mud pie and pots of mud soup. We often sneaked into the house and got flour and meal to put in the mud soup and many an egg never found its way into the house because we often raided the hen house. We broke up pieces of grass and green weed for our salads and vegetables.  Sometimes we even got laundry powder from the wash house, added a little water and beat up some beautiful icing for our mud cakes. After adding some spring blossoms for decoration, they really did look good enough to eat. Once we broke the rule and built a fire in the wood stove and that mud soup was bubbling away when mama caught us. It was fun while it lasted. I know I had a busy guardian angel, real busy! Life was good back when life was simple.

MAMA'S MAMA

-Author unknown

(I did not write this, I found it in a very old book and thought it was so cute, I had to share it:)

Mama's mama, on a winter's day, milked the cows and fed them hay,

Slopped the hogs, saddled the mule, got the children off to school.

Did the washing, mopped the floors,

Washed the windows and did some chores.

Cooked a dish of home dried fruit,

Pressed her husband's Sunday suit.

Swept the parlor, made the bed,

Baked a dozen loves of bread.

Split some wood and lugged it in,

Enough to fill the kitchen bin.

Cleaned the lamps and put in oil,

Stewed some apples she thought might spoil.

Churned the butter, baked a cake,

Then exclaimed: “For goodness sake!”

“The calves have got out of their pen!”

Went out and chased them in again.

Gathered the eggs and locked the stable,

Returned to the house and set the table.

Cooked a supper that was delicious,

And after-wards washed up all the dishes.

Fed the cat, sprinkled the clothes,

Mended a basket full of hose,

Then opened the organ and began to play,

“When You Come To The End Of a Perfect Day”

PSALM 46:10 ...”Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.”

To All The Dogs We've Ever Loved Before

My little Schnauzer Ed is snoring on his bed beside me as I work. If I leave the room he will follow me. Like a shadow, ever present, he is a faithful companion, listens to my every word. He is a little comedian and great company to my husband and I. Dogs give you their undying love and devotion. After your kids and grandchildren are grown, they help fill in that great big empty hole in your heart when you don't have a little one to care for any more.

IN MEMORY OF TUCKER

The following was written by; Ben Hur Lampman a U.S. newspaper editor, essayist, short story writer, and poet. Someone had ask him about the best place to bury their beloved pet, this was the article he wrote in reply. He lived from (August 12, 1886 to March 2, 1954) This article stole my heart when first I read it many years ago. I am dedicating it to a face book friend Betty Wylene Coe who just lost her pet poodle “Tucker” of 10 years. It is something I dread facing with Ed, my heart goes out to her.

“Where To Bury Your Dog”
By: Ben Hur Lampman

“We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree or an apple or any flowering shrub of the garden is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer or gnawed at a flavorful bone or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder.

These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter. For if the dog be well-remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where the dog sleeps. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppy hood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pastureland, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog and all one to you, and nothing is gained and nothing is lost .... if memory lives.

But there is one best place to bury a dog. If you bury him in this spot, he will come to you when you call -- come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they shall not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he belongs there. People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.”

This is Matilda, my dear friend Claire's long hair dachshund. Matilda was 19, she died a little over a year ago. I remember the day Claire called to tell me she had rushed her out to get this picture in the snow. This is in memory of sweet Matilda and all the other dogs we've ever loved before. My cousin Dianna & her husband Johnnie took care of Aunt Virgie's (her mother) little dog, . They had it cremated, it was about the same age as Matilda, They were on vacation and wanted to bring it home to bury it. So many years of loving and caring for it, her mother's faithful companion for so long and then theirs.

I remember my first pet loss, Fluffy. A small white dog, daddy got her when I was 2, she lived to be 16, she was blind and deaf by the time she died, so sad. The second of my many brushes with grief. Death is a part of life but fluffy still lives in a secluded part of my heart I recall her memory every time I see crayons. She loved them, it's a wonder she did not poop rainbows. Coloring was one of our biggest rainy day pastimes as a child; that and paper dolls. If I ever got up and left my crayons on the floor I came back to find most of them inside Fluffy. She still comes running through the years when I call her to my memory.

I wrote this poem close to 20 years ago now. We finally moved to Texas so I was able to enjoy the grandchildren before they completely outgrew me. They are so busy now with school and collage, not a lot of time for the old folks. That is the way God planned it though we have to let them go so they can spread their wings and fly, they are after all the future of our nation. We can't keep them under our wings., it would not be right.

Days of Nursery Rhyme

By: Lillian Carol Russell

I remember long ago holding my babies so sweet,

Down the corridors of my mind I still hear the echo of little feet.

In retrospect they grew up so fast,

I didn't realize back then these precious moments would not last.

From diapers to prom clothes to wedding attire,

There's not time to think when your world is on fire.

Racing the clock most every day,

Looking forward to their being grown, I wished this time away.

My son joined the Navy and the tears that I did shed,

I mourned his leaving almost as if that he were dead.

He brought home a buddy after just a few years,

Who then married our daughter giving birth to new tears.

She was so lovely in her gown of white lace,

But empty rooms and heartache moved in to take her place.

In time there were grandchildren, two girls and a boy,

Grandchildren bring a very special kind of joy,

Until last fall they lived just next door,

Then they moved away to Texas to live forever more.

Until then I only thought I knew the meaning of pain,

They ripped out my heart and the tears fell like rain.

Never wish away a moment of your time,

Sooner than you think you'll long for days of nursery rhyme.

LIfe's Ebb and Flow

LIFE'S EBB & FLOW


Much has changed in life's ebb and flow,
There's a little less get-up in my go.


The sounds I hear grow sweeter each day,
As a little bit more of my life slips away.


Has my life counted, I wonder at this minute,
Is the world a little better because I am in it?


What have I done for Christ, He has done so much for me,
He gave His very life back there at Calvary.


I look beyond the stars at night and feel so very small,
Even the hairs of my head are numbered by God who created all.


I listen to Him speak in the wind blowing through the trees,
I feel His touch in the gentle blowing breeze.

These water lilies were blooming  on my gold fish pond last year.


Sorry I haven't blogged the past few days. My computer is down and I am working with my old dinosaur. Thank the Lord my husband is a computer geek and is working on getting mine up and running so I should be back in business soon. Over the week-end we had a small attack of spring fever and got my gold fish pond flushed out. I was amazed at how big my fish had grown. We got  last year's weeds that had sneaked in around the big rocks  pulled away. Anywhere a seed can find shade and water it will grow out here in the west, and they got ahead of me last year because I was not well. I'm looking forward to spring and grilling and enjoying the outdoors this year.

THREE THIEVES

What makes some people hurt other peoples feelings is something I'll never understand. I think we've all known those people who seem to enjoy building themselves up by tearing others down. I was always taught to live by the golden rule. They actually taught that in elementary school when I was a child. Anger, Anguish, Aggravation these are the three thieves that steal our joy and shorten our lives. Looking back through the years I’ve known several people who seemed to love to be in one or all of these attitudes. Abraham Lincoln said: “Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be” Anger is sinful when it is expressed in wrong actions. When we blow up at someone, psychologist call it venting, God calls it sin. We often use the energy mobilized by this emotion to tear down others.

My little Aunt Allie was a saint unless you got her mad, then watch out. I was with her once when we drove onto a one lane bridge. The custom was who ever got on the bridge first had the right of way. Well this day she got there first but the man on the other side was in a hurry and tried to bully his way across. They met in the middle of the bridge, got out of the cars and had a screaming match. I was a teenager, my sister and I were and so embarrassed. He did not know who he was messing with. She told him she would sit on that bridge all day, all night and the next day if she had to and she meant it. After what seemed an eternity with her throwing a real conniption fit he gave up and backed off the bridge, she drove past him still in a rage. I guess you could call that one righteous indignation, but that would be pushing it because she was really, really mad.

It is the wise man or woman who maintains self-control. Too many words are spoken in anger without thought to the scars that will be left on loved ones, words of anger and discouragement are not easily forgotten. If you have justified anger, deal with it in a calm manner. Anger generates more anger and in the feeding frenzy it becomes a monster, totally out of control, devouring all that gets in its destructive path.

Forgiveness is the best salve there is for a hurting heart. Holding on to bitterness will destroy us. In the long run, we lose when we hang on to the pain. Forgiveness is a choice we make, not because the person or persons deserve to be forgiven, but because God commands us to love one another. He hates the sin, but loves the sinner, and that is how we should be. It’s a hard task to forgive when we’ve been wronged, because we are not able to forget. Some of the pains from past experiences run themselves through my mind like reruns of an old movie on a seemingly regular basis. I have to run to God in prayer and ask for strength to love and to forgive. (Proverbs 29:11 A fool utters all his mind: but a wise man keeps it in till afterward.)

Anger Is An Evil Power
By: Lillian Carol Russell

Anger speaks with cruel words that cut just like a knife,

Imparting bitter feelings of pain and hurt and strife.

Anger is the devil’s tool;

He uses it often to destroy the golden rule.

Always treat others the very same way;
That you’d have them treat you day after day.

Take time to say you're sorry when you've caused somebody pain,
Give no power to anger, never let this monster reign.

Oh wouldn’t the world be a wonderful place,
If everyone treated his fellow man with only love and grace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Psalms 34:14-17 …Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it. The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and His ears open unto their cry. The face of the Lord is against those who do evil, to cut off remembrance of them from the earth. The righteous cry, and the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles.

Todays Travels

I took a notebook and jotted this on my way to the big city today, sorry so late getting it blogged. Also I'm sorry I haven't gotten your comments as some of you have told me you have been leaving for me. I uploaded a new comment form and hopefully this one will let me see your comments. I've not been able to get any so far.

We've reveled in the warm spring like weather the past week or so, it has been grand. Today we are making one of our seemingly never ending runs to Amarillo. We are like the long stretch of highway in constant need of patch and repair. Trips to Amarillo are a regular thing for doctor visits or medicine . The sky above us looks like a great blue bowl turned down over the brown prairie grass, still dead from winter's icy kill. Clouds spreading across the blue sky bring hope of rain to quench the parched prairie.

We've passed several blackened spots where careless motorist tossed out a burning cigarette and winds spread the flames with a vengeance. Over 70 homes have been destroyed and thousands of acres. With 70 mile an hour wind gust it is impossible to contain these fires, the only hope is prevention. In the distance we see the smoke of a grass fire burning, I just hope it is open range and no one loses anything. Fire season is a part of living in the prairie lands. Soon the spring storms will come and these prairies will turn a lovely green, wild flowers will pop up and God will paint a new picture on this old canvas. With spring storms comes the threat of tornadoes, in Louisiana it was hurricanes. Life holds its challenges where ever you go I suppose.

When we first began to make our trips over here to visit the grandchildren, I called this place God forsaken. Now He has changed my heart and I love His wide open spaces. I never dreamed I'd leave my beloved Louisiana, the rivers, the streams and the moss hung trees, green things growing everywhere. It was my life and my heart for 55 years. When God laid it on my heart to move to be near my grandchildren, He not only took away the pain of leaving my comfort zone, He gave me a love for wide open spaces. You've never really seen a sunrise or a sunset until you've seen one Texas style with no trees to block your view.

The following poem I wrote about my love for Louisiana, who knew I'd ever leave my sweet county home there.

INVISIBLE ROOTS

Soft as velvet to the touch, the petal of the rose,

Soft against my skin, the morning breeze that blows.

Majestic is the mighty tree, reaching to the sky,

Majestic are the clouds so gently drifting by.

I listen to music from frogs, crickets and birds,

God's song is playing the sweetest music ever heard.

An orange ball of fire rises from a gray-dawn haze,

The sunrise, it always does amaze.

No highway noises, no city sounds,

Living in the country where peace and quiet abounds.

You may not see my roots but they are there,

Binding me to county life and the smell of country air.

The city I'll visit once in a while,

When I need groceries or clothes to keep in style.

A day in town on those times that I do roam,

Make me oh so thankful for my county home sweet home.

 Romans 8: 38-39 For I am persuaded, that neither death, not life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Along Came Linda

As I've said before us girl cousins often visited each other. My cousin Linda had spent the week, she went on vacation with us to Florida. After we got back she was sleeping late that week-end and there has never been a McDaniel born that at some time did not sleep with their mouth wide open. So I thought it would be really funny to squeeze lemon juice into her mouth. I got a big slice went to her room and sure enough her mouth was open and in went the juice. Up she came like a bullet and my life almost ended that day. She said, “I am going to kill you.” I think she meant it, I ran down the hall to the bathroom and locked the door. I was climbing out the window as I heard her picking the lock. She tumbled out the window right behind me, hot on my heels. I ran up the front steps, slammed the screen door, employed the latch and headed for the safety of the bathroom again. Of course mama thought it was funny and opened the door and let her in and she picked the lock we repeated the scenario. We ran round and round the house until neither of us could breath and she finally forgave me. Ah youth, to be able to climb and run like that again. I'll never do that lemon trick to anyone again, I never even though of the danger of her chocking, nor the danger of my death at her hands, if it had been the other way round, I'd have felt the same way. We were hard to anger but we had our Irish tempers.

When we got old enough to drive, my cousin Linda who lived in Gulf Port Mississippi would frequently drive to Louisiana to spend the week-end. Linda was an exceptionally beautiful girl with a figure Hollywood starlets would envy. She always had her hair done before she came. Back in the 60's when the up-do was in, curls & ringlets were the rage. Daddy had big plum trees on either side of the front gate, it was spring and they were in full bloom. Linda was a vision of loveliness coming through the gate until a most unkind bird did his business right on top of her newly styled hair. Oh the horror, oh the wasted money, so right to the bathroom for a shower and a redo. Well that was not about to ruin our day, we worked and got her hair styled as best we could and we were pretty good at styling hair. Then she sprayed it good with what she thought was hair spray to hold it in place, but it turned out mama had just bought a can of the new foaming bathroom cleaning spray. Linda came out screaming, “Oh my God what is wrong with my hair.” Then she looked at the can and we all died laughing. What a day!

Then there was that time she called, she'd just bought a new car, she said, “Hey, Do you want to go with me to visit Uncle Phillip?” This was her mother's brother, so he wasn't really my uncle. Her father Johnnie and my daddy D.C. were brothers. I was married by now and had a two year old son but we would be back by the afternoon. Well that was the plan and it would have worked if we had not driven over an hour in the opposite direction of where we were headed.

These are some of the sights we saw going in the wrong direction.

 We were having so much fun talking and laughing by the time we caught our mistake, we had burned a lot of daylight. We stopped at a little cafe and ordered a delicious lunch and in came a camera crew shooting a background shot for a movie. We signed a release form giving our approval for it to be used, then drove on our merry way so happy that we might show up in a movie some day. We never saw ourselves and the fearful thought hit us that we had no idea what kind of movie it might have been for.

This trip was long before the invention of cell phones, so we stopped at a pay phone to call Uncle Phillip, he was worried sick as he had expected us much earlier. When we got to his house he informed us that we would be spending the night because it was far too dangerous for us to travel that road in the dark. I called my husband and told him what had happened and spent my first night away from him and my son. Uncle Phillip was high ranking in the military and his home was beautiful. They treated us to an unforgettable meal. He and his wife were so sweet to us. He had the first color TV I'd seen and I remember watching a Bobby Gentry special that night. She was a great singer and her costumes were so beautiful. They say she married a rich man and quit the business. I bought one album, on it she sang a song called Sunday Best and I did love that song. She's the one that made “Ode to Billie Joe" so famous.

Come morning Uncle Phillip escorted us to the main highway, pointed us in the right direction and said, “Now you keep going in that direction.” Really such a big to-do about one wrong turn. We never lived it down. It might have been Linda's last wrong turn but I have no sense of direction and I have stayed lost most of my life. Praise God for the invention of Tom-Tom.

THE ONE PURE LOVE

By: Lillian Carol Russell

Life is but a vapor and all too soon it is gone,

But love shared is left behind in hearts to linger on.

I love you may be something you feel you need not say,

But it is and you should say it every day,

And if you can not speak it, then show it in a deed,

A hug, a kiss, a favor, or just fulfill a need.

Some hearts are cold as stone, no joy shows on the face,

No joy that comes from knowing about God's saving grace.

If only they knew Jesus, joy would bubble up inside,

His love is something that a joyful heart can't hide.

God is everywhere, you can smell Him in the rose,

Feel Him touch your face with the breeze that gently blows.

Noah felt it when he sent out the dove,

The mighty God in heaven is the one pure love.

A LIFE OF ENTERTAINMENT

Since the beginning of time we have loved to be entertained. Great amphitheaters in ancient Rome and in ancient Greece attest to this fact. Since time began there have been story tellers and before television and movies there were traveling shows. It was not only entertainment but education. We learn the most when things are presented by way of entertainment.
I remember as a child that my daddy's father, “Grandpa Mc”, we called him, would sit on the porch with us kids after he was done working in the garden and tell us stories. He was so much fun, some were true and some were for sport, like the time he told us that if we could kiss our elbow, we would change into a boy. My sister and I tried so hard to kiss our elbow. He told us that when he was small he was a little girl until he kissed his elbow, of course we believed him. He roared with laughter watching us try this impossible task. On the side porch, they had a long shelf with water faucet and pan where they washed up when they came in from the garden. One day Grandma Mc took her false teeth out and laid them on the shelf. My sister and I were amazed, we did not know you could take your teeth out. Grandpa said, girls everyone can take their teeth out, you have to catch hold of them with a firm grip. He and grandma nearly died laughing at us trying to take our teeth out that day. They lived next door and grandpa always had time for us. If he wasn't working the garden, he was filing saws and we sat on the work bench while he did this because he had lots of stories to tell us kids.

My dad also loved to tell stories. Once when we were going to visit one of his sisters, Uncle James , his brother and young wife rode with us. On the way there we passed a stone house. Daddy said that they had built the house out of special growing rocks. It was a tiny little house when first built, but through the years it had really grown. He was teasing us kids but Aunt Irene fell for it too. For years we watched that house grow, every time were drove past it, daddy would say; "Boy that house has grown since we were here last." My sister and I could really see it growing, or so we thought. Daddy really got a big laugh the day we called his hand because we had learned that rocks do not grow.

There was a lesson in the old stone cottage. He taught us to speculate, to think before accepting things at face value. The power of suggestion is very strong and when used in the right way it can actually help children learn. Convincing a child that he or she is smart can do wonders toward making them believe in them selves. They can reach new heights because they believe they can. Tell a child he is dumb and he will be, because that is what he believes, therefore he will never try as hard and never be the best that he could be.

Sometimes I think that life was just better way back when things were so much simpler, and people helped people, and everyone knew their neighbors for miles around. It was fun being a kid back in the day when we entertained ourselves.

When I was a young bride, I took my husband’s Granny Russell grocery shopping every week. Each time we passed a house with a TV antenna she would say; “Just look at the devil’s horn sticking up out of that house.” I did not know at the time how wise a woman she was in that speculation. Even though I watch television everyday of my life, I know that granny was right; a lot of bad things have come into our hearts and minds by way of it.

A BETTER DAY
By: Lillian Carol Russell

When I was a kid, what fun we had,
Visiting folks with my mom and dad.

It’s something people just don’t do anymore,
It takes too much time, it’s such a chore.

Twelve kids in daddy’s family and five in my mother’s,
And we visited each and every of the sisters and brothers.

Daddy got in from work and we hopped in the car,
During the week we never traveled very far,

Always a pot of coffee and friendly chat,
Then daddy said; “Come on girls, it’s time to scat.”

With so many cousins there was always a lot to do,
Playing games, having fun and we did some chatting too.

I often wonder how we had so much time back then,
Enough to work, grow a garden and visit with a friend?

Week-ends we’d visit his siblings far away,
Most often we went for the night to stay.

No television in our home back then and life was good,
People cared for each other the way that they should.

Not many conveniences way back then,
But you never had to lock your door, there was way less sin.

The devil has us by the throat it really seems to me,
We welcomed him in you know, he came by way of TV.


Philippians 1:13,14 This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press on toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.