Most of us who were raised up in a church have icons who represent a good portion of what we believe as adults. These are the ones who taught Sunday school to brats and cooked a thousand pounds of spaghetti on Christmas parade night. They are the ones who stick out, not just because they wanted to grow a business but truly make a difference in the life of the church. Mr. Y is one of those folks to me and he is near death. Once, at the sawmill, I was walking by a patient's room and heard a beautiful chorus of hymns coming from behind the closed door. Later I talked to my friend who shared that it was her family " singing Daddy into heaven." About all I could say was "Amen."
Tornado season is upon us which is why I'm really thrilled to have a nice basement to hide out in when the twisters come. And they will.
My AC is running which ain't a good sign during these tough economic times but,hey. I don't like to sweat, remember? Plus the farmers started spraying yesterday afternoon *pewwwwwwwwwww*
Peace and love kids ^j^
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