LV 13 = Warmth in Winter

Ironically, I made a reference to the fire burning inside when we last visited Loonville. The old house in which we lived was heated with oil-burning space heaters, large stoves whose pipes connected to the central chimney. All went well more than 99% of the time. But on two occasions while we lived there, a tremendous wind, contrary to its normal routine, blew in from the northeast. Somehow this allowed the force of the air to push down the chimney, preventing the smoke from rising, and worse, blowing soot a-l-l o-v-e-r the interior of the home.

So there we were. Outdoor temperature below freezing, no fire now inside, and the whole place covered with black, oily grime. The amount of scrubbing, laundry, and overall thorough cleanup you really don't want to know about; and you certainly never, ever want to experience it.

Also, the tank for the fuel was a 275 gallon behemoth that stood on stilts beside the house. And even though the price of fuel was less than thirty cents a gallon most of the time, unbelievable as that may be, to fill the tank could easily take an "investment" of over sixty bucks. It was something one could not postpone to more flush times. If it was oil or bread, we took oil.


We did not have microwaves, garbage disposals, or television sets. Okay, okay. Finally when the oldest child was in fifth grade we bought a 19" b & w Zenith on which we could get two channels. We were no longer the only home on the block without this marvel, though we should have remained so. Two things I remember about this time frame. "Sky King" which we thought suitable for the kids after school; and Lorne Green and the Cartwright gang who changed the face of mid-America forever. How so? I hope you are asking.

To this time, most fundamental, evangelical, and even many of the old-line churches had Sunday evening services which typically were held at 7:30. Virtually all churches chose at that time one of two alternatives: move service up to 6 o'clock so everyone could get home in time to visit the Ponderosa; or, eliminate evening service entirely. Over the intervening years, many of those who chose the first alternative, eventually defaulted to the second, and churches all over the Bible belt sit darkened on the evening of the Lord's Day.
© 2010 David W. Lacy
Image: rateyourmusic.com

Yardwork

Absolutely gorgeous days recently. Shut the Toshiba and repaired to the yard. To repair the yard, so to speak, inasmuch as it has suffered considerable neglect during the month-long heat wave.

And what should I find along the west end of the lot but these loverly piles of dirt.

They are called, I believe, "molehills." Oh, yes they are.

Now what?

I saw this critter climbing the pear tree. He paraded his green glory fearlessly as I snapped several shots, at least one of which captured him!

Jonah, by Mary Margaret

(Jonah, by Vanilla)

Mother

Vera Morrell Lacy

August 28, 1908 - April 26, 1991

Weird Produce, or

Pepper or Tomato?

These items grew in our yard this summer. From twelve o'clock clockwise: 12 pepper or tomato? 3 pepper or tomato? 6 pepper or tomato? 9 pepper or tomato? hub pepper or tomato?

Let's slice these juicy morsels open to reveal 12 tomato,roma 3 pepper, serrano. 6 tomato, early girl 9 pepper, serrano. hub tomato, golden weirdo. This creature looks like a pepper, cuts like a pepper, has interior flesh resembling a pepper, but it tastes like a tomato! We set one plant which has produced prolifically. We have often grown and enjoyed yellow tomatoes, but this one beats all for strange.

Conference

The hanging plant was in such prolific bloom that I took camera in hand to capture its beauty, well not on film, but you know, digitally. As I walked back toward the house, what should I espy but this ad hoc meeting of these reptilian minds.

BBBH, in a spurt of ambitious activity, cleared a mass of plants in this space that is inhabited by these turtles? tortoises? terrapins? whichever the case may be. Clearly they were meeting in conference to determine what steps to take to deal with the denuded territory, whether or where to relocate, as pickings here are now mighty slim indeed.

Myrtle has pulled in her head inasmuch as Herkimer and Fred have rebuked her severely for attempting to snarf up the only remaining flowers in the area. Herkie says, And by the way, Maggie, get off my back. And Fred, your guilty face looks as though you have already had more than your share of the goodies, so I think I'll just snap these up myself.

The debate went on as to whether to try for the front yard, or simply go around the corner to the south side of the house. The concensus seems to be leaning toward the south side, for the front yard is so far away that snow might fly before they get there.

Retrocommunication

Back in the day, there were no computers. The interwebby thing did not exist. Television was a dream in the minds of the vacuum tube inventors. Telephones, yes. They were bolted to the wall, or they stood on a desk looking like, well they defied description. The ringing of the phone was an event; and "wires" or telegrams were sure signs of tragic events in the lives of the senders. 89% of today's communications terminology had yet to be created. It may be 92%, but when one makes up statistics, accuracy is not guaranteed.

Pride of possession of a good fountain pen rivaled the pride that the young people today take in their itty-bitty hand-held communications devices. One should know better than to call them "phones" for, while one can use it to make a phone call, few actually do so. It is used for such a host of other tasks that I can only tell you that this old fountain-pen-using troglodyte does use it for phone calls. And for nothing else.

The stack of letters shown above were handwritten with a pen, delivered from one's place of residence to the home of the recipient by the United States Post Office. As you may note by the first-class stamp shown, the cost was three US cents. Mail delivery was effected Monday through Saturday, and it was brought to your door twice a day. I know. You are incredulous, unless you, too, can remember the day. Or unless you are so very young that you are thinking, "What do I care about the old poop and his day?"

Washington Burns

Washington, D.C., August 25, 1814. On this date the British overran the City of Washington, burning much of the city and the seat of government.

For previous posts referencing the War of 1812, see here, here, and here.

Go on over to Secondary Roads and wish my friend, Chuck, a happy birthday!

Painting of White House after fire by George Munger. Wikipedia

LV 12 = Off We Go to School, Tra La

As I indicated, we lived in the last house but one on Water Street as you headed out of town. This location placed us just eight-tenths mile from the elementary school. Each day my wife sent the kid (only one in school so far) toddling off to the seat of learning, only to watch the Heton kids next door board the school bus bound for the same destination. Mommy very soon tired of this, and Daddy was directed to "do something about that."

So I approached the Superintendent of Schools. Was I thinking "professional courtesy" or what was I thinking? Dr. McClurg was a vast, I mean huge, Irishman who had served our country honorably during WWII as captain in the USMC. He affected the same military flattop he wore as an active-duty gyrene, though it was white now, but would still have been a full head of hair had he not had it shorn weekly. At six-five and two seventy-five, he was a formidable man-mountain.

He welcomed me into his office, and we exchanged a few pleasantries, a bit of banter actually, as his school district and the one in which I worked were keen rivals on the football field or in the basketball arena. Then, getting to the point, he asked, "What can I do for you?" I succinctly explained that my child was walking nearly two miles each day to and from school, while my next door neighbor's kids were riding the corporation bus; and since it would not require an extra stop, I would appreciate it if my child could board the same bus.

"Now, Mr. Lacy, it surprises me that you would ask that. You see, the alley between your house and the Heton's is also the town limits line. It is policy that no child who lives within the village proper may ride the bus."

"Well, Dr. M, Ann would be glad to walk across the alley to get on the bus."

"But, don't you see? the line has to be drawn somewhere. If Ann rides, then Mrs. Lewis will want her kids to ride, and so on, until the driver will be stopping 50 yards from school to pick up someone who could get there faster on foot. You take my point!"

Of course I took his point, and besides as a child I had walked farther than that to get to school. Didn't kill me; wouldn't kill my kids.

How cold it can get inside one's domicile, even with the fire burning brightly.

© 2010 David W. Lacy

Happy Birthday, Barbara

Barbara Jean Morehead, better known as Barbara Eden, was born August 23, 1934 in Tucson, Arizona.

Miss Eden has played in and starred in beaucoup movies and has been seen frequently on TV and on the stage. But she will forever be best known as Jeannie in I Dream of Jeannie, a sitcom that had a five-year run.


Barbara Eden's career has spanned over half-century and she is still actively engaged in her art.


Image: Wikipedia


It is no accident that we choose to feature persons of note who were born in 1934, or those who have reached the seventy-five year milestone.

Who Is Jesus?

Pastor Mark's message had as its scriptural basis Luke's Gospel 2:52, the Gospel of John 10:30 and Paul's letter to the Galatians 4:7.

Jesus was conceived of the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary. He became man without ceasing to be God. He was sinless, and through his death atoned for our sins. He suffered for our transgressions; he died, was buried, and rose again on the third day. He ascended into heaven from whence he will return again to earth to gather the saints that they may live forever with Him.

He is my savior. He is my Lord. Jesus is the Son of God.

And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man.--Luke 2:52

1. He matured intellectually. "Increased in wisdom."
2. He matured physically. His manhood was being increased.
3. He matured spiritually. Grew in favor with God.
4. He matured socially. Grew in favor with man.

We must be able to communicate the gospel to others.

I and my Father are One. --Jesus Christ (John 10:30)

Sixth Grade

What do you suppose The Boy encountered when he showed up in September to start sixth grade? I'll tell you. Miss Gardiner was his homeroom teacher, which means that except for the time the kids went to Mrs. Kennedy for geography and to Miss Anderson for music, they were entrapped with Bristol's most fearsome teacher for the entire day. (Sister would disagree with this, since she had been in Miss Ramsey's second grade class. But since the lad did not know Miss R, she didn't count.)

The school was laid out along a short hallway such that as one entered the front doors, he would walk up a short flight of seven steps to the main floor. Or he might walk down a similar distance to the basement which, other than the "gym" was a complete mystery. Above the stairwell on a balcony was the principal's office, where the secretary and the principal could survey their realm through the plate glass wall that separated them from the possibility of actually having to hear what went on below. To your left as you walked down the main hallway, you would pass second grade, third grade and finally come to fourth grade (Miss Anderson, who was also the music teacher.) Back down the hall toward the front, assembly room, fifth grade, and finally almost under the office, sixth grade.

Two memories from sixth grade. The day the police showed up at school. The teacher ordered all the fifth and sixth grade boys to the gym where a big ol' cop walked past us all, looking at our feet. Then his assistant brought pieces of poster board, laid one in front of each "suspect" and required him to leave a footprint on the paper. Scared the bejiminy out of me. For no good reason, because I hadn't committed any crime. This time.

Second memory. The boys in Miss Gardiner's class made it up amongst themselves that at exactly 2:00 o'clock sharp by the Regulator on the wall they would all rise, walk toward the back of the room, circumnavigate the area and return to their seats. By the time the first boys had crossed the back and were walking down the west side of the room, Miss Gardiner had flung the east classroom door open, where she stood directing traffic out of the room with sharp instructions to "March up those stairs directly to the principal's office!"

Which is what happened.

Retrofarming

The annual Mid-America Threshing and Antique show was conducted at the Tipton County Fairgrounds this past weekend. This provided an opportunity for collectors and old machinery aficionados to get together for show and swap. The sound of steam whistles cutting the air throughout the day on Friday lured me to the fairgrounds Saturday morning. Couldn't go on Friday: too hot.

Photos: Tipton County Tribune

The steam powered stationary threshing machine brought back memories from my early childhood; for until I was five years old, we lived in a tiny Nebraska village where our house abutted a huge wheatfield. One of my earliest memories was harvest time, watching the workers bringing the sheaves to the thresher as it stood in the field behind our house, belching smoke as it did whatever it did.

Happy Birthday, Ivy!

Some (unspecified number) years ago this little charmer came to add spice to our household!

This post features Ivanelle, aka "Ivy" and her family.

Upper left: Ivy and Martin wed. This picture shows all my children. l to r, Ken, Denise and Delbert, the bride and groom, Ann and Mike.

Lower left: The Birthday Girl

Center column, top to bottom: Ivy's son Jeremy, daughter and son-in-law Janelle and Brandon;

granddaughter Paige; granddaughter Alexis.

Right column: Husband Martin with grandkids; son Jeffery; daughter's wedding; grandson Hunter.

Happy Birthday, Ivy!

LV 11 = Getting the Job Done

I had to work, of course, and as I related earlier it was a twelve-mile drive to my place of employment. After a year in the elementary school, I transferred to the junior high to teach mathematics. Marie's classroom was across the hall from mine. She taught English to the seventh and eighth graders who were our charges. This lady was the same age as my mother. We worked together for five years until I left the community, and she taught several more years before she retired.

We soon figured out that a good bit of gas (read: money) could be saved if we were to share rides to work, as we lived only three miles apart; and we were both a dozen miles from school. Thus, we alternated weeks, stopping by one another's house to pick up and drop off the passenger.

The farm of Jim Griggs was located along our route to school. The pigster had posted a large yet tastefully done sign at the entry to his property.

-------------Griggs' Pigs------------

----------Hampshire----- Poland China---------

Marie, in her typically pedantic manner, was offended by the sign, for she claimed the apostrophe usage was incorrect, and the sign should read "Griggs's Pigs." I allowed that that would destroy both the rhyme and the lilt, and should therefore read "Griggs's Pigses." Marie was not amused.

There was a saying amongst school people at the time that "every teacher should be an English teacher." But not all English teachers are so willing to share the responsibility. I had occasion, created an occasion, once in a seventh grade math class to assert that "ain't" was a valid word in the language, and that it could be correctly used. "Ain't I" is a contraction for the phrase "am I not" and can be used in a construction as follows: "I am going to town with you, ain't I?" This was reported by my students to the English teacher, who in turn sent a message back to me, telling the kids to tell me that she "will teach English, and Mr. Lacy should stick to arithmetic."

© 2010 David W. Lacy

Visit again tomorrow.

Blue Skies

Look! It's Emeril!

What? You don't play this game?

It has been so hot, sultry and hazy that I was startled to look up at blue sky! Not only that, but when clouds have gathered, they have been gray, towering and menacing. These were puffy, floating and fun. Just like kid-times again. Hence the picture.

God's Word, the Only Truth

Pastor Mark continues his series on doctrine, Why we believe what we believe.

He asks, What place does the Bible take in your life? How do you respond to Bible truth?

The scripture reading is I Timothy 4:12-16. "Let no man despise thy youth; but be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.
Till I come, give attendance to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine.
Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by prophecy, with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery.
Meditate upon these things; give thyself wholly to them; that thy profiting may appear to all.
Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine; continue in them: for in doing this thou shalt both save thyself, and them that hear thee."

1. The PENNING of the Word. God wrote the Bible. II Timothy 3:16-17. "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness:
That the man of God may be perfect, throughly furnished unto all good works."
(II Peter 1:20-21, Revelation 13:14)

2.The PROCLAMATION of the Word. We are to be people of the Book. If we don't follow, there will be chaos in our lives. (Isaiah 55, Proverbs 22:17-22)

3. The PRACTICE of the Word. "The walk makes the talk walk." Our lives must match the proclamation. Acts 17:2: Paul's lifestyle matched his testimony.

4. The PROMISES of the Word. The Bible is the TRUTH, God's only Word. It is timeless. It is triumphant.

5. The POWER of the Word. It has power (a) to convict; (b) to convert; (c) to cleanse; (d) to counsel; (e) to comfort.

---------------Be an unabashed and unashamed biblicist. Do not sit under the ministry of anyone who denies God's Word.---------------

R U Rat E 4 Sum Futbowl

More Fifth Grade Tortures #T

Last week we joined the lad as he began his fifth grade year in a new school in a new community. We had met Miss Gardiner, arithmetic teacher to the not-yet-dry-behind-the-ears charges that passed through her classroom doors. If it was suggested that she was an ogre, it was intentional. One of his classmates, whose name was Miller Gardner, was chastised by this witch for "not knowing how to spell his last name." Well, it might have been funny, but The Boy doesn't remember it that way.


The first day The Boy entered her classroom, the teacher asked him what "group" he was in.
Either verbally or by the confused look on his face, he replied, "Huh?" "What group," she said, "are you in-- A, B, or C?" Since math was a strong suit for The Boy, and since he had always done pretty well with it, he replied, "'A' group, I guess." He was placed with a group that would today be known as "remedial" or perhaps even "hopelessly clueless." To her credit, Miss Gardiner, within a week, notified the youngster that he was not where he belonged and that he should take his place in the "C" group at once.

How was this child, who had a four-year background in a school system where "A" denoted excellence and "C" meant so-so, to know that in this benighted and backward community* everything was turned topsy-turvy! True. A "C" was the top grade and the "A" denoted the likelihood that you were in danger of joining the ranks of the flunkees. It was as though The Boy had fallen down a rabbit hole.

Perhaps as bad as the indignities suffered inside the school walls were, the unhappy conditions on the "play"ground were worse. Play? Seriously, you're kidding. Marbles were not a choice during school hours. Are you kidding? No, we play softball and run footraces and stuff like that. Not optional; choose up sides! Which always meant, of course, that the last to be picked was The Boy. And not so much picked as de-selected, as in, with two people left to be chosen, the captain whose turn it is says, "We'll take Lorene. You get him," pointing his thumb in The Boy's direction.



*That's a joke, Dear Reader. It truly was one of the most progressive school systems in the nation at the time. Little did that matter to The Boy.

Working the Yard

Don't see many grasshoppers, but this was one cute little guy.





Mushroom crop in the mulch around the neighbor's front walk.







We may get some "t" for the blt after all!








Removed about forty pounds of morning glory vines.

Shutter Up!

The shutter project is complete. We're happy with it.

Loonville Vingette 10 = Cars

I met the owner of the local Ford dealership at Lions Club. I had purchased a few small items from his parts department; and I had been "accosted" on the lot by one of his salesmen. In early 1965, I was driving a 1962 Dodge Lancer which now had 93,000 miles on it, and while it still looked quite spiffy, I was beginning to think new car. Who am I kidding? Most 30 year olds of the guy persuasion are always thinking new car. A shiny new 1965 Mustang (remember the Mustang had been introduced only a very few months earlier) was resting proudly inside the showroom; and I entered the store.

Mr. Ford himself (is that a name for a Ford dealer or what?) rose from the desk in his cubicle and sauntered over to me as I walked round and round the vehicle. I was not drooling on the floor, but I might as well have been to the practiced eye of the fellow who had "put" hundreds of people into vehicles that they did not arrive in. Gorgeous metallic green body, Ivy Green; and when Ford lifted the hood, what should appear to my wondering eye but a "289." Cutting this short for conservation of space, I took delivery on the vehicle the following day.

I had planned to depart for Portland, Oregon on June 16 as I was going to study graduate level mathematics at Reed College during the summer session. Friend Warren was going to go along, and we calculated that with perhaps one overnight stop in Wyoming, we should otherwise be able to drive straight through. Warren had an older brother who lived in Portland, and they had not seen each other in over five years.

On June 13 as I was driving home from work, a horrendous squalling signalled that I had big trouble. I managed to get the car into the dealership, the mechanic did not take long to ascertain that the transmission was shot. Literally. A thrust washer had been omitted in the assembly and a shaft had eaten through a casing. How long for repairs? It will take at least three weeks to get a new tranny from the factory, and it will require that. I went up front to talk to the owner. I explained that we were planning to leave for Oregon in two days, and I didn't have any slack in my scheduled itinerary. Oh, I was told, I think I can solve your problem. He picked up his interoffice phone and called the service man. "Bring in that red Mustang that just came in on the truck today, pull the transmission and put it in Mr. Lacy's car."

And it was that simple. And we made the appointments scheduled in the Pacific Northwest.

Believe me, these are the kind of loons I appreciate knowing and dealing with. Good people are wherever you find them, may their tribe increase.

© 2010 David W. Lacy

Abby is One

Saturday, beautiful day, backyard picnic in celebration of great granddaughter Abigail's first birthday.




Her brother, Logan, assists her with the cake.

One's children are a responsibility of love; grandchildren are a joy; great grandchildren are a blessing beyond one's wildest imagination.

Tamara Lowe

Fifth Grade

The Boy is entering fifth grade this term. But it is yet too soon to see the light at the end of a very dark tunnel. That is to say, he hasn't yet envisioned the likelihood that school will ever be over. (Had he known then that it would be another forty-six years before "the end" of it all, he might simply have pulled the covers over his head and stayed abed until merciful death carried him away.)

Trepidation was compounded by the fact that he now resided in a new community, would be going to a new school, and basically knew no one else who would be there. The upside? Who said there could be an upside? Okay, okay. It was this. The Boy now lived only two doors from Bristol School and no longer did he have to slog miles and miles through rain and snow and cold and heat to get to his appointed spot for the school day. He could simply walk out the back door, go to the alley, walk the forty yards to the playground wall, drop down into the school grounds, and he was there. *groan*

There, actual experience was not only every bit as bad as his little imagination could ideate, it was a reality much worse than he had anticipated. His fifth grade teacher was Mrs. Kennedy, who was nice enough as teachers go, and The Boy has no negative memories of her as a person. But in the "semi-departmentalized" arrangement in this den of torture, everyone went to Miss Gardiner for arithmetic, and to Miss Anderson for music. Remember the terror who was the first-grade teacher? Miss Gardiner was this terror, but writ large. Black dress, white collar, corset stays visible up her backside. Someone (who shall remain nameless to protect the guilty) placed a thumbtack, point up, in her chair once while she was out of the room. She returned, sat in her chair and showed absolutely no sign that there was a problem. When she stood to write on the chalkboard, the tack was plainly stuck in her derriere. Wooden woman.

This grade level deserves more space than this, hence we will continue next week.

Stop-and-Go

I read that the first traffic light in the United States was installed in Cleveland, Ohio, August 5 1914. That was well before my time, but the force of the signal has been controlling much of our lives ever since. In fact, we don't even give stop lights a thought; we simply obey, much as automatons obey their prewired instructions.

How much simpler would our lives be if we so obeyed the instructions for living which we have been given.

Green light: Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment.
And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. Matthew 5:37-39


Here is a red light, green light, caution light: Let him eschew evil, and do good; let him seek peace, and ensue it. 1Peter 3:11

Tempted to evil? Stop. See a need? Go, fill it. Seek peace diligently, cautiously and with wisdom.

Miracles

Niece Abigail has a high-powered, people-intensive job. She posted this on her facebook page. I get it.

"Miracles happen every day. I haven't choked the stupid out of someone today. See? Miracle."

Do you ever feel as though you have effected this particular miracle?

Loonville Vingette 9 = Friendship #T

Warren invited me to visit a local meeting of Lions International as his guest. I met two dozen citizens I had not previously known, and encountered several I had already met in the community. I liked the experience. Without going into detail, I will tell you that I "passed muster" and became a member of this group. I met Phil at Lions, though I was certainly to have "business" with him as he acted in his professional capacity, for he was principal of the local elementary school. And I had kids. Phil could be fairly described as a feisty individual, not large of physical stature, sandy hair, and peering at the world through coke-bottle lenses. He affected a cookie-duster mustache, just enough to be called a mustache. I soon discovered that Phil and his family were thick with Warren and his trible. Soon I had been admitted into this orbit, and we became the Three Musketeers of Loonville. When Thursday evenings rolled around, there were six adults and eight kids gathered at the home of one of the Musketeers. Good food, good conversation and lots of laughter kept this routine alive for so long as I lived in Loonville. We had much in common, though our professional lives differed, if not in calling, at least in the stage on the ladder. But we saw the basic requirements for proper living in very much the same light. Yet from the religion angle, we were a fundamentalist, a traditionalist, and a free-thinker. We got along famously, because, though we did not agree on many things, we harbored deep-seated respect for each other's right to formulate and express his own opinion. Our sessions together were not gossip sessions as such, but inevitably our friends and neighbors contributed to the conversation, because in Loonville, well, how could they not? Warren had a most interesting manner of speaking. He would make leaps from point A to point D, for example, without ever touching B and C. Until one got used to this, it seemed at times that he was dropping non sequiturs into the conversation. Phil and I both recognized that Warren could think so much faster than he could talk that it was up to us to learn to follow portions of "unspoken conversation." And since we could, in fact, do this, our bond of friendship grew ever stronger. Even after I moved from the community, our friendships continued so long as we were all alive. Warren moved to the southern part of the state to become president of a bank overlooking the Ohio River. Phil remained in Loonville until after the death of his wife. My spouse was the first to pass away, followed shortly by Phil's wife. Then Warren's wife became terminally ill, and after a long battle, she too, was no longer with us. It is almost incredible to believe, but the paths of our lives bore great similarity even after our respective tenures in Loonville were long past. Warren retired from the bank, married a widow lady and moved to a small acreage near I-65 north of Louisville. Phil remarried, and moved to Indianapolis with his new bride. I also married for a second time, and continued to live in Perfect. We saw each other from time to time and always picked up right where we left off. Phil was the first to depart the group, and Warren and I met in Indianapolis to attend his funeral. Several years later, I got a call from his wife telling me that Warren had literally passed away along the berm of the road as he and his dog were on their morning walk. Phil, Warren, I miss you guys. © 2010 David W. Lacy

Happy Birthday, Ilene!

My sister Ilene was born when I was a teenager. I left home before we really had a chance to get acquainted. Thankfully, our adult lives allowed us to connect. She retired this past June from her career as home economics teacher and drama instructor. She packed her stuff and moved to New Jersey to be near her children.

Upper left: Three graduates. Upper right: Her daughter and grandson.

Lower left: Christmas with parents, siblings, nieces a long time ago.

Center right: The Birthday Girl. Lower right: Her son.

Centerpiece: A youger Ilene, above and below her, those who live with her.

Happy Birthday, Ilene

We love you.

Limiting God

Preacher Brent's sermon was based on Psalm 78.

Theme: While God is not limited by evil, He is limited by His own followers.

Question: How do you limit God in your life?

1. When we forget the wonders and works of God, we limit His workings.

Read v. 11 and 42: They remembered not his hand, nor the day when he delivered them from the enemy.

2. When we ask in our will, not in God's will. Unbelief limits the workings of God.

Pray "Lord, keep me from my desires." When we say "no" to God's plan, we limit His workings.

3. We limit God when we are "fair weather friends" using Him to our advantage. We limit Him when we are only half-way committed to His will.

Why go "all out" for God?

Not just for our own welfare, but for the good of future generations. vv. 5-7.
For he established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers, that they should make them known to their children: That the generation to come might know them, even the children which should be born; who should arise and declare them to their children: That they might set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but keep his commandments.