At long last, the Big-Y-DNA test has been completed–and delivered to my email address. I was so eager for this information because I anticipated it would help me identify the ancestry of “Mr. Red”—the owner-manager of this RV Park. Eventually, I may understand… but right now “It’s all Greek to me.” Undoubtedly, all those numbers mean something but I was hoping for names and dates.
Handing paperwork as I approach “downsizing,” I came across this poem AGAIN.
I’ve made absolutely no progress today as I attempt to downsize. I handle pieces of paper and/or letters and decide it needs to be added to my Ancestry family tree. There goes a couple of hours!! ~~ Would it be presumptuous of me to say my time is more valuable “adding to the family tree” versus packing boxes to be shipped to the Brethren Heritage Center where they will get lost in “their” enormous collection of family history??
After I consulted the dictionary, “no,” I don’t think I’m “wishy-washy.” That was the blog message title that came to mind when I started preparing this message. I want to report that I’ve changed my mind about items for downsizing. I moved heavy boxes into my trailer home planning to sort the items and make decisions. Well, I made the decision to move those heavy boxes back to the carport—or storage. I abhor the rooms cluttered with boxes so I can barely walk around. For the record, that is second to despising my long stringy hair. Confession: A friend sent hair-cutting scissors but I have been reluctant (wishy-washy??) about cutting my own hair. Indecisive?
Check this much earlier blog message for a topic considerably different from details about the weather and/or genealogy. Why?
I researched the Rally after an email request for information. “Flights of fantasy” because it took me from my “self-isolation” to socializing. I adored the fellowship when volunteering at Wycliff in Orlando, Florida.
What was Lorraine doing in June 2014? Here is another blog message about a travel trailer trip. This old lady has lived long past the “link” that was originally viable. Therefore, early morning revision of an old message. I’m praising God—and I’ll tell the world—that I’m grateful for “memory.”
The Texas power grid is overloaded and we are asked to “conserve energy.” It isn’t even 9:30 in the morning and the heat and humidity forced me to turn on both air-conditioners. I did spend a few minutes in the yard watering the plants. ~~ “Deliberate disobedience,” furthermore, because I’ll spend the day sitting at the computer when “too much sitting” isn’t good for Lorraine’s “power grid.”
Lorraine was doing something unusual; Lorraine was cleaning house!! ~~ There was a heart–stopping moment with the realization of the treasure in my hands. The newspaper was turning brown although only eighteen months old. A lady-friend at Rainbow’s End RV Park, in Livingston, Texas, read the poem to the residents gathered for a Christmas potluck supper (2019). I loved that poem and asked for a copy. Pat generously gave me the newspaper. Today, I typed the words so the “Christmas poem” is my June poem gift to my friends and family..
‘Twas the night before Jesus came and all through the house
Not a creature was praying, not one in the house.
Their Bibles were laid on the shelf without care
In hopes that Jesus would not come there.
The children were dressing to crawl into bed.
Not once ever kneeling or bowing a head.
And Mom in her rocker with baby on her lap
Was watching the Late Show while I took a nap.
When out of the East there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash!
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But angels proclaiming that Jesus was here
With a light like the sun sending forth a bright ray
I knew in a minute this must be THE DAY!
The light of His face made me cover my head
It was Jesus, returning like He had said.
And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth,
I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself.
In the Book of Life which He held in his hand,
Was written the name of every saved man.
He spoke not a word as He searched for my name;
When He said “It’s not here” my head hung in shame.
The people whose names had been written with love
He gathered to take to His Father above.
With those who were ready He rose without a sound.
While all the rest were left standing around,
I fell to my knees, but it was too late;
I had waited too long and thus sealed my fate.
I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight;
Oh, if only I had been ready tonight.
In the words of this poem the meaning is clear;
The coming of Jesus is drawing near.
There’s only one life and when comes the last call
We’ll find that the Bible was true after all.
Author is Lou Pinter
Answer: One bite at a time.
Oh, my aching back; too much heavy lifting. I have “large” boxes with heavy books. I bought “medium” size boxes so they would be easier to handle. Still too heavy!! I’ll buy the “small” boxes next time and distribute across several boxes. I’m taking “a few bites at a time” and hope to ship things to various locations this summer.