I said under the post deficit that our system needed an overhaul. It looks like they are trying to start it.
check out the
and good luck to them!
Many of you have heard this story, but I feel the need to add it to my blog list just the same.
We had moved to Ga. Alone. The nearest family we had were living in Ohio, and the nearest friends were in TX. It was a scary time, but a good one. We had found a wonderful Catholic church and for the first time in a LONG LONG time I enjoyed going every Sunday. The priest there was Father Luke, and his sermons were thought-provoking and beautiful, stressing unity instead of division and compassion instead of judgement. Despite all that, we only made passing acquaintances of the congregation – no real welcoming or friendships.
One day in his sermon Father Luke told us he received a promotion and was no longer going to be serving at the church and I was sad, angry, (and maybe just a little whiny). The only thing I could think of was – “I was FINALLY looking forward to attending mass Every Sunday, and the pastor was leaving.” I tried to give the new pastor a chance but he just couldn’t hold a candle to Father Luke’s sermon and story telling. The sermons revolved around tradition and money and the standard Catholic type sermons and we decided that it just wasn’t the church for us.
We chose the Episcopalian Church to visit – It was supposed to be (and is) very similar to the Catholic mass. I wanted something that has the reverence and ceremony that makes the Mass “Special” but I wanted something that speaks to my spirit and is warm and friendly.
On the Saturday we were in the Square – and I saw the Presbyterian Church (although I had no idea which church it was). I turned to the hubby and said, “Wouldn’t it be nice to attend Church on the square?” and Thus the decision was made.
That Sunday we arrived and we almost didn’t go in because we were Late. There is nothing .. NOTHING… that I hate more than being late to Church (or school or anything for that matter).
We slipped into the back pew and sat down quick as we could in the hopes that no one would notice.
The Service was wonderful – The same and different all at the same time. A wonderful woman helped me through the areas where I got lost. It was the start of wonderful friendship.
At the end of the service, I clutched the bulletin and headed out into the sunshine, debating whether or not I wanted to stay and talk to the priest. I was hesitant because, except for the heading on the bulletin, I had no idea what kind of church it was. It seemed very friendly /catholic to me. We said the Nicene Creed, had the sign of peace, Said the Our Father, but still.. just different enough to make me self-conscious.
Pastor Billy Wade was warm and friendly and immediately put me at ease – right up until I asked him (somewhat sheepishly ) what I should call him. In the Catholic Church he would have been Father William or Father Wade. He held my hand, smiled and said, “Just call me Billy.”
I was stunned into silence. I didn’t know what to say or do. I COULDN”T call him Billy. It was just not done. It was irreverent! It was… wrong.
Seeing my discomfort he smiled, “If you must put a title on it, You can call me Pastor Billy.”
When the hubby and I returned (without our youngest son) the next sunday, Not only did he remember our names, But he also remembered our Son’s name, even though he wasn’t present.
Good Morning all! Took some pictures of the sunrise this morning, will have to add them in. It was simply Gorgeous! I love how the light peeks in between the trees and gentle wisps of fog reach into my yard (unfortunately I don’t catch-all that on my camera.. One day I’ll figure out how to use it correctly).
Today is our Pastors 25th Anniversary in our church. Imagine that, Serving this community for 25 years; watching children grow up, get married, have a family of their own. what a great thing. It must feel like extensions of your own family.
As the pastor of the church, you are a part of everyone’s joys and sadness. You hear confessions of guilt, arguments and pain, people express doubts, look for answers, and everyone.. Yes EVERYONE, comes to you for guidance, absolution and comfort.
It is a huge responsibility to shoulder, and Billy Wade has done it for 25 years with a smile always on his face and a kind word always on his lips.
The Church Service is at 11, the commemoration ceremony is at 2, and the reception is at 3. I will be gladly serving at the Reception.
My gratitudes today all go toward this man and this church. I have never, in all my years of moving about, Never felt so welcomed and a part of something. People recognised my name immediately and who my family members were. I was greeted and talked to (instead of at.)
People here are warm welcoming and wonderful (had a hard time with that last w word. 😉
I feel refreshed and energized when I go to Sunday Service. I feel appreciated when I volunteer my time and most of all I feel cared about. I have made good friends in this church and I thank God for bringing these people into my life.
That’s all I have to say today. Gonna start getting stuff together.
Wow…. Just simply wow…
I don’t know how true this is…. but they are right about one thing, People find it hard to process large numbers. This puts the base numbers in perspective.
I have a food saver (a vacuum sealer machine that locks in freshness) and I use it a lot and I love it!
It really does extend the life of your food, protects against freezer burn and is an all-around life saver in my household.
Today I opened the Gruyère to shred some for the bean stew in the crock pot and I sighed. Looking at the size of the block of cheese I KNOW its going to go bad before I can use it all.
Then the thought occurred to me. What if I cut it into usable sized blocks and vacuum seal the rest into individual packages. I am not sure it will stop it from molding …. But I DO know it won’t accelerate the process!!!! So we shall see boys and girls if I have a way to preserve cheese too.
Keep your fingers crossed for me.
Now on to Gratitudes!
I am grateful for my extended family; sisters brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and the list goes on and on. February is a month of birthdays! Sister’s is on the first, brother’s is on the 8th and mine is more toward the end of the month. My Aunt’s is on the 23rd I think, really close to mine.
So my thoughts and love turn to them. Despite the problems in each of their individual lives we try to keep in touch, share the good times, and offer love, sympathy and comfort in times of stress. We watch each other grow up and grow old. Chide each other when we step out of line and love each other anyway. Not a day goes by that I don’t offer a prayer, think about old times, wish they were closer or just thank God for their connection to me and my life.
Last night I must have been hungry.
In the dream I was out to breakfast with my mother in law and two sons. Other people made guest appearances but those three were the main characters. On the menu were cool creations made from french toast, waffles and pancakes.
A two-story Victorian-style home – for the VERY Hungry.
An intown flat – for the peckish
A town house set on a street corner.
and a little log cabin made out of french toast sticks.
There was even a gingerbread house with licorice vines along the sides and a waffle roof. (I almost got that one.. but it was way too much for me to eat)
Each house had a number of little flower pots set on the steps, filled with syrup. Flowers were made out of sprinkles and fruit and vegetable pieces. The stones along the walks and on the stairs were slices of carrot set in like cobble stone. My little log cabin even had a swing on the porch!!!!
I was sitting at the table talking with my family, with my camera set out waiting and ready to take a picture of my little breakfast.
Hubby woke me up before I even got to see it.. I was sooo sad.
Who doesn’t want a log cabin made out of french toast sticks? Seriously, even if you didn’t LIKE french toast.. it would be great.
He could have at least waited until I got a dream picture..
We spent the rest of the morning working out the logistics to making a log cabin out of food.
My first (before coffee) suggestion was pot roast. Now hear me out.. You could fill the internal cavity with mashed potatoes to hold the shape.
Hubby’s suggestion was better – He suggested the meat sticks from the market we go to. They would be PERFECT! you could notch them and everything and build a real cabin. Instead of carrots and stuff you could make the stones of the walk out of sliced cheese. How awesome would that be?????
So I may end up like Close Encounters – you remember the guy building the mountain out of mashed potatoes?
If I can’t get this dream out of my head I may be building a cabin out of meat sticks and cheese.