The house was very simple. It didn’t come with any appliances, and we really didn’t have the money to buy new appliances. It also didn’t have air conditioning, but the landlord let us use an old window unit. We had a 13 inch black and white television (with rabbit ears) that we didn’t use. The water heater was small, so Sue and I showered together to have enough warm water. We, just the two of us, loved that rented house on the side of the mountain.

I was sitting in the front seat between my parents in our 48 Chevy. My sister was asleep in the back seat. We were on our way to my grandparents’ farm in Kentucky. It was dark, and I had been sleeping with my mother’s left arm around me.

I stepped out onto what had been my parents’ back porch. Two weeks earlier my Dad had breathed his last in the room behind me. Twenty-seven months earlier my mother had breathed her last in the same room. Both died surrounded by their children, and both are now in Heaven.

My sister recorded some of our father’s prayers before he died. As I listened, it was not what he prayed that caught my attention but how he prayed. He prayed with passion. He knew the end was coming. At one point he mentioned a bright light.

The ripples of COVID-19 will continue long after the quarantine has ended. Some of those ripples may surprise us with a silver lining. Those who have been dedicated to getting more and more, may, after weeks and months of social isolation, realize that less can be more satisfying, as we find freedom from our self-imposed shackles!

Farm to table is a relatively new trend in healthier eating. As a child I experienced farm-to- table food every time we visited my grandparents on their farm in western Kentucky. Only what could not be raised or grown on the farm was purchased. I still treasure those memories and the lessons I learned.

I am sitting in the same spot that fostered last fall’s blog “Peace in the Valley at Granddad’s Apples.” The view of the orchard to my left, the corn maze to my right, and the North Carolina Mountains in the distance are just as beautiful as they were last year.

I don’t like detours! I am a thinker, a planner, and a true Type A personality. Detours annoy me! If I am running errands, I know the route I will take. The errands will be in order for the sake of time and efficiency. If I am taking a trip, I will use a GPS that ensures the best route.

Recently, I returned from a two-day conference on aging issues and faith communities. I unpacked and began writing in my journal, but I didn’t write that I was back home. I wrote that I was back at the house. There is a difference.

IF often gets a bad wrap, as in weak and indecisive; but there is a powerful flip side that is hopeful, adventurous, and even optimistic. IF can be the spark that ignites ideas, dreams, and the impossible. IF can also be a retardant that douses hopes, imprisoning the mind.

Last month I was getting ready to check out of my motel after attending a national conference. I had been on the road for ten out of fourteen days and wasn’t really looking forward to heading back. Honestly, I have felt a bit homeless, but it had little to do with selling the house a year ago.

The world in which my four little grandchildren live is rather simple. Unlike many of us, they are content with the basics. I miss the innocence and simplicity of my childhood.

I have a surprisingly rare and vivid memory of my Dad holding me in his arms at a funeral visitation. I also remember him regularly rubbing my back to get me to sleep. He would stop, thinking I was asleep, but then I would utter a one-word request. “More!”

True confession: I never remember the outlines of sermons I hear! Worse yet, I probably couldn’t tell you much about the sermon if you asked me the next day, especially if it had several points. However, more times than not, a single comment will park in my overly crowded little brain. This blog is about one of those comments from a couple of months ago.

I had stopped at a Chic-fil-A. I chose a high top table by the window. In front of me was a younger man with what looked to be a journal lying beside him. I have journaled for the last year and a half and thought about asking him if he journaled, but I didn’t. That may have been too personal, like asking about someone’s age or weight.

No, this is not a lawyer joke. As a matter of fact, the information I am sharing below is very serious and deserves your full attention. Although I have been preparing to write this blog for several months, I have waited until the New Year to do so.