I’ve been searching for words the past few days, my mind has been so disturbed by the recent societal violence between the police force and African-American men. The only answer is to respect each other. The killing must stop. Each of us must reach out to someone. Hopefully, the message will get across that we all need the same thing. At lunch today, two black men sat at the next table. We didn’t talk or interact in any way. When I paid my ticket, I paid their ticket as well. I left a note on their table asking them to work for brotherhood and healing. It’s one little step. Let there be brotherhood and healing.
prayer
Whoo? Whoo? Joke
After prayer meeting two lonely spinster ladies stopped in a grove to pray as they walked home. One of them led off. “Please God, if it’s not too much to ask, could you send us husbands? We’ve always been virtuous, Godly women. We’d both make good wives for some lucky men.” Continue reading
God, Don’t Let Bessie Die! (1930s Memoir)
Daddy came in to supper, worried to death. Bessie, our cow had had a calf and had “got down.” This was a catastrophe. “Getting down” meant certain death for the cow and a disaster for us. “Oh, Lord! What in the world will we do? We’ve got to have milk for the kids. And we’ll lose the calf, too.” Mama was calm, not panicking, so, I knew this was Continue reading
Nutsrok 