Thanks Thanks Thanks

If our entire family gets together--that is, my parents, siblings, spouses, and descendants--we currently number thirty. This year we had twenty eight at the Thanksgiving celebration. That's a lot to be thankful for. Here are my parents with all the grandchildren, their spouses, and the five great grandchildren.

Here are two of the youngest generation, marveling over two of Grandpa's amazing pumpkins. His two vines produced at least a dozen of these. I asked him if all the pumpkins were this big and he said, "Well, no, but the bigger ones wouldn't fit into the trunk." My mom said, "Well there's the explanation of your shoulder problem, right there!"

 This is the most anticipated table, of course, desserts that are normally forbidden for those of us on diets. Today was a free day. I overindulged until they were gone...and that includes a day of eating leftovers. Fortunately I had a little help, or I would have eaten myself into a sugar coma.

Here's my dad with Mim and Seansy.

Cousins

Are you beginning to see a common theme here?

Well, there were other people here, of course, and other food besides dessert. Really good food, actually-- turkey, ham, dressing, gravy, veggies, potatoes, yams, corn, beans, snacky stuff, well...all the normal foods we enjoy.

Still, this was the most popular table, I'd say.

These are Hazel's delectable cream puffs, and a little corner of the most delicious chocolate cake in the world. I should know. I didn't let a crumb be wasted.

And here are a few random shots I threw in to make people say, "Oh why did you have to put that one in for everyone to see?"

I guess I can do that because I sure didn't take any pictures of myself.

When I look at this picture my heart overflows with gratitude.
These generations that flank my own--they are such a blessing to me.
Words aren't enough. I could cut and paste thanks for a year, and not express it.
Thanks, God. Thanks. Thanks. Thanks.

John the Baptist with Feet of Clay

For the last few Sundays during children's church, we've been modeling the story after I tell it. Each child gets a different color play-doh, and an assignment. The first Sunday we built Jerusalem surrounded by armies. This Sunday was John the Baptist with followers lined up to be baptized. No, I know there aren't supposed to be towers around the Jordan River. Just call them rock formations. When you have little boys in the picture, there always seem to be weapons popping up.
If you look closely at the bottom one you will see snakes lined up behind the believers. Those are Pharisees--fleeing from the wrath to come.

On a more serious note, three of our church children are getting baptized this Sunday. They've had long talks with parents, grandparents, and the church board of elders, and are excited to be taking this step of faith. I'm excited too. The water is a little clearer than the Jordan, and, as far as I know, there won't be any snakes attending.

Under a Lid

These are the kinds of clouds that hung over us all morning yesterday They don't have any rain in them, but the moisture they do have might be keeping the rain we got last week from evaporating. So we consider them friendly clouds.  See that little line right along the horizon? That's the real sky, trying to shine in under the door, so to speak.

By yesterday evening they had lifted a little, but still hovered over the land. These twisted trees didn't seem to mind. At least it wasn't wind or searing sun or ice. Just a thick, white cushion--quiet...still...peaceful...

It looks so peaceful.

It's hard to believe that Monday evening, one week ago, we had a tornado warning, (one was sighted in our area and several more southeast of us) a torrential downpour, (five and a half inches of rain in a few hours when we've only had six inches in the last twelve months) flooded streets (they actually had to block traffic on our street for a few hours), lightning (and its accompanying thunder), hail (pelting fiercely down to bounce off the drought-stressed lawn), high winds (up to 90 mile an hour gusts in some places), and an earthquake (seriously, in Oklahoma, a 4.7) just as we were going to bed. We didn't know whether to seek the highest or lowest shelter; whether to run out of doors to escape the earthquake threat or stay under a roof to protect ourselves from the lightning.  My sister-in-law suggested that, like the prophet Elijah, we should be listening for the still, small voice.

What I'm Sure Would Have Been an Amazing Picture if I had been Standing On a Hill

 This morning I woke up to this scene in my backyard. It looks ominous, but, since I didn't smell any smoke, I knew that it was only the sun's reflection against a voluminous cloud ceiling. If I had been as fast as any one of the superheroes in a b movie, I would have been able to regale you with pictures taken far away from the backside of a shed, with skies free of telephone line tangles. Alas. Being a mere human, I did my best. I ran to the front yard, jumped into my car...and the flaming sky was already gone. Thus I am able to offer only these peephole glimpses of what I was sure would have been a rare-coral November sky.

11/11/11/11/11/111

At 11:11 this morning, our superintendent announced over the intercom that we would take a moment out of our day to pray for veterans on their special day.  Since it was November 11th, in 2011, and we are now entering our 111th year of existence as a school, it seemed a special occasion.






(I knew there must have been some reason for me to have taken pictures of the sun, moon, and cows on the way to school this morning!)

All for a Few Good Pictures

Over the course of my life I have been asked to take a number of examinations to prove that I'm a sentient being, and I passed them all. In fact, the tests have universally agreed that I'm not overly deficient in intelligence and am capable of making rational decisions.

Unfortunately, you can't always tell that by my actions.  Yesterday was a case in point.

Although I had left school later than usual, and I knew that I needed to arrive home in time to run an errand or two before I had to dress up and come back to school to host a table for our annual school-supporters' banquet, I saw the clouds...and the sun...and the sun on the clouds..and the fields luxuriating under the new-fallen rain.  

Because we've been in a long, pitiless drought,
I wanted to see water. I plead that I was bewildered by welcome sights:  blue streams curving around green terraces, tree feet wading in puddles,  heavy clouds soft-shielding the sun.
I turned south and followed the country roads where pictures beckoned from every side.
Sounds rational, doesn't it?

It wasn't really.
I had forgotten one little item.
Dirt roads  covered by six inches of rain and left to sit overnight turn into mud.


Need I say that it was a long ride home? Need I explain that gravel roads make unusual furrows under the onslaught of flood run-off? Need I describe the blank stare of unconcerned cattle or the color of the mud that now coats the bottom third of my vehicle? I'll spare you.

The fact is, I made it home, finished my errands, arrived at the banquet on time, and nobody knows about my lapse of sanity...well, except you. You know now. And the cows. They know.

Fall in Missouri