Isn't she lovely!

I've just returned from spending three weeks in Virginia with Ella and her family. When I was there in April for Easter, there were some tulips and daffodils, and the dogwood was just beginning to bud along with the other trees and shrubs. Four weeks later when I returned, everything was in full leaf and flower. We grow so accustomed in Florida to having flowers all year around that I don't appreciate the newness of spring when I see it, although I must say that it is so refreshing to see the earth awake after the barren winter.

Some of you have commented on my photography. Most of the photos that you see of Ella were taken by either David or Sabrina, and I've just "borrowed" them. The photos above were taken at Easter. It is so neat to see how much Ella has grown and developed each time I visit. I cherish each visit with her. I continue to be amazed and amused by her vocabulary and some of her antics.

This past week when I was there David was away at a conference, and so I requested that Ella go to her sitter's for part of that week since I was rising early to do her treatments with her and get her ready for the day. On Thursday when I went to pick her up at Ginny's, she was happy to see me and said to Ginny and Phil, "Here comes my best friend, Grammy!"

I arrived home on Sunday after a very smooth trip down I-95. Traffic was not heavy, and there were no backups or accidents. I made it all the way to mile marker 3 in Georgia around 6 Saturday night and then came on home Sunday morning. It's always good to be home, even though I love my time in Virginia.

Today I was at my church, volunteering in the office, answering the phone while the staff had its weekly meeting. One of my "jobs" is to do a mailing to some of the seniors in the church. The pastor writes a weekly letter to them and includes a fun sheet with a word search and other interesting facts. As I was putting the address stickers on the envelopes and thinking about some of the people that I know, I thought how much they must look forward to receiving this letter each week. Personal mail is almost a thing of the past, isn't it. I remember someone complaining about all the junk mail they received, and the elderly person commented that junk mail was the only mail they received.

One of the ladies who receives this letter is now 101. I have known her since I was a young girl. Her husband has been gone for many years. One of her daughters who looked after her here got cancer and died a few years ago. Now she is living with a granddaughter in the Tampa area. She was at our church not too long ago, and I had the opportunity to speak with her. Her mind is still sharp, and she's in pretty good health, and she has a loving home to be in.

Another lady who receives this letter is 96 or 97. Her husband was the first pastor of the church I belong to now. Breathing difficulties make it hard for her to get out, but she has this connection with her church family.

It's a little thing, but I'm glad that I have a little part in brightening these folks' day.

I hope that something happens to you today to brighten your day.

The 1887 Church

Here are some more photos from the church in the historical park. The sign, if you will click on it, you can read more about the church and the meaning of the window that appears to be the star of David.

Nothing can alter the character of God. In the course of a human life, tastes and outlook and temper may change radically: a kind, equable man may turn bitter and crotchety: a man of good-will may grow cynical and callous. But nothing of this sort happens to the Creator. He never becomes less truthful, or merciful, or just, or good, than He used to be. --J.I. Packer

[God] is not proud...He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him. --CS Lewis

As long as you are proud you cannot know God. A proud man is always looking down on things and people; and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you. --C. S. Lewis

I gave in, and admitted that God was God. --C. S. Lewis

The Little Church

Located in the historical park is the old Manatee Meth*dist Church. When a new church was built, this one was moved to its present location in the park. Today, the church is open for visitors and may be used for weddings. As I entered the church, I thought of the pioneering families who came to Manatee County and settled and came here for worship. They had weddings, funerals, baptisms...the church was the center of family life. The same holds true for many of us today. I am so thankful for my church family who cares for me and my children. We rejoice with each other in our joys; we cry with each other in our sorrow; we support each other through good and bad.

As I entered the church, the pews were bare, but I thought of the stories that were probably shared there among the ladies, the children who were seated with their parents, no nursery to send their children to, no children's church to entertain. They learned to sit respectfully and learned to worship alongside their parents. I think we've lost something somewhere along the line.

The Little Church


The little church of Long Ago, where as a boy I sat
With mother in the family pew and fumbled with my hat--
How I would like to see it now the way I saw it then,
The straight-backed pews, the pulpit high, the women and the men
Dressed stiffly. in their Sunday clothes and solemnly devout,
Who closed their eyes when prayers were said and never looked about--
That little church of Long Ago, it wasn't grand to see,
But even as a little boy it meant a lot to me.

The choir loft where father sang comes back to me again;
I hear his tenor voice once more the way I heard it when
The deacons used to pass the plate, and once again I see
The people fumbling for their coins, as glad as they could be
To drop their quarters on the plate, and I'm a boy once more
With my two pennies in my fist that mother gave before
We left the house, and once again I'm reaching out to try
To drop them on the plate before the deacon passes by.

It seems to me I'm sitting in that high-backed pew, the while
The minister is preaching in that good old-fashioned style;
And though I couldn't understand it all somehow I know
The Bible was the text book in that church of Long Ago;
He didn't preach on politics, but used the word of God,
And even now I seem to see the people gravely nod,
As though agreeing thoroughly with all he had to say,
And then I see them thanking him before they go away.

The little church of Long Ago was not a structure huge,
It had no hired singers or no other subterfuge
To get the people to attend, 'twas just a simple place
Where every Sunday we were told about God's saving grace;
No men of wealth were gathered there to help it with a gift;
The only worldly thing it had--a mortgage hard to lift.
And somehow, dreaming here to-day, I wish that I could know
The joy of once more sitting in that church of Long Ago.

Edgar Guest