February 1, 2008 will mark the fifth anniversary of the explosion of the space-craft Columbia over east Texas. Since I live in that part of Texas I will never forget it.
The date was Saturday, February 1, 2003. I had just got out of bed and had been sitting at my computer for a couple of hours. All of a sudden the earth shook, since I thought it was a sonic boom it didn't frighten me. Several seconds later the earth shook again, this time more violently.
This time I got up and went to wake up my parents. I didn't even have to do that because they were already up watching it on TV. My dad had stepped outside earlier and looked down the road thinking that it was the brick plant that had exploded.
Over a period of several weeks, citizens reported pieces of Columbia in their driveways, yards, or on the road. My uncle's neighbor found a human torso in his driveway (Imagine the horror of seeing that!)
My brother is a fireman and had to miss church several times to go investigate (and pick up) pieces of the Columbia.
I just don't think exploring space is worth all of this. Maybe it is, maybe as our knowledge grew over the centuries God intended for us to explore His universe.
What do you do with the cards and letters you receive? Do you keep them all, just keep the photos, throw them away?
Inspired by jacolily.
If they are Christmas cards I keep them to make little gift boxes.
Kathy
My grandmother used to have two cats who were pregnant at the same time. The day came when Princess made my grandmother a great grandmother by giving birth to five kittens.
One of the kittens was a gray, fluffy beautiful little thing. We named it Smokey. Another kitten was a beautiful black, fluffy little mite named Sambo. Another kitten was calico colored. We ended up giving "Cal" to the neighbors.
Then there was a skinny, sleek black kitten that we named "Little Suzy."
When the kittens were only babies we kept them (and their mothers) in a cage outside that was up off the ground (but the adult cats were free to come and go because we kept the door to the cage open). I never really knew what happened to the other cat's babies (we called her "Nurse Jane" because she helped take care of her sister's kittens).
One day I looked in the cage and didn't see "Little Suzy" anywhere. My grandmother happened to look in the corner of the cage and there was "Little Suzy" perched on top of the water container!
Suzy liked to run out in front of us, but when she ran it was sideways. When it came time to put the cats in the cage for the night, Suzy was the one that caused the most trouble. She would crouch down and just dare us to catch her.
When we made an attempt to grab at her she would take off running - sideways as usual.
The following is a true story I wrote after the death of my dear friend Ruth. It was published in our local newspaper a short time later.
If I had the gift of the words of a writer, or the gift of the pen of a poet, or the gift of the song of a psalmist, then I could tell of an event in my life that has ended and will change my life forever. Since I don't have these gifts I will have to tell the story in my own bumbling way.
I will start the story when the doctors told Ruth that the bottom part of her heart had collapsed, and what was left was enlarging. They also told her that there was nothing else that they could do for her. I called Ruth at the hospital to find out what the doctors had said after they had run tests on her. She said, "Well, it's not good news," then she told me what the doctors had said.
My own heart just about collapsed when she told me the news.
Every time we ate out this was all we talked about. Now, Ruth never blamed God. She never said, "Why me?" We always talked about what the Bible said about life after death. We also shared our belief in the Ressurection. Although Ruth didn't want to die, she never expressed any fear of death. She just didn't want to leave her family right now.
The next to last time we ate out Ruth was very depressed. Although she was always depressed about her illness I had never seen her that depressed before. The last time we ate out was two weeks before her death. It was also her 71st birthday. Ruth seemed much more calm and at peace then. I can't remember what we talked about at that last meeting.
I gave Ruth an article to read. It was called "The Other Side Of The Door." She read it and smiled as if to say, "What a sweet thought!"
Ruth was found on the floor of her bedroom near the foot of her bed; her little dog was resting on one of Ruth's sweaters snuggled up next to her. With all the noise the paramedics made trying to get in the house Ruth's little dog never left her side.
Ruth loved to feed the squirrels. She also loved butterflies
Ruth left us in the early hours of a Saturday morning, two weeks before Thanksgiving. The squirrels were feeding at the feeder that she had put up for them during the summer. And the butterflies had not yet come.
One book that I got for Christmas is For One More Day by Mitch
Albom.
If you had the chance, just one chance, to go back and fix what
you did wrong in life, would you take it? And if you did, would
you be big enough to stand it?
For One More Day will make you smile. It will make you
wistful. It will make you blink back tears of nostalgia. But
most of all, it will make you believe in the central power of
a mother's love.
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