I resigned. Stepped down. Life as I had known it for nearly 10 years was over. And I took that step of faith(?) into an abyss not knowing the results. Believe the prophets and you shall prosper.
This morning I awoke at 3:50 to hear “Restore unto me the joy of my salvation” singing through my head. I began to pray for friends and family. But, being in bed just wasn’t working for me, so I arose, thinking I could shake this off, but I couldn’t. So many, weren’t enjoying their salvation. I spoke to a newer Christian yesterday who was reaping the fruits of his choices(Don’t we all, unless the mercy of God is invoked.) He had “tried” to enjoy, but the demons of his past were great and his feeling that it was all supposed to be ok kept him from the confessions of his hurt and his pain. I(I pray my words and gestures bear fruit in his life.). Continue reading Restore unto me the joy of my salvation→
We had decided to move to the country. We had lived in downtown Brattleboro too long for my blood. Every night the fire alarms would ring in my ears and I just wasn’t handling it. A house came along. Well, sort of a house. They called them yurts and they were round houses that were tied together by regular construction. That was where the kitchen was. On one end of the house, the yurts was our bedroom and the other end of the house it was our living room. Two wood stoves heated the house.
Round houses. Imagine that. Nothing could go in a corner because there wasn’t one(Would have been great when I was a child and being disciplined. Go stand in the corner…) so square furniture was struggling for space. The walls sloped outwards from the bottom, so pictures didn’t hang, they laid there. The cat could run up the walls. Continue reading The Yurt’s Experience→
Our babysitter, Mrs. H, was very nearsighted and very slow. She was also very excitable. One day I decided to “kill” my brother. We were supposed to be washing dishes. Larry and I came up with this elaborate plan for his “demise.” We took an old knife and broke off the blade. We taped it to his chest and had him lie in front of the cabinets. I poured watered down ketchup on his chest and on the floor. Then I yelled “Stop that or I will kill you!” Mrs. H. yelled to me to be quiet, but I kept screaming and then Larry did his death scream. At that, Mrs. H came in to the kitchen and saw my brother lying in a “puddle of blood.” Continue reading Mrs. H and The “Murder”→
