The kids sang this song to Vern & Rhoda Clark at their reception. Molly has been singing it around the house ever since. I think she blended all three verses into one. But what she lacks in accuracy she makes up for in gusto! :)
What it was supposed to say:
You've been a sunshine, a special sunshine,
You've made us happy in many ways;
You'll never know, dear, how much we love you.
Please just pray for us every day.
She's been a sunshine, a special sunshine,
She's made us happy in many ways;
You'll never know, sir, how much we'll miss her.
Please just tell her you love her each day.
Live in the sunshine, the heavenly sunshine,
You can be happy when skies are grey;
Jesus will show you how much He loves you
If you live in His sunshine each day.
31 October 2011
07 March 2010
Sunday School Treat - 2010
Moses Lake - March 7, 2010
Sorry about the sound quality and the occasional shakiness. But hopefully you can understand most of what is said. Thankfully, you don't actually need to hear the kids to be entertained - there are plenty of visuals.
The Younger Class (3-6):
Marina R., Nathan H., Cody H., Katilynn H., Evan H., Andre R., Emma Lee H.
The Older Class (7-10):
Talita R., Madelyn H., Laura N., Christopher N., Sabrina N., Cassidy N., Michael H.
Sorry about the sound quality and the occasional shakiness. But hopefully you can understand most of what is said. Thankfully, you don't actually need to hear the kids to be entertained - there are plenty of visuals.
The Younger Class (3-6):
Marina R., Nathan H., Cody H., Katilynn H., Evan H., Andre R., Emma Lee H.
The Older Class (7-10):
Talita R., Madelyn H., Laura N., Christopher N., Sabrina N., Cassidy N., Michael H.
27 February 2010
Vance Havner (1901-1986) - Quotable Quotes
(You can also download some of his sermons here - the few I've tried so far have been heart-warming and well worth the listen. If you've never heard of him, you can read his biography here.)
If you see a Bible that is falling apart, it probably belongs to someone who isn't.
You can't tell it like it is, if you don't believe it like it was.
One should enter the pulpit as though it were the first time, as though it could be the best time, and as though it might be the last time!
Worse than blind leaders of the blind are bland leaders of the bland.
The devil is not fighting religion. He is too smart for that. He is producing a counterfeit Christianity so much like the real one that good Christians are afraid to speak out against it.
Plenty of church members are shaky about what they believe, while not many are shaken by what they believe.
The preacher is to comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.
People get so used to the dark that they think it is growing brighter. It is possible to fraternize with unbelievers until false doctrine becomes less and less objectionable.
If you want to be popular, preach happiness. If you want to be unpopular, preach holiness.
Some preachers ought to put more fire into their sermons or more sermons into the fire.
Most church members live so far below the standard, you would have to backslide to be in fellowship with them.
Too many church services start at eleven sharp and end at twelve dull.
The vision must be followed by the venture. It is not enough to stare up the steps - we must step up the stairs.
The devil will let a preacher prepare a sermon if it will keep him from preparing himself.
Sometimes your medicine bottle has on it, "Shake well before using." That is what God has to do with some of His people. He has to shake them well before they are ever usable.
Many people are in a rut and a rut is nothing but a grave - with both ends kicked out.
If they had a social gospel in the days of the prodigal son, somebody would have given him a bed and a sandwich and he never would have gone home.
Doing leads more surely to talking than talking to doing.
Somebody asked a prominent figure of the day, “What do you think of civilization?” He replied, “I think it’s a good idea. Why doesn’t someone start it?”
20 February 2010
16 January 2010
Kitty Littering
Our cats live a fairly comfortable life in the garage. They have 350 square feet to call their own, a constant supply of food and water, and padded physiques to show for it. But for the last couple of months their food supply has been compromised by the marauding activities of a feral feline.
This new kid on the block was all black, and therefore not easily distinguishable from our very own Pitch. The easiest way to tell them apart was to open the back door - if it ran away, it wasn't Pitch. Unfortunately, by then the food was usually gone and it was too late to do anything about it. The amount of food that animal could consume in such a little time was as amazing as the speed at which he could move with what must have been a very full stomach! So many times we'd be half a step out the back door, only to see his tail disappearing around the far corner of the garage, and would find not a trace of the food that should have fed our cats for two days! And each time our frustration and irritation and resentment grew.
I discovered that one of his hide-outs was under our front porch, so I closed that hole. I stalked him in the grass, I hunted him in the shed, and I threw rocks at him whenever I could get a clear shot (but when I did I had to be quick). All of our attention was focused on persuading him that he shouldn't come around here any more. However, when the object of your persuasive efforts is a cat, it's very hard to compete with a full dish of cat food. The key, we found, was to become smarter than the cat.
And we also changed our strategy. Instead of convincing him to leave, we would force him to stay. This is commonly called a trap. A hook on the garage entry door (slightly ajar), 25 feet of small rope routed through two wire loops to the back door of the house, and we were ready.
After a couple missed attempts and false alarms we had our big chance. At lunch time on a Saturday, as we were eating at the table (and yes, by now we were frequently checking out the door for signs of The Cat), I caught a glimpse of black slinking for the garage. Our cat Pitch was sitting idly on the sidewalk, so we knew the other black one was The Cat. I bounded quietly for the door, waited until I knew He was in the garage, then quickly opened the door and YANKED on the rope. The garage door slammed! We had our man ... er, cat!
The next problem, of course (now that we 'had' him, so to speak), was to corner and contain him. For anyone who has never faced a truly 'wild' kitty cat ... let me tell you, it could possibly qualify as an extreme sport, what with the adrenalin and so forth. I think the words 'feline projectile' most nearly describe the phenomenon. When he went streaking for his usual exit point and realized it was no longer an option, he launched himself about 6 feet in the air, bouncing off two walls before re-entering the atmosphere and retreating behind some storage boxes in the corner. Suffice it to say that there was considerable shuffling, scuffling, lunging and footwork before I finally trapped him in a Rubbermaid bin against a wall and slid the lid on between him and the wall. Another great application for Duct Tape. Lots of it.
Three phone calls later, I had learned that there are no local services or facilities provided for the humane disposal of wild kitties. I was on my own. Having neither the arsenal nor the desire to shoot the specimen, I contemplated a few alternative solutions before deciding on the Maritime Method. Not wishing to waste a good Rubbermaid bin, I attempted to transfer its occupant to a cardboard potato box. Unfortunately, it ... I didn't quite ... well you see it ... well, he got away. Fortunately we were still in the garage and I had had the foresight to close the door. So after another, briefer, variation of the previous adventure the captive kitty was once again secured ... this time in a potato box with a couple bricks to keep him company. And more Duct Tape. Lots of it.
That evening we went for a drive, just Kitty and me, along the river looking for a convenient and inconspicuous place to 'put in' as it were. We finally found one just after dark and, after a bit of a rocky climb, were down at the river's edge. I was afraid things might be just a little stuffy inside that box, and I just happened to have a large 12-inch nail with me. So I poked a bunch of holes in several sides of the box to improve his view and his overall quality of life. Then before you could say 'cat-a-maran', that kitty was floating silently downstream in the moonlight ... just him and his bricks. And his Duct Tape. Lots of it.
This new kid on the block was all black, and therefore not easily distinguishable from our very own Pitch. The easiest way to tell them apart was to open the back door - if it ran away, it wasn't Pitch. Unfortunately, by then the food was usually gone and it was too late to do anything about it. The amount of food that animal could consume in such a little time was as amazing as the speed at which he could move with what must have been a very full stomach! So many times we'd be half a step out the back door, only to see his tail disappearing around the far corner of the garage, and would find not a trace of the food that should have fed our cats for two days! And each time our frustration and irritation and resentment grew.
I discovered that one of his hide-outs was under our front porch, so I closed that hole. I stalked him in the grass, I hunted him in the shed, and I threw rocks at him whenever I could get a clear shot (but when I did I had to be quick). All of our attention was focused on persuading him that he shouldn't come around here any more. However, when the object of your persuasive efforts is a cat, it's very hard to compete with a full dish of cat food. The key, we found, was to become smarter than the cat.
And we also changed our strategy. Instead of convincing him to leave, we would force him to stay. This is commonly called a trap. A hook on the garage entry door (slightly ajar), 25 feet of small rope routed through two wire loops to the back door of the house, and we were ready.
After a couple missed attempts and false alarms we had our big chance. At lunch time on a Saturday, as we were eating at the table (and yes, by now we were frequently checking out the door for signs of The Cat), I caught a glimpse of black slinking for the garage. Our cat Pitch was sitting idly on the sidewalk, so we knew the other black one was The Cat. I bounded quietly for the door, waited until I knew He was in the garage, then quickly opened the door and YANKED on the rope. The garage door slammed! We had our man ... er, cat!
The next problem, of course (now that we 'had' him, so to speak), was to corner and contain him. For anyone who has never faced a truly 'wild' kitty cat ... let me tell you, it could possibly qualify as an extreme sport, what with the adrenalin and so forth. I think the words 'feline projectile' most nearly describe the phenomenon. When he went streaking for his usual exit point and realized it was no longer an option, he launched himself about 6 feet in the air, bouncing off two walls before re-entering the atmosphere and retreating behind some storage boxes in the corner. Suffice it to say that there was considerable shuffling, scuffling, lunging and footwork before I finally trapped him in a Rubbermaid bin against a wall and slid the lid on between him and the wall. Another great application for Duct Tape. Lots of it.
Three phone calls later, I had learned that there are no local services or facilities provided for the humane disposal of wild kitties. I was on my own. Having neither the arsenal nor the desire to shoot the specimen, I contemplated a few alternative solutions before deciding on the Maritime Method. Not wishing to waste a good Rubbermaid bin, I attempted to transfer its occupant to a cardboard potato box. Unfortunately, it ... I didn't quite ... well you see it ... well, he got away. Fortunately we were still in the garage and I had had the foresight to close the door. So after another, briefer, variation of the previous adventure the captive kitty was once again secured ... this time in a potato box with a couple bricks to keep him company. And more Duct Tape. Lots of it.
That evening we went for a drive, just Kitty and me, along the river looking for a convenient and inconspicuous place to 'put in' as it were. We finally found one just after dark and, after a bit of a rocky climb, were down at the river's edge. I was afraid things might be just a little stuffy inside that box, and I just happened to have a large 12-inch nail with me. So I poked a bunch of holes in several sides of the box to improve his view and his overall quality of life. Then before you could say 'cat-a-maran', that kitty was floating silently downstream in the moonlight ... just him and his bricks. And his Duct Tape. Lots of it.
20 October 2009
Summer Daze
Ok, now where were we? Oh yes ... well, we're still here. Life continues much the same in many ways as it has in months past. Still pretty close to 24 hours every day, though noticeably fewer of those hours are what we would call 'daylight' any more. We enjoyed having a good bit of company for most of September (thanks all for coming!), and the kids have now got a start on school for the year. A bunch of canning is done (apricot jam, pears, peaches, pickles, green beans, apple sauce, grape juice, tomatoes ... I might have forgot something), we've pressed apple cider with some friends, and last weekend we went to an apple festival at a local family orchard. Fun!
This post will be mostly pictures from the last couple months, and we'll just kinda not try to relate (remember) all the detailed events. We have some real good memories ... but unfortunately mine isn't one of them!
4-wheeler train ride at the apple festival.
Molly motoring.
This post will be mostly pictures from the last couple months, and we'll just kinda not try to relate (remember) all the detailed events. We have some real good memories ... but unfortunately mine isn't one of them!
4-wheeler train ride at the apple festival.
Molly motoring.
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