NO CRYING AT MY FUNERAL

NO CRYING AT MY FUNERAL

Saturday, December 24, 2016

PENTECOST, EASTER, GOOD FRIDAY, LAST SUPPER, MISSION, TEMPTATIONS, BAPTISM, CHRISTMAS

How come it took almost 80 years to understand that without Pentecost, etc, there is no Christmas?  Think about it.  How many rural children from small towns have been born in the history of humankind, in caves and in tents and in the humble house of the midwife and never had more of a reputation than that of the star who grew to be the king's valet?  
Isn't it true that we come to know the story of the valet only after he has developed a reputation of rendering topnotch service while living an exemplary, virtuous life for the benefit of one and all?
It is therefore because God, the Father of Jesus, made sure that there was someone to walk beside Jesus, to listen to Him, to see His life unfold, to laugh and to suffer with Him and finally to announce His Story to the world in Word and in Deed that we can truly know the story of His birth, Christmas.  
Today we stand before His crib so that tomorrow we can protect Him from the sword of Herod.  Today we stand before Him in full view of those who are too "busy" to pay Him heed. Today we stand with Him and the Angels, the Shepherds and the Magi, the Apostles and the Believers who know what the span of His earthly presence has wrought and who participate in it in fulsome willingness.

To you all, from Paul, Belle, Jo-El, Marc, blessings of peace and joy for continued life, constant in the presence of the Loving and Merciful Savior.

Monday, December 19, 2016

WHERE ARE MY GLASSES?

Two days ago I got this email from a friend who sends me a lot of material that is meant to remind me that I am older then he.

Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me again, asking why I didn't do something useful with my time. 
“Like sitting around the pool and drinking wine is not a good thing?” I asked.

Talking about my "doing-something-useful" seems to be her favorite topic of conversation. 
She was "only thinking of me", she said and suggested that I go down to the Senior Center and hang out with the guys.

I did this and when I got home last night, I decided to play a prank on her.

I e-mailed her and told her that I had joined a Parachute Club.

She replied, "Are you nuts? You are 78 years old and now you're going to start jumping out of airplanes?

I told her that I even got a Membership Card and e-mailed a copy to her.

She immediately telephoned me and yelled, "Good grief, Mom, where are your glasses?!

This is a Membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club.

"Oh man, I'm in trouble again,” I said, “I really don't know what to do. I signed up for five jumps a week!!

The line went quiet and her friend picked up the phone and said that my daughter had fainted.

Life as a Senior Citizen is not getting any easier, but sometimes it can be fun.

I didn't really think that this was particularly funny, but it did make me think about life in our house.  I mean, real life.  So, as we used to say 70 years ago, I put pen to paper and described my daily life to my younger antagonist this way:

I don't know about you, but I spend about 10% of every day looking for my glasses.  Then I spend another 10% looking for my coffee cup.  I move from there to spending another 10% scouring the house looking for my wallet. I finally find it before I start spending the next 10% over-turning everything that is not tied down or glued in a search for my car keys.  All of the above happens before or after [I can't remember which] I have begun working at my computer for the day.  At that moment I start spending 10% of the day looking for the electronic files that I carried over from yesterday.  Finally, I have just spent 10% of my day scouring my memory for the completed items that I can remember are the fruit of my daily travails.  This is the detailed description of a typical day in the life of Puttss Dion.  I can't remember on what day I did this but the fact that I can see it in front of me means that I have found my glasses and have remembered to do it.  I didn't have to remember who sent it to me because his name is right up there at the top of the paragraph.  (Deleted to protect his anonymity)
I think I have accounted for about 70% of every day {I can't remember exactly how much}.  The reason I can't remember what I do the other 30% of the time must be because I am sleeping on the couch then.  It's easier to find than my bed!
After reading this, you'll know that crying at my funeral would surely be a giant waste of time... I will have forgotten who you are.  
You heard it here first, remember that!