Our four children had been left at home under the charge of their grandmother. Mary needed a change of scenery from everyday chores. We were in Phoenix and planning a tour to the Grand Canyon. It was off-season and the regular tour buses were not in service. A group of six or seven was there for a tour. A limousine was provided and all got aboard headed for the canyon. It was a small and friendly group. A young man from England sat near Mary and conversed with us periodically throughout the trip...(click to continue reading)

“The hurrier I go the behinder I get.” Somewhere I’ve heard those words before and they seem to describe me sometimes. But how can that be? I seldom get in a hurry. I learned long ago that hurrying often leads to mistakes that make me get really behinder. My problem must be deeper than this. But what could account for my behinder problem?

Perhaps in my younger days things seemed to go in a normal way and I didn’t notice getting behind where I should be. Maybe it was only later that I no...(click to continue reading)

On a bright, sunny day in late spring I happened to look out the window to my back yard, where I saw a wren. He was perched on a lower branch of a nearby tree, singing his heart out. He sat there for a little while, and then he was gone. As always, I was glad to have seen him. I had put up a bird feeder near the tree to attract birds during the winter, and into the spring. I had also put a small birdhouse that would be suitable for wrens, in the crotch of the tree. The birdhouse was still unoccu...(click to continue reading)

Christmas 2004, I opened a scroll of paper having a fancy border and bearing the following words:

Santa really did come
And he brought you a gift.
No lumps of coal,
But something that’s fit
For the king that you are
In the eyes of your girls.

You’ll get on the plane
With Catherine in tow
And land in New York
(We hope with no snow).
A concert at Carnegie Hall is in store
For the man who loves music,
The man we adore!

...

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Football was a game that I looked forward to playing once I reached high school. As a young boy I played tackle in someone’s yard with whomever we could round up for a game. I went home afterward dirty and grass stained much to the dismay of my mother. I couldn’t wait to grow up and play with the big boys on the high school team.

The day finally came that I reported for my first practice. I was issued a uniform that looked the worse for wear. Although it had been washed since the last s...(click to continue reading)

Bud and I were busy scraping old loose paint from the wall of the college dining room and conversing about things not too profound.

“You boys cut the talk and concentrate on your work,” came a voice from behind me. It was the voice of C. P. Williams, the business manager of Lincoln Memorial University, where we were students. We quieted down long enough for C. P. to exit the room, but I miscalculated. 

“Anybody who can’t do this work and talk at the same time has a one-track mi...(click to continue reading)