My Story

Wednesday is church night and a reminder of how my parents always saw that my brother and I were in church every time the church doors were open.  I have such wonderful memories of church and my childhood.  I was raised in a Christian household and surrounded by love.  There was never one day that went by that my parents and brother didn't tell me they loved me.  Wednesday night was a little rushed sometimes to get ready for church and make it on time.  As I walked through the graveled driveway, I would meet friends waiting for me.  We would run and greet one another and fellowship until time to go in.  Smiles were seen wherever you might look.  I don't even have to close my eyes to recall the smell - the old wooden heavy doors, the polished benches and the sometimes slightly damp smell in the air.  I was so proud of my family - my big strong and kind dad, my beautiful poised mother, and my handsome little brother with his hair neatly combed.  Times have changed but I will remi

My precious parent's home was broken into recently.  The house is not even a mile from mine.  Obviously the thieves knew my mother's schedule.  My dad, one of the greatest and most honorable men I've ever known passed away seven years ago - and yet sometimes the pain is so strong it seems like only last week.  The thieves not only stole possessions, they stole peace of mind and small items of remembrance of my dad.  His Army discharge papers were ripped and my heart broken.  I don't seek retaliation, I long for items my dad touched to be returned.  They took an old crock that my Grandmother Parsons used and a sausage grinder that belonged to my grandparents.  Items such as that can't be replaced.  I found the "face" of my dad's watch lying on the Living Room floor.  That haunts me.  My dad worked all of his life and always helped others.  He was not a wealthy man by any means and although he didn't accumulate a lot of earthly wealth, he always made