My Wedding Ring


Thirty-five years ago, when I had curly hair and a skinny waistline, I stood before a church full of people and promised to love and to cherish PB my whole life.  My handsome groom and I sang a song together to seal the deal.

But when the time came to exchange rings, something went awry.  My sister and PB’s brother had conspired to pull a prank on us.  My future father-in-law held out his open Bible to receive the gleaming gold bands from the maid-of-honor and the best man.

Instead, gleaming plastic Oscar Meyer wiener rings were presented.

There was a momentary pause as we took it in.  A gasp (PB), a frown (his dad), a nervous giggle (me).

Unfortunately, the microphone standing right in front of us picked up my voice as I whispered, “I can’t do this!”  Oh yes.  More gasps, frowns, and nervous giggles from the congregation.

We carried on.  “With this ring, I thee wed.”  With this plastic, Oscar Meyer ring, I marry you, and that’s no bologna.  Hot dog!

Even though the O.M. boy with the frankfurter hat had been thoroughly blessed, we discarded those trinkets shortly after the ceremony and slipped on the real rings.

A few years ago, I got to thinking about those unique little pieces of our history.  I found one on Ebay for $5.00 and gave it to PB for Christmas.  We said, “I do” all over again.

This is our story.  This is our song.


“Love’s grown deep inside of us,

And time has made us sure,

That the reason we stand here,

Is because You’ve touched Your hand here.

The love we feel today is meant to be shared by two,

So we commit our love to You.”

Still do.

I Am A Writer

I went away on Sunday as a timid, toe-dipping, hesitant dabbler.  Jotting down silly thoughts was a hobby to enjoy but to keep under wraps. Throwing words out into the great internet cloud wasn’t intimidating because I didn’t have to actually look a handful of readers in the eye.  No expectations, no demands, no problem.

Dabble, dabble, dabble.

This week, I took a big breath and jumped in the deep end, cannonball-style.  I heard my silly scribbles read out loud and looked deep into others’ watery eyes through my own.  No longer words thrown about, but instead words placed with care and precision to reveal one delicate layer.

On Friday, I came home with a new name — Writer.

Thank you, Green Lake Christian Writer’s Conference.



Starting Five

It’s been awhile since I’ve shared photos of my grands.  I’m still amazed that five grandchildren have graced my life in the past two and a half years.  Since I have writer’s block and can’t think of anything to say, I will default to my little team of kiddos.  There’s always something to say about them.

Here’s my starting five line-up:

Hudson, AKA Hud Bud.


He is our starting center, because, well, he started it all and he’s used to being in the center.

Strengths: Tall, most experienced, smart and in-charge.

Needs to work on: Passing the ball and not beating up on teammates.

Elijah, AKA Eli.


This guy is our power forward.  Don’t get in his way.

Strengths: Size, strength and having his own personal gym.

Needs to work on: Not crying when he gets fouled.

Eleanor, AKA Ella.


This little lady is a force on the court.

Strengths: Enthusiasm, spirit, and determination.

Needs to work on: Control.  And how to dribble while holding three purses.

Charlie, AKA Charlie-boy.


He’s our speedy point guard.

Strengths: Quickness, especially if there is a dog nearby.  And well-defined muscles.

Needs to work on: Being a little more aggressive.  In a nice way.

And last but not least, Evie, AKA Evie-girl.


She rounds out the team by being the other guard, but she’s secretly holding out to be replaced so she can become head cheerleader.

Strengths: Always looks good on the court.

Needs to work on: Lowering the decibel of her screams.

There you have it, folks.

It looks like a good season.

Opa and Nonnie are cheering them on!

Getting It

PB and I got outta town for a few days last week.  I haven’t had a chance to jot down anything since returning home, so I was thrilled when my sister, Robin, sent me this piece.  Here is my first ever guest post on small drop!  Thanks, dear sister, for sharing your story.  We sound a little bit alike!  Enjoy everybody!

jokesOur oldest grandchild just turned nine years old, an age of truly understanding and enjoying a good joke.  He especially likes jokes that use play on words, or words with double meanings.  He went through the stage of making up his own jokes (that weren’t really funny).  We would all laugh because he laughed, not because the joke was particularly humorous.

But now, he delights in telling a good joke.  With great anticipation, he sets the stage and draws us in with a knock-knock joke or a loaded question.  He watches us with knowing eyes as we try to figure out the punch line.  Of course, we have incorrect answers or no answers at all.  Then, with excitement in his voice, he delivers the punch line.  His blue eyes sparkle, his entire face lights up in a big smile, and he laughs joyfully, saying, “Get it?!  Get it?!”  Then, on we go to the next joke or question, repeating the process again and again, always ending with “Get it?! Get it?!”  Such genuine joy is rare.

Perhaps God uses the same methods with us.  He tells us a story — a parable — maybe with a play on words or double meanings.  Then, with great anticipation, He delivers the punch line, hoping we grasp the meaning.

Do you suppose He says to us with great delight, “Get it?!  Get it?!”

“If anyone has ears to hear, let him hear.”  Mark 4:23


Checkout Line


Here’s how you know you’re life has changed:

You are in the checkout line at the grocery store.

You wonder why there is so little in your cart.

You remember that the 15 people who filled your home for several weeks have dispersed and there’s only two of you left.

You bag up your measly purchases and swipe your card.

You push your cart toward the exit.

You walk past the other checkout lane and are momentarily disoriented.

You see someone familiar and you are slightly taken aback.

You realize it is your newly married son unloading a full cart of groceries.

You panic for an instant as random thoughts run through your mind –

Should I be paying for his groceries?  How many bags of chips are in that cart?  Did I ever teach my son how to grocery shop?  I never sent him to the store for anything but a gallon of milk.  Have I failed as a mother?  Will he survive?????

Your eyes meet for an awkward second.

Then your newly married son smiles and says, “Hi Momma!” and gives you a big hug right there in the checkout line.

That’s when you know you’re life has changed.

The Secret of Life

“The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.”  James Taylor

So that’s it.

The secret, according to JT, is finding joy in each part of life –

acknowledging its passing,

without fighting against the natural movement of time.

It’s a secret because not many of us get it.

I’ve spent many days trying to push through to a more promising tomorrow.

Other days, I cling to a past that has come and gone.

Lately, God’s been whispering secrets in my ear,

singing James Taylor lyrics into my heart.

He says, “Time passes, but find the joy in it.”

“Since we’re only here for awhile, we might as well show some style.”

My highest goal in life was to see my children through their growing years and witness them launching out on their own.  Losing my mother at a young age, I wanted more than anything to spare my kids that pain.  Now they are all married, established, on their own.

As I told a friend, “The rest is just frosting on the cake!”

She responded, “There is  A LOT of frosting for you, my friend!”

So there is a new phase on the horizon.

I get more days.  Frosting days.

“Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill,

but since we’re on our way down,

we might as well enjoy the ride.”

It’s a lovely ride.

This is my story.

This is my song:

Mr. and Mrs.


The new Mr. and Mrs.

I still get teary-eyed looking at this picture.


The family Scrabble board is complete.

Her name fits just right.


These guys.

All five grands dressed up fancy for Uncle Jake’s wedding.


Three weddings and five grand babies in three years.

Holy moly.

This Nonnie is plumb tuckered out, but with a full heart.