We Got Robbed

Many years ago, PB and I drove to Winona, Minnesota for a Keith Green concert. We arrived early, so we left our car in the empty parking ramp and slipped into the auditorium to listen to the sound checks.

Keith Green was a radical-hippie-Jesus-lover. He had crazy piano skills and wrote songs that brought worship to a new level. I’d never heard anyone sing with so much conviction and passion. The lyrics to his songs were raw and deeply honest. It was a thrill to be able to hear him live. We sat in the front row.

After the concert, we walked back to the parking ramp and discovered our car had been broken into. The window had been smashed and our bags torn apart. We were poor college students at the time, so the robbers didn’t find anything worth stealing. It was a cold ride home to LaCrosse that night, but it could have been worse and we were thankful.

A year after we heard Keith Green perform, he died in a plane crash. He was 28 years old. I remember hearing the news on the radio, sitting on the stairs in our townhouse apartment, and weeping.

I recalled this memory because of a quote I read this week by another old dead guy, Matthew Henry. He was a preacher in the 1700’s and was attacked one night by robbers on the streets of London. Reflecting on his unsettling experience he said:

“I am thankful first because I have never been robbed before.
Second, although they took my money, they did not take my life.
Third, they took everything, but it wasn’t much.
Fourth, I am thankful that it was I who was robbed, not I who robbed.
“

As we count our many blessings,
let’s be thankful for all the disasters that didn’t happen,
for all the close calls that were avoided,
for all the near misses that were thwarted.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip.
The Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore.
Psalm 121

Kansas City, Here I Come

When PB asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, I was ready with an answer.

“I want to go to Kansas City and visit the Charles Spurgeon Library on the campus of Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary.”

Not your typical birthday request, I know. Even PB raised his eyebrows at that one, but he’s always game for a road-trip-adventure. And I promised him some KC barbeque.

As we crossed the state line into Missouri, we played “Kansas City, Here I Come” by Wilbert Harrison, recorded in 1959, which seemed appropriate since it was my birthday trip and that’s my birth year.

See? I wasn’t making it up. Not every old dead guy gets his own library.

Spurgeon had a 12,000-volume personal library. After he died, half of his books were sold and ended up in America. They sat in boxes for 100 years in a basement. Then Midwestern Baptist rescued them and someone donated several million dollars to build a library to house and display them. Everything you ever wanted to know about Charles Spurgeon is there. We spent three hours soaking up every bit of it.

PB was a trooper.
Down deep, I think he loved seeing everything as much as I did.

This is the pew Charles was sitting on when he came to saving faith in Jesus.
He was 15 years old.
He started preaching at 17 and had his first church when he was 19.

Spurgeon’s desk—we were allowed to touch it.

So Many Books. The man read six books every week.
That’s 312 books per year.
But then, Spurg didn’t have TV or Internet or Automobiles.

The paintings all over the library were really beautiful.
Every little enclosed case had a story.

There were three cigars in his coat pocket when he died.
To the glory of God.

A good time was had by all.

My admiration for CHS grew exponentially.
I sure hope he teaches and preaches in the New Earth.
I’ll be in the front row, grinning from ear to ear.

We celebrated at Joe’s Kansas City Bar-B-Que with brisket and burnt ends.

Thanks, honey, for making my birthday dreams come true.
You’ll always be my #1 preacher.

Road Trip

Once in a while, PB and I like to jump in the car and take off.
We don’t do long vacations or travel the world.
We like being home.

Since retiring to the woods we feel like we’re on perpetual vaca,
so occasionally an adventure is in order.
Today is that day.

You’ll never guess where we’re going…

Minus One, Plus One

Grandkid Lineup 2025

Grandkid #2 was home sick, so we were minus one this year. We missed her!

Grandkid #11 is holding a “?”, so we will be plus one next year. We can’t wait!

Twelve tribes. Twelve disciples. The Twelve. The dirty dozen.

Cousin Camp 2025

Eight of the most interesting, entertaining, delightful people in the universe.

Now you know why I needed August Break.

“If I had known how wonderful it would be to have grandchildren,
I’d have had them first.”

~ Lois Wyse

45

This is what 45 Overliens look like.

They came from the east coast, from the west coast, and from down the road.

At the end of the day,
we ate 22 lbs. of pulled pork,
we finished off a DQ ice cream sheet cake and a jumbo box of Bomb Pops,
we drank gallons of lemonade and coolers full of soda,
we talked and talked and talked
(these ARE Overliens, after all).
Some of us swam in the lake.
Most of us sat in the shade.
It was a glorious day.

We were missing a few—27 to be exact.

I noticed that one name kept coming up in conversations—Gigi.
Great-grandma was the matriarch of the family until she passed in 2021.
She prayed for all of her children
and grandchildren
and great-grandchildren
every day.

She prayed for our sick babies and adventurous teenagers and prodigal rebels.
She prayed in four daughters-in-law and one son-in-law.
She brought down blessings on our families.

We’re still reaping the benefits from Gigi’s faithful prayers.
Now it’s our turn.

24 on the 24th

April 24th is a big day in our family.
My sister, my great-niece and one of my granddaughters
all share birthdays on 4-24.

This year we have a golden birthday
and it isn’t Robin or Adrienne or Ember.

It’s PB.

Twenty-four years ago, my man had triple bypass surgery on April 24.

I watched the nurses wheel him down the hall on a gurney.
I heard his familiar voice call out, “Hope it’s a boy!”
I went to the waiting room and waited.
And waited and waited.
And waited.

When he was in the recovery room after surgery,
he sang “Happy Birthday” to my sister with a tube down his throat.

That’s just the kind of guy he is.

Happy birthday to PB’s heart.
And many more.

A joyful heart is good medicine.
Proverbs 17:22

Ember Blake has a story of her own that’s worth re-visiting.

Today, Baseball

Today is Opening Day for the Major League Baseball season—
a national holiday in our household.

Today, we eat hotdogs.
Today, we wear our team T-shirts.
Today, we gather in front of the TV for the first pitch.

Today, all 30 Major League teams have legitimate dreams of glory.
Today, all 780 players have hopes of a break-out, record-setting season.
Today, 162 games lay before us, stretching from March to September.

Today, Dodger fans by the thousands will buy tickets starting at $144.
Today, Marlins fans by the tens will purchase tickets for $8.

Tomorrow, fifteen teams will be undefeated
and fifteen teams will have a losing record.

What a difference a day makes.

Play ball!

Puzzled

PB bought me a 1000 piece puzzle for Christmas. It’s a picture of us with 11 of the most wonderful people on the face of the earth. I love every one of them with all my heart.

But I did not love this puzzle.

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We started out strong.
Eyes, noses, smiles and toes went together without a hitch.

The background took more effort. Once that was complete, the only part left was thirteen pairs of identical pajamas. We were faced with two drawers filled with blue plaid puzzle pieces. PB stopped coming over to the table at this point. I slowed down dramatically. Until.

Until a piece fell on the floor and I noticed a row of letters on its backside. Angel choirs sang from heaven as the truth dawned on me. I quickly flipped all the pieces over, lined up the letters, and snapped them together with ease. PB wandered over to the table to see what I was so happy about. In no time, we had that stinkin’ puzzle done.

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There’s a lesson here.
When things don’t seem to be working
and you can’t figure out your next move,
get a new perspective.

The answers might be right there on the flip side.

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“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”
2 Corinthians 4:18

My Funny Valentine

Years ago, PB and I decided to forego giving each other Valentine cards, candy, and flowers. This was a mutual agreement. He didn’t like the pressure of being appropriately romantic and I didn’t like getting the Visa bill in March. However we did not want to be stingy or stodgy, so we came up with a better plan.

When February 14th rolls around, we go to Walmart and peruse the array of Valentine cards. Each of us picks one, shows it to the other, and puts it back on the rack. We might even give each other a little kiss right there in aisle three, and then walk out of the store hand in hand.

This year, I threw a wrench into the system. When cleaning out my desk drawers, I found a lovely red envelope with a brand new card inside. It was a Valentine purchased years ago and never delivered. The message was perfect for PB, so I decided to break protocol.

So we went to Walmart and I hovered close by to make sure he passed up the $10 cards, keeping him in the vicinity of the $1.98 variety.

My only request was that it be written in English.

PB is my funny valentine.
I need his humor.
It does my heart good.

“A cheerful heart is good medicine.”
Proverbs 17:22

Thanksgiving 1948

Thanksgiving 1948

Grandpa and Grandma
Uncle Franklin and Aunt Ardith
Uncle Morris and Aunt Phyllis
Cousins Candy, Jerry, Jim and Joe

That’s my mother on the far right,
holding my brother.
Dad must have taken the picture.

The men were in suits and ties.
The women sported hair rolls and pin curls.
The children gathered around Grandma.
The turkey was ready to be carved.

Thanksgiving 2024 will look a little different.

I have no lace curtains or flowery wallpaper.
There will be no linen tablecloth.
I will not wear bright red lipstick.

But, hopefully, the children will gather around Nonnie.
And, hopefully, the 18 pound turkey will feed us all.
And, hopefully, we will give thanks for another year
with everyone around the table.

Some things never change.

“It is good to give thanks to the Lord.”
Psalm 92:1