I want to pay tribute to wonderful people I have known, the wonderful country in which I live, the communities in which I have lived, the churches who have claimed me as their own, the God who sends shivers down my back when I really give him a portion of my time—well, maybe not shivers but tears flow easily in some of those most priceless times.
oneta hayes on WHY? oneta hayes on WHY? Faye on WHY? Julie (aka Cookie) on WHY? oneta hayes on WHY?
- Follow Sweet aroma on WordPress.com
Category Archives: aging
Much ado these days about the necessity and use of cars. I vote big time in favor of having one. Perhaps the day will come when I have to turn in my license because I have aged … Continue reading
I’ve been working too hard. Found a skit from years ago. Decided to share a peek in our morning routine. Just enough truth to be funny I hope! 😀 ONETA/SAMMY – MORNING ROUTINE – LONG HAPPY MARRIAGE Alarm clock goes … Continue reading
THE NATION YELLS “WHAT IS WRONG?” **************** I am a product of a fractured generational culture. I have given up. With the permission of the youth pastor, I went to youth services for several months; engaged some senior ladies to … Continue reading
Children are a blessing from the Lord. These, plus five, make up our great grands. Fruitful minds, eternal souls, eager hands. Our influence extended to the third and fourth generation. Preparing citizens for our “God blessed” nation. Hiding fears for … Continue reading
TO SAMMY- 66 YEARS OF HOME Home, fortunate to be my pleasant place; my hubby and I talk face to face. Home, all my belongings there I stash; got a lot of stuff, just not cash. Home, cars can park … Continue reading
(A copy and paste from four years ago – instead of eighty-one, I’m now eighty-five and Alayna is twenty-six.) The browning album crackled from the weight of the fading pictures as my grandchildren turned the page of the wonderland that … Continue reading
Feeling chilly Fran put the teapot on and went back to her warm bed. Six years ago Jim bought the whistling teapot. They lay in bed many mornings fitting words to the rhythm of its whistle. Silly things, kiddie things. … Continue reading
Why would one go to a cemetery where she knows no one? Ask me. That’s what I did. I am 350 miles from where most of my family members are buried. I wanted to honor those who might at least … Continue reading
1952: With girlish glee I measured my adolescent growth by the Leaning Tree. 1955: Four inches taller but I still walked straight as I passed under the Leaning Tree. 1956: My sixteenth birthday pictures were taken under the branch … Continue reading