Serve by Design

This past weekend, we have been dealing with our first snowfall of the season. It has been a heavy, wet snow that has steadily blanketed our village with an impressive eight and a half inches of accumulated snow. The day before, on Friday, our granddaughter, Chloe, helped us put the ornaments on the tree and then we did some last-minute grocery shopping. It was the calm before the storm, and we were getting prepared should we be snowed in for the weekend! Image credit: www.freepik.com On Saturday, as the snow began falling, Monique and I sat comfortably in the family room admiring our Christmas decorations. The lights on the tree and mantle were having their usual seasonal effect. It was just after one o’clock as I was entering a hypnotic state and was almost asleep when the first of two back-to-back thunderous claps jolted me fully awake. Monique was startled as well and exclaimed, “WHAT…WAS… THAT?” While still processing what I had heard, I tentatively replied, “That was thunder! But...

We woke up to a surprise this morning in Sherman! Nearly three inches of snow covered the trees, grass and outdoor patio furniture! It's not supposed to snow in early November, but it did... again! Twenty-seven years ago the first of November, our family returned to Illinois after living in Texas for fifteen years. It was my calling to a new church field that brought us to Illinois after seminary and service in two good Baptist churches. Since three of the family members had been born on Texas soil and were thereby, and forever more, true blue Texans, we were technically only moving three back. Over those years in the Lone Star State, we never brought up the matter that our oldest was born in the Land of Lincoln. He was only thirteen months old when we took him to Texas and now, as a fifteen year-old, it could be expected that he was not altogether happy about our return.  By this time in adolescence, his whole identity was Texan and no one could persuade him otherwise! "...