Quiet Readings

It was time for our annual journey to the Northeast to visit family. \

I had to give up my volunteer work at the Food Bank.

My wife was in the middle of a game of solitaire when she showed me the cards on the table.

There were two fours of spades.

I received a phone call from my nephew yesterday. He wanted to tell me about the fires near his home in Spokane, Washington.

My Father’s Day gift was a basket full of nuts. All kinds of nuts. Mixed nuts, honey-roasted cashews, chocolate-covered pecans, butternut peanuts, and even dark-chocolate espresso beans.

“I can't find it!

I know it's here somewhere!”

I was at my sister's home after a nineteen-hour drive. It had been eleven years since we had last visited her family. We spent our time talking, taking a few tourist trips, and helping her hang new kitchen cabinet doors.

My wife and I are travelling next week to visit my sister and her family. I thought it would be nice to bring her some freshly roasted coffee beans.

My wife and I made a screen for our door window. When the window is open, it leaves a huge gap for flies and mosquitoes to come in. I’m sure they appreciate it. Us, not so much.

This morning, a good friend wrote about the ministry of providing showers to people experiencing homelessness.

I was at a restaurant the other day, one familiar to me. We were there celebrating a grandson’s birthday. I had not sat in that part of the restaurant for more than twenty years.

I awoke feeling as if I had wrestled a bear.

That is clearly an exaggeration, but I was sore all over. And it was not just this morning. It has been several days now.