"Life Gets Sweeter as the Days Go By"

The more I hang around this old world the more I am reminded that life is short at best and the rest is played out in eternity. Funny thing about life, we spend most of it getting ready to die, that is if we are smart. 

My journey began 76 years ago in a cold old country house (I am told) just after midnight December 3, 1937. Grandpa saddled up a horse and road into town to get the doctor who had a car which got stuck in the mud several times on the way out. Thank God for a stout horse to pull the car out. Now, grandma was a good Church of Christ woman, but I am told that to ward off the cold that night she and the good doctor sipped on a little Jack Daniel's every once in a while to stay warm. So, it was more or less left up to grandpa to play midwife that night and basically deliver a little premature runt that had to be wrapped and place in a shoe box and put up close to the wood burning stove to keep warm enough to stay alive. Well, I made it; but barely I am told.

Then growing up in places like Christine, Texas, population 189, cats, chickens and dogs and a few stray bums thrown in to round out the count, life was very interesting indeed. My folks were as poor as church mice, someone said, but I disagree, the mice had cheese to eat at least. But we did have plenty of pinto beans and corn bread--when I say, corn bread, I mean the good kind that is make from yellow meal and fried just a little in a hot skillet before baking. Now, that's corn bread; and I still like it today. Trouble is beans don't like me, and corn bread is not good with much else, so I don't get much of that anymore.

Often I reflect on those days. It does me good. And, I am thankful for humble beginnings, and, yes, a humble ending, too, I am sure. But, I wouldn't have it any other way. If I had life to live over, of course I would want to change a few things, but I can assure you they are all spiritual. I would try to be a better person, but other than that nothing else I can think of. Why would I? I've got the best wife that a man could ask for. Four wonderful and successful children--all of whom I am equally proud of. 16 grandkids, and goodness I am losing count of the great grandkids. Kind of like pop corn, after a while you stop counting the kernels and start enjoying the feast. And, a feast it is. I am enjoying every minute of it.

So, I would like to say that I am so thankful for God's goodness in allowing Bonnie and me to live life to the fullest, and to serve as missionaries at this time in our lives. You get a lot of credit for that, too. So, thank you also for helping us make this possible.

In closing, just in case one of my teary eyed children thinks that this newsletter is my swan song, I would like to leave one of my favorite poems with you.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.