Herald-Journal
Howard Lake-Waverly Herald, Sept. 17, 2001

Comfort for those who are grieving

By LYNDA JENSEN

Lord,

Bring comfort to all who were touched by the deaths in New York and Washington, D.C. Have mercy on us, and give us Your peace.

Amen.

 

The deaths of 1,000 people or more at the hands of terrorists in New York really hasn't sunk into me yet. It will.

Usually I detest broadcast coverage of disasters, because I think it strongly appeals to our curiosity in death. Broadcast journalists have no conscience or purpose in coverage of people when they are dead or dying.

I guess that's aside from the point. Should we go to war with the Arabs?

Isn't there a way toward peace? Is war the only alternative? A war with terrorists is not something I think we can win, even as mighty as this country is.


I'd still be stuck in the mud on Highway 12 in front of Joe's Sport Shop if it wasn't for Tom Diers and some Latour Construction guy last week.

My creme-colored Oldsmobile went into the drink, after I thought it was a good idea to drive on the edge of Highway 12, in the process of wiggling into the park and ride lot

I was just trying to budge around the corner from Joe's gas station to the park and ride lot. It's about 14 feet long.

The night before, a soaking rain made the construction a river of light brown mud about five hands deep. I thought the river was dry enough by morning. Wrong!

To my credit, I didn't jump into the mud without any thought at all - I had one fleeting thought: "I wonder if that looks too soft . . . ?"

Good thing my kids weren't in the car. This would have scared the pants off them.

Luckily, Tom Diers roped some poor guy into service. It comes as no surprise to me that he works for Latour, since they have such a good reputation around town.

I think Tom is used to rescuing females, since he's the ambulance director.

My kids think I'm a marginal driver, at best. My son, who is 5 years old, continually says "Mom, we're out of gas" every other day, even though he can't read or write. He doesn't know where the gas gauge is, either.

He also says "Mom, you're going the wrong way!" He has no sense of nautical direction, either.

The funny part is that he says it so seriously, like he's thinking 'who is this crazy woman,' with his little face screwed up in a frown. Sheesh.

My response "You don't even have a driver's license. How would you know?" I can use this reason for another 10 years, then I'll have to think of something else to tell them.

I remember one day my daughter was trying to hold up a school project on the floor, in the front seat of the car.

"Should we put inside a box, in the trunk?" she asked. Honestly, this was the best place for it. "Naah," I said. "It will be fine."

She proceeded to hold an imaginary steering wheel and mimicked one of my (infamous) right turns.

I said "Let's put it in the trunk."

Do I own a dress?

This year, I volunteered to be a Sunday school teacher for the preschoolers again.

They are a barrel of laughs. One little girl is so quiet, that I've only heard her voice three times. One of the three "speaking" incidences was when she asked me if I owned a dress. I said no.

Since then, I went out on a ledge and bought a corduroy jumper. I wear it a lot.

I forgot everything I knew about babies

Last Sunday, I had the privilege of watching a friends' two children, Landon and his big sister Kaileen.

Landon is 14 months old. My "baby," Bryce, is 57 pounds and almost 6 years old.

I thought it would be easy, but Landon ran me in circles. I forgot everything I knew about babies.

I gave him a spoon for ice cream, which he didn't know what to do with, and forgot to stick a bib on him, to boot.

Luckily, Landon went easy on me. He's a sweet natured baby, and he loves people.

His sister also gave me a scare, since she disappeared after church for 10 minutes. After a few hair raising moments looking for her, I found her swinging at the parsonage.

I colored my hair a week ago, and I was saying that it needs coloring again.


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