We're still able to witness Fall sneaking its way into our yards and trees, casting long shadows and orange and brown tints over once bright green foliage. We can still breathe in the aromatic mixture of wet sod, popcorn and hot coffee at a local Friday night football game. We can still enjoy the freckled-face laughter of our grandchildren, the beaming smiles of our own kids and the reassuring embraces of our spouses.
We're still here. We still gather at churches on Sunday mornings, sing hymns from frayed books, hear sermons repeated that still stir our souls, shake hands and hug wrinkled necks that have nurtured us from our youth. We still eat noisy Sunday lunches, then nap on cozy sofas or drive out the afternoons along the graveled roads that link us to our past.
Yes, we're still here 35 years later. But there's a whole life ahead of us, waiting to be lived and celebrated!
Peace,
Ken
We're still here. We still gather at churches on Sunday mornings, sing hymns from frayed books, hear sermons repeated that still stir our souls, shake hands and hug wrinkled necks that have nurtured us from our youth. We still eat noisy Sunday lunches, then nap on cozy sofas or drive out the afternoons along the graveled roads that link us to our past.
Yes, we're still here 35 years later. But there's a whole life ahead of us, waiting to be lived and celebrated!
Peace,
Ken
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