Janet's Blog

The world is full of stupendous, larger than life, amazing wonders, some made by people, and some made by God alone.  They nearly take our breath away--majestic cathedrals, the Olympics, the Statue of Liberty and the Grand Canyon, the Great Wall of China, football stadiums filled with cheering fans, Disney World, the endless ocean.  The list could go on and on. Sometimes, though, it's the littlest things that matter most:  the Bible, a wedding ring, a newborn baby.   And some of the best things are intangible, untouchable, like the faint rainbow after a brief summer thunderstorm, a gentle breeze, a glorious sunset, the starry night sky, an evening stroll with someone you love, a song, a smile, and those three little words that mean so much but are often left unsaid. It's true--"good things come in small packages," or, perhaps, the best things can't be wrapped up in a box at all.   "And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love.  But the greatest o

Last night was our first fall choir practice.  I think that my son-in-law, the choir director, decided to try out one of his high school mixer activities before using it with his English and German students tomorrow on their first day of school.  I wasn't the only one who groaned at Andy's suggestion that we mingle and ask several of our fellow choir members some questions, so we could get to know each other better.  We asked and answered only three questions:  What is your favorite song?  What was your favorite class in high school or college?  What is your favorite hobby? It wasn't a bad activity.  In fact, it was kind of nice to find out a little more about the people we sit next to, week after week, as we fine-tune the songs we'll sing for Sunday worship services. It's just that I have trouble coming up with only one favorite for any category.  Even when I was a young child, I couldn't choose just one favorite color.  By the time I was in high school, I

We didn't get to spend as much time with Grandma and Grandpa Vawser as we did with our other grandparents every summer, because Grandma Vawser worked pretty much full time in the grocery store.  However, we usually spent a day or two with them in Norfolk, on the way to or from our week-long visit in Bloomfield.  I can remember two times, though, when Grandma took us camping! The first time we went camping, Grandma took Aunt Marilyn and eight or ten of us grandchildren, probably between the ages of five and sixteen, to TaHaZouka, a park on the south edge of Norfolk.  It was the same park where I had attended Girl Scout day camp a few years earlier, when we still lived in Norfolk.  At that time, the park's small zoo included some black bears, and several peacocks that spread their tails whenever we clapped for them.  The Elkhorn River meandered through the park, too, providing a place for fishing and wading for those who were feeling adventurous.  Grandpa drove the pickup cam

When I hear the gentle cooing of mourning doves, I am immediately transported back to my childhood, to those balmy summer mornings in Bloomfield.  After we moved to Fairbury, Dan, Laura, and I spent at least a week of every summer with Grandpa and Grandma Wegner.  When I was six, they bought the only home they ever owned, a small bungalow on the east edge of town.  Grandpa built a wishing well in the back yard, and a two-car garage.  His lawn was immaculate.  Grandma raised beautiful flowers, including the snowball bushes that I loved, and gorgeous African violets that bloomed prolifically inside, near her dining room window. Grandma and Grandpa slept in the only downstairs bedroom, which opened just off the living room.  In the summers, Laura and I usually had one, large upstairs bedroom to ourselves, while Dan got the other one.  But, if Uncle Gary or Aunt Ellen were there, or if Mom stayed part of the time, one of us got to sleep on the "stick bed," an old army cot with