Saturday evening, my niece asked, “Aunt Marcia, where did you get your reddish-blonde hair?” Her question caused me to pause. I thought everyone knew that my Gramps was a red-head.
Then I remembered that my niece was born after Gramps had passed away. She possibly never saw a color photo of him. And, she might not know that even though his name was Oscar, everyone called him “Red.”
Soon, there will be lots more here
I know who I am. I know my past. I know my heart. I know my thoughts. I know the dark corners. I know the skeletons. I know what I am capable of. I know the heartache I’ve caused. I know who I’ve pushed away. I know who I’ve cast aside. I know I let other people down. I know how I’ve neglected you. I know how self-focused I am. I know I insist upon my own way. I know I let you down.
And still, continue here
Last Friday I had to drive to Brookfield, Wisconsin to lead a retreat. I felt confident that I knew where I was going, but I ran it by Brian before I left home, after all, he drives this route often.
He warned me, … click right here!
When I was a little girl, Dad often worked away from home. Sometimes he’d be gone for weeks at a time, but not once did we ever worry that he might not come home. We knew he’d come home because he told us he would.
We were all at Mom and Dad’s a few years ago doing some spring cleaning and painting and my sister, Betty, was responsible for bringing the music. The minute she put on the Elton John CD Sing along here!
Marcia Furrow 