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Good Morning Nanty Glo!
Sunday, March 24 2002


Last night, we dyed Easter eggs. Well, Pat and Shaun did most of the work. I was the cleanup crew. Pat and Shaun exclaimed over their creations as they moved and swirled the eggs in different colors. My thoughts ran back to Easter when I was young. We always dyed eggs, although not as artfully as Pat does. Mom and Dad always prepared an Easter basket for each of us. And Dad, especially, never skimped on the candy. We never received presents as many do today and we never had new clothing for Easter unless it was an article of clothing we really needed. Mom and dad always made sure that we understood the solemn, religious significance of Easter. We always rose early and attended Sunrise Services.

We then returned home for a traditional breakfast of soft-boiled eggs and toasted homemade bread. Dad always prepared the eggs and didn't use any fancy timing instruments. His philosophy was that if the eggs were too soft, he would harden them with butter and if they were too hard, he would soften them with butter. You guessed it. He loved butter. We had a coal cook stove and no toaster, so dad toasted the bread on the lid of the stove. And, of course, liberally spread it with butter.

We no sooner finished breakfast and it was off to church again for both Sunday school and the morning worship service. From the time we could walk and talk, we participated in Easter programs by reciting a poem, singing, or performing in a religious play. The only traditional thing I remember about our Easter dinner was that we always had ham. We relaxed through the afternoon, enjoying our candy, then returned to church in the evening.

The adults usually put on a play in the evening and, as I grew older, I joined them. We probably had as much fun as many other children and, in addition, we were aware of Christ's sacrifice on the Cross and the ultimate victory of His Resurrection.

We interrupt this program for a message...

On the first day of school, a first grader handed his teacher a note from his mother. The note read, "The opinions expressed by this child are not necessarily those of his parents."

Sent by Sallie Covolo

When I whine...

Today, on a bus, I saw a girl with golden hair.
And wished I was as fair.
When suddenly she rose to leave, I saw her hobble down the aisle.
She had one leg and wore a crutch.
But as she passed, a smile.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I have two legs, the world is mine.

I stopped to buy some candy.
The lad who sold it had such charm.
I talked with him, he seemed so glad.
If I were late, it'd do no harm.
And as I left, he said to me, "I thank you,
you've been so kind. It's nice to talk with folks like you.
You see," he said, "I'm blind."
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine
I have two eyes, the world is mine.

Later, while walking down the street,
I saw a child with eyes of blue.
He stood and watched the others play.
He did not know what to do.
I stopped a moment, and then I said,
"Why don't you join the others, dear?"
He looked ahead without a word.
And then I knew, he couldn't hear.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I have two ears, the world is mine.

With feet to take me where I'd go.
With eyes to see the sunset's glow.
With ears to hear what I'd know.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I've been blessed indeed, the world is mine.

Author unknown
Sent by Mike Harrison

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