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Thursday, March 14, 2013

Oh where....Oh where...has your blogger been?

Well, my friends, I must apologize.  Weeks have passed and I have not blogged a bit. 

Where oh where does the time go?

Isn't it just like the devil to steal time away with distractions?

I want to share a couple of my newspaper articles which shed light on my focus these few weeks.

In a's OK....This is all about family. 

Valentine’s Day 2013

Valentine’s Day was a pleasant day. It was sunny, a bit breezy, but the roads were clear and my mom had a plan.

My mother and father have been married 62 years. One would think spontaneity and pizzazz would have gone from that relationship long ago.

On Valentine’s Day, however, mom packed her chocolate-covered strawberries and a picnic and took her husband on a road trip.

Our cabin has been in the family since before my mom and dad were married. It was built in 1949 by my father and has been inextricably linked to his life ever since.

The cabin is three hours away. You have to travel over rolling hills and down narrow roadways. It’s nestled in a remote part of Missouri on a spring-fed stream .

Mom and Dad made their way down the curving roads and arrived at the cabin. Nothing had changed there. Nothing ever does, it seems.

The cedar trees rose strong and tall next to the shaded cabin. The sycamores had lost their leaves, but they swayed just as rhythmically in the daytime breeze. The cabin was quiet and cool and smelled of cedar logs.

The river was at its finest. It danced in the sun and sparkled as if it was a summer’s day. The crystal water didn’t seem to care about the chill in the air as it splashed over the rocks.

The Valentine’s couple paused and looked out of the cabin windows at the river. In a moment, they were teenagers, wading and splashing, and playing and flirting.

They glanced around the shadowy cabin. Sixty five years of golden, joyous memories flooded their senses. They paused, sighed… and then resolutely climbed the stairs to their waiting car.

In the warmth of the car, gazing out through the cedars at the cabin they loved, my parents ate their Valentine’s picnic. Dessert was chocolate-covered strawberries and lovely memories.

Nothing I could ever do could ever be as romantic as that sweet road trip to the cabin. I only pray God will give me the privilege of celebrating a 62- year Valentine’s road trip with my husband some day.

Thanks, mom and dad, for setting such a wonderful example.


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