Saturday, October 1, 2022

Bracken’s Story

 

Bracken’s Story


I found a starving feral kitten out in the blackberry bushes and brought him home, fed him, gave him medical care, loved him, and named him Bracken since he had come from the blackberry bush. The kitten adopted me as his person. The problem was I already had another cat and she did not welcome the competition. She hunted and terrorized little Bracken.

The more he was afraid, the more he acted like prey. The more he acted like prey the more her predator instincts kicked in to hunt him.

As Bracken grew he became much bigger and stronger than the female cat, but she had already trained him to be afraid and cower to her.

I worked with Bracken, building up his self-esteem. I made sure my other cat saw him playing with and hunting toys. He was acting like a predator and not prey.

 

Sometimes, especially if one has lived in an environment of fear for so long, people can start to act like prey. Unfortunately, there are people out there who are also predators. They usually hunt the meek and gentle. They exploit the wonderful qualities about them such as tolerance, patience, the ability to see the potential in someone, forgiveness, and loyalty.

 

As I have worked with victims of domestic violence, child abuse, and human trafficking I have seen the same behavior patterns of predator and prey. I have also seen the results of working with people to build up their self-esteem, help them to control fear, and learn to comfortably be assertive.

I have also seen victims testify against their perpetrators and they stand boldly and speak with strength. Then after the court hearing they collapse on the courtroom floor and need to be carried out. Some people have said it helps to pretend to be an actor or actress, carry a picture of a warrior and visualize themselves as strong.

Grey rock method has also helped many people that have abusers with personality disorders who attempt to feed off of fear and emotion. It is helpful for victims to discover ways to make themselves an unappealing target, to not give abusers the energy of fear to relish in, to avoid contact or make contact so uninteresting that the predator must go somewhere else for their yummy snack.

Not all humans are humane. Not all of us are the same, meaning just because you would react with compassion and understanding doesn’t mean that everyone else will.

Sunday, September 25, 2022

Charlie and the Tire Swing by Diann Floyd Boehm

 




About the Book

 

Charlie and the Tire Swing is a beautiful intergenerational story told from the perspective of Charlie and his Grandpa Jack. Over a cup of hot chocolate, Charlie's grandfather tells the story of how he planted an acorn with his own grandfather, Charlie's Great-Great Grandpa George, and how he tenderly cared for it and watched it grow, from one season to the next. He shares that over the years, as the acorn grew into a mighty oak tree, how each generation enjoyed the shade of the tree, climbing it, reading under it, and gathering together as a family around it. It's a story of growing strong family ties, of sharing stories from generation to generation, and of appreciating nature, and the simple things in life, like swinging on a tire swing.

 

About the Author

 

Diann Floyd Boehm is an award-winning, international author, community volunteer, humanitarian, and former classroom teacher. She is passionate about storytelling and has nine published books for children and one young adult historical fiction. In addition, Diann is a co-host for four shows on USA Global TV, including The Corner Book Store. Diann is married, a mother of three, and has one grandchild. Diann loves to inspire readers of all ages to “Embrace Imagination!” You can learn more about the author and her books at ocpublishing.ca/diann-floyd-boehm.html or diannfloydboehm.com. 

 

 

Praise

 

“Thank you, Diann Floyd Boehm and Charlie’s Tire Swing, for giving me the opportunity to relive my childhood wonder at the miracle of nurturing growth and my childhood memories of carefree summer days spent on my own tire swing.  A sweet intergenerational story.” Lana Shupe, author, The Lonely Little Lighthouse

 

“A beautiful, whimsical story about the love and wisdom that generations bestow upon each other. The essence of this story will shift young hearts and minds towards beauty in all aspects of human existence and life.” Rhonda Paver, owner/executive director, Stepping Stones School

 

 

 

 

Friday, September 23, 2022

Little Church on the Prairie and Vlog 20

 Hello my Friends,

I made some changes to my videos. Most notably, I have changed the name from "Homesteading" to "Little Church on the Prairie". A few reasons for this is I feel that homesteading is so out of our league right now with all the work we are doing in renovations. Although I would love to have TONS of animals and the farm life, I find myself totally dedicated to saving the church and other historical properties in the community. 

Thus I think "Little Church on the Prairie" is a far more accurate description. However, I still plan to show lots of survival tips, and our blunders, of living in such a hostile environment. I also would like to show more of how we get resources while being so remote. For the first little while I relied heavily on Amazon Prime. Now I find that I am naturally adjusting, not only my materialistic priorities, but also I am learning to make my own products, salvage by reusing and repurposing, and sharing with others in the community. 

In Vlog 20 I really start to realize how nature balances itself out.

One of the things I was most surprised about was how many cats are here. In the City I participated in TNR (Trap Neuter Release Programs) as a form of humane animal control. When I asked our City Works person if there was anything like that here she looked at me like I had three heads. I see now that we need all the wild cats we can get with all the grain fields and crops that cats protect from rodents. 

Many of the cats I saw last fall are no longer around and a new generation has come. This was difficult for me as I had always viewed cats as members of the family. Now I have to distinguish between the family cats and the cats that are part of nature and wild life. 

Enjoy Vlog 20 

Friday, September 9, 2022

Moral Fibre by Helena P. Schrader

 






Moral Fibre


Riding the icy, moonlit sky—

They took the war to Hitler.

Their chances of survival were less than fifty percent.

Their average age was 21.

This is the story of just one bomber pilot, his crew, and the woman he loved.

It is intended as a tribute to them all.

 

Flying Officer Kit Moran has earned his pilot’s wings, but the greatest challenges still lie ahead: crewing up and returning to operations. Things aren’t made easier by the fact that while still a flight engineer, he was posted LMF (Lacking in Moral Fibre) for refusing to fly after a raid on Berlin that killed his best friend and skipper. Nor does it help that he is in love with his dead friend’s fiancĂ©, but she is not yet ready to become romantically involved again.

 

Publisher: Cross Sea Press

ISBN-10: 1735313993

ISBN-13: 978-1735313993

Print Length: 436 pages

 

Find out more information about the book on GoodReads or on the author’s website.

 


About the Author

 

Helena P. Schrader is an established aviation author and expert on the Second World War. She earned a PhD in History (cum Laude) from the University of Hamburg with a ground-breaking dissertation on a leading member of the German Resistance to Hitler. Her non-fiction publications include Sisters in Arms: The Women who Flew in WWII, The Blockade Breakers: The Berlin Airlift, and Codename Valkyrie: General Friederich Olbricht and the Plot against Hitler. In addition, Helena has published eighteen historical novels and won numerous literary awards. Her novel on the Battle of Britain, Where Eagles Never Flew won the Hemingway Award for 20th Century Wartime Fiction and a Maincrest Media Award for Historical Fiction. RAF Battle of Britain ace Wing Commander Bob Doe called it "the best book" he had ever seen about the battle. Traitors for the Sake of Humanity is a finalist for the Foreword INDIES awards. Grounded Eagles and Moral Fibre have both garnered excellent reviews from acclaimed review sites such as Kirkus, Blue Ink, Foreword Clarion, Feathered Quill, and Chantileer Books.

 

You can follow her author website for updates and her aviation history blog.

 

Friday, August 26, 2022

The Old Piano

 




The broken piano is one of my favorite treasures that we have discovered in the old church.

We also discovered music programs and choir booklets from over 50 years ago!
I was able to locate some of the people, who were children at the time, and return their Christmas books and programs to them. What fun memories for them!




I also learned about Wilma Larsen who played the piano and helped with many programs at the church.

























































Monday, August 15, 2022

Reckless Grace by Carolyn DiPasquale

 





Fourteen-year-old Rachel guards a collection of secrets for ten years, journaling to vent her terror and loneliness.

 

What the single, working mother recalls is a far cry from what happens, as dramatically revealed in tandem chapters gleaned from Rachel's journals. While the mother sprints from task to task, the daughter details the baffling emergence and frightening progression of bulimia, diabulimia, and borderline personality disorder; her eventual substance abuse; and heart-wrenching reasons for not seeking help.

 

Following Rachel's fatal overdose years later, her mother, Carolyn DiPasquale, stumbles upon her daughter's diaries. Shattered, she searches for answers, retracing her steps to figure out how parents and doctors missed three major mental illnesses.

 

Despite her loss, DiPasquale hopes her story lights a path for victims of mental illness while awakening all readers.

 

Publisher: E.L. Marker

ISBN-10: 1947966550

ISBN-13: 978-1947966550

ASIN: ‎B09W69TT11

Print length: 546 pages

 

Purchase a copy of Reckless Grace on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Bookshop.org. You can also add this to your GoodReads reading list.


 

About the Author:

Carolyn DiPasquale grew up in Franksville, Wisconsin, graduating from UW-Milwaukee with a double major in English and French. In 1983, she moved to Rhode Island where she raised three children while pursuing her Master’s in English at the University of Rhode Island. Over her career, she taught literature and composition at various New England colleges; worked as a technical writer at the Naval Underseas Warfare Center in Newport; and wrote winning grants as a volunteer for Turning Around Ministries, a Newport aftercare program for ex-offenders. She has been an active member of the Newport Round Table, a professional writing group (founded in 1995), since 2013.

 

DiPasquale currently lives in Richmond, Rhode Island where she has started working on a sequel to Reckless Grace. She has also ventured into writing children’s books. In her free time, she enjoys cooking and baking with healthy ingredients, hiking and trapshooting with her husband Phil, and volunteering at the New Hope Chapel food pantry in Carolina, Rhode Island. 

 

Visit her website to follow her updates. You can also follow her on Instagram or Facebook.

 

Blog Tour Calendar

Saturday, August 6, 2022

The Memorial Building

 Sorry that my sound was so off on this one. I messed with it for a while and figured I needed to just call it good or I would have been working on this video too long and taking up valuable summer time. 




Memories of Dwaine Larsen, by Maxine Larsen Schmidt

 When Uncle Dwain passed away, he was found on the couch in his house on the farm.  This farm had been Grandpa Alfred & Grandma Sarah's, where they lived since getting married.  In the early 1900’s their Danish parents homesteaded less than two miles west, settling directly across the road from each other.  Alfred had two brothers, Levi and Reuben, and one sister who had passed away as an infant.  Her grave can be found in the Ebenezer Lutheran church cemetery on the gravel road near Dwain’s farm.  The original church, before it burned down was located next to the cemetery. Sarah’s family included two boys and 7 girls, who were often referred to as the Pretty Anderson Girls.  Sarah had twin sisters, Martha and Marie, and twin daughters, Marlys and Marlene. 

 

I grew up less than a mile away and cherished my time with Grandma Larsen.  I’d escape our busy, noisy family by peddling my bike to Grandma’s.  She was that round soft grandma who made sugar cookies and devoted every minute just to me.  It was Heaven.

 

After Alfred retired, they switched houses with Dwain and his family.  Alfred and Sarah moved into Flaxton and Dwain moved to the farm.   At some point the old farmhouse burned down and Dwain moved a new house to the farm.  At that time Dwain was married to Diane and they had a son, Tracy.  When I was in high school, I used to babysit Tracy Saturday nights when Dwain and Diane had their weekly bowling date.  

 

Fast forward to the fall of 1997, my daughter was a year old and I was working at the Fargodome as marketing manager when I learned my uncle had passed away.  Something possessed me to call my dad and say, "I'm going to sing "Just A Closer Walk" at Dwain's funeral.  

 

Keep in mind that I had never sung a solo in my hometown nor had I ever sung a solo in front of my family.  When I sang in the church choir in Minot, I did sing a short solo some program at church and when I opened my mouth to sing the first note, my voice came out in a croak.  I still remember seeing heads pop up and look at me in surprise.  I quickly recovered but these are the things you never forget.  Plus, this was my uncle’s funeral. My dad, in the sweetest voice said, "That would be wonderful Honey."  When I hung up the phone, I started to panic until I realized that if Ronnie accompanied me, it would be okay.   Ronnie Nelson is the son of Amos, dad's cousin.  Ronnie was a musical savant.  He played songs on the piano before he was tall enough to see the keyboard.  Later he would stand with his back to the piano and play songs with his hands behind him.  When he was older, he had both a piano and an organ and he positioned them so he could play duets with himself.  Then he traveled around the US playing for a gospel quartet.  And of course, anytime he was near a piano and a group of people gathered, he would entertain everyone.  He could play any song he had ever heard with such gusto and he would play for hours.   I knew that if I had trouble singing, Ronnie would be able to cover for me.  

 

So, I went to our church to get the choir music for "Just A Closer Walk", but it was gone.  GONE.  I needed music in a lower key, but I couldn't find the music.  Why this song?  I don't know, maybe because I knew it was a song I could sing.  But I couldn't find the music.  I called dad to explain I couldn't do it after all.  I was still freaking out about singing a solo in front of my family in Flaxton.  This was a good excuse.  Dad answered the phone and before I could say anything, he told me again how glad he was that I was going to sing, that Ronnie was out of town, but our farm neighbor, Alice, would be accompanying me.    Next I called Alice Ganskop.  She explained she had lots of music and maybe 4 different versions of my song.  She was sure she had the music I needed.  We made plans for me to stop at her house for a quick practice on my way home the day before the funeral.  

 

It's about a 7-hour drive from Fargo to Flaxton, so I went alone, leaving my husband, Michael and our two kids in Fargo.  When I got to Alice's farm, she showed me the music she picked for "Just A Closer Walk", sure it would be in a key right for me, adding I should just sing the first two verses.  We ran though the song a couple times, she told me it was going to be very nice.  (I really needed that assurance.)

 

Fast forward to the funeral, and I saw my dad wipe a tear while I sang my solo.  I guess it went okay, all my worries were for nothing.  A week after I returned to Fargo, my mom and aunts (Marlys and Marlene) had been cleaning out Dwain’s house when they found sheet music for "Just A Closer Walk".  It was the only sheet music found in the whole house, which was odd giving his musical background.  It had a faint smoke stain meaning it probably survived the fire from years ago and maybe once belonged to my grandmother.  Mom mailed the music to me and the artist, Red Foley, was printed on the page.  Apparently, he had sung this song for a record.  Back then performers often sold sheet music for songs they recorded.  This particular sheet music included only the two verses that Alice suggested I sing for the funeral.  Out of 4 verses in the red hymnal, the two I sang were the same two on Red Foley's sheet music.  The only music found in Dwain’s house.

 

On Wednesday, the day the music arrived in the mail, there was an event that night at the Fargodome.  Normally I don't go home for lunch, but that day I did which means I opened the mail and saw what Mom had sent me.  On that particular day, my husband was going to be out of town (traveling salesman), and because I had to work that night our two kids would be spending the night with their daycare.  (Bob and Gloria loved our kids and were always there for us.)

 

Now the event is over, it’s nearly midnight and the two promoters wanted a ride to their hotel. I volunteered.  After the two fellas left the car, I pushed the button on my radio for my favorite talk station and instead of hearing familiar voices discuss the politics of the day.  I heard the announcer say, "...and now this old favorite from Red Foley and I heard him sing, "Just A Closer Walk", on the radio.  This song.  On the radio.  AND, it's the same two verses that I sang at my uncle's funeral.    I start crying, and I can't stop.  

 




It was miracle enough that I sang for my dad at my uncle's funeral and it wasn't a disaster.  I don't have perfect pitch so hitting the correct notes every time doesn't come easy for me.  My singing lessons came from the choir directors at the different churches I belonged to over the years, from Williston, to Minot, to Fargo.  Normally I would find a strong alto to stand next to and then hitting the notes was easier.  And here I am, days after singing at my beloved uncles funeral, exhausted from a long workday, still in awe that this music was the only music found in Dwain’s house, and now the radio station is playing this music in my car.  It's too much.  

 

Earlier that year, my fabulous, loving mother-in-law passed away from cancer.  When my babies were little, I would often sing them to sleep and the song I usually sang was "Just A Closer Walk".  I knew all the words and it was a favorite of mine when we sang it in choir.  At the funeral, I remember going to Alice’s casket to quietly sing this song, just for her.  It was something I needed to do.  Then three months later, her husband Mike also passed away from cancer.  They were inseparable in life, so none of us were surprised he passed so quickly after her death.  I then did the same for Mike and sang my favorite song, connecting Grandpa Mike to Grandma Alice in heaven.  Thinking back, now I know why I had to sing this song for Dwain, wanting to connect him to my Grandma Sarah (his mother) in heaven.  By the way, my in-laws were Catholic and of course my family was Lutheran.  Singing to them, I think, was my last gift for them.  

 

The next day, I am still rehashing all the freaky things that have happened regarding this song.  As I am driving back to the Fargodome, I hear only static on the radio.  Static.  So I push, again, the button for Talk Radio, and this time, the correct station comes alive, as normal.  That means when I heard Red Foley sing “Just A Closer Walk” the night before, I assumed it was some crazy out of this world coincidence.  Well it was out of this world alright, I realized my radio had been tuned into Heaven.  Is this even possible?

 

I can't explain it.  But I promise you, this story is the absolute truth.  Every bit of it is complete truth.

 

Days later, I still can't shake what has happened.  I would think of it every minute, every day.   I would often tell Heaven/God , "I get it.  Dwain liked my song.  Grandma Sarah liked my song.  I get it.  Just finding the sheet music would have been enough.  So why have the radio station tune into Heaven's Choir Loft playing this song, by Red Foley, singing only these two verses.  Why?”  

 

Then one day, it all made perfect sense.  My dear Mother-in-law, Alice, was one of those persons who connected with me all day long.  She'd call and say, "I want to get new carpet in the living room.  What do you think?"  The next call would be, "Jeanette thinks I should get new carpet too."  Next something like, "I'm going shopping for new carpet."  Then, "They are coming to measure for carpet." and so on and so on.  That was life with Alice.  And now I finally understand.  Alice, who is Catholic, is in Heaven with my Grandma Sarah and uncle Dwain, both Lutherans. They are all hanging out together.  How cool is that?

Tuesday, July 26, 2022

Memories of Dwaine Larsen, by Maxine Larsen Schmidt

 When Uncle Dwain passed away, he was found on the couch in his house on the farm.  This farm had been Grandpa Alfred & Grandma Sarah's, where they lived since getting married.  In the early 1900’s their Danish parents homesteaded less than two miles west, settling directly across the road from each other.  Alfred had two brothers, Levi and Reuben, and one sister who had passed away as an infant.  Her grave can be found in the Ebenezer Lutheran church cemetery on the gravel road near Dwain’s farm.  The original church, before it burned down was located next to the cemetery. Sarah’s family included two boys and 7 girls, who were often referred to as the Pretty Anderson Girls.  Sarah had twin sisters, Martha and Marie, and twin daughters, Marlys and Marlene. 

 

I grew up less than a mile away and cherished my time with Grandma Larsen.  I’d escape our busy, noisy family by peddling my bike to Grandma’s.  She was that round soft grandma who made sugar cookies and devoted every minute just to me.  It was Heaven.

 

After Alfred retired, they switched houses with Dwain and his family.  Alfred and Sarah moved into Flaxton and Dwain moved to the farm.   At some point the old farmhouse burned down and Dwain moved a new house to the farm.  At that time Dwain was married to Diane and they had a son, Tracy.  When I was in high school, I used to babysit Tracy Saturday nights when Dwain and Diane had their weekly bowling date.  

 

Fast forward to the fall of 1997, my daughter was a year old and I was working at the Fargodome as marketing manager when I learned my uncle had passed away.  Something possessed me to call my dad and say, "I'm going to sing "Just A Closer Walk" at Dwain's funeral.  

 

Keep in mind that I had never sung a solo in my hometown nor had I ever sung a solo in front of my family.  When I sang in the church choir in Minot, I did sing a short solo some program at church and when I opened my mouth to sing the first note, my voice came out in a croak.  I still remember seeing heads pop up and look at me in surprise.  I quickly recovered but these are the things you never forget.  Plus, this was my uncle’s funeral. My dad, in the sweetest voice said, "That would be wonderful Honey."  When I hung up the phone, I started to panic until I realized that if Ronnie accompanied me, it would be okay.   Ronnie Nelson is the son of Amos, dad's cousin.  Ronnie was a musical savant.  He played songs on the piano before he was tall enough to see the keyboard.  Later he would stand with his back to the piano and play songs with his hands behind him.  When he was older, he had both a piano and an organ and he positioned them so he could play duets with himself.  Then he traveled around the US playing for a gospel quartet.  And of course, anytime he was near a piano and a group of people gathered, he would entertain everyone.  He could play any song he had ever heard with such gusto and he would play for hours.   I knew that if I had trouble singing, Ronnie would be able to cover for me.  

 

So, I went to our church to get the choir music for "Just A Closer Walk", but it was gone.  GONE.  I needed music in a lower key, but I couldn't find the music.  Why this song?  I don't know, maybe because I knew it was a song I could sing.  But I couldn't find the music.  I called dad to explain I couldn't do it after all.  I was still freaking out about singing a solo in front of my family in Flaxton.  This was a good excuse.  Dad answered the phone and before I could say anything, he told me again how glad he was that I was going to sing, that Ronnie was out of town, but our farm neighbor, Alice, would be accompanying me.    Next I called Alice Ganskop.  She explained she had lots of music and maybe 4 different versions of my song.  She was sure she had the music I needed.  We made plans for me to stop at her house for a quick practice on my way home the day before the funeral.  

 

It's about a 7-hour drive from Fargo to Flaxton, so I went alone, leaving my husband, Michael and our two kids in Fargo.  When I got to Alice's farm, she showed me the music she picked for "Just A Closer Walk", sure it would be in a key right for me, adding I should just sing the first two verses.  We ran though the song a couple times, she told me it was going to be very nice.  (I really needed that assurance.)

 

Fast forward to the funeral, and I saw my dad wipe a tear while I sang my solo.  I guess it went okay, all my worries were for nothing.  A week after I returned to Fargo, my mom and aunts (Marlys and Marlene) had been cleaning out Dwain’s house when they found sheet music for "Just A Closer Walk".  It was the only sheet music found in the whole house, which was odd giving his musical background.  It had a faint smoke stain meaning it probably survived the fire from years ago and maybe once belonged to my grandmother.  Mom mailed the music to me and the artist, Red Foley, was printed on the page.  Apparently, he had sung this song for a record.  Back then performers often sold sheet music for songs they recorded.  This particular sheet music included only the two verses that Alice suggested I sing for the funeral.  Out of 4 verses in the red hymnal, the two I sang were the same two on Red Foley's sheet music.  The only music found in Dwain’s house.

 

On Wednesday, the day the music arrived in the mail, there was an event that night at the Fargodome.  Normally I don't go home for lunch, but that day I did which means I opened the mail and saw what Mom had sent me.  On that particular day, my husband was going to be out of town (traveling salesman), and because I had to work that night our two kids would be spending the night with their daycare.  (Bob and Gloria loved our kids and were always there for us.)

 

Now the event is over, it’s nearly midnight and the two promoters wanted a ride to their hotel. I volunteered.  After the two fellas left the car, I pushed the button on my radio for my favorite talk station and instead of hearing familiar voices discuss the politics of the day.  I heard the announcer say, "...and now this old favorite from Red Foley and I heard him sing, "Just A Closer Walk", on the radio.  This song.  On the radio.  AND, it's the same two verses that I sang at my uncle's funeral.    I start crying, and I can't stop.  

 




It was miracle enough that I sang for my dad at my uncle's funeral and it wasn't a disaster.  I don't have perfect pitch so hitting the correct notes every time doesn't come easy for me.  My singing lessons came from the choir directors at the different churches I belonged to over the years, from Williston, to Minot, to Fargo.  Normally I would find a strong alto to stand next to and then hitting the notes was easier.  And here I am, days after singing at my beloved uncles funeral, exhausted from a long workday, still in awe that this music was the only music found in Dwain’s house, and now the radio station is playing this music in my car.  It's too much.  

 

Earlier that year, my fabulous, loving mother-in-law passed away from cancer.  When my babies were little, I would often sing them to sleep and the song I usually sang was "Just A Closer Walk".  I knew all the words and it was a favorite of mine when we sang it in choir.  At the funeral, I remember going to Alice’s casket to quietly sing this song, just for her.  It was something I needed to do.  Then three months later, her husband Mike also passed away from cancer.  They were inseparable in life, so none of us were surprised he passed so quickly after her death.  I then did the same for Mike and sang my favorite song, connecting Grandpa Mike to Grandma Alice in heaven.  Thinking back, now I know why I had to sing this song for Dwain, wanting to connect him to my Grandma Sarah (his mother) in heaven.  By the way, my in-laws were Catholic and of course my family was Lutheran.  Singing to them, I think, was my last gift for them.  

 

The next day, I am still rehashing all the freaky things that have happened regarding this song.  As I am driving back to the Fargodome, I hear only static on the radio.  Static.  So I push, again, the button for Talk Radio, and this time, the correct station comes alive, as normal.  That means when I heard Red Foley sing “Just A Closer Walk” the night before, I assumed it was some crazy out of this world coincidence.  Well it was out of this world alright, I realized my radio had been tuned into Heaven.  Is this even possible?

 

I can't explain it.  But I promise you, this story is the absolute truth.  Every bit of it is complete truth.

 

Days later, I still can't shake what has happened.  I would think of it every minute, every day.   I would often tell Heaven/God , "I get it.  Dwain liked my song.  Grandma Sarah liked my song.  I get it.  Just finding the sheet music would have been enough.  So why have the radio station tune into Heaven's Choir Loft playing this song, by Red Foley, singing only these two verses.  Why?”  

 

Then one day, it all made perfect sense.  My dear Mother-in-law, Alice, was one of those persons who connected with me all day long.  She'd call and say, "I want to get new carpet in the living room.  What do you think?"  The next call would be, "Jeanette thinks I should get new carpet too."  Next something like, "I'm going shopping for new carpet."  Then, "They are coming to measure for carpet." and so on and so on.  That was life with Alice.  And now I finally understand.  Alice, who is Catholic, is in Heaven with my Grandma Sarah and uncle Dwain, both Lutherans. They are all hanging out together.  How cool is that?

 

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