Two Saturday's Aprons waiting in the wings, will have to wait a little longer

It's been a crazy week.

My mother had her knee replaced on Friday the 3rd. Everything went really well despite her numerous complicating medical issues, and they sent her home on Labor Day, feeling pretty good. It didn't last. Tuesday, she went back into the hospital with complications mostly centered around her blood thinners and how they affected all kinds of other stuff. I drove up there Wednesday night (thank you Dina for letting me just take off like that!) and I just came home this afternoon. So did she! She's back to feeling well and ready to take back up with learning to walk all over again. We feel we watched a miracle happen, as she was very sick (too sick for surgery), then okay for surgery but it was delayed, then doing quite a bit better and might not need the surgery after all, then doing even better and definitely didn't need the surgery, and then doing great, and then sent home. We are giving thanks.

Barry and Kieffer had to put on Lil Miss A's birthday party on Wednesday in my place, but it sounds like a good time was had by all, and the house was still standing when I got home. I really appreciate that they made it possible for me to go be with my parents like that. I didn't actually do all that much up there, just spent time with them - both of them at the hospital, and then with my father in the evenings and mornings so he didn't have to go home to an empty house.

We are blessed.

Oh, and a funny story: My parents, as I have mentioned about 40 times, are members of a Messianic Christian church in Hudson, Wisconsin. Thursday was the high holyday of Rosh Hoshanah, which of course they were missing because they were stuck in the World's Funnest Place, the hospital. So a contingent of folks from their church came to the hospital room that afternoon bringing shofarot (my new word of the day - plural of shofar is shofarot). That's ram's horn trumpets, in case you didn't know. Yes, I'm serious. They blew the shofarot (quietly) (with the door shut) in my mother's hospital room. It meant so much to my parents that the festivities were brought to them, and it was a sweet, if unconventional, thing to do. They also brought lots of food.

Want to hear what a shofar sounds like? (This is just a clip off YouTube, has nothing to do with Beth Immanuel's celebration. Also it's a lot louder than it was in the hospital.)

Fathers for Life/Malachi Dads

Sunday's Coming

My brother brought this to my attention:


"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.

From one of the comments there on Vimeo:

“For some years it has been apparent that the rage for novelties in singing, especially in our Sunday Schools, has been driving out of use the old, precious, standard hymns. They are not memorized as of old. They are scarcely sung at all. They are not even contained in the non-denominational songbooks which in many churches have usurped the place of our hymn books.

We cannot afford to lose these old hymns. They are full of the Gospel; they breathe the deepest emotions of pious hearts in the noblest strains of poetry; they have been tested and approved by successive generations of those that loved the Lord; they are the surviving fittest ones from thousands of inferior productions; they are hallowed by abundant usefulness and tenderest memories. But the young people of today are unfamiliar with them, if the present tendency goes unchecked.”

The guy who made that observation, made it in 1892. Heh.

Pat Rothfuss' Second Annual Heifer International Fundraiser W00T!

It's here! And they have a logo and everything.

To recap, last fall, Pat Rothfuss, one of my favorite authors, ran a little fundraiser off his blog to benefit Heifer International. He said he wanted to buy baby ducks for needy families, and asked his readership (The League of Fanatical Minions) to help. He agreed to double all donations up to, I think, $5000. Then when donations passed $5000, he upped it to $10,000, and then $15,000, and in a fit of madness, agreed to match ALL donations. He ended up buying a LOT of baby ducks:



Mind you, that was just Pat's half - the matching half. He and we bought over $110,000 worth of hope for needy people around the world. That hope comes in the shape of livestock and the training to keep it well and use it to the maximum. (As an example, families are taught to care for a goat, feed it properly, use the milk, and then to use the manure to enrich their fields, producing better vegetables/grains.) And that gift will continue to grow; if you are not familiar with Heifer's policy of Passing On the Gift, read about it here. In short, each family that receives a gift from Heifer agrees to pass on the first offspring of their animal to another family in their community that needs help. (I love this. Not only for the increase of the gift, but for the transformation that it performs in the life of the Heifer family: It transforms them from a family in need of assistance to Givers. This is deep, folks. Being transformed into a Giver changes all kinds of things about a person.)

Anyway, Pat had a rather startling awakening to the fact that his fandom was a bit crazy. :o) And he learned his lesson. He's doing the fundraiser again this year, but this time he has a lot of help. He has sponsorships from a bunch of his friends in the fantasy and sci-fi world, and a huge help in the form of Subterranean Press, which is helping with the matching and has offered a ton of wonderful prizes. You see, not only do we get to buy baby ducks, we get PRIZES!! Signed editions of all kinds of sci-fi and fantasy literature, for the most part. You like Neil Gaiman? He's donating books. So's John Scalzi. Pat Rothfuss is giving some of his own books. There are writers willing to look over your manuscript for you. There's even a Golden Ticket: If you win this, Pat will owe you a favor. You get to ask him to do something for you. (He says there are only three rules: It has to be something legal, possible and he can't make anyone fall in love.)

Okay, so here we go. If you are interested in giving to Heifer International, please consider giving through this link (click the baby ducks)



where your gift will be added to by Pat and his friends.

Here's the link to Pat Rothfuss' blog where he will be updating all information about the fundraiser, including the prizes: Worldbuilders Page. Get it? Worldbuilders? Fantasy and SciFi writers? They build their own worlds? Isn't that clever? I thought that was clever.

P.S. So far we have bought a goat. We figured it was the least we could do, having been blessed with a lamb this year ourselves.

National Tie One On Day (a little early)

National Tie One On Day has nothing to do with what YOU were thinking just then. It's supposed to be a chance for women to encourage other women in the midst of the holiday bustle and fuss. See, you're supposed to make a homemade baked good, possibly bread or maybe something else, wrap it in an apron and give it to a woman in need of encouragement, with a little note offering encouraging words. I made my apron Saturday night because that's when there was time, and as I sewed, I prayed about who it should go to. I got an extremely clear, and rather surprising, answer - a woman I see about 3 times a year and don't know well at all. So I really think it was an answer to my prayer. Since I had an easy way to deliver a gift to her on Sunday I also made a loaf of bread.

A funny thing is that since God had given me this woman's name as the person who needed some encouraging, I assumed that He would also give me the words of encouragement she needed. So I opened the Bible and started searching for the words I was to give her. And instead I kept finding words that really aren't very encouraging - like geneaologies. :o) And proverbs about not eating too much honey, or wisdom calling out at the gates. Very obscure, if it was meant to be encouraging! I ended up just writing her a note saying the truth, that I pray for her, and I do, and I'll keep doing it, too.

Here is the apron and bread I sent. The apron is a disappointment to me because I made it of scraps and wasn't thinking and made the waist sash rather short. I ran out of scraps! Argh!

Protection from the Lord when we don't know to ask

This is one of the amazing things about knowing God: That He protects us all the time, whether we know to ask His help or not.

Yesterday Britta took our car out to Lonning's Landing, a private campground on the Upper Iowa River, where she met with friends to go tubing. On the way home she took the car on a dirt road. Being an inexperienced driver, when she came to a large bump in the middle of the road, she decided the best thing to do was to straddle it. Somehow she says she didn't realize that she scraped the bottom of the car with that bump. What she did was rip the bottom out of the car! It started leaking power steering fluid, and she didn't notice. She drove home, changed clothes and then drove to La Crosse, not bothering to mention what she had done. So we did not know to pray specifically about this. I was nervous for some reason and did pray (as I usually do when she is out with the car) for her safety, but it was nothing unusual or specific, just my general Mommy anxiety.

The door burst open at about 10:30 last night to our daughter yelling, "Dad! There's something wrong with the car! The wheel won't move!" We went outside to find the Concorde stopped in the street right in front of the driveway, with smoke coming out from under the hood. She was right, the wheel would not turn -- because the power steering system was drained completely! There was fluid all over under the car. When Barry looked underneath, the whole front pan thing just underneath the front bumper panel was pushed back about 6 inches. Somehow the radiator still had fluid.

So this is what the Lord did: He kept the power steering working all the way back from Lonning's Landing (10 miles or so), then all the way to La Crosse and back (another 50 miles), all along winding river roads with sharp dropoffs on the sides and water beneath, not allowing the power steering to quit working until she was at the bottom of her own driveway. This is absolutely a miracle. She should have lost her steering on the road somewhere and ended up slammed into a tree, or under water, or scraped against one of the limestone cliffs that they cut to make the river roads. (I am still scared thinking of it.)

We are also thankful to have good car insurance. Once again I recommend Progressive. They are fast and efficient, and they are kind.

William ‘Bill’ Mitchell

NEW ALBIN, Iowa — William “Bill” Mitchell, 62, passed away Saturday, June 6, 2009, at Gundersen Lutheran Medical Center, La Crosse.

Bill was born in McGregor, Iowa, on March 5, 1947, to James and Teresa (Hammel) Mitchell.

He married the love of his life, Ginny M. Hayes, on Oct. 25, 1969, at St. Mary’s Catholic Church, Caledonia, Minn.

Bill served with the U.S. Army from 1967 to 1969. He worked for New Albin Police Department, drove school bus for Eastern Allamakee School District, worked in the roofing business and later attended gunsmith school in Denver.

Bill cherished his God, family, friends and nature. His love of deer, turkey, morel and ginseng hunting was the substance of his being. There was not a day that went by without a funny story or joke he would share with whomever was present. His quick wit and harmless pranks will bring many people he loved memories of laughter. He shared his wisdom and vast knowledge of guns, hunting and skills with a large audience, one being a hunter’s safety instructor, teaching children the proper way to handle firearms. He was a lifetime member and president of the Northeast Iowa Whitetails Unlimited for 18 years. He was also a member of the NRA, National Turkey Federation Board, active in his church and community and a proud veteran.

Bill is survived by his wife, Ginny; sons, Jeremy (Amanda), Chad (Laura), Josh (Jill) and Trevor; and a daughter, Kelsey; seven grandchildren, Jasmine, Allison, Alex, Jani Mitchell and Mason Johnson, Camden Mitchell and Arianna Mitchell; his brothers, Lorny (Lucille) and David (Barb) of New Albin, Raymond (Carol) of Maple Grove, Minn., Jerry (Mary) of Alburnett, Iowa, and Earl (Donna) of Palo, Iowa; his sisters, Mary Jo Colsch of Caledonia and Esther (Jim) Benesh of Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

He was preceded in death by his parents; brothers, Kenneth, James and Peter Mitchell; and a sister, Teresa Kubitz.

A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated at 10:30 a.m. Wednesday at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, New Albin, with military rites to follow. Father Daniel Knipper and Monsignor Ed Lechtenberg will officiate. Visitation will be from 4 to 8 p.m. Tuesday at New Albin Community Center, with a 7:30 p.m. prayer service. Visitation will also be from 9:30 to 10 a.m. Wednesday at the community center before the service at the church. McCormick Funeral Home, Caledonia, is assisting the family with arrangements.

Source: LaCrosse Tribune

I would also add that he was the man who would bring us wild morel mushrooms every spring.

---

Adding this after the funeral: Msgr Ed Lechtenberg, who is one of Ginny's cousins, as it happens, did a marvelous job on the service. He was so encouraging. Nobody was saying the S word out loud, and then all of a sudden in his sermon he started talking about it, how no one needed to worry and wonder about Bill's salvation, or to wrack their brains over what they could have done differently to prevent it; it's just that diseases come in many forms, diseases of the body and diseases of the mind, and sometimes it's cancer or heart disease that takes someone, and sometimes it's a disease of the mind. He said that 99.9% of the time, suicide is about unbearable pain and the desperation that it brings. He assured the family that the Lord was waiting in the valley of the shadow of death, waiting for Bill with His hand outstretched. He said that every single day he thanks God that God's mercy is so much better and larger than our own.

He also said, "We cry and mourn because we are human. We rejoice because we are Christians."

This is the first Catholic funeral I have been to.

Goodbye to our friend Gary, and a reunion

Last Tuesday we received a phone call telling us that our old friend Gary Schmidt had died very suddenly of a heart attack. Gary was only 57 years old and one of the last people you'd expect to have a bad heart. He was gardening when it happened. We knew Gary and his wife Diane in our old church, the La Crosse, Wisconsin, congregation of the Worldwide Church of God. We had dropped out of contact with most of the people we knew back then, and so I was especially thankful that Bob Kersten thought to contact us and let us know.

We attended the funeral Friday in New Lisbon, Wisconsin. As sad an occasion as this was, there was great joy in reuniting with dear old friends. I am so sorry for failing to maintain contact with them. Just because I'm a little embarrassed about my association with the Worldwide Church of God in the past doesn't mean I shouldn't still love the Christians I met there. This would be an extremely long blog if I were to tell you of all the kindnesses our brothers and sisters there have done for us through the years. And they did us yet another kindness at the funeral by loving us, hugging us, welcoming us back into their hearts. They are scattered, spiritually; many have no church even to this day. Some meet with one another for prayer and Bible study. In fact, Gary was supporting many of them spiritually by inviting them out to his cabin for study and fellowship, filling a great need in their hearts. (It also shows me once more how blessed we are to have been placed in a church.)

Anyway, please ask for heavenly comfort for the wife, children, brothers, sisters, and friends who are sorely missing Gary right now. Even knowing he is safe with his Savior, there is great pain in missing him. I especially hurt for the love of his life, Diane Snitker Schmidt, who is now a widow. May God bless and comfort her as He promises to comfort all widows.

Refreshing Sunday Morning

Just got home from church much refreshed. It doesn't always work that way. And it's not church's fault, or God's, it's mine. Years ago a man I really respected, Clayton Steep, wrote an essay on sabbath refreshment. He told about one day when he was coming home from work in a rush and drove up his driveway too fast and crashed right into his garage door, ending up in the garage where he wanted to be, only with a wrecked garage AND a wrecked car. He wrote that sometimes that's how he goes into the Sabbath too: Roaring in full speed and crashing. I know exactly how that feels. Many times I'm up too late on Saturday night, or others in the family are, and we have a hard time getting up, clean and presentable in time for 9:00 a.m. church. Sometimes I don't even have the excuse of being up late. I'm just disorganized and cranky. Church is not long enough to get out of one of those moods!

Well, this morning we were tired, but I still got a good night's sleep. The service was beautiful. We sang several songs that I love, including Fairest Lord Jesus. And then we witnessed the confirmation of our friends Barry and Lisa Fruechte's youngest child, S. They have seen 4 children now through the age of confirmation. They done good! S. was our only confirmand this year, which somehow made it seem more special. She stood tall in the front of church in her white robe and professed her faith. A beautiful event in her life, her parents' lives, and the life of our congregation.

I was raised in more of a Baptist tradition, so infant baptism and confirmation are still fairly new to me. That thing in red up there is the insert in the bulletin in which Pastor explained what he believes confirmation is all about. I thought you would find it interesting. I appreciated it as an excellent explanation.

On another note, Britta is away on her senior trip this week. We are appreciating the respite between graduation festivities. She graduates on Mother's Day and afterward we are having open house. We thought it was going to be a small intimate group of mostly family and neighbors, but then Britta invited pretty much everybody who has ever joined Facebook, so I am cooking. And cooking. I have been cooking beef brisket all weekend. Briskets #1, #2, and #3 are cooked, cut up and in the freezer, #4 is cooling down and #5 is in the oven. I am using Pioneer Woman's recipe only with a drastic reduction in the soy sauce; I thought it was wayyy too salty. The menu is brisket on a bun, mashed potatoes, gravy, cooked veggies (green beans, sweet corn) and rootbeer floats. Notice how I cleverly combined beverage with dessert? We got the back porch set up yesterday and having that and the brisket out of the way, I feel much better about how things are going.

Both sets of Britta's grandparents hope to be here for her graduation.

The "extravagant blessing" of a good marriage

Sweet Annabelle blogged today about the blessing of a good and Godly marriage. Her post brought tears to my eyes. I hope you will read it all, but here is an excerpt if you don't have the time:

I used to wish  that we'd have more money, maybe live in a bigger house, drive newer (faster) vehicles. Now, standing where I am, and having been where I've been, I know that I'm already rich and have been for some time! God  has given me the extravagant wealth of a truly loving husband and a fulfilled marriage. 

The hurt of unhappy marriages has been all around me lately. Because of this and more than ever, I feel the urging to guard and treasure this gift. If you have been given the same wonderful gift, I'm rejoicing with you and encourage you to also guard your treasure. 

Old Enough to Date

My friend Lisa Fruitful and I were discussing our teens (again) a couple of days ago, and the conversation got around to when we allowed them to start going out on dates. She told me that their rule has been, their children are not allowed to date until they have been confirmed in the faith. This makes all kinds of sense to me. The Fruitfuls are emphasizing to their kids that before you make choices about relationships, you had better make a decision about your faith and about your relationship with your Savior.

I like this so much better than our not-till-you-turn-16-missy! rule.

Prayers and the confidentiality of medical records

I know I am not the only medical transcriptionist out there who prays for the patients whose reports cross her/his desk.  I just transcribed a real heart-breaker, something where if it happened to people in my town I would immediately activate the prayer chain at church, post about it here and ask you to pray, e-mail my parents and ask them to pray... but of course it's a confidential medical record, so the only person I will ever talk about it with is God. I'm glad I believe in Him and His personal attention to us here on earth. I just cried out to Him to heal and comfort in this particular situation.

They'll never know, nor should they, that a nameless medical records person in Iowa prayed for them, but I did, and I know the prayer was heard.

Today's sermon

was about water baptism, how we allow it to divide the church of God and what the Bible says about it, and how we should quit arguing over the mechanics of it and concentrate on the meaning. Cool.

On Worshiping Blessings, not the One who Gives Them

I meant to tell you that last Sunday's sermon was delivered by one of the lay members of St. Peter's, Dan Porter (Pastor was away watching his daughter graduate magna cum laude from college, praise God). One tiny little part of Dan's message seemed like it was pointing straight at me. I think he actually got this from the book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" by Harold Kushner. The point was that one must guard against worshiping blessings, rather than the One who gives the blessings. It's very easy to do. Another pitfall is mistaking blessings for the favor of God, i.e., feeling like we're pretty okay with God when we can see obvious blessings in our lives, and suspecting that we are not on his Good List when those blessings are not evident to us and everybody else. It's the health-and-wealth gospel at work.

So here is a personal example: Right now I can see God's hand all over the place in our job situation. You would not believe all the things that are working out beautifully for us. We have been granted favor with employers on both sides, with colleges, with the high school, with our bank, with our church - everywhere there is favor. It's getting so I expect everything to work out perfectly and will be surprised when some tiny thing does not go right.

So does this mean when things stop going perfectly, as eventually they must, God doesn't love me anymore, or wants to test me, or is waiting for me to learn a lesson so He can stop taking away blessings? Hardly. And does it mean God is incompetent, or uncaring, or that I've used up my quota of blessings for one month/year/decade/lifetime? Nope.

I'm not sure what to do to combat this attitude other than being extremely grateful and finding things to give thanks for all the time - and not just financial things, or health things, or job things. Lessons learned, kindnesses from a friend, mercies shown, the accomplishments of a child. Intangibles. Also blessings given to others. If I look in others' lives for blessings for which to give thanks, then I will see pretty clearly that it was nothing I did that got them blessings, it was merely that their God wanted to give them something for some reason beyond my fathoming - and possibly I will understand that the same happens in my own life.

Benjamin's Song, Funny Bulletins and Nativity Sets

Today at church Barry and I sat at opposite ends of the pew, as usual, like bookends, keeping the children sitting up straight with their pages all facing in the right direction, so to speak. (Last week we sat side by side for the first time in I don't know how long. I loved it. Today we were back to normal.) We sang "It Is Well With My Soul," which I always think of as Benjamin's song. Benjamin was my nephew, my brother's eldest child. We received a phone call one awful day in his mother's pregnancy with him, telling us that Benjamin had died in utero. An hour or so after that we had to go to our church small group study and we sang "It Is Well With My Soul." Ever since then, it's been Benjamin's song to me. After a couple of years, I got to the point where I could sing it without breaking down, but then this morning for some reason it all just came rushing back again and I went all teary over it and couldn't sing. And I was a wreck for the rest of the service. Every song made me cry, all the prayers made me cry, singing the Doxology made me cry... Oh brother. Funny how that can happen.

The one thing that did not make me cry was this hilarious picture on the cover of the bulletin. It's from Augsburg Fortress Press, and the note says it is a painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder (16th century). Look at some of those faces in the crowd! Methinks Bruegel was a frustrated caricature artist. Look at the group down here in the left bottom corner. "Be nice to Bruegel, and if he ever offers to put you in one of his paintings, say thank you, but no."

And then we came home for lunch, and finally put up the Nativity set and got out Christmas decorations. We were really slackers this year. We usually put them up the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Part of it is that after living in no-kitchen chaos for months, I don't want anything extra, don't want to see messes, don't want to have to hunt for anything that's been put in a slightly different place from usual, and so I am less than thrilled with the idea of getting out decorations, which amount in my mind to "just more stuff." But I stifled the humbug that is me and we hauled the boxes up from the storeroom.

First was the Annual Assembly and Arrangement of the Nativity Scene, supervised by Maria, starring a cast of porcelain figures, grunt work done by Lil Miss A and Master K...


... followed closely by the Annual Feline Inspection of the Nativity Scene and Comfy Nap By the Stable, starring Briggs Stahl.

Once-a-Year Christians

Pastor mentioned this past Sunday the people we will welcome to St. Peter's on Christmas Eve, with whom we will worship - and then who will not darken the doors again till next Christmas Eve. He made an interesting point: They come to worship the Christ Child, the Babe in the manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, cute and precious. But when they die, will they meet the Babe? The King who awaits us is neither cute nor cuddly. He is the Righteous Judge. I fear for those who meet Him then without knowing any Jesus other than the Holy Child.

Giving God the glory for a miracle last week

Master K is out for the cross country team this fall. It's a small team; I believe there are only 5 or 6 boys from the high school participating. They run after school every day, around 5 miles or sometimes more.

Last week one afternoon, it was warm and sunny out, not hot enough for the coach to call off the daily run, but warm. They run down the middle of the road, so K had the sun beating down from overhead, and heat bouncing off the black pavement from below. He was getting dehydrated and feeling bad. The runners had spread out to run at their own pace, and nobody was near him, nor was anyone behind him near enough to see him.

He began to feel faint. He told me later that black stuff was closing in on his field of vision from all around. He knew he was in trouble. He prayed that God would get him some water and some shade. (He didn't stop running or get off the road, which I don't understand.) His field of vision contracted smaller and smaller as he grew closer to losing consciousness.

Then the next thing he remembers is waking up again - not in the middle of the road, not in a hospital bed or an ambulance or in Heaven, but well off the road, beneath the shade of a tree, lying in some grass. As he started to sit up, the coach pulled up in his car and stopped it on the road just by K - but he didn't seem to notice him at all until K tried to stand up. Coach looked surprised, hopped out of the car and told him, "K! No walking. Keep running." Then he handed him a bottle of water, jumped back in his car and took off. K doesn't know why he stopped at that particular place on the road in the first place.

I'm so thankful that things were not much, much different. Moms imagine in Technicolor, and I had the whole vision of him blacking out, crashing down to hit his head on the pavement, skull fracture, blood everywhere, cars running him over, the works.

I'm also glad that the way K started out this story was, "Mom, God was really taking care of me today." He knows how it happened.

A "duh" thing I have just learned

At 46 I finally learned something most of you probably knew from childhood: Praying for people makes you love them more.

I have been making more of a commitment to pray for my loved ones daily. I go down the list of people in our extended family and our friends, and talk to God about them and their needs, the needs I know about, and the ones only He knows about. And I am finding myself loving them more as a result. It's not a reason to pray for those I love, it's just an added fringe benefit, I guess.

Gardening as an act of faith

In the past few weeks, the children of one of our local ladies, Edna Don, have rallied to care for their mother after her announcement that she had what was probably terminal cancer. She lived in her own home to the very end, with the help of her children. A steady parade of vehicles with out-of-state plates appeared at the house as they took turns caring for her and her house.

One of the sweetest things they did was to plant her garden for her this spring. Edna had a beautiful garden every year, with nary a weed to be seen. Her kids planted the garden once more. What an act of faith, to plant a garden and assume that she would be around to see it bear fruit!

Well, this time God's answer was "no," and He called Edna home. Her children are now taking care of her affairs, cleaning out her home to be used as a vacation place for their families, at least for awhile, and going through the process of grief. Meanwhile, Edna's garden grows.

Faith.

Do lovebirds go to heaven?

This has been a recurring topic of discussion in our house for the week or so since Janie passed on. Little Miss A is quite concerned about what happened to her dear little lovebird. I have told her I do not believe there are pets in heaven and that God gives them to us for a short time to love, but that then we remember them with love for the rest of our lives. Our neighbor, however, firmly believes beloved pets do go to heaven and keeps assuring Little Miss A of this.

This morning over breakfast, A said, "I know why animals don't go to heaven. It's prob'ly because some people up there are allergic to animals."