Teresa's Treasures

I guess since Phil’s been away this week-end I’ve had more time to think and solve the world’s problems. For some reason I’ve been more noticeable of everything – I guess I’m replacing Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes who just retired. This is going to sound like something he would write. Please forgive me if this blog is going to apply to you; I don’t mean it to be offensive to anyone – just funny and an indication of how we’ve gotten our priorities turned upside-down, our focus blurred and our common sense thrown out the window. Since Phil has been gone I could have eaten ANYWHERE but have chosen to eat at home – even at this moment fixing potato soup, fried apples and cornbread. As I was peeling the potatoes I made myself stop bending over to use the garbage can as a “peeling catcher” deciding to use a bowl instead that Phil bought me that sits out on my counter all the time. (I know I could have used a Kroger bag or a Wal Mart bag which I used to use at the other house because they were

Yesterday Laura and I sang hymns at Magnolia Village for Alton’s 90th birthday party—“The Old Rugged Cross,” “Amazing Grace,” “No Tears in Heaven” to name a few. Mr. Herald, I was told, loved “I’ll Fly Away” so it was he I watched as we started to sing his favorite. Mimicking a bird he whipped the air back and forth, back and forth with his hand , flying it gracefully up toward Heaven. Last night after returning home from Gatlinburg, dropping by to see “Mammie” (Brody would have dropped by to see Phil had “Pappaw” been home) David plopped Brody in my arms at the front door. As I carried him into the kitchen he saw the fan, two to be exact, mimicking them with his hand , just like Mr. Herald had mimicked the bird with his. Hands—they’re significant. My hand lines, my fingertips tell my story; yours tell yours. Whether you’re old like Mr. Herald and about to die or young like Brody and about to live, God gave you your own DNA. He made us all unique yet in some ways the same. We ALL