I spent Saturday emailing my sister in Florida about our childhood in Missouri and our beloved First Christian Church. We were both baptized in it and she sang in the choir. I sent her a beautiful tag of The Old Rugged Cross but it was titled On A Hill Far Away. We reminisced about how close that church was and especially at Easter. Then we talked about her dad who was my first stepfather and how he liked sour pies like gooseberry and rhubarb. It was fun to think back. He was a quiet but strong influence in my life. But the church was from my own father's family, my grandfather and I was blessed to a member with my step-sister. She attends the Lutheran Church now.
I am going to walk down the street to my little neighborhood church to attend their services. They had invited me and for breakfast. It's still raining, the baptismal rains of spring 2006 here in our Valley.
A Blessed Easter to All Who Read This!
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