Rain

I posted on FaceBook this morning, “We just walked Prince in the pouring rain. We’re either very dedicated to our dog or dedicated to being stupid.” Friend, Gary Forsythe, responded, “Was it purple rain?” Well, I had to give that some thought. Of course it wasn’t purple rain; there’s no such thing. But then I remembered there was a rock star who once sang about purple rain. Why was Gary bringing that up just because we walked our dog in the rain? Twenty minutes later, I happened to remember that it was Prince who sang Purple Rain. I still didn’t see what this had to do with my dog walk. Another twenty minutes passed and it finally dawned on me that Gary brought up purple rain because my dog’s name is Prince. Yep, I’m a little slow on the up-take, but I do...

Muscle Car

We saw a granny driving a brand new muscle car today. That’s right. An old lady was behind the wheel of a shiny black Dodge Challenger with an extra large hood scoop. This was not a run-of-the-mill Challenger; based on the rumbling, it appeared to include the supercharged 6.4L Hemi SRT Hellcat V8 engine. She had short, blue-gray, hair-dresser-styled hair and was the type person you would expect to see behind the wheel of a Mercury Grand Marquis or a twenty-year-old Cadillac. Vrooommm, Granny! The old guy sitting in the passenger seat looked older and shorter than his driver, probably couldn’t have seen over top of the steering wheel if he’d tried. We guessed the Dodge was his dream car and that by the time he could finally afford it, he was too old and short to...

Proverbs 31

After a month in Montana helping my daughter 24/7 with her new baby, I felt a bit undone back at home. I never expected to wonder what to do with myself. Such is the life of a recent retiree. When I mentioned my unsettled feelings to my husband, George, he said, “Have a seat. Let’s talk about it.” I sat in my usual spot on the couch, with him relaxed in his recliner across the room. He turned to Proverbs 31 in his Bible and began reading to me about the wife of noble character, the workaholic woman who works with wool and flax, prepares food for her family, buys a field with her earnings and plants a vineyard. She spins, weaves, trades, and feeds the poor, all while her husband sits with the elders at the city gate. I’ve read this passage many times before, but...

Instrument of the Heart

I don’t know the woman’s name. She’s fairly new at Morningside Assisted Living, an elderly woman whose family must have decided she needed to not live on her own anymore. She seems fairly active, always out and about the facility, no walker or cane needed. In her short time there, she has taken an apparent aversion to me. I’ve been going to Morningside twice a month for about twenty years, always with my pastor, to offer a morning of music and devotions. I play songs on the piano to draw folks in, then we sing hymns, taking lots of requests for the ones they know best. Pastor Mike prays and reads Scripture. We welcome all residents to join us. Following our program a month ago the woman told us she came from a Church of Christ background, and expressed her...

Birthday Greetings

My husband, George, and I are very unlike each other. An example is in the way we sign letters: I tend to close with, “Love, Karen,” whereas he’s more likely to sign, “Sincerely, George K Curran,”—even when it’s a letter to one of our children. He’s a bit more formal than me. I recently called our daughter-in-law to wish her a happy birthday. She wasn’t available so I left a message on her voicemail. Of course the message was done my way: I sang the Happy Birthday song, then said, “We love you, Jen, and hope you’ve had a great day!” George, overhearing, proceeded to tell me the sort of message he would have left: “Jen, I’m calling in regards to your birthday. Please be advised to have a happy one.   Should you have any questions about this birthday wish, please...

Alphabet Soup

I can’t carry on a conversation with music playing or the TV on since the sounds pull my attention away from anything being said. I think I must be ADD, though never formally diagnosed. When I suggested this condition to my husband, he called me a bowl of alphabet soup. George’s analogy prompted me to think through the many letters associated with my name, and I found that I might, indeed, be a bit soupy. There’s the BS, my college degree. Then I earned the CPA designation, which involved membership in the AICPA. I was employed for ten years by the IRS, for which I worked as an IRA. I should mention my diagnosis of OCD, which, fortunately, is an asset for a CPA. God used the PCOS and RA I developed as a teen to change my life by making it impossible to follow my...