Sunday Remembrances


It’s the time when night gives way to a new day. I slip out onto the balcony and wait for the sun to peep over the horizon. 

Closing my eyes, I let the gentle rhythm of the surf wash over me. Words to an old hymn come to mind:


This is my Father’s world, 
and to my listening ears 
all nature sings and round me rings
the music of the spheres.

As I sing softly to myself and God, I’m back with Karen, Judy and Becca in Sunday school opening exercises at the First Methodist Church in my Searcy. 

Will, Paulette, Irvin and the other older kids are there, too. And we’re all singing our hearts out.
Our Sunday school department at FMC Searcy in 1954. 
I realize you can't really see us in all our 7-year-old cuteness, 
but Karen's the first one on the  left end of the front row.
I'm next to her and Becca's next to me.  Judy is that tiny little girl, 
second from the end on the right side of the same row.

Gratitude wells up within me. Blessed to have been taken to Sunday school and church. Blessed to have been told about our Creator. Blessed to have heard about a heavenly Father who loves me. Even me. Especially me. 

I need that when I stumble and fail at this thing called life. I don’t claim to understand it, and I sure don’t deserve it. But I give thanks for God’s mercy, grace and love. I think, if only everyone could know. 

Like a whisper, I hear, You could tell them.


This is my Father’s world, 
the birds their carols raise, 
The morning light, the lily white, 
declare their Maker’s praise...

May we be bold enough to tell others how deeply and completely they are loved by God.



This is My Father's World

This is my Father's world,
and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world:
I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.


This is my Father's world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
he shines in all that's fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass; 
he speaks to me everywhere.



This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!



The United Methodist Hymnal Number 144
Text: Maltbie D. Babcock
Music: Trad. English melody; adapt. by Franklin L. Sheppard
Tune: TERRA BEATA, Meter: SMD

Last year, Karen, me, Becca & Judy--
still connected by love, faith &
memories of those early years.





The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof; the world and they that dwell therein.
Ps. 24:1 KJV













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