MOM’S BIRTHDAY (published 11-24-2019)

On 11/24/1908, Tuesday, my paternal grandparents were licensed to wed. They were married the next day. That began the line, via their eighth and final child, Earl Ferrell, that led to me! I miss you too, Dad! I would like to see now what Mom, you, and so many others are seeing and doing right now!

On 11/24/1932, Thanksgiving Thursday, my Mother, Betty Lou Wood (to become Ferrell), was born, to Aby William Wood and Lula Frank Amos Wood, my maternal grandparents. My Tuesday, 11/24/2009, post Happy Birthday, Mom, is still relevant. I suggest that you read it now. I just did. I choked back the tears just now, 3:47 PM, on 11/24/2019. Mom, at age 87, if you were still here and in good health for your age, oh how we would all be enjoying your birthday celebration this Sunday! One glorious morning; may it come soon, Lord; we will all have far more everlasting joy than we could be having today. I can’t wait until then! I love and miss you, Mom! We will see each other again, soon. (Soon is whatever number of years or decades I must remain here, until then.)

Okay, I will not and do not live in the past. Let’s first review this last week, since my last post. Then, we’ll have some fun at the end!

11/18/2019, Monday: my “favorite” sister-in-law, on her way to a medical appointment, had her car hit in the left rear quarter panel, due to an idiot driver. She was not hurt, thankfully. Her car will be repaired.

11/21/2019, Thursday: on 11/21/1970, my grandfather Marion Ferrell (notice any similarities?) left this world for home. I was ten years old. At some point after I was born, Papaw Ferrell started a savings account in my name, at the hometown bank. The account is still open. On 11/21/2019, the small transfer that I had arranged from our checking into that savings was done. I wonder if Papaw Ferrell smiled even more on that day!

11/23/2019, Saturday: I had my every-four-week deep tissue massage, to be followed by every-four-week chiropractor, 11/26/2019 upcoming. The rain rained almost the entire day. My new, ‘ol truck kept getting a “hillbilly” wash!

In the afternoon, from contact with a dear friend, from grade school and high school days, I spoke by phone with my dear friend! We must have talked over two hours! I did not know that my dear friend was enduring the physical reality, after the 2/28/2018 traumatic health problem. My dear friend and I spoke in terms of our day-by-day endurance of our physical “whatevers” as I call them. Most importantly, we spoke deeply and in full mutual understanding of the everlasting. One fine morning, my dear friend, we will be out of this speck of dust, blink of an eye, temporal realm, and we will be with our Savior and so many others who have gone before us! You know, they are there now. When we arrive, it will seem to them that we all arrived at about the same time, with them having arrived a few moments before us only! I continue to wait on that blessed day!

Oh, my dear friend, thank you for remembering that which I had forgotten. I still do not remember what you very vividly still recall, about when I was almost killed by a driver that did not stop for the bus, when I was crossing the road from bus to dirt road walk home! Wow! Thank you for remembering, so that I can now know what I had forgotten! I do remember Wilma was the bus driver. After I pondered the thought a while, I do seem to recall a vague memory of that day when I could have but didn’t die.

I could have but didn’t die on 3/29/2016. You could have but didn’t die on 2/28/2018. We touched each other’s lives by phone yesterday. We both must still be in this temporal, blink of an eye, world for a reason that God only knows. What is it, God? Okay, silence, again, as usual. I’ll continue to wait.

Where’s the fun part, you ask? Well, since it’s a cloudy day and House Mountain is a muddy skating rink, let’s have some fun now! While I was indulging myself in an Epsom Salt soak in the tub this morning, my fertile mind started thinking about “The Farmer in the Dell.” So, here goes! Sing along!

The farmer named O’Dell.
The farmer named O’Dell.
High ho the merry-o,
The farmer named O’Dell. (I always wondered what his name was! Must have been the father of Dell computers!)

The farmer had a life.
The farmer had a life.
High ho the merry-o,
The farmer had a life.

The life had some fun.
The life had some fun.
High ho the merry-o,
The life had some fun.

The fun took some cry.
The fun took some cry.
High ho the merry-o,
The fun took some cry.

The cry took the Lord.
The cry took the Lord.
High ho the merry-o,
The cry took the Lord.

The Lord took him home.
The Lord took him home.
High ho the merry-o,
The LORD TOOK HIM HOME!

Now, let’s have a bit of fun with the rest of it!

The dog ate the cheese.
The dog ate the cheese.
High ho the merry-o,
The dog ate the cheese.

The cheese in the dog.
The cheese in the dog.
High ho the merry-o,
The cheese in the dog. (Why did the dog eat cheese?)

The dog crapped the cheese.
The dog crapped the cheese.
High ho the merry-o,
The dog crapped the cheese. (That’s what happens when a dog eats cheese!)

The crap stands alone.
The crap stands alone.
High ho the merry-o,
The crap stands alone (as if it could stand)!
 

All you summer church camp folks, feel free to use this! Give me a bit of credit. The moral to the song: life can be crap, but we GO HOME!

Y’all keep turnin’ right and goin’ straight out there! Oh, if you haven’t had enough sense yet to take up the Good Lord’s free gift offer and live by it, I suggest that you do so, today!

My Mom would have loved my play on “The Farmer in the Dell,” except for the “crap” word. Dad would have loved it completely!