In the spring of 1979, when I was 15, I was waiting for a letter. Every day, when Dad would come home from town, I'd anxiously wait for him to put the mail on the old oak kitchen table in the bright yellow kitchen. The kitchen with the avocado green fridge and stove and the brown kitchen carpet.
Finally the day came. The letter was from LCBI. I was accepted. Then I had to deal with the waiting for Sept when I would leave home and start my boarding school life- a life that I had been looking forward to immensely since 6th grade when Tamra, from church, convinced me that would be a great place to be. And it was.
Dear Son has been waiting for a letter. It came yesterday. This time it was I who had the mixed emotions. He was very happy. And I am happy for him. Extremely happy. Next Sept he'll be leaving home to start his studies in civil engineering. I will miss him terribly. So, for now, I am treasuring up every moment of his life that I can. Tonight I even watched a 'guy' movie with DS and My Sweetheart.
I never thought, back in 1979, how difficult it would have been for Mom and Dad to have me leave home. Until the past little while. I'm having my weepy moments just thinking about it. But I am also so excited just thinking about the world 'out there' for DS and DD.
There's lots of stuff that we'll be doing in the next year. Less than a year actually. Lots of planning, preparing, packing, praying. When the day comes we'll be ready. Maybe.
While I've been thinking about this new phase of life that we'll be entering, I've also been thinking about Advent. I've been thinking about Mary's parents preparing to send her off on her journey. I wonder what they were thinking about...Tomorrow we'll be ripping the November page off our calendars and flipping to December. The advent candles are out. The Christmas trees are lit. The house is decorated. The presents are wrapped. The external stuff is all ready. Now is the time to start preparing my heart for what's really important in this season. The season of preparing, the season of planning. The season to continually welcome Jesus into our every day and every day activities. The season to ask Him to guide us. The season to offer to Him everything we have so He can do whatever He wants with it.
Lady and the Cats
bonding on the farm!
Friday, November 30, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Treasures in the Deck Box
We finished our harvest on August 30 this year. Since then we've been blessed with mostly beautiful weather and have been able to tackle some of the outside stuff that's been on our ever-increasing to-do list.
Yesterday, when I took some kibbles out to the cats, I looked around at the trees. We have many, many trees in our yard- mostly evergreens. My Sweetheart has been watering them for the past week, so when the kitty feeding was complete I walked over to the little trianglular area where he was and started looking at the trees. Most of them in 1 particular row looked fine, but there was 1 that looked quite sickly. Upon further inspection we discovered it was full of spiders and other crawlies. Needles were dead, the tree was dying. Out came the chain saw and down came the tree. Then we were on a mission. Dead tree limbs were cut down and hauled away. The garden boxes were cleaned out. Flower beds were dismantled. Fall has officially arrived at the farm.
Next on the list was the task of cleaning out the deck boxes. We have 3 big rubbermaid deck boxes- perfect for storage and extra seating. The cats enjoy lounging on them. One of the deck boxes stores our barbecue stuff and patio cushions; one stores dry dog food and off season boots- and apparently 14 cans of mosquito spray. We found them at the bottom of the deck box, along with 2 dog collars and mismatched gloves and old rubber boots with holes in the soles. The other deck box held treasures. Treasures that, as I was kneeling in front of it going through the contents, reduced me to tears. I tried to keep them under control, but just as DD came out to help, and DS got off the bucket tractor and glanced my way, the tears gushed. Geyser-like. No holding back. I was a mess.
There were, in that box, 10 years of childhood memories. Every thing in that box brought back a memory that I had forgotten about. I was perpexed as to why there were so many big rocks in the bottom of that box until I saw the one that had been painted- by DD. When she was 7. I could picture her sitting on the table, on the deck, on a beautiful summer day, paint colors spread out, and creating works of art. I found a notebook of maps, hand drawn by DS, the summer between grade 1 and 2. I had just found a picture of him the other day- he was wearing shorts with a backpack on his back, and he was holding a clipboard with a notebook. When I saw the picture I knew he was mapping and I wondered where that map book went. It was in the deck box. I rescued a couple pieces of sidewalk chalk- a couple of the many dozen that went in the bucket of the tractor to be dumped. DD spend many hours drawing masterpieces on our driveway. Flattened soccer balls became memories of DS kicking them around the yard. "Do you want any of this?" I asked my 2 teenagers. They looked at me almost strangely, almost sadly, almost happy. "No..." they both said.
I would not have believed that time could disappear so quickly. When each treasure had been put in that deck box 'until next year' I never dreamt that 'next year' would come and we'd be getting rid of this part of their childhood. Where once my sweet little painting, drawing daughter stood with her rocks and her chalk now stands a beautiful young woman. My map drawing little boy with glasses has now become my kind, strong young man ready to leave home in probably less than a year. And I cried. The treasures, except for the few pages that I salvaged, are gone now. But my real treasures are still with me- outside the deck box and in my heart forever.
Yesterday, when I took some kibbles out to the cats, I looked around at the trees. We have many, many trees in our yard- mostly evergreens. My Sweetheart has been watering them for the past week, so when the kitty feeding was complete I walked over to the little trianglular area where he was and started looking at the trees. Most of them in 1 particular row looked fine, but there was 1 that looked quite sickly. Upon further inspection we discovered it was full of spiders and other crawlies. Needles were dead, the tree was dying. Out came the chain saw and down came the tree. Then we were on a mission. Dead tree limbs were cut down and hauled away. The garden boxes were cleaned out. Flower beds were dismantled. Fall has officially arrived at the farm.
Next on the list was the task of cleaning out the deck boxes. We have 3 big rubbermaid deck boxes- perfect for storage and extra seating. The cats enjoy lounging on them. One of the deck boxes stores our barbecue stuff and patio cushions; one stores dry dog food and off season boots- and apparently 14 cans of mosquito spray. We found them at the bottom of the deck box, along with 2 dog collars and mismatched gloves and old rubber boots with holes in the soles. The other deck box held treasures. Treasures that, as I was kneeling in front of it going through the contents, reduced me to tears. I tried to keep them under control, but just as DD came out to help, and DS got off the bucket tractor and glanced my way, the tears gushed. Geyser-like. No holding back. I was a mess.
There were, in that box, 10 years of childhood memories. Every thing in that box brought back a memory that I had forgotten about. I was perpexed as to why there were so many big rocks in the bottom of that box until I saw the one that had been painted- by DD. When she was 7. I could picture her sitting on the table, on the deck, on a beautiful summer day, paint colors spread out, and creating works of art. I found a notebook of maps, hand drawn by DS, the summer between grade 1 and 2. I had just found a picture of him the other day- he was wearing shorts with a backpack on his back, and he was holding a clipboard with a notebook. When I saw the picture I knew he was mapping and I wondered where that map book went. It was in the deck box. I rescued a couple pieces of sidewalk chalk- a couple of the many dozen that went in the bucket of the tractor to be dumped. DD spend many hours drawing masterpieces on our driveway. Flattened soccer balls became memories of DS kicking them around the yard. "Do you want any of this?" I asked my 2 teenagers. They looked at me almost strangely, almost sadly, almost happy. "No..." they both said.
I would not have believed that time could disappear so quickly. When each treasure had been put in that deck box 'until next year' I never dreamt that 'next year' would come and we'd be getting rid of this part of their childhood. Where once my sweet little painting, drawing daughter stood with her rocks and her chalk now stands a beautiful young woman. My map drawing little boy with glasses has now become my kind, strong young man ready to leave home in probably less than a year. And I cried. The treasures, except for the few pages that I salvaged, are gone now. But my real treasures are still with me- outside the deck box and in my heart forever.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Missing Dad
Although he's been 'gone' for over 15 years, I still find myself missing dad. I find myself thinking about him less and less as the years go by, but there are times when I miss him quite intensely. Especially at harvest time. Especially the other night.
My Dad was a farmer. Even after he sold some land to build the new house on "Snob Hill", he would venture out to the old farm and putter and tinker and do whatever he did out there when there was nothing really to do. I, even though I grew up on a farm, never considered myself a farmer. Never. My brothers and Mom were the ones who helped out at harvest. They would haul and shuttle and do whatever they could to help Dad. I was an inside girl. I would venture outside to play with the cats or go for a walk, but for the most part I would be inside doing inside stuff. I would clean, bake, read, play the piano. But I wouldn't get my hands dirty. I never learned to drive a standard. I never hauled a load of grain to the bin. Never.
And then I fell in love with a farmer. My Dad died before I learned to haul the grain to the bin. He was in Heaven when I learned how to operate the combine.
The other night, as Dear Son and I were operating the combines on durum at the north farm, I started thinking about Dad and wondering what he would be thinking if he could see me now.In my mind's eye I could see him standing there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head slightly with a slightly amused look on his face. His 'inside' girl was doing something that he, in his life, would never have dreamed she would do. Would he have been proud of me? Well, My Dad was a very humble man and pride in anything never really materialized in him. When he was alive and heard me sing he would get tears in his eyes and not be able to speak. Those were, in my opinion, some proud quiet moments in his life. If Dad had been alive on earth the other night when we were harvesting, I think he would have been out there with us. Perhaps he would have been on the buddy seat in my combine with me, maybe he would have been riding shotgun with DS. And if he would have been there with one of us I know that he would have been marvelling at the sunset that night. My Dad loved sunsets. So much so in fact that at his funeral Fern Bang sang "Beyond the Sunset."
And so it was, the other night while operating the combine, and being in absolute awe of the Great and Loving God that I serve for painting such a beautiful sunset, that I missed Dad. I am so looking forward to being reunited with him and seeing with new eyes the other side of the sunset.
My Dad was a farmer. Even after he sold some land to build the new house on "Snob Hill", he would venture out to the old farm and putter and tinker and do whatever he did out there when there was nothing really to do. I, even though I grew up on a farm, never considered myself a farmer. Never. My brothers and Mom were the ones who helped out at harvest. They would haul and shuttle and do whatever they could to help Dad. I was an inside girl. I would venture outside to play with the cats or go for a walk, but for the most part I would be inside doing inside stuff. I would clean, bake, read, play the piano. But I wouldn't get my hands dirty. I never learned to drive a standard. I never hauled a load of grain to the bin. Never.
And then I fell in love with a farmer. My Dad died before I learned to haul the grain to the bin. He was in Heaven when I learned how to operate the combine.
The other night, as Dear Son and I were operating the combines on durum at the north farm, I started thinking about Dad and wondering what he would be thinking if he could see me now.In my mind's eye I could see him standing there with his hands on his hips, shaking his head slightly with a slightly amused look on his face. His 'inside' girl was doing something that he, in his life, would never have dreamed she would do. Would he have been proud of me? Well, My Dad was a very humble man and pride in anything never really materialized in him. When he was alive and heard me sing he would get tears in his eyes and not be able to speak. Those were, in my opinion, some proud quiet moments in his life. If Dad had been alive on earth the other night when we were harvesting, I think he would have been out there with us. Perhaps he would have been on the buddy seat in my combine with me, maybe he would have been riding shotgun with DS. And if he would have been there with one of us I know that he would have been marvelling at the sunset that night. My Dad loved sunsets. So much so in fact that at his funeral Fern Bang sang "Beyond the Sunset."
And so it was, the other night while operating the combine, and being in absolute awe of the Great and Loving God that I serve for painting such a beautiful sunset, that I missed Dad. I am so looking forward to being reunited with him and seeing with new eyes the other side of the sunset.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Cooking With Patti
The summer of '74, when I was going into grade 5, was a time when I got together with my very first friend, Patti. I'm not sure whose idea it was, hers or mine, or one of our mother's, but we took turns, on Saturdays, going to each other's home. And the 2 of us would practice developing our culinary skills. It would be just the 2 of us in the kitchen. I don't remember where our moms were at the time. Likely, when it was my turn to host 'cooking school', my mom hid out in the living room.
Our very first creation together was rice krispie squares. How I remember that, I'm not quite sure. But I do remember. We got the big bowl ready, made sure we had the necessary ingredients, measured, counted out marshmallows- 40 of them, and we set to work. We were very careful while stirring at the oven. The task of all the hard work was nothing compared to the excitement of watching our skills develop. We anticipated the end result. The rice krispie squares turned out just fine, as I remember. We even cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen when we were finished.
I don't remember everything we whipped up that summer. I do remember having pizza for the first time in my life at Patti's house. We made it from the Kraft pizza kit that would have been bought at the local co-op. I thought it was very delicious. It must have made a huge impression on my because the next Christmas my main gift from Mom and Dad was a pizza kit, 2 pizza pans and a pizza cutter. I could hardly wait to practice making pizza for Mom and Dad and my brothers. We had never had pizza at our place until I was in grade 5. And all because 2 friends decided to get together on Saturdays.
Today, as I was counting out the 40 marshmallows for rice krispie treats, I smiled as I remembered cooking with Patti.
Our very first creation together was rice krispie squares. How I remember that, I'm not quite sure. But I do remember. We got the big bowl ready, made sure we had the necessary ingredients, measured, counted out marshmallows- 40 of them, and we set to work. We were very careful while stirring at the oven. The task of all the hard work was nothing compared to the excitement of watching our skills develop. We anticipated the end result. The rice krispie squares turned out just fine, as I remember. We even cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen when we were finished.
I don't remember everything we whipped up that summer. I do remember having pizza for the first time in my life at Patti's house. We made it from the Kraft pizza kit that would have been bought at the local co-op. I thought it was very delicious. It must have made a huge impression on my because the next Christmas my main gift from Mom and Dad was a pizza kit, 2 pizza pans and a pizza cutter. I could hardly wait to practice making pizza for Mom and Dad and my brothers. We had never had pizza at our place until I was in grade 5. And all because 2 friends decided to get together on Saturdays.
Today, as I was counting out the 40 marshmallows for rice krispie treats, I smiled as I remembered cooking with Patti.
Friday, August 17, 2012
Eyeballs
The other day I picked up Mom and we headed to the city. We arranged, a year ago, to have our eye appointments the same day. "That way," Mom said, "I won't be a bother."
She wouldn't have been a bother if her appointment was on a different day. I hope she knows that.
We arrived at the optomestrist's just in time for the appointments. "Have there been any changes since your last appointment?" the receptionist with the tattoo on her forearm asked me. There hadn't been. "The doctor would like you to have this test done today. "THIS" test was the one with the long name I couldn't remember. "It will take a complete picture of your eyeball. Here..." she said as she proceeded to hand me a piece of paper with a picture of an eyeball on it. I promptly told her, in no uncertain terms, that I would not look at a picture of an eyeball. I was instantaneously nauseated. As I waited to be called into the little room for THAT test I tried, in vain, to not listen to the video playing over and over on the TV in the waiting room- the informative DVD of eyeball stuff. I couldn't even look at the TV. And, I forgot my very good book out in the car. I didn't dare run out to the car- my name would more than likely be called when I was out there. So I waited, and listened to the stupid eyeball TV stuff. By the time I was called to the little rooms for the little eye exams that made me queasy, and then waited in the eye doctor's office for my exam, I was flat out nauseous. When the doctor came in, I tried everything I could think of to distract myself from an eye exam. Seriously I would rather have a PAP. And that's not saying much.
I noticed the doctor's shirt as he was reading through my file. The sleeves did not have cuffs. Rather, they were pleated at the wrist area. I wondered if My Sweetheart would wear a shirt like that. I could tell, just by looking at it, that the eye doctor probably bought it at Rittinger's Men's Wear. He was very stylish. I KNEW that My Sweetheart would NOT buy pants like the eye doctor was wearing. They would definitely be too bold for my Farmer Stud. However, if I bought them for him and told them they were on a very good sale, I'm sure he would wear them. Just for me. But where would he wear them too? Church? Too fancy for our little country-ish church. Then I decided in order for My Sweetheart to wear pants like that we'd have to go on another cruise. He would wear them on a cruise. He would probably wonder, as he was putting on his pleated shirt to go with the bold pants, where the buttons on the cuffs were. It would take too long for My Sweetheart to get dressed for our cruise dinner if he was donned like the eye doctor. I wonder if the eye doctor's wife picked his clothes out for him? I bet she did.
Then I made the mistake of turning my head to the other wall. I saw a poster of an eyeball. I needed to find something else to concentrate on. Ok - I found it. On the bulletin board I spotted a picture of a cougar on a tree. The picture had been printed off the computer I'm thinking. So, I think someone must have emailed the eye doctor a picture of a cougar that was in their tree. OR maybe the eye doctor had been vacationing in Victoria and took the picture himself and printed it off. Oh, my mind did need to wander that day.
Before I knew it, the exam was finished. Thank the Lord for that! While I was waiting for Mom to be finished her exam I ran out to my car and got my good book.
On the way home Mom started telling me about a picture of an eyeball she had seen. She was fascinated by it and by all the beautiful colors of the eyeball. It was so beautiful, she thought, that it would make a lovely framed picture. Seriously? Are Mom and I even related? Was I adopted?
She, obviously, did not need to let her imagination take over during her eye exam. She, I'm sure, enjoyed every minute of it!
She wouldn't have been a bother if her appointment was on a different day. I hope she knows that.
We arrived at the optomestrist's just in time for the appointments. "Have there been any changes since your last appointment?" the receptionist with the tattoo on her forearm asked me. There hadn't been. "The doctor would like you to have this test done today. "THIS" test was the one with the long name I couldn't remember. "It will take a complete picture of your eyeball. Here..." she said as she proceeded to hand me a piece of paper with a picture of an eyeball on it. I promptly told her, in no uncertain terms, that I would not look at a picture of an eyeball. I was instantaneously nauseated. As I waited to be called into the little room for THAT test I tried, in vain, to not listen to the video playing over and over on the TV in the waiting room- the informative DVD of eyeball stuff. I couldn't even look at the TV. And, I forgot my very good book out in the car. I didn't dare run out to the car- my name would more than likely be called when I was out there. So I waited, and listened to the stupid eyeball TV stuff. By the time I was called to the little rooms for the little eye exams that made me queasy, and then waited in the eye doctor's office for my exam, I was flat out nauseous. When the doctor came in, I tried everything I could think of to distract myself from an eye exam. Seriously I would rather have a PAP. And that's not saying much.
I noticed the doctor's shirt as he was reading through my file. The sleeves did not have cuffs. Rather, they were pleated at the wrist area. I wondered if My Sweetheart would wear a shirt like that. I could tell, just by looking at it, that the eye doctor probably bought it at Rittinger's Men's Wear. He was very stylish. I KNEW that My Sweetheart would NOT buy pants like the eye doctor was wearing. They would definitely be too bold for my Farmer Stud. However, if I bought them for him and told them they were on a very good sale, I'm sure he would wear them. Just for me. But where would he wear them too? Church? Too fancy for our little country-ish church. Then I decided in order for My Sweetheart to wear pants like that we'd have to go on another cruise. He would wear them on a cruise. He would probably wonder, as he was putting on his pleated shirt to go with the bold pants, where the buttons on the cuffs were. It would take too long for My Sweetheart to get dressed for our cruise dinner if he was donned like the eye doctor. I wonder if the eye doctor's wife picked his clothes out for him? I bet she did.
Then I made the mistake of turning my head to the other wall. I saw a poster of an eyeball. I needed to find something else to concentrate on. Ok - I found it. On the bulletin board I spotted a picture of a cougar on a tree. The picture had been printed off the computer I'm thinking. So, I think someone must have emailed the eye doctor a picture of a cougar that was in their tree. OR maybe the eye doctor had been vacationing in Victoria and took the picture himself and printed it off. Oh, my mind did need to wander that day.
Before I knew it, the exam was finished. Thank the Lord for that! While I was waiting for Mom to be finished her exam I ran out to my car and got my good book.
On the way home Mom started telling me about a picture of an eyeball she had seen. She was fascinated by it and by all the beautiful colors of the eyeball. It was so beautiful, she thought, that it would make a lovely framed picture. Seriously? Are Mom and I even related? Was I adopted?
She, obviously, did not need to let her imagination take over during her eye exam. She, I'm sure, enjoyed every minute of it!
Monday, August 13, 2012
166,400 hours
166,400 hours ago, exactly, I received a phone call that changed my life. I had just come into my mom's and dad's house, the new house on Snob Hill, as Dad called it, when the phone rang. "do we have a meeting this month?" the man on the other end asked. I was suspicious right away. I knew that he knew there wasn't, and I was waiting with baited breath for the rest of the conversation to transpire.
Mom and Dad were away, camping with Auntie Evelyn and Uncle Stan, when I got the phone call. I had just been at the store to buy some ingredients to make myself some bran muffins and ran into the house when I heard the phone ringing. And after the conversation I was too ferhoodled to even try and make muffins. Eventually I did, but by then my stomach was too crazy to even try to eat. And for the rest of the day I paced and waited and paced and waited. I think I might have vacuumed. But even that simple task was made difficult. I could have vacuumed for 3 hours for all I know.
But at a few minutes before 6 pm the waiting was over. The carriage arrived to take Cinderella to the ball. And my knight in shining armour emerged from the carriage. The carriage was actually the family sedan. The long, very long family sedan. My knight in shining armour was donned in black polyester pants, white socks, black dress shoes, and a red polo shirt, tucked in. I remember his attire very clearly. It was almost nerdy. I was wearing brown jeans, a brown printed sleeveless casual top, and a pair of flats.
Instead of the ball we went to a movie. And I was definitely home by midnight. I was home by 10:00 pm as a matter of fact. But, obviously, everything worked out just fine. 2 weeks later, yes, weeks, not months or years even, we were engaged. And 6 months after that first date, over 166,000 hours ago, I married my knight in shining armour.
Mom and Dad were away, camping with Auntie Evelyn and Uncle Stan, when I got the phone call. I had just been at the store to buy some ingredients to make myself some bran muffins and ran into the house when I heard the phone ringing. And after the conversation I was too ferhoodled to even try and make muffins. Eventually I did, but by then my stomach was too crazy to even try to eat. And for the rest of the day I paced and waited and paced and waited. I think I might have vacuumed. But even that simple task was made difficult. I could have vacuumed for 3 hours for all I know.
But at a few minutes before 6 pm the waiting was over. The carriage arrived to take Cinderella to the ball. And my knight in shining armour emerged from the carriage. The carriage was actually the family sedan. The long, very long family sedan. My knight in shining armour was donned in black polyester pants, white socks, black dress shoes, and a red polo shirt, tucked in. I remember his attire very clearly. It was almost nerdy. I was wearing brown jeans, a brown printed sleeveless casual top, and a pair of flats.
Instead of the ball we went to a movie. And I was definitely home by midnight. I was home by 10:00 pm as a matter of fact. But, obviously, everything worked out just fine. 2 weeks later, yes, weeks, not months or years even, we were engaged. And 6 months after that first date, over 166,000 hours ago, I married my knight in shining armour.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
100 years
Today was the 100th anniversary of the church we attend- Scandia Lutheran!
The celebrations began with visiting over coffee and muffins before the service began. Pastor Carlyle Johnson (with the white beard) and his wife came for the special day. He confirmed one of my brothers and myself.
I was so glad to see Ursula! She is a resident at our local health care facility and has been a faithful member of Scandia for many years!
Jean (in the blue dress) is the youngest, most stylish 90 year young woman I know! I love her! One of her beautiful daughters, Heather, is in the flowered dress. Heather is one of my favorite people! I think she is a favorite person of many! She came from our neighboring province to the west!
Pastor Greg and Dear Son are having a little visit! You would love Pastor Greg! He has a huge servant heart and genuinely cares for people!
There was a display set up at the back of the sanctuary. This Norwegian outfit belonged to Birgit. (She was our original neighbor across the road) Birgit's brother, Olaf, was My Sweetheart's grandfather.
This is a beautiful piece of Hardanger - made by Ursula!
Debbie, DD's and DS's bus driver, and I both have the same idea! Debbie is one of my favorite persons! In the background, looking through the open window in the kitchen, is Sharon and Olive! (more of my favorite people) At the table is Wanda and her 2 lovely children- Teanna and Greyson. They travelled from our neighboring province too. Wanda and I were in Sunday School together!
The congregation is beginning to assemble before the worship service.
It was great to be able to celebrate 100 years as a congregation. I am in awe at the faithfulness of the Great God we serve! The song I wrote for this Sunday is all about my Wonderful God.
WONDERFUL GOD
COPYRIGHT 2012 by Me
Eternal Wonder- Your quiet voice thunders
and speaks to this cold heart of mine,
God of all ages
Your love still amazes.
You grafted me into Your vine.
Beautiful holiness,
perfect in faithfulness.
Wonderful God.
Eternal Jesus- dying to free us,
rising to bring life from death.
Conquering Savior
Redeemer and Healer,
I'll praise You until my last breath.
Beautiful holiness,
perfect in faithfulness.
Wonderful God.
Spirit Eternal, Flaming Inferno,
speaking the Truth for all time.
Sweet breath of Yahweh-
leading me always-
My comfort, my teacher, my guide.
Beautiful holiness
perfect in faithfulness.
Wonderful God.
Wonderful God.
Beautiful holiness,
perfect in faithfulness.
wonderful God.
Wonderful God.
wonderful God.
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