Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Frankie and Slim
Sunday, December 09, 2007
ICY SUNDAY
We are coated with ice. It is only a matter of time before we lose power. We will not attempt to get to church today. I remember my dad (a pastor) never closing the church for ice and/or snow. I would say, "You are putting people at risk who feel like they must be at church because it is open." and he would say to me, "Those people do not have to come if they don't want to, but how terrible would it be for the person who needs to be there and battles the elements to get there only to find the church locked?"
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Your papa is (was) a wise man.
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