Grace. It’s been called “amazing”, “marvelous”, “limitless”, “unbounded”, and several other adjectives of a superlative nature.
We know it emanates from God. It has been defined as unmerited favor…… in other words, something God bestows upon us that we don’t deserve and could never earn no matter how hard we worked.
Grace is distinguished from justice and mercy in this way:
Justice is when you get what you deserve.
Mercy is when you don’t get what you deserve.
Grace is when you get what you don’t deserve.
Grace is one of those words Christians skip over a lot in reading the Bible, or hearing it preached, thinking we know what it means, but most of us don’t have a clue most of the time.
But when you can put a “face” to grace, the meaning comes forth in all its glory.
Last week we had an opportunity to see how grace works in real life. One of the men in our church “messed up”. He didn’t mean to. He really didn’t do anything bad. Like the proverbial definition of beauty, the immaturity of his actions lay more in the eyes of the beholders, but in our day and time, when perception equals reality, all of us who claim to be Christians must be very aware that people, both inside and outside the Christian community, are watching us, and making judgments, whether rightly or wrongly.
And sometimes our actions extend beyond the bounds of what is socially acceptable even into the realm of what could be considered a violation of the law.
So as a church we dealt with this issue in love, making our brother aware that his actions were being questioned and even criticized.
He accepted the Biblical and legal caution given to him and sought forgiveness for his actions and a willingness to use better judgment.
And while it was difficult for him to come back to church on Sunday because he genuinely believed people no longer liked him, he took that difficult step, and when he walked into the church, he walked into the arms of grace extended to him by a loving church family.
Only God knows the human heart, and He extends grace to all who repent and seek forgiveness for their sin. I do not believe our brother had sinned. The Biblical definition of sinning is “the willful rebellion and rejection of God and His law”. Instead his need of grace was due to some errors in judgment which he genuinely acknowledged and repented of.
Who among us does not need God’s grace on a daily basis, and for grace to be extended to us by our church family from time to time. Sometimes our actions have been hidden from all human eyes and only God knows our need for grace. Sometimes our actions are public, and when that happens we need the grace that only a loving church family can give.
As a church family, we have reached out to him, some with simple declarations of love and support, some with handwritten notes of their love, and the assurance of prayer, but all with the full knowledge that not one of us is any better than the other, that we all have sinned from time to time, that we all have made mistakes in judgment, that we all have failed the Lord and each other many times in this daily journey we call the Christian life.
And so we extended this amazing, marvelous grace which we received from the Lord back to the brother we love so much because we know……someday…..inevitably….we will need him and others to extend it to us.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
This poem was inspired several years ago by Betty Shanks, whose email to me I have posted directly below.
LIQUID PRAYERS
I'm often asked why
Tears fall from my eyes
When my prayers ascend to the throne;
It's so easy for me
To shed tears, don't you see;
That's the way I make my needs known.
For the tears that I shed
In the prayers that I've said
Have all been kept by Him
In a bottle rare;
He has placed them there
He has never forgotten them.
For every tear
Is a liquid prayer
That waters the seed that we sow.
Through the good times and bad
Whether happy or sad
The tears help our prayers to flow.
Feel a tug in your heart?
Then let the tears start
When you take to God all your cares.
He knows what you need;
He hears when you plead;
For tears are just liquid prayers.
Written by Joan Rowden Hart 12.17.01, based on Psalm 56:8, “Thou tellest my wanderings; put thou my tears into thy bottle; are they not in thy book?” This poem was inspired by my dear friend, Betty Shanks of Farmington, Mo, who coined the phrase “liquid prayers” after I had preached a sermon on “Tears”.
LIQUID PRAYERS
I'm often asked why
Tears fall from my eyes
When my prayers ascend to the throne;
It's so easy for me
To shed tears, don't you see;
That's the way I make my needs known.
For the tears that I shed
In the prayers that I've said
Have all been kept by Him
In a bottle rare;
He has placed them there
He has never forgotten them.
For every tear
Is a liquid prayer
That waters the seed that we sow.
Through the good times and bad
Whether happy or sad
The tears help our prayers to flow.
Feel a tug in your heart?
Then let the tears start
When you take to God all your cares.
He knows what you need;
He hears when you plead;
For tears are just liquid prayers.
Written by Joan Rowden Hart 12.17.01, based on Psalm 56:8, “Thou tellest my wanderings; put thou my tears into thy bottle; are they not in thy book?” This poem was inspired by my dear friend, Betty Shanks of Farmington, Mo, who coined the phrase “liquid prayers” after I had preached a sermon on “Tears”.
From my Farmington friend, Betty
Received this today after emailing Betty some web pictures of our church. You all will remember how I have told you about Betty and her conversion from a lifesong lifestyle of lesbianism to that of a saved and sanctified beautiful saint of God.
Joan, Will never forget the 1st. time we came to this Beautiful Church, The memories that flooded my mind about feelings I was getting. Milan was so surprised, told us to hide as you were on the way, You and Gladys went to your house I think as you had forgotten something,It was a Blessing I can never speak of how it made me feel.The sermon was as always a Work of how God works in you.I came up front for Prayers.We shared food,fellowship,had a very joy filled day. I have my Birthday this mo.on the 27th, you came spent 4 and half hours with me.I have never been the same again,Then you baptized me and 6 others on the following March 17th.WOW. could shout from roof tops to let people know what they are missing. I know my GOD WHO LIVES TODAY. Thank you for being here,careing about someone like me.I want what you do, When my time comes to go home, Have a Happy day of Praise and singing. I will See my Jesus face. Gods Blessings. Betty Shanks
Joan, Will never forget the 1st. time we came to this Beautiful Church, The memories that flooded my mind about feelings I was getting. Milan was so surprised, told us to hide as you were on the way, You and Gladys went to your house I think as you had forgotten something,It was a Blessing I can never speak of how it made me feel.The sermon was as always a Work of how God works in you.I came up front for Prayers.We shared food,fellowship,had a very joy filled day. I have my Birthday this mo.on the 27th, you came spent 4 and half hours with me.I have never been the same again,Then you baptized me and 6 others on the following March 17th.WOW. could shout from roof tops to let people know what they are missing. I know my GOD WHO LIVES TODAY. Thank you for being here,careing about someone like me.I want what you do, When my time comes to go home, Have a Happy day of Praise and singing. I will See my Jesus face. Gods Blessings. Betty Shanks
THE BLESSING OF THORNS
Sandra felt as low as the heels of her shoes as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door.
Her life had been easy, like a spring breeze. Then in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident stole that from her.
During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son. She grieved over her loss. As if that weren't enough, her husband's company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come for the holiday.
Then Sandra's friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer. She has no idea what I'm feeling, thought Sandra with a shudder.
Thanksgiving? Thankful for what? She wondered. For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life but took that of her child?
"Good afternoon, can I help you?" The shop clerk's approach startled her.
I....I need an arrangement," stammered Sandra.
"For Thanksgiving? Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving "Special?" asked the shop clerk. "I'm convinced that flowers tell stories," she continued. "Are you looking for something that conveys 'gratitude' this thanksgiving?"
"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted out. "In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong."
Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the shop clerk said, "I have the perfect arrangement for you."
Just then the shop door's small bell rang, and the shop clerk said, "Hi, Barbara...let me get your order." She politely excused herself and walked toward a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses. Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.
"Want this in a box?" asked the clerk.
Sandra watched for the customer's response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed.
"Yes, please," Barbara, replied with an appreciative smile. "You'd think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn't be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again," she said as she gently tapped her chest. And she left with her order.
"Uh," stammered Sandra, "that lady just left with, uh....she just left with no flowers!
"Right, said the clerk, "I cut off the flowers. That's the Special. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet."
"Oh, come on, you can't tell me someone is willing to pay for that!" exclaimed Sandra.
"Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling much like you feel today," explained the clerk. "She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she was facing major surgery."
"That same year I had lost my husband," continued the clerk, "and for the first time in my life, had just spent the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel."
"So what did you do?" asked Sandra.
"I learned to be thankful for thorns," answered the clerk quietly. "I've always thanked God for the good things in my life and never questioned the good things that happened to me, but when bad stuff hit, did I ever ask questions! It took time for me to learn that dark times are important. I have always enjoyed the 'flowers' of life, but it took thorns to show me the beauty of God's comfort. You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we're afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others."
Sandra sucked in her breath as she thought about the very thing her friend had tried to tell her. "I guess the truth is I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby and I'm angry with God."
Just then someone else walked in the shop. "Hey, Phil!" shouted the clerk to the balding, rotund man.
"My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving Special....12 thorny, long-stemmed stems!" laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.
"Those are for your wife?" asked Sandra incredulously. "Do you mind me asking why she wants something that looks like that?"
"No...I'm glad you asked," Phil replied. "Four years ago my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord's grace and guidance, we slogged through problem after problem. He rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she learned from "thorny" times, and that was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific "problem" and give thanks for what that problem taught us."
As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, "I highly recommend the Special!"
"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life." Sandra said. "It's all too...fresh."
"Well," the clerk replied carefully, "my experience has shown me that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure God's providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember, it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don't resent the thorns."
Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on resentment. "I'll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please," she managed to choke out.
"I hoped you would," said the clerk gently. "I'll have them ready in a minute."
"Thank you. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing. Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The first year's arrangement is always on me." The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra. "I'll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first."
It read: "My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain. Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant."
Praise Him for your roses; thank him for your thorns!
-- Author Unknown
Sandra felt as low as the heels of her shoes as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door.
Her life had been easy, like a spring breeze. Then in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident stole that from her.
During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son. She grieved over her loss. As if that weren't enough, her husband's company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come for the holiday.
Then Sandra's friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer. She has no idea what I'm feeling, thought Sandra with a shudder.
Thanksgiving? Thankful for what? She wondered. For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life but took that of her child?
"Good afternoon, can I help you?" The shop clerk's approach startled her.
I....I need an arrangement," stammered Sandra.
"For Thanksgiving? Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving "Special?" asked the shop clerk. "I'm convinced that flowers tell stories," she continued. "Are you looking for something that conveys 'gratitude' this thanksgiving?"
"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted out. "In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong."
Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the shop clerk said, "I have the perfect arrangement for you."
Just then the shop door's small bell rang, and the shop clerk said, "Hi, Barbara...let me get your order." She politely excused herself and walked toward a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses. Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.
"Want this in a box?" asked the clerk.
Sandra watched for the customer's response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed.
"Yes, please," Barbara, replied with an appreciative smile. "You'd think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn't be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again," she said as she gently tapped her chest. And she left with her order.
"Uh," stammered Sandra, "that lady just left with, uh....she just left with no flowers!
"Right, said the clerk, "I cut off the flowers. That's the Special. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet."
"Oh, come on, you can't tell me someone is willing to pay for that!" exclaimed Sandra.
"Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling much like you feel today," explained the clerk. "She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she was facing major surgery."
"That same year I had lost my husband," continued the clerk, "and for the first time in my life, had just spent the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel."
"So what did you do?" asked Sandra.
"I learned to be thankful for thorns," answered the clerk quietly. "I've always thanked God for the good things in my life and never questioned the good things that happened to me, but when bad stuff hit, did I ever ask questions! It took time for me to learn that dark times are important. I have always enjoyed the 'flowers' of life, but it took thorns to show me the beauty of God's comfort. You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we're afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others."
Sandra sucked in her breath as she thought about the very thing her friend had tried to tell her. "I guess the truth is I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby and I'm angry with God."
Just then someone else walked in the shop. "Hey, Phil!" shouted the clerk to the balding, rotund man.
"My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving Special....12 thorny, long-stemmed stems!" laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.
"Those are for your wife?" asked Sandra incredulously. "Do you mind me asking why she wants something that looks like that?"
"No...I'm glad you asked," Phil replied. "Four years ago my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord's grace and guidance, we slogged through problem after problem. He rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she learned from "thorny" times, and that was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific "problem" and give thanks for what that problem taught us."
As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, "I highly recommend the Special!"
"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life." Sandra said. "It's all too...fresh."
"Well," the clerk replied carefully, "my experience has shown me that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure God's providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember, it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don't resent the thorns."
Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on resentment. "I'll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please," she managed to choke out.
"I hoped you would," said the clerk gently. "I'll have them ready in a minute."
"Thank you. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing. Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The first year's arrangement is always on me." The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra. "I'll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first."
It read: "My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain. Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant."
Praise Him for your roses; thank him for your thorns!
-- Author Unknown
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Proud of our church
Go to http://www.flickr.com/photos/localozarkian/2133673275/in/pool-forusall and check out this site which contains photos and comments of our church. Then follow this one for more photos of the church and the Oakland Mansion: http://www.flickr.com/photos/localozarkian/sets/72157603541122779/detail/
Thursday, June 4, 2009
My Letter To The Editor
I have sent this to LDR. Let's see if they will have enough nerve to print it in Sunday's edition.
I am amazed at the accolades bestowed upon George Tiller, the Kansas abortionist, by our national TV media outlets this week. I refuse to use the title of doctor for him because he specialized in destroying life instead of saving it.
Let me say at the outset that I do not condone the killing of this man Tiller, but I must also say that he certainly lived much longer and enjoyed a much fuller life on earth than the 60,000 infants he murdered during his lifetime.
He was one of only five doctors in the United States who have so little compassion for human life that they can continue day after day to assassinate in cold blood these innocent babies who are just days away from birth. These are not potential human lives as some claim, but fully developed infants with heartbeats you can hear long before they exit the womb.
His victims numbered 60,000 at last count. That is almost twice the amount of men, women and children who live in Laclede County, and more than one-third of the total population of Greene County, including Springfield.
That is 60,000 precious babies who will never know the comfort of being held at their mothers’ breast or having their daddy rock them to sleep in his arms.
That is 60,000 toddlers who will never know the joy of swinging as high as they can go, or sliding down the plastic slide at the park, or hearing mommy read a bed time story to them.
That is 60,000 elementary age children who will never play soccer nor softball, never attend Sunday School, never go to a fair or the circus, and never meet the challenge of blowing out all the candles on their birthday cake.
That is 60,000 high school students who will never know the thrill of walking across the stage to the stirring strains of “Pomp and Circumstance” to receive their high school diploma, nor open that long awaited letter of acceptance from the university of their choice as they make plans for the career of their dreams.
That is 60,000 young men and women who will never be a bride, nor a groom, nor know the thrill of welcoming their first child into this world.
Had Tiller waited until those babies had taken their first breath outside the womb, he would have been held criminally liable for murder. But they were victims of discrimination because of their place of residence, inside their mother’s body where they had no place to run or hide to escape the cruel instruments of torture and death which invaded their private space at the hands of this monster.
This week I have known the great joy of having my two granddaughters spend a few days in my home, one of them a 9 year old who was born prematurely at an age even younger than most of Tiller’s victims. She is an intelligent beautiful born-again Christian already at this young age. My heart aches for family members, especially grandparents, who will never know the joy of loving these 60,000 children Tiller murdered.
And if any of you readers would dare to disagree with me, let me ask you just one question. Aren’t you glad your mother didn’t believe in abortion?
I am amazed at the accolades bestowed upon George Tiller, the Kansas abortionist, by our national TV media outlets this week. I refuse to use the title of doctor for him because he specialized in destroying life instead of saving it.
Let me say at the outset that I do not condone the killing of this man Tiller, but I must also say that he certainly lived much longer and enjoyed a much fuller life on earth than the 60,000 infants he murdered during his lifetime.
He was one of only five doctors in the United States who have so little compassion for human life that they can continue day after day to assassinate in cold blood these innocent babies who are just days away from birth. These are not potential human lives as some claim, but fully developed infants with heartbeats you can hear long before they exit the womb.
His victims numbered 60,000 at last count. That is almost twice the amount of men, women and children who live in Laclede County, and more than one-third of the total population of Greene County, including Springfield.
That is 60,000 precious babies who will never know the comfort of being held at their mothers’ breast or having their daddy rock them to sleep in his arms.
That is 60,000 toddlers who will never know the joy of swinging as high as they can go, or sliding down the plastic slide at the park, or hearing mommy read a bed time story to them.
That is 60,000 elementary age children who will never play soccer nor softball, never attend Sunday School, never go to a fair or the circus, and never meet the challenge of blowing out all the candles on their birthday cake.
That is 60,000 high school students who will never know the thrill of walking across the stage to the stirring strains of “Pomp and Circumstance” to receive their high school diploma, nor open that long awaited letter of acceptance from the university of their choice as they make plans for the career of their dreams.
That is 60,000 young men and women who will never be a bride, nor a groom, nor know the thrill of welcoming their first child into this world.
Had Tiller waited until those babies had taken their first breath outside the womb, he would have been held criminally liable for murder. But they were victims of discrimination because of their place of residence, inside their mother’s body where they had no place to run or hide to escape the cruel instruments of torture and death which invaded their private space at the hands of this monster.
This week I have known the great joy of having my two granddaughters spend a few days in my home, one of them a 9 year old who was born prematurely at an age even younger than most of Tiller’s victims. She is an intelligent beautiful born-again Christian already at this young age. My heart aches for family members, especially grandparents, who will never know the joy of loving these 60,000 children Tiller murdered.
And if any of you readers would dare to disagree with me, let me ask you just one question. Aren’t you glad your mother didn’t believe in abortion?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday update
We had a good service today - 50 in attendance. Specials were by Mike Feryo and Luke Lewis. We sang the Birthday song to Don and to Dorothy. We sang the anniversary song to Feryos and Rowdens. Mike played "You Are My Sunshine" to Helen as his anniversary gift to her. So sweet. My sermon was taken from assorted scriptures, dealing with God's GPS system for us - Guidance, Protection, and Security. Ed's mom was a first time guest, visiting here from CA. It was good to have Toni Morris with us, too.
Milan attended the singspiration last night along with Lois and my mom, Judy and Don, Jewel and girls,, Luke and Pauline, Dale and Brenda, Kenneth and Byna, the Rojas family, Brenda and Lynn and the Taylors. I really appreciate your making that effort. My absence was not due to having the girls here. I would have loved to have dressed them up and had them sing, and show them off. (You all know what a proud grandmother I am just like the rest of you grandparents.)
However, last night was as bad as it gets painwise. I could not have had Bible study had that been on the agenda. Very bad night, Milan was up with me some. Meds have been working today so I sent Milan and girls on down to Hartville to do some "real fishing" at a big pay and fish area there. They stock big fish, including catfish, and Mikayla takes this fishing business seriously so she's hoping for a lunker. At first he didn't want to leave me and be that far away in case I needed him, but I have other family closeby of course and since this was Mikayla's birthday present from us, I wanted them to make a big day of it.
I've been working on Camp Sharon paperwork all day. Ed has dropped by to leave his paperwork. As soon as Mary comes by with the pre-registration check and I can find somebody to drive it all to the P.O. (Milan had to take my car to Hartville), then I will try to sleep some the rest of the day and let the pain pills work. The fishermen won't be back in until 5 or so.
Those of you who know me can only imagine the panic I experience knowing my car may have some stray fishing worms in it the next time I open the door. Oh, my, the sacrifices we made for our grandkids.
Milan attended the singspiration last night along with Lois and my mom, Judy and Don, Jewel and girls,, Luke and Pauline, Dale and Brenda, Kenneth and Byna, the Rojas family, Brenda and Lynn and the Taylors. I really appreciate your making that effort. My absence was not due to having the girls here. I would have loved to have dressed them up and had them sing, and show them off. (You all know what a proud grandmother I am just like the rest of you grandparents.)
However, last night was as bad as it gets painwise. I could not have had Bible study had that been on the agenda. Very bad night, Milan was up with me some. Meds have been working today so I sent Milan and girls on down to Hartville to do some "real fishing" at a big pay and fish area there. They stock big fish, including catfish, and Mikayla takes this fishing business seriously so she's hoping for a lunker. At first he didn't want to leave me and be that far away in case I needed him, but I have other family closeby of course and since this was Mikayla's birthday present from us, I wanted them to make a big day of it.
I've been working on Camp Sharon paperwork all day. Ed has dropped by to leave his paperwork. As soon as Mary comes by with the pre-registration check and I can find somebody to drive it all to the P.O. (Milan had to take my car to Hartville), then I will try to sleep some the rest of the day and let the pain pills work. The fishermen won't be back in until 5 or so.
Those of you who know me can only imagine the panic I experience knowing my car may have some stray fishing worms in it the next time I open the door. Oh, my, the sacrifices we made for our grandkids.
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