Comfort, joy, friendship, fleas, loyalty, love, vet bills, grooming, chewing, digging, barking, adoration, faithfulness, and protection are some of the blessings of loving a pet.

This little English Cocker Spaniel, and her sister, stole our hearts thirteen years ago when Kip stopped to save them from getting run over on a busy street. He brought them home and we spent the next several hours giving them baths and cutting the knots out of their hair.

We did the right thing by putting up posters, and checking with the local vets and the humane society. What were we going to do if no one claimed them? We already had one dog and a cat.

We had them groomed and later spayed. By this time, we were wondering what we were going to do if someone did claim them? Neither of us would answer the phone. We were totally attached.

All these years later, we are grateful we had little Sammie Sue in our lives. We have to accept that she is gone, but we’ll see her again at rainbow bridge, where dogs run to meet their humans in heaven.

It hurts to lose her, and it will hurt for a while, but the joy she brought us diminishes the pain. Having a pet is an awesome responsibility, but if you make a mistake, you are quickly forgiven. They ask for nothing and give everything.

The meaning of emotion is easy to define. It’s a word we use to describe our current state of mind.

Some of these emotions are important to adjust. Two of these are anger and disgust.

Anger can be replaced with joy and gratitude. Disgust becomes acceptance with a change of attitude.

Fear is an emotion that steals your happiness. Find the One to trust and with courage you’ll be blessed.

If you sit around all day and analyze your mind. You’ll soon begin to realize you’re really far behind.

When we get too far behind, pride goes out the window. Sadness rushes in and round and round we go.

I have a major warning that I really must convey. Envy is a waste of mind. Never let it stay.

Don’t languish in emotions that upset your state of mind. I decided just today it’s a decision that is mine.

 “I can’t help how I feel,” are words I’ll never say again. Those feelings that will steal my peace, I’ll pray about and then,

I’ll take the action that I need to grow that mustard seed. I’ll replace all hate with love and from despair I will be freed.

I’ll let the light shine on the darkness. See the beauty it reveals. Watch a shadow disappear and feel how good it feels.

I’ll ask the One who knows the answers. Hear the answer that He sends. Try to do the next right thing. Can I hear a few AMENS?

“l hate it when you play around that old barn, Lizzy. It isn’t safe. I’ve told your pa there will be hell to pay if one of you kids gets trapped inside that old refrigerator.”

Momma must have said those words a million times and Daddy ignored her a million times. Twenty years later, the old barn and the much maligned refrigerator still sit in the same old spot!

We play in the hayloft and chew on a straw. Ma calls us twice. Uh oh here comes Pa.

The sun’s going down. It’s time we ate. Pa says wash up now or you’ll be late.

Another busy day comes to an end. We’ll wake up in the morning and do it all again.

Buddy feeds the chickens and I milk the cow. Buddy can’t milk til Pa shows him how.

The cat hangs around. I squirt him in the eye. Buddy thinks that’s mean and so do I.

I hide a few eggs and throw rocks in the well. Buddy says to quit it or he’s gonna tell.

I say one day I’m leavin’ this farm. No one’s gonna have to twist my arm.

Buddy looks like he does before he cries. I smile real big and roll my eyes.

Buddy says teasing is a mean thing to do, and I guess in a way, I think so too.

Ten years later Buddy goes off to war. I don’t want to live at the farm anymore.

It’s cold that winter and the ice doesn’t thaw. Momma slips and falls and so does Pa.

I write to Buddy and say I sure miss you. He writes me back…says he misses me too.

I think Ma and Pa are soon gonna leave us. That year they both go home to Jesus.

Buddy comes home but he’s not the same. He’s real quiet and one leg’s lame.

I tell him I’ll stay and teach him how, to run the farm and milk the cow.

Along comes the cat. Buddy squirts him in the eye. I say that’s mean and he says so do I.

Try getting through this rerun without chuckling….

Well, I’m on my way over to walk Pearl the dog. Pearl and Grace have already gone on to The Busy Nest, which is what Pearl calls her store since she tired of calling it “The Business” and figured the place should have a name. But guess what? Pearl got a new winner of an idea. She was still selling Elixerfixer right along, but she said she needed a new frontier to conquer, so she has expanded her umbrella of services to include weddings. It seemed like the perfect fit and a way to bump up the finances and grow the goodwill in the community at the same time…. and… since Grace was already writing an advice column for the newspaper, Pearl said she could incorporate her advising thoughts and provide before and after marriage counseling. She figured, and rightfully so, that Grace couldn’t cause more marriages not to take hold than the unsolicited advice of people who stick their nose into other people’s marital goings on, and have no practical experience telling people what to do like Grace does.

Some figured the local preachers would be up in arms because they were losing out on some of their congregation’s nuptuals, but they decided to let if ride for July and August. It had been tense at times in June with the church basement cooks and they could use some much needed time off. It was getting overwhelming taking care of funeral food, and wedding receptions, not to mention, Lions ‘s Club and other social functions held there. The Yoga/pottery wheel class, inspired by that Ghost movie that finally made it to town, had to move over to the bank’s basement just to keep their time slot.

Anyway, I’ve been multitasking while catching you up on things and I’ve already taken Pearl for her walk. Now, I’m headed for the Busy Nest. I’m not there yet, but I almost am.

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“Hi Grace, Hi Pearl, I’m here, are you?” (I smell orange blossoms. There’s either a wedding today, or Pearl’s added a new flavor of the day to her Elixerfixer promotion.)

“Essie! Grace needs you! She’s got a new bride in her office who’s wailing her head off. I just don’t have the patience to suffer other people’s misery. I don’t even want to see them again after they say their vows.”

“Hi Mrs. Smith. Remember me? I’m Ellie/Essie depending on who you’re talking to. What has you in such a dither?”

“Frank and I were only married for two days when he caught a cold. I tell you, he turned into a different person. He has run me ragged! Do you here me? Ragged! It’s my fault the heating pad is too hot on high and not hot enough on medium. He said I put the ice in the ice pack wrong. He thinks there’s something not right about someone who can’t count out seventeen ice cubes. He moans like he’s about to take his last painful breath and just now, he sent me to the store to pick up a bell he can ring when he needs me. I came here instead! What should I do?”

“CALL HIS MOTHER!!” Pearl yelled from the other room. “And then go to the yoga/pottery wheel class. It starts in an hour!”

Whenever I have a thought that keeps coming back to me, I eventually have to write about it. I want to make clear that I am only talking about my own experiences, here. This is what I remember about my church going days while growing up in Murdo.

Above is the Methodist Church I went to until they built the new one. I think I was in first or second grade.

Grandma and Grandpa Sanderson with their six offspring and spouses

Grandpa and Grandma, and usually Aunt Tet, went to the Methodist Church every Sunday, and when they were moved to go to church, everybody in the family, except Aunt Irma and Uncle Jeff, who were Lutherans, went to the Methodist Church. Uncle Wayne and Aunt Emily might have been Lutherans too, but I don’t think they went on Christmas Eve, because they were never late to the family celebration. (Their son, Terry, was quite a few years older than me, so maybe they no longer went to the children’s program on those Christmas Eves I remember.) The Lutheran’s were always late because their Christmas program always went on forever.

My Parents rarely went to church. The only time I remember Dad going was the Sunday I was confirmed. He was embarrassed because I wore an old skirt and blouse. He thought I should have worn a new dress like most of the other girls. I was in the seventh grade. I probably had nice dresses in my closet, but Dad did not like my choice of attire for such an important occasion. He went shopping and brought home a red jumper that had two pleats in the front of the skirt, and a pretty white ruffled blouse. I loved it and wore it often.

The other clothing issue I experienced was when I was around eight and Grandpa announced we were going to Church in Rapid City. I had gone on a trip to the cabin with them and hadn’t packed a dress. I wore a pair of bermuda shorts and held my thighs together, so it would look like I was wearing a skirt. That must have looked really ridiculous, especially when I was walking, but it somehow made me feel less embarrassed.

Grandpa at the cabin

Though I was far from being a regular, I remember going to Sunday School several times a year. I will have to say, except for Grandpa and Grandma Sanderson, Mrs. Thomas was probably the best example of what a true and kind believer looked like to me. She had a beautiful voice. I still remember all the words to “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” and “All Things Bright and Beautiful.” Both are sweet and reassuring songs for little kids. All these years later, I still remember Mrs. Thomas’ explanations of some of the Bible verses she taught us. It is more difficult for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, than it is for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. I imagined a sewing needle, but Mrs. Thomas explained it was a figure of speech that exaggerated for emphasis and that Jesus was saying that it’s impossible for anyone to be saved on their own merits. You just can’t buy your way into heaven.

The new church was built on the same lot as the old one. The parsonage is next door.

Another Sunday School memory I have is looking around and wondering if the church was ever going to have enough money to finish the basement and the classrooms.

The church basement cooks

When I was in the second grade, I developed an irrational fear of dying in my sleep. Every night, I faithfully said the prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” I still remember in what order I said the names of the people I wanted God to bless. Billy always made the cut even if he had been mean to me that day. I ended by saying, “In Jesus’ name I pray,” because I heard someone say that if you asked in Jesus’ name your prayers were answered.

I finally got over my fear of dying in the night. Then, in the fourth grade, I begged Mom to take me to the funeral of a dear old lady who had died in her sleep. That set me back for another year or so.

On two occassions I recall Mom telling me to go and kneel by my bed and ask forgiveness. Once, was when I threatened to tell the lady who was visiting us, the rather unflattering thing I had heard Mom say about her. I learned two important lessons. It’s not necessary to tell someone things that will hurt them, even if it is true; and mothers do not appreciate their kids trying to teach them a lesson.

Sunday was never my favorite day back then. Mom and Dad sat around all day and read the paper. I didn’t have anyone to play with because Sunday was “family time” and none of the kids in town could play. Sometimes we would have Grandma and Grandpa over for Sunday dinner, which helped, except when I had to do all the dishes. As far as I was concerned, that ruined my favorite fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and corn, dinner.

When I was a teenager, I went to MYF, (Methodist Youth Fellowship). It was great because most of the kids who went were friends and it was the only way they could go anywhere on a weeknight. It was always on Monday night. I don’t remember much about it except standing in a circle at the end of the meeting, holding hands and saying, “May God lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”

Mom always said that being a pallbearer was Grandpa Sanderson’s favorite indoor sport. He lived a long life and I’m sure when the roll is called up yonder, he’s always recognized as a man who lived a good life and helped carry many a casket.

I remember Lois Jaide playing the organ or piano… beautifully. Aunt Elna Miller sometimes sang in the choir.

We had three different ministers during those years . I remember little Kim Lindquist telling a new Methodist minister, who moved in next door, that her family didn’t say, GD-it, anymore.

I remember dying hard-boiled eggs for Easter and wondering why the colored eggs didn’t taste any better than the white ones. Mom went to church on Easter and we always got new hats, gloves, dresses, and shoes. About every other year, we got a new coat.

Stephanie Miller, Karen Lindquist and me on Easter morning

I remember learning that Jesus died for our sins and I can still see the image I had of Him ascending into heaven on the third day. (My son once drew a picture of Jesus on a donkey. At the bottom, he wrote, “The Lord has ridden.”)

As far as my childhood indoctrination into religion, this is a pretty complete accounting of how I thought of things back then.

I’ll have to go back and read this. I’m sure it will give me something more to think about.