Friday, July 12, 2013


As a public school library supevisor, I had the reputation of being a fast weeder.  Those old books which have turned yellow over time, the books that were outdated, and those that had not been checked out in five years  had to go to make space for new books.  So I was elected to weed the collection in several schools, while the school librarian stood by wringing her hands. Some people find it very difficult to get rid of books--feeling they are almost sacred, I guess.

Why, then, do I find it so difficult to get rid or my own books?  I do have a space problem--books are stacked on top of other books because there is no room on the shelves for them.

Therefore, I am trying very systematically to rid myself of old books which I know I will never read--I try giving them to other people, donating to the public library's book sale, trading books on paperback swap, etc.  (Trading is not actually getting rid of them--just makes me feel better.)  Yet my collection just keeps growing.

I just have to pray that I will have the courage and will to clear those shelves before someone else has to do it for me when I am gone.  And to rid myself of my attachment to worldly things.

Wednesday, February 06, 2013

Where has my muse gone?

Well, it seems I have deserted Musings for Facebook.  Yet, I rarely post on Facebook--I just respond to others who write.

Maybe I have run out of things to say; I do know that my time is taken now by study for my presentions in Ladies' Class--on Ezra and Nehemiah.  Just spent this p. m. learning about Cyrus the Great of Persia.  Thomas Jefferson read a book about him-- the Cyropedia by Xeophon and included many of the beneficent policies of Cyrus in his Dec. of Independence and Bill of Rights writings.  There are 6 copies of this old book in the Library of Congress, including T. J.'s.

The study of history and archeology amazes and inspires me--to know that things so old can be found and still instruct us today!  Evelyn Willis is bringing some of the things that she and John have brought back from digs in the Holy Land to class Tuesday--can't wait.

In his book Eat This Book, Peterson has a chapter on things dug up from a trash dump which  have helped us translate the Bible and know something of its culture.  One of the things dug up was a grocery receipt.  Wonder what diggers in ages to come will dig up from our culture?  Plastic bottles, computer keyboards, the DVS gamers our kids love, a Star Wars mask of Darth Vadar, a dead Kindle, a GPS sitting on a Honda dash, etc., etc.

Interesting to ponder....

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Brandon's Brithday

Several years ago on this day, I was lying in a bed in Hendricks Hospital holding a scrawny, crying, red little baby.  We named him Brandon Scott (Brandon is my maiden name, and Scott comes from a wonderful friend of the family Scott Hayes). 

Time passes so quickly; I wish could remember all the fun times we shared over the years; but they all add up to a glorious enriching of our lives with this baby.  I just wish Sam could see him grown up.  He would be so proud.

Many of the things I see and hear these days remind me of times with him.  Bands recently performed on a field near me, and I remembered the days when Sam and I followed the Wylie Band and Brandon all over West Texas to football games for four years--how many is that?  40 games, maybe?
I recently met someone from Seymore, and I immediately could picture that football stadium with the band marching in the West Texas wind.  A friend's granddaughter recently won regional in the UIL vocal contest.  I remember sitting with Brandon waiting to find out if he won that while in high school.  (He did.)  Brandon recently helped choose the Sing Song Hosts for next year--and I remember all the fun times associated with his winning that role and performing for his dying father.  This week I spoke to a group aboout The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn being America's finest novel, and I thought of the performances of Big River in which Brandon appeared with us watching proudly.

So tonight we will celebrate with all those memories crowded in my head:  Happy Birthday, Babe! I love the way you love God and love me.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

21 Years

Hi, Hon,

It's Sunday, the 14th of October 2012; Brandon, Sheryl and I just got back from Atlanta where the Zoe Conference was held.

I can't believe it's been 21 years since that last night at Hendrick Hospital 5th floor where you died surrounded by us and many other loved ones.

You would have been so proud of Brandon this weekend leading Zoe, praying very mature and deep prayers to God as he led the conference in worship.  I burst my buttons every time I watch him and Sheryl so ably and spiritually bring others to the throne of God.  I am so, so sorry you did not get to know Sheryl.  You would have adored her and she you.  And I know those three little red-heads do love and adore you, even though they have never seen you--Brandon has done such a fine job introducing you to them as their Poppy.

21 years does not mean our loneliness for you has diminished--and it is not just on this day that we think about you. You are always with me, and I know that Brandon thinks of you every day--we just wish you were still here in the flesh.  There are always so many things that come up to talk to you about; and so many things I wish I had said when you were still here--well, one day soon--

I miss you deeply tonight.

Saturday, October 06, 2012


It seems that at my age, ponderings come so often; as I look back and forward.

Today, I am pondering the early death of a friend at Otter Creek--Diana Reed.  At 56, she was alive with energy, laughter, and service.  Yet now, she is in heaven basking in the love of God and his reward for loyalty.

Those of us who are left are asking why, why, why and shaking our heads in disbelief at the happenings of the last week.  I came a long time ago to the reality check that I would never know why such things happen; I can only believe in the goodness of God and in his work in our lives.  That, however, does not mean that I cannot yell, scream and cry as David did.

God, please  bless Wayne and the boys in this sad time and give us all eyes to see that we need to cherish those around us that we love because life is so short.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Another year at ACU

Opening day ceremonies at ACU this year were stupendous as usual--so emotional for many memories:

Teaching at ACU was the highlight of my life as a teacher.  I loved every minute of it--even climbing to the third floor to my office and classroom.  I miss it so much--it was  nice to be seen as some what of an expert in a field, even children's literature.  It was nice to be a "professor" and to be able to hold forth to those who would teach children later on.  There was something to be said for having experience in a real public school classroom before teaching college students.

I loved marching into Moody with other profs on opening day resplendent in our robes and being introduced as "the heart of the university".

I loved the "March Grandioso" and the Grand Choir--still great today!

I loved the very positive statements made about ACU by today's and past speakers.  Students need to hear about what a wonderful school they have come to attend.

I loved those first days of cracking open the new textbook, greeting the new students, and seeing my teaching friends after the summer.

This school Abilene Christian University meant so much to my life--I pray that my grandchildren can attend and share the wonders.  Maddie will be there in 8 years , a 2020 freshman.  I will be looking down on her, Ella and Sam watching them in purple and white, making the wildcat sign, hanging out in the student center, living in the dorm, and singing the school song...."Oh, dear Christian college we love you..."

Wednesday, August 22, 2012


Watching the new freshmen move into the dorms Saturday brought back many memories:

My dad struggling up the stairs to second floor McDonald with the bookcase he made me for college; my mom's hands full of hangers of clothes she made and bought for me to wear in this new venture; me carrying my books and suitcase.  Opening the door and seeing the bunkbeds, the tiny closet without a door, the formica covered desk and bureau and two lonely chairs, all in a room no bigger than our porch at home.  Of course, having the bathroon down the hall was a wake-up call as to just how stringent this journey was going to be--no suites with their own baths like  other dorms--just green, brown, and cheap.

But, oh, the glorious days that followed:  excellent teachers like James Culp, wonderful friends like Ruth Copeland, fun job in the library, working on the annual staff and traveling with the debate team--wouldn't have missed it for the world!