Not Really a Secret
It was that time of the year, late April, and my Sunday school class of 15, including my own girls, Jeannie, 14, and Cindy, 8, were with me, walking along the side of a road and picking up a winter’s worth of litter. Our trash bags were almost full when Cindy asked why we were picking up other people’s junk.
Jeannie, who was on her knees trying to gather up a pile of cigarette butts, looked up at Cindy and said, “The secret to being grown up, Sis, is to show God you’re willing to do things even when you don’t really want to do them.” Then Jeannie spotted more trash in some nearby bushes. She stood up and hurried over to pick it up.
Cindy smiled at me with her big brown eyes. “But, Mom,” she asked, “why does it have to be a secret?”
Janett L. Grady
A Swell Occasion
A few minutes into our Easter sunrise service last year, a pipe on our organ began to stick and emit a continuous, irritating squeak. With an adept adjustment of stops, our organist, Paul Schmalz, fixed the problem and played all three services without any further interruptions. Appropriately, and with a typical sense of choral humor, several choir members later commented that Paul played “swell” but not “great.”