I guess God don't want me!

 For the last 25 or 30 years I have been in church every Sunday morning.  For many years I went to the Christ Congregational Church in Belmont until the politics of that church and the powers that controlled the church no longer meshed with my beliefs.  When I left there I went across town to the historic First Congregational Church on Evans.  The one in Belmont had been designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and was progressive while the one on Evans was built in 1868 with red sandstone from Beulah.  It is on the national register so it is very historic as is the organ that pumped out music every Sunday.  Ken Joyal plays it and is accompanied by Becky on the piano and Karen and Jerome playing violins.  I was very happy there and never missed a Sunday.  

But, alas, those days are behind me!  In March our church closed the doors to let the pandemic work it's way out.  They closed for just a month or so.  Let me see; March, April, May, June, July, August.....and holding.  Sadly, the church has not opened.  They broadcast a service once a week and hold "virtual communion" and "zoom" meetings, but that does not cut it for me!

I want to set in the pew.  I want to hold the hymnal in my hand.  I want to sing with other people doing the same thing, but it is not happening.  So here is the deal; I am searching for a church.....

And here is what I want.  I want a preacher in the pulpit who will give me a sermon about love, compassion, good deeds and a God that will welcome me, a sinner, into his heaven.  I want a congregation that will welcome me and validate my worth.  In return, I will be there every Sunday.  I will tithe, just like the Bible says to do. 

I want a smaller church.  I am not into mega churches.  I want a liberal church that is open and affirming of all races, and gay friendly.  I do not want to be judged and I will not judge you.  Maybe we can have coffee after, maybe not.  I want to support the homeless.  I guess I am looking for a church the Jesus would go to in his tattered robe and slippers.

If you attend a church you think I would like and you would accept me, contact me through this blog down at the bottom.  

I would love to hear from you! 

'Tis an ill wind that blows nobody good.

The wind was blowing all day and this is what happens when that happens.  This is just up the road from my house.  Sadly this is not the first time that this has happened at this same house.  Just the first time in landed on the house.

This is the same place up on South Road.  This was several years back.  That time I had been working with a family on Gale Road and when I came home down 25th to South Road I had to back track  and come up County Farm.  When I came in and turned on my computer, this picture was in an email from my son in Dallas, Texas.  Little a--hole never did tell me how he got that picture.  Kind of creeps me out to think he has spies up here in Colorado.  I must say that this man has some pretty bad luck.  I also must say, I am glad it was not my house.

That having been said I think I am going to call the tree company and have the Apricot tree behind the house taken down.  that tree is actually only about 15 feet from my head when I am in bed sleeping.  Sure there is a wall between it and me, but as you see, walls do not stop falling trees.  It isn't like the damn tree gives me any Apricots any way.  To take it a step further, I do not even like Apricots in case it did decide to give me some fruit.  Once it had lots of fruit and I fed it all to the geese.  So now I suppose you want to know why I planted the damn thing!  Ok, here is that tale.

Many years ago Kenneth was working on a job in Paonia, Colorado.  We had a park model camper that he pulled around to different jobs.  Park model is just a way of saying a small camper that is the equivalent of a tiny trailer house.  It had a small front room, kitchen, full size bath and a bedroom in the back.  When he parked in a trailer park, he hooked into the water and sewer which was better then having to store water and empty sewage.  His little home away from home.  I would travel over to the job a couple days a week and that way he and I kept in touch, so to speak.

Paonia was just a small town that attracted a lot of hippie sorts.  The job he was on was a BLM job so he was privy to all the amenities of the land.  Peaches and other fruit was plentiful on the site and Kenneth was always going to pick me some when he got time.  Sadly, he never got time, but Joe Fisher to the rescue.  He was another trucker.  One evening he was setting in the roadside park and just enjoying the evening when he noticed a tree loaded with Apricots!  He scrounged around under the seat and came up with an empty bread wrapper.  He then proceeded to fill it with plump, juicy Apricots which he presented to me with the stipulation that I would give him a jar of Apricot jam.  Sounded like a deal to me.

As soon as I got home I worked up the Apricots and made my jam.  The seeds I threw on top of the septic tank where I was sure they would rot and make compost.  Joe was pleased with the jam and began to tell me of other fruits on the BLM including Sarvis Berry trees.  Sadly they were dried up by then.  And can you imagine my surprise when I noticed little tiny trees coming up in the compost pile!  I moved them to a protected area and "heeled" them in to winter over.  The next Spring I had 40 Apricot trees.  Some of them I planted at my mother-in-laws house.  Several I planted in the front yard and several out back.  One I planted behind the house and there it stands today!  The Bores have about killed it, but still it tries.  Usually it blooms and then a freeze comes and the flowers fall off, or it may actually go ahead and set fruit, but then comes the "June drop" and there goes my crop.

I keep thinking I would like to have fruit just one more time so I can have some more Apricot trees so I can sell the house and leave them, I guess.  But that is the tale of the Apricot tree.  I know I should have it taken down, but that is just something I can not bring myself to do.  When the Apricot tree goes I am afraid my heart may follow.

Just the musing of a silly old woman.