Regrets . . . (Originally written 12/27/2009)

Don’t Be The Kind of Father Who . . .

As your children stand at your casket,
silent tears falling from their eyes,
mourning not only the physical loss
of the man who was their father,
but also for the missed opportunities
when they were children growing up
with a man who was basically
such a good man, really,
but also someone it was very hard to love.
Because loving you exposed them
to so much hurt.

Genealogy Research/Editing Services -- 2015

Sarah Barnes, Tennessee Writer

http://www.SarahSaysExpressYourself.blogspot.com

TnWriterSarahB@aol.com

615-636-8144

　




Freelance Writer, Editor,
Genealogist (member of MTGS,
Midle TN Genealogical Society)
 Author
Sarah’s Story, A Memoir http://goo.gl/mm6dhL URL to purchase
　
　
　
　
　
Option #1
Genealogy Research - $10/hour

2-3 hours of research generally produce data/information on you, your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents. The more detail you provide (name, date of birth, location, etc.) the greater the likelihood of locating him/her/them. End result includes ancestor report of information found.
　

Option #2
Scanning of pictures – $2.00 per picture

　

Option #3
If several generations have been researched and located, I can produce attractive genie reports illustrating the information. Several styles/options available. $2 – $5 per report. (See samples attached.) Scanned pictures can be added to reports.

　
Option #4 – Editing

I will edit/proofread manuscripts, etc. at $.01 per word. (Ex. 500 words doubled-spaced = 2 pages – $5.00).

Sarah's Story . . .

. . . now available on Lulu.com, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble --

Please purchase from Lulu.  I get $5.++ from Lulu.  I get $1.78 from Amazon.

THANKS!


Lulu.com --

http://goo.gl/mm6dhL



Amazon.com --

http://www.amazon.com/Sarahs-Story-Sarah-Barnes/dp/0578157055/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1429996219&sr=1-2-fkmr0&keywords=Sarah.s+Story%2C+by+Sarah+Barnes

Fred and Wilma -- The Flintstones -- 03 29 2015

Fred and Wilma -- "You know, like the Flintstones," they said the morning I met them at Spring Hill Methodist Church. About a year ago.

It was the time during the service, right after the call to worship, when the minister tells us to take a break to "meet and greet" one another. This elderly couple was sitting in the pew right behind me and both reached out their hands as I stood and turned towards them.

It was my first visit here. I liked it so much I never got around to visiting the Episcopal church across the street.  I quickly claimed my ‘comfortable place' in the pew in front of Fred and Wilma. Which was also behind the pew with the big crack about 3 feet long in the seat. Finding my "spot" by sighting Fred and Wilma became my weekly routine.

And soon the handshake became a gentle hug for and with each of them. You might say it made my sense of "homeness" in this place complete.

A few weeks ago, during ‘sharing joys and sorrow' time during the service we learned one of our members had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. His name, along with others experiencing various trials and illnesses appeared in the bulletin. Early on in my attendance at this church I began adding the new names from the bulletin each week to my daily prayer list. For my own daily devotion time of prayers and scripture reading – Sitting next to the fire in my fireplace in winter and out on my screened-in porch during the warmer months. Along with my coffee, it has become my morning ritual.

Each day I take out my list and name each person asking God to provide healing, or comfort, or protection – whatever it is that particular person or family needs.

Today, at church, a new couple was sitting about mid-way in the rows. I didn’t see Fred and Wilma so I looked for the cracked pew as my marker and found my "spot" that way.  It was directly in front of these new folks. During meet and greet I turned around to shake their hands. We exchanged greetings and I learned they had been coming about a month. I told them Fred and Wilma usually sat there but I hadn’t seen them for a few weeks. (Sometimes I go to church in Franklin with my son and his family).

I turned to sit back down and suddenly it hit me. Like a punch to my stomach. Fred and Wilma . . . Fred as in THE Fred Thompson with stomach cancer I have recently been praying for.

Dear little Fred and Wilma – who remind me so much of my own precious parents now residing in heaven. I think Pastor Keith would forgive me if he knew I only half listened to his sermon today. Mostly I spent his sermon time crying and praying for these two sweet dear souls.

Please, God, Jehovah Rophi, reign down healing upon your precious son, Fred.

　

　

Consider This . . .

Consider this "What If" –

Human societies draw a line. And we say "cross this line" and we will fight you, go to war with you, kill you . . . through the Ages. It’s the Human Way. We protect our own.

And so it goes.

Freedom isn’t free; right? Right.

Societies need their "warriors" to protect the rest of us. Me, for example, who can hardly bear to kill a bug. Thank God there are "warriors" to fight my serious battles.

But, What If –

What IF – literally, really, all the time, everyone – relinquished that responsibility to God?

What IF – we did as He instructs and allowed Him to fight our battles for us?

What IF – ALWAYS we LOVED our ENEMIES.?

What IF – ALWAYS we DID GOOD to those who DISPITEFULLY USE US?

How long would the killing continue?

Would God intervene like He did with Daniel in the lion’s den? Or with Shadrach, Meschach, and Abednego? Or when He parted the Red Sea?

But then, we’ll never know . . . will we?

　 Sarah

Ponderings . . . Something Cannot Come From Nothing (03/18/2015)

Something cannot come from nothing . . .

            "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth . . . "

Who created God?

             "I Am that I Am . . . "

A timeless statement. Incorporating yesterday, today, tomorrow. A forever statement. A "present" statement. "He" is now . . . always has been. No beginning, no end.

God is Ultimate Love. AND Ultimate Logic.

? ? ? ? ?

A circle has no beginning and no end . . .

* * * * *

There is something to grasp here. I’m not sure what.

Listening to the Music . . .

Sitting with my coffee next to the fireplace starting my day with some scripture reading and thanking God for my many blessings -- Easy Listening music on the TV (as always) and "I'm a Dreamer, Aren't We All" interrupts my thought and my thankfulness immediately turns to the sound --

Thank you, God, for the music. How can twelve little notes create such a beautiful variety of melodies? And where would we be without the music? . . .

Except . . .

There’s been an addition this past week. A little "chirp . . . chirp . . . chirp."

What kind of little bird is that, anyway? And how did he get in the house?

Oh, wait. It’s NOT a bird. It’s that thing in the ceiling down the hall and outside my bedroom. That alarm thing for smoke or carbon monoxide or something. There’s actually three of these round things up there in that hall ceiling . . .

And one of them is "chirping" because . . .

Because . . . I think . . . the battery needs changing.

Except my daughter was over a couple of days ago and heard it and climbed on the step stool and put in a new battery. I thought.

But the chirping continued.

So the next day I got up on the step stool and pulled off the cover. But there were no batteries inside – just a bunch of multi-colored plastic coated wires. Hmmmm.

So that evening I called son John, Master Fixer of Everything. Explained – or tried to – what was going on.

"Where do I put the new batteries?"

"You don’t.  It’s an old unit, over ten years old."

"So, then, I should just go to Home Depot and replace . . . "

"No, you can’t do that."

"Well, can’t I just take it with me and show them . . . "

"No, you can’t. Unless you want me to have to replace all the wiring."

"What?"

"Just leave it alone. I have to come over there and fix it."

"Oh . . . "

* * * *
So, for now, the chirping continues.

Adds kind of an interesting . . . unusual addition to the music . . . I reckon.