I'm spending this rainy day sorting through the hope chest at the foot of my bed. It was getting so full of stuff that I couldn't even close the lid. I'm getting rid quite a bit (like piles and piles of old sermon notes. You wouldn't even believe how many of those I have!!). I've come across some keepsakes that mean a lot to me, especially on a day like today when my dad is in such bad shape in the hospital.

This is one of my favorite photos of all time. My mom has spent the largest portion of her career taking care of mentally and physically handicapped people, as many of you know. At Christmas time, my mom would usually recruit my dad to dress up as Santa for these people. My sister and I always thought this was hilarious because he is really the least likely person to pass for Santa that we know. He isn't jolly, in fact, he usually greets people with a growl. And, he is always so tan and leather faced, even in the winter that he looks nothing like the pale, smooth faced Santa. But, the people my mom worked with even couldn't tell or maybe they didn't care. They always adored him for making the effort to bless them (and so did we, really.)


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