Last week was traumatic. Squig and I are still trying to figure out how to live by ourselves without Bo around. It is much quieter. Bo liked to talk. He would sit by my chair, open his mouth really wide and make all sorts of sounds. I never did figure out what he was saying, but I would go through the list of things that it might be, and eventually hit on something that satisfied him. Squig, on the other hand, only makes noise when he knows I am leaving the house. The minute I reach for my coat and gloves, he begins to whimper. I'm a soft touch, so usually he goes with me.
But on Sunday, he never asks to go. He just watches me get ready for church, crawls up into my bed, and goes to sleep. I almost believe that he knows that seven days have gone by and that he will have to wait on me to get home. You would think that he would want to go to Sunday School!!
Every other month, I play the piano. Once every eight weeks, I play the marimba. I am in charge of setting up all the special music, so everyone is on an eight week rotation. But if new talent shows up in the congregation, I will have to reorganize. Someone asked me this morning what would happen when I moved. I told them that I would come back and play the marimba every eight weeks.
I am going to have to find a church in Edmond, but until then, this is my church home. My church family. "How will you know which church to go to?" someone asked me. Well, I have a plan. I am going to go by different churches during the week, talk to the pastors, and find out which ones need a Bible teacher. I am not going to quit teaching. I can quit the marimba and the piano, but not the sharing of God's word. God has given me so very much. I must give something back.
"For unto whom much is given...much is required." Luke 12: 48b
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