Dinosaurs per Metapictures

This week one needs a reason to laugh--I mean really laugh, gut laugh, giggle out of control.

My daughter sent this to me.  Good job, beloved daughter!

To see more, click on the above image.

Hope you enjoy.

The Battle for Space and Grandma Housely

Sounds from the heavens rose to great heights....

The old church was a lovely peaceful place to worship with its great acoustics: wood plank floor, white plastered walls, oak pews, and vaulted wood ceiling.

Many worshipers found peace here....

Sounds bounced around that sanctuary.  Music, whispers from the back row, giggles from teenagers, and even the crinkle of a candy wrapper were  heard by the congregants.

A young family found a spot in the third row from the altar.  Coming late made the front pews the only ones open.  The three children settled in for the sermon. The oldest girl went to sit with a friend, while the mother took the fussy baby girl to the adjoining nursery where she could hear the sermon through the intercom.

The father smiled benignly through most of the sermon before dropping off to sleep. This was not uncommon, but usually the wife gave him the elbow jab.  Not today.

That left the three-year old boy who found enjoyment with his double-jointed fingers and his imagination.  Fingers could become galloping horses or speeding race cars.  Today his fingers were alien spaceships.  They were engaged in a fierce battle.

As the struggle for space domination heated up, the boy stood up to use the back ledge of the second row pew to help better stage the drama. 

Sweet Grandma Housely always sat there in the second row pew.  People who visited the church often commented on this saintly woman with her fluffy white hair and lovely pink hat. 

Bless her heart; Grandma Housely was blind, and very hard of hearing.  She could just hear the sermon if she sat in that spot, with her hearing aid cranked up to high.

The little boy situated himself directly behind her precious white head, and resumed the space battle. 

Zooommm.  Ch-ch-ch-ch!  Aaaaaa…kabooooom!  Crashhhhhh.  The fingers/spaceships faced off on either side of the white hair, pink hat planet.

The fingers/spaceships met at the pinnacle of the hat, and collided in a glorious explosion.  Kerrrr-aasshhhh!  Nooooo…ker-ploom!  P-shhhhhhh! 

The congregation held its breath, watching the battle, and waiting for the space debris to shower down on Grandma Housely’s head.  The pastor had paused to allow the dying alien fighters some dignity.

The final notes of music filled the church just about then.  Church ended.

Dear Grandma Housely stood and turned around.  “What a precious family you have,” she smiled to the young couple.  “So quiet, I didn’t hear a thing from them!”

 

Many glorious sounds reach to the heavens....

The Length of Time

When I hold a new crayon from a fresh box of colors, 

it doesn’t matter

what color I choose,

for I will fill the page with all the colors.

When I draw the first line, squiggle or circle,

I am six years old again.

When I buckle a new shoe across my granddaughter’s foot,

I am five years old, trying on my first pair of patent leather shoes.

I will dance around in them,

watching how the light shines

on the shoes and the buckles.

When I sit on the floor to watch “Peter Pan”,

I am again seven years old,

and I am hoping

that Peter Pan

will appear at my window someday.

When I hear my husband’s laughter

I am a newly-wed and deeply in love.

When I see the photos of my children dressed in brand-new

Easter clothes,

I am again a young mother, thinking about the roast in the oven and Sunday afternoon.

Our lifelines are ruled by the clock and the rotations of the Earth,

But our lives are lived by “…the length, the breadth, and the depth…” of our

memories 

and

imaginations.