It has been 22 years since my lifelong buddy, Meredith Sprunger, experienced one of the most faith-building journeys of his lifetime.

It all began the day school left out in at the middle school where he taught eighth grade history near Marion, Ind.

He left school and stopped to purchase gas for his automobile. As he was walking from the car to the station to pay for purchase, he noticed a penny laying on the sidewalk in front of the entrance.

One thing about Meredith that I always appreciated was that he bent towards conserving anything in sight, rubber bands, paper clips, pencils, ball point pens and stray coins. He never passed any retrievable item of value, regardless of how meager its worth, because he believed that the “big picture” was a huge savings if he were to consider the total accumulation of recovered valuables.

THE HOMOS ... NYMS AND PHONES

I am sure the title of this article grabbed your attention. First, let me explain the reasoning behind the name of the title. It has been said that the English language is one of the most difficult languages to learn to speak. Making it more difficult are the homonyms, homophones and homographs. They all begin with the prefix homo.

Homonyms are words that have the same spelling and pronunciation but different meanings.

Homophones are words that have the same pronunciation but different spellings and meanings.

Have you ever noticed how the sense of listening seemingly comes into play more in darkness than it does in light?

Sometimes, this is due to a sense of danger. Our car breaks down on an obscure road and another vehicle pulls up behind us to assist. The first thing we listen for is the familiarity of the voice of the one approaching.

A jogging athlete caught in descending darkness suddenly becomes tuned to sounds of animals, passing vehicles or approaching footsteps. A child tucked into bed often “hears” things not perceived when light is available in the same environment. It’s amazing how darkness can shift our focus from the sense of light to hearing.

THE COON AND I

I have never been one to eat, hunt or get close to wildlife. As a kid, I remember my grandpa going hunting with a big heavy slingshot. He would go hunting for rabbits and pheasants and he had pretty good luck with that slingshot and a few round silver balls for ammo.

A few years ago, we had an opossum on our front porch. It was big and ugly plus it was growling and raising Cain at midnight. You could hear it from the living room as it ransacked back and forth. Then I got brave and peeped out the window. The creature was big and looked fierce with that big ugly nose and snaggly teeth.

Heaven pulled out its finest artwork on Friday night to show approval on the phenomenal effort of Paulding County residents in raising money for cancer research.

The sacredness of the luminary service was never more surrounded by angels of hope and comfort than it was this past weekend.

It all started close to sunset when God’s own luminaries began to fire in the western sky with brilliant and bright reflections of orange, red and yellow in a sunset that came to full bloom over the fairgrounds.

HELP! I MAY BE A HOARDER

It has been said that one man’s trash might be another man’s treasure. I remember years ago when there was a junk yard or dump in every town.

It was a favorite place to go look for something if you needed it or just go snoop around to see who got rid of what. Many times we would take things to get rid of to the dump and come home with more than we took.

If, for instance, someone collected jars or bottles, the dump was the place to go to maybe find that unique piece for your collection. There were usually all kinds of soda bottles, mason jars, beer bottles and half empty perfume bottles to be acquired at the town dump.

“What goes around comes around,” a statement we all attach on to from time to time, is a secular way of expressing the Bible’s version, “cast your bread upon the waters and after many days it will return to you. (Isaiah 11:1)”

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to witness one of the most dramatic fulfillments of those words that I’ve ever seen.

It all started when a friend who manages an Internet clearing house for garden plants called and asked if I would like to ride with him to southern Indiana, to the town of Henryville which had been virtually destroyed by a powerful tornado this past March 2.

MY GOOD OLD DAYS, YOUR GOOD OLD DAYS

It always makes me feel old when I hear someone who is a lot younger than me use the term, “good old days.” I use the term all the time too as did my parents and grandparents.

When my grandparents spoke of the “good old days,” told and remembered about the 1920s and 1930s. Of course, that is when they were young, had kids, and even though they endured tough times, they always thought that those years were the best times of their life.

They also talked about their younger days and how they lived way back in the hills. They often spoke of how they had just one pair of shoes, going barefoot, walking to school, horse and buggies, outhouses, and of eating greens and beans and cornbread.

I don’t know how she did it. This past weekend I was reminiscing what all my mother did “above and beyond” to be my mother.

“Mothering with the extra touches,” I’m sure it still happens in many homes, but it seemed back then that it was just the way that families functioned.

For some reason, I recalled the sound of the old peddle pumping away on the Singer sewing machine in the kitchen, often late at night or even early into the morning. When the aroma of bacon beckoned me down the stairway from my comfort-snuggled bed, there would often be a brand new shirt hanging across the chair by the end of the kitchen table.

“Here,” she would say. “Try this on. If it fits you can wear it to school today.”

THE HARVEST OF RAIN

“Rain rain, go away, come again another day.” “I hate rainy days.” How many times have the best picnic plans went awry because of darkening skies and the forecast of rain?

Personally, I don’t mind rainy days, as it is a good time to stay inside and curl up with a good book. Plus, it is quite easy to fall asleep listening to the steady dripping of the rain.

When I was young, I remember that we had a big wooden barrel which was placed under the roof spouting. The rain would run down and fall into the “rain” barrel and we saved that water and used it for various reasons.