Monday, March 24, 2008


Gritting our teeth, eyeing the enemy and shaking in our sandles, we huddled together, short chuffing gasps sifted from our chests. All of us held a weapon, a razor blade here, a hot iron there, a spray bottle filled with water was tossed from hand to hand to prevent the handle from getting slick with sweat. Without a doubt this was it, make or break time, were we mice? or......something else? I assure you not mice!

With fierce cries we attcked in a mad frenzy, wall paper flying every which way, chunks of dry wall spinning off into the air. We yelled instructions at each other with the intensity of field doctors in war zone, "Razor"........"mist it now"......."more not there....THERE!"......"Gggggrrrr I'm going to need to amputate this piece of wall"...."I..I don't think I can save this one, it's to, to far gone".

Seven hours later our dining room was stripped of all paper, and four very tired kids stood looking at the carnage that had once been our walls. Bare dry wall was crossed with the most amazing color of teal that hadn't seen the light of day since our Gran covered it up in the late 70s. After much discusion it was decided it now reminded us of a seedy hotel in Greece (been there) or a shot up Zimbabwa house (haven't been there) with bright teal paint and peeling plaster. Rather ghetto-ish actually. The boys voted on leaving it that way, but the girls where firm that nothing would induce us to have a ghetto-dining room. SBW announced that, since who ever had set the dry wall had obviously NOT known what he was about, we should just tear it out and start anew. And along the way we could fix the celing and rewire everything. Gasp.

Mom's eyes begain to roll back in her head at the thought of the room being gutted, groping about for a seat she collapsed. Rushing to help, we girls (who have read many a Austen book) looked for the smelling salts, realizing those weren't something we had on hand, we opted for cold water thrown across her feverish brow.

In the end we decided to mud the walls and cover over the gouges that *somebody* had made and then sand it down and hope for the best. Our first jab at mudding was horrible, and Mom was appalled and set about fixing it. When she and DBW were done it looked quite decent, and after sanding three times the wall was for the most part smooth. Then came the "easy" part, painting, repainting and painting some more made our walls a sunny, warm, buttery yellow with white ceiling and trim. Still, no two walls are straight and no corner is square, the ceiling ripples like water and the floor slants, but for the most part we are pleased and happy with our amateurish revamping.....and we even cleaned the carpet.

However *looks darkly about* the rest of the house is now extremly dusty and needs "a good bottoming" as Mrs. P would say.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Gotta Tell Somebody

She kept on getting weaker as day dragged into day
The doctors gave no hope for her; she seemed to fade away
My hours were filled with constant dread; time became a knife
That slowly and relentlessly cut the cord of life

There was a teacher in the region then some of us had heard
That He'd healed the paralytic by the power of just His Word
So with hope again rekindled I went at once to see
If I could find a man named Jesus from a town in Galilee
I began to search the city and soon I saw the crowd

They were pressing in to touch Him and they called His Name out loud
But with the strength of desperation I pushed them all asideI through myself before Him and from my knees I cried"Lord, come and heal my daughter, even now she's close to death
Her fever's uncontrollable, she fights for every breath
But God's given You the power; life is Yours to give

If you'll just lay Your hands on her I know that she will live"(She will live, she will live)
Well, He'd just begun to go with me when a face I saw with fear
Came towards me with the news I knew I didn't want to hear
And although I tried to steel myself I trembled when he said"Why bother the Teacher anymore, your little girl is dead.

"Then Jesus touched my shoulder and He told me not to grieve
The trembling stopped when He looked at me and said, "Only believe"Then He sent the crowds away except His closest men And they followed right behind us as we started off again

But we were still a long ways down the road when I heard the sounds and cries
Of the mourners and musicians as they strove to dramatize
My grief they had no business with beneath their loud disguise
My wife just sat there silently and stared through empty eyes

Then Jesus asked the mourners, "Why is it that you weep?
She isn't dead as you suppose, the child is just asleep."It only took a moment for their wails to turn to jeers"Who does this man think he is? Get him out of here!"With authority I've never heard in the lips of any man
He spoke and every sound rolled out with the thunder of commandAnd in the sudden silence they all hurried for the door

Wondering what the reasons were they'd ever come there for
Then He called his three disciples that were with Him on the way
He led them and my wife and me to where our daughter layHe took her by the hand; He told her "Child, arise"And the words were barely spoken when she opened up her eyes

She rose and walked across the room and stood there at our sides
My wife knelt down and held her close and at last she really cried
And then Jesus told us both to see that our daughter had some food
But as to how her life was saved, not to speak a word...Not to speak a word..

I got to tell somebody
I got to tell somebody
I got to tell somebody
I got to tell somebody
I got to tell somebody,
got to tell somebody, what Jesus did for me
I got to tell somebody, got to tell somebody, what Jesus did for me
I got to tell somebody, got to tell somebody, what Jesus did for me
I got to tell somebody, got to tell somebody, what Jesus did for me

By Don Francisco