I was taught that God will pardon my sins. I’m also hoping God has a good sense of humor.
He wasn’t much of a dog to look at. He knew a lot of tricks but was rather bull-headed and refused to do any of them for us.
There is a thin line between stupid and fearless, sometimes.
A little bit is good, but more is better………Right? Especially when it comes to fire…………..or was that ice cream?
Jumping from the parsonage roof with a homemade parachute couldn’t possibly end badly. Could it?
Dad was a Christ-loving pacifist. That was the only reason I lived to reach the age of 18.
The flood at the creek nearly drown me. I never told mom what really happened.
The crash of glass was heard as I tried to make it through the door.
We had to climb to the peak of that mountain and live to tell the tale. Unfortunately for us, we lived in Kansas, so the nearest mountain was over 600 miles away, in Colorado.
As a preachers kid, having my girlfriend over to the parsonage was a tricky business.
The security guard at St Francis Hospital challenged dad to prove he was a minister.
The preachers kid was kidnapped on a youth group trip…..Sort of. You’d be surprised to know who did it and how he was rescued……Sort of.
Dad had a drinking problem that caused shame, anger, and embarrassment as a minister.
An angel on my bumper was the one thing I could give the retired preacher when he was close to death.
Dad bought Spumoni ice cream which, as a child, I decided was torture.
I went at the other boy like a spider monkey on a sugar high, but Dad had a different idea.
That toy truck flew like a rocket when we put the electricity to it. And nearly killed the neighbor doing it.
Mother scarred me for life when she had me wear second-hand girls clothing and tried to convince me they were boys clothes.
I snuck away from a church picnic to slide down the spillway at the lake and nearly killed myself in the process.
Playing firefighter in the parsonage got too real when my plan went awry.
We launched a tire from the roof of the parsonage during a church ladies meeting. Someone thought a dead body had fallen.
Exploring the church crawlspace on a secret mission. We thought we’d been successful until unforeseen circumstances intervened.
I was ashamed by my first name until I found out the wonderful story of my namesake. Now just call me Lou.
I will confess to painting on the wall of the church, but will claim that I have a defense. My little sister talked me into it.
Preachers kids have the reputation of being ornery or trouble makers. They are on view for the world to see and expected to be angels. Sometimes they aren’t.