A little bit is good, but more is better………Right? Especially when it comes to fire…………..or was that ice cream?
Friday afternoon in high school was a time of great anticipation. The weekend was almost there and plans had to be made.
I was headed to college unbeknownst to my parents.
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.
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.
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.
I snuck away from a church picnic to slide down the spillway at the lake and nearly killed myself in the process.
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 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.