Palm Sunday story

 

The palm branch is a symbol of victory, triumph, peace and eternal life originating in the ancient Near East and Mediterranean. 

They also entertained a young husband.

Way back when, it was the annual job of my dear hubby and his brother, being farm boys, to go cut the fronds for church so the nice church ladies could clean them up and get them ready for Palm Sunday morning.

I got to replace Bob for this adventure the first year of our marriage.  Being the city girl that I was (and NOT a Florida native), I did not understand why some of the palm fronds were fully developed, and some were sorta deformed.  MM had to ‘splain to me that those “deformed” fronds were from the previous year’s cutting of the fronds.  Of course, he first told me that they were a strange, hybrid palm tree that grew that way.  Yeah.  Right.  Funny man.

And there was also the first time that he took me  shooting at the back of the farm.  He got me all lined up with the target, got the shotgun solidly in place, told me how to properly stand and sight the target, and then I pulled the trigger.

He is still living because while I was sighting in the target, he moved behind me so that he could catch me before I hit the ground.  That sucker packed a mean punch, and I would have landed on my behind.

I did learn to shoot well, thanks to him, and lots of practice.  That is a skill one needs to know when one lives on a farm, which we did for a number of years.  It was a great place to raise our children, by the way.

Yesterday’s photo scanning brought back lots of fond memories of way back then.  I still have about 189 pounds of photos to get done…maybe in this lifetime.

Have I mentioned that life is never dull with my guy?  Nope, it sure has been one big adventure after another.  Perfect?  No.  Never dull.  Life is as good as you make it, Peaches.

Will you look back on life and say, I wish I had,” or “I’m glad I did”? ~ Zig Ziglar

I’m glad I did!  How about you?