Send Us Your Photos!
Now that John Calvin’s 2009 whirlwind world tour is over, The Banner is pleased to inaugurate a brand-new photo feature on these pages. But we need your help again!
Keep your cameras handy, because in 2010 we’d like you to send us photos of CRC- or Reformed-related items that pop up in unexpected places.
Lynn and Dave Setsma, members of LaGrave Avenue CRC in Grand Rapids, Mich., spotted this sign in—of all places—Bozeman, Mont. They don’t know who the owners of the salon are, but we’d love to hear the story behind the name. Bozeman salon folks, if you’re Banner readers you can contact us at email@example.com and tell us all about it!
There was a little boy in the early 1890s who hated to use the family’s outhouse. He disliked it in the winter because it was too cold. He disliked it in the summer because it was too hot. He disliked it all year long because it smelled bad.
One day, after a spring rain, the boy decided to push the outhouse into the river. He grabbed a large stick and started shoving. After much effort—splash! Into the river it went. The boy danced for joy. Then he returned to the house for supper. His father came in late.
“Billy,” said his father, “someone pushed the outhouse into the river today. Do you know anything about that?”
“It was me, Father,” Billy admitted reluctantly. “But I heard George Washington told the truth when he cut down a cherry tree and he didn’t get in trouble for it.”
“True,” said Billy’s father. “But George Washington’s father was not in the cherry tree.”
Gladys had just moved to a new community and was looking for a church home. She was impressed by the beautiful building and music of the first church she visited. However, she thought the sermon was really boring and noticed a number of worshipers nodding off.
Afterward, the minister encouraged the worshipers to greet each other. Gladys turned to the man on her left. “I’m Gladys Dunn,” she said, extending her hand.
“You and me both,” the man replied.
A few days before my daughter turned 6, I threw a very girly birthday party for her. I made a tiered pink cake. I put streamers everywhere. I made tutus for the little girls who came. We also made a craft. It was a blast.
On her real birthday a few days later, my daughter’s teacher sent her home with a birthday journal. The children love to write about what they did on their big day, and I looked forward to what my daughter would say about her party.
William wrote: “We opened presents. My favorite was the vehicle play set.”
Jill wrote: “I got my ears pierced! They are sparkly!”
My daughter wrote: “I am going to have leftover pink cake.”
My 3-year-old granddaughter, responding to her mother, said, “Oh, I didn’t know THAT. But that’s because I’m not as old as you.”
A mother skunk was in the forest with her baby skunks when she realized they were all surrounded by coyotes. The mother skunk did not want to show her fear, so she gathered the young ones together as the coyotes made their approach. Then she said, “Children, let us spray.”
—Dave and Sylvia Kloosterman