THE MASTER PAINTER
By Alice Hensley Church
As I sit looking into the distance
The leaves seem to be turning
Right before my eyes.
The steady hand of the Master
Is busy painting at this time.
The brush strokes slow and easy
Make the mountains look sublime.
The colors of the rainbow,
The flowers fading in my yard,
The blue sky just above us,
We're painted by our God.
Oh, that I could be a master painter
And paint just what I see
I see His glory all around us
And His love for you and me.
How could I paint this?
Would be impossible for me to do
Because His love outshines the world.
We cannot imitate nor recreate
The talents of Our Lord.
Our glorious October is fading away, with Halloween giving the month a final good-bye. It has become a popular holiday now, and quite different from what it was when I was a kid. We didn't go from door to door "trick or treating," as well as I can remember. Our own children did, and now it's the grandchildren and great-grandchildren that dress up in outrageous costumes and "frighten" the neighbors.
Our celebration consisted mostly of having a party and building a bonfire. Some of the kids dressed up, and one year a tall Indian stood outside our circle and never spoke a word. He was dressed in an Indian blanket and never joined in the games -- just watched us. We found out later it was Daddy.
We weren't really destructive; just soaped a few windows and skulked around the neighborhood. There was another element that gloried in a Halloween prank that was repeated year after year. There was a rock cliff right above the intersection where the road goes to Grannies Creek, and it was perfect for a road block. Plans were laid in advance with water being carried and poured into a No. 3 washtub.