It's Too Soon, Lord
When I was a little girl, our family would go to Kentucky to visit my Dad's parents. All the little kids would sleep on the couch bed in the living room of my grandparent's house, a double wide trailer on the side of hill. My Dad, the oldest of seven children, would get up early and have coffee with one or more of his brothers. I loved waking up in my grandparent's house. Rather than get up right away, I would lay there quietly and listen. I closed my eyes so I could tell which voice was my Dad's. I don't know why but it was important for me to know to which voice one I belonged. It was tough because my Dad and his brothers sounded so similar but I would eventually be able to pick out my Dad. Fast forward thirty something years...I woke up hearing Jim talking in the kitchen. As I lay in the bed, I strained to hear who he was talking with. As the memory of my Dad and his brothers flooded my brain, I could have sworn he was talking to himself. Did Jim's Dad come o...