Chronicles and Views - The Reader's Retreat
My eightieth birthday
My eightieth birthday brings mullings, expectations and bittersweet nostalgia. Eighty years ago this morning, a loving mother lay very ill with a severe kidney infection which brought her into labor with a seven month fetus. The scenario was a lowly renterís house on a cotton farm on the banks of the Coosa River near Gadsden, Alabama. This was her ninth birth although two of those ended in stillbirths.
I have grown more confident of my prospects for life eternal with our Heavenly Father after my death and it has caused me to actually look forward to it. I no longer fear dying, not that Iím eager to leave those I love here, but with the hope of seeing them again. Age and a bit of dementia makes me have strange thoughts sometimes. I realize that humans are the only animals with a spirit soul that will live eternally, but I often think how wonderful it would be, not only to have my family together for eternity, but also to have all of my dogs who have made my life much happier with their unfeigned love and loyalty extended towards me over the years. And even my little finch which sang sweetly for me during her little life. I cannot forget her, ďLittle BitĒ.