The hole is dug…
There is no turning back.
The die is cast.
It’s been two years in the planning, many meetings and now the contractors are busy doing things, the right things I hope.

Forty years ago my mother got it into her head that our little town needed a new church and not just any church. The town had Roman, Lutheran, Methodists and several other varieties of churches. However mother was raised in the east a stronghold of the Episcopal Church and while we her kids were growing up it was drilled into us.

Now years later I was caught rising a hand to be excused to go to the restroom when our good father asked for volunteers for a building committee to expand my mother’s quaint little church. I must admit that she was right. You offer something more than a large assembly hall and give people a purpose and they will come and open their hearts, giving their time and open their pocket books.

Our little church has seen the baptism of my children, a funeral of one, the wedding of two and the burial of my mother. The little stone building means a lot to my family and now after spending a lot of the congregation’s money on a new and improved plan for enlarging the place I’d better see that it’s done properly.

If not they’ll fine my bones next to Jimmy Hoffa and mother Ros will be kicking my hind end around for eternity. Sorry, Dave but a few trees had to go but next time up we’ll plant one. Join me and bring a shovel.