The earthen vessel known as James Christian Roth began breathing on his own on September 12, 1934. He was the fourth of seven children and the first of three sons of Jacob and Mary (Buckwalter) Roth. Read it all
In all my decades at Hopewell Mennonite Church, I have never seen two member wedding announcements up together.
Vince and Holly are Mr. & Mrs. Nisly now. Read it all
PieRut is my short name for her.
What’s her long name?
Some folks go prayer walking.
A few minutes ago, I chose to do some prayer chewing. (Why not?)
Our youngest son Andy is on the East Coast somewhere singing with Tapestry Chamber Singers. He likes to eat leftover pancakes, toasted. I needed a late afternoon snack. I opened the fridge. I saw a bag with leftover pancakes from yesterday morning’s breakfast.
I toasted one in his honor. And thought of him. And prayed for him. While I chewed. (It’s what Dads should do.) Read it all
He was alive the last I saw him.
I heard an eyewitness tell law enforcement the cyclist hit a low trailer pulled by an oncoming vehicle. Next he hit the bridge railing. And ended up in the river.
The fire fighters finally got him out.
For our main Christmas Day meal here — my parents, my sister and husband, my niece and husband, my aunt, and my first brother-in-law (whom I hereby designate an honorary Roth).
And nine of my little flock.
And one candidate.
But seven missing. 🙁 Read it all
My OregonLive RSS feed showed a dramatic helicopter rescue story. I like helicopters and Depoe Bay, so I clicked.
I looked at the photo and thought, “That rock sure looks like one I’ve climbed various times over the decades. That’s got to be at Fogarty Creek!”
Sure enough: Read it all