Renate's Reflections

          Four little faces are plastered against the picture window as I drive up and park along the curb. The driveway is narrow and at such a slope it’s easier to park on the street and walk across the grass to the door. Of the four faces, three are human. The Hooligans, as I call them, have been impatiently waiting for me to arrive. I usually have something for us to do together, but I never tell them ahead of time. The suspense kills them. The fourth face belongs to Diggory, the family ShiTzu-Poodle mix who is just as happy to see me as the girls. Yes, the Hooligans are sisters; three girls under the age of ten who keep their parents on their toes. Each is mischievous in her own way.           The oldest, M., is the sweet, sensitive one who loves to copy her mom as she sings along during the song service at our church. Under all that sweetness is a little influencer who likes to spin a story to her advantage or who will “forget” instructions. When she was younger, she was notoriou

            I didn't babysit much as a teenager. There weren't young children on our street so I had little exposure to them. I was also busy with other things. Why? I was a teenager. That should pretty much explain it. Teenagers haven't changed that much over the years. As a grandmother, though, I do a lot of babysitting for church families. I appreciate the opportunities because I can invest in little lives. I call my favorite babysitees The Hooligans. They are three sisters with no end of energy and find mischief in every corner. I love each one of them.  Our church has many families with young children and for those who would like to fellowship and encourage each other outside of regular services, care groups are offered. There are several and they meet in homes of various church members at different times during the month. The leadership wanted to encourage families with children to participate by providing childcare during the Bible study/discussion time. The adul

      It's a foregone conclusion that when we go to Walmart, we can expect to experience any number of things. From the woman wearing a bikini and high heels to the girl in pajamas and slippers, we are neither shocked nor surprised by such sightings anymore. My experience the other day was different, but certainly within the realm of possible Walmart encounters. My mom and I went to pick up a few things. These excursions usually begin with me coasting up and down parking lot aisles becoming ever more frustrated as I look for a handicap spot. It can be almost impossible to find one simply because of the general clientele of the superstore chain with discount prices. It would behoove them to add more than the requisite number of parking spaces for those with mobility issues, but that's another subject for another day.  I finally found a non-handicap spot with enough room to squeeze a motorized cart to the passenger door for my mom. I went in through the market entrance and h