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Our 4-year-old granddaughter, Maddie, attends a Montessori preschool. To teach the children to handle disputes peacefully, a “Peace Rose” is used. If a child is upset by the actions of another, she is instructed to carry the Peace Rose over to the child who has offended her and state her case. The rose is then handed to the other child, who may then state his or her case, or apologize.

One day Maddie was upset because Eric took one of her puzzle pieces. As instructed, she carried the Peace Rose over to Eric and stated her case. Unfortunately, Eric was not as contrite as Maddie thought he should be, so she bopped him over the head with the rose.

Her mother, who was told of the situation by the teacher when she picked up Maddie from school, tried to reinforce the teacher’s lesson on the way home. “Maddie,” Mom said, “you know you shouldn’t have hit Eric with the Peace Rose.”

“I know,” Maddie replied. “I should have used my hand.”
—Mary Buitendorp

When asked her name, the little girl would respond, “I’m Rev. Smith’s daughter.” After hearing that a number of times, her mother corrected her, “That’s not the right way to introduce yourself. You should say, ‘I’m Jane Smith.’”

Later that day a neighbor passed her while out for a walk and asked, “Aren’t you Rev. Smith’s daughter?”

Jane replied, “I thought I was, but my mother says I’m not.”

One fall night Bob passed away in his sleep after watching a Yankees victory. He died happy. A few nights later his buddy Earl awoke to the sound of Bob’s voice from beyond.

”Bob, is that you?” Earl asked.

“Of course it’s me,” Bob replied.

“This is unbelievable!” Earl exclaimed. “So tell me—is there baseball in heaven?”

“Well, I have some good news and some bad news for you. Which do you want to hear first?”

“Tell me the good news first.”

“The good news is that, yes, there’s baseball in heaven, Earl.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! So what could possibly be the bad news?”

“You’re pitching tomorrow night.”

I remember how the elders sat silently, almost stoically, in the front row of church on Communion Sunday when I was a boy.

Now that I’m older, it has become my privilege to serve the elements. And I know it’s not always easy to sit quietly.

On one particular Sunday morning our pastor preached on Jesus’ feeding of the 5,000. After reading the Bible passage, he started his message by asking us to imagine 5,000 people broken up into groups of 50.

Knowing I’m an avid Cubs fan, the elder sitting next to me leaned over and whispered, “Picture the attendance at a White Sox game.”

I’ll always be grateful our pastor didn’t stop to ask me what was so funny.
—Dan Brucken Sr.

Mildred, the church gossip and self-appointed arbiter of the church’s morals, kept sticking her nose into the other members’ private lives. Church members were unappreciative of her activities but feared her enough to maintain their silence.

Mildred made a mistake, however, when she accused George, a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his pickup parked in front of the town’s only bar one afternoon. She commented to George and others that everyone who saw the truck there would know what George was doing.

George, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment, then just walked away, saying nothing.

Later that evening, George quietly parked his truck in front of Mildred’s house...and left it there all night. —Bert Witvoet

Bumper sticker seen on Amish carriage: “Energy efficient vehicle. Runs on oats and grass. Caution: Do not step on exhaust.”

Q Why was Goliath so surprised when David hit him with a slingshot?
A. Something like that had never entered his head before.

Q. If you ever meet Goliath, would you tell him that joke?
A. No, he already fell for it once. Bulletin Blunders

Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on Oct. 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.

Ladies’ Bible study will be held Thursday morning at 10 a.m. All ladies are invited to lunch in the fellowship hall after the BS is done.

Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
—Jim Payton