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Show 0MM U 'IKE By CAROL LEMON would our crazy, mixed up world offer him, and what contributions would he make to it in the short, candle flicker of time allotted him? Sometimes, as we wait, time seems to drag with leaden feet. Other times, when we dread an event, we may be surprised to reach it's doorway so swiftly. Looking ahead to the future may seem eons away - almost al-most an endless eternity until un-til the things we anticipate so eagerly can come to be, yet looking back on an event even years past, it may be recalled so vividly and with such detail that it seemingly happened only yesterday. Waiting for news of a loved one is a hard time. Families are drawn together each taking strength from the other. Expressions are hard, speech forced, and tears are commonplace. "If only . . ." is common, and "I wish I had. . ." and "When we get home things will be different." The relief re-lief when it's over and all is well is almost beyond comprehension. For others with not so favorable news, the heartstrain can be felt across the room. Those who wait alone em it a different aura. Strength comes from within, but there are times when we need others, and this is one of them . Yet all the while, time rolls along. The winds carve their autographs in the solid rock, the tides rise and fall, eroding away the old continents, con-tinents, and deposit new be-Erinnine-s. keen will come Through the ages this old world has rolled along at the same pace. For Eons the sun rose and set on n ) an emerging world. Moun-tains Moun-tains were born and worn away. Seas heaved them -selves beyond their bounds, only to lay trapped and frozen until they warmed enough to be free and again flow to meet the sea. All the while the clock of time was steadily ticking away. What a tiny speck our lives become when measured against the great timepiece of the universe. This was brought home forcefully to me this past week. As I waited in a hospital room near surgery, I could hear the Dr.'s and Nurses as . they bustled around the Recovery Room . After a period of seemingly commotion, I heard them say, "We've lost him." And a few moments later the still, white form of an elderly el-derly man was wheeled down the corridor. He had likely lived more years than most of us will see, and surely had contributed contrib-uted something to those he was associated with in life. There were those who would mourn his passing. He had evidently lived a long, full life. On the other hand, I also saw new life. A baby so anxious for life that it could not wait for the convenient time for Mom to get safely into the delivery room, but had made his entrance in the car and lustily yelled yell-ed his impatience to get on with it as EMT's rushed mother and baby into the Emergency Room. What lay before him? What and go. The solar forces continue to whirl the old planet toward it's final des -tiny. Sometimes life seems insignificant in-significant or does it? Reverend Jean Stiener, of the Methodist Church has recently re-cently returned from nn. ver, where she took two graduate courses "Preaching "Preach-ing the Book of Revelations" and "Worship in the Arts". The James Hardy's attended at-tended the funeral of an uncle, un-cle, W.H. Price, at Tooele. Visiting at the James Hardy Har-dy home, were Myrna Bag-shaw Bag-shaw and daughter, Carol, from Las Vegas. While here they motored to Bryce Canyon. Can-yon. Another graddaughter of the Hardy's, Laura Lee Erickson, accompanied them. Also visiting the James Hardy's were Mr. and Mrs. Don Bower, Mr. and Mrs. Aldan Hardy, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd Hardy, and Mr. and Mrs. Elend Hardy, of Og-den. Og-den. The Hardy's also visited at Pioche, Washington, and Enterprise. That's Why They Advertise! TELL 'EM RED SENT YA! |