Winn’s Favorites

Favorite Hymn

In the Garden by Johnny Cash

I come to the garden alone
While the dew is still on the roses
And the voice I hear, falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses
And he walks with me
And he talks with me

[Chorus]
And he tells me I am His own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known

He speaks and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing
And he walks with me
And he talks with me

[Chorus]

I’ll stay in the garden with Him
‘Tho the night around me be falling
And He bids me go, through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling
And He walks with me
And He talks with me

[Chorus]

Favorite Comic

Favorite Version

This was found among Winn’s reams of music,

a reminder of her sense of humor (and the great life she had):

My Favorite Things, Senior Version

Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,

Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,

Bundles of magazines tied up in string,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Cadillacs and cataracts and hearing aids and glasses,

Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,

Pacemakers, golf carts, and porches with swings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

When the pipes leak, When the bones creak,

When the knees go bad,

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don’t feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions,

No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,

Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Back pain, confused brains and no need for sinnin’,

Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin’,

And we won’t mention our short shrunken frames,

When we remember our favorite things.

When the joints ache, When the hips break,

When the eyes grow dim,

Then I remember the great life I’ve had,

And then I don’t feel so bad.

Favorite Poem

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there.  I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning’s hush,
I am the soft uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there.  I did not die.

~ by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Favorite Prayer

Favorite Scripture

Favorite Saying