OUR WEDDING, December 5, 1970
The Prologue
Mary and I met one Saturday evening in May, 1968. She was attending nursing school at Lutheran General Hospital in Park Ridge, IL. I was attending electronics school in the Navy at Great Lakes, IL. We met at a dance the nursing school was hosting, several of us from the naval base heard of the dance and piled into a car to enjoy the evening. Three marriages eventually came out of that evening. She says that she knew that very evening that she and I would one day be married.
For the remainder of 1968, we saw each other as much as possible. Mary and I could get together only when I could borrow a car or fix one of my friends up with another one of the nursing students. It wasn’t always easy but we kept fixing one of my friends up with dates until one finally stuck. They were later married. We had a great time, intentionally getting lost in the Chicago suburbs so we could find our way out. We visited Old Town to see the hippies of the time, remember, this was in the late 1960’s so there were a lot of them in that area. We went to see Gone With The Wind, it was the first movie we saw together.
At the end of 1968 I left Great Lakes to go to additional school in Pensacola, FL. I was there for the first six months of 1969 then was sent to Guam for 18 months.
While in Pensacola, Mary flew down for a few days visit. It was a great time on the beach and around the town. I sent her home with a baby stuffed alligator for her mother, Vera.
I did make it home for a month’s leave in early 1970 then returned to Guam to complete that tour. It was on that trip home that Mary first made lasagna for me. Her lasagna has always been my favorite dish. On that same trip home Mary and I traveled to Kansas to visit my family. Mom and Dad didn’t know I would be home, in fact, they had no idea I was in the states. We went first to Rod and Sandy’s house where Mary and I got in the back seat of their car for the trip to Mom and Dad’s house. When we drove in, Dad answered the door and says he knew something was up. Mom had no inkling, when Mary and I walked in the door her knees gave out and she went to the floor.
The Rehearsal
The rehearsal went well, the one notable feature was that Dad was wearing a white shirt under his jacket, not unusual, but this particular white shirt was his bowling shirt with a large picture of Woody Woodpecker drawn on the back.
The Wedding Day
My family and I stayed in a Motel in Gilman, not far from Danforth the night prior to the wedding. We arose and lounged around most of the day awaiting the appointed hour. It was cold that day, very cold according to Dad. I never noticed.
I wasn’t nervous prior to the wedding; I had never been so sure of anything I had ever done. My brother, Rod, and I, along with the groomsmen, were preparing ourselves and each other in a room just off to the right of the sanctuary. We were kind of joking with each other as brothers do until Pastor Kolburg came and said it was time. We obediently followed him into the sanctuary of St. John’s Lutheran Church. There were a lot of people there from Danforth and the surrounding area. There were a few on the groom’s side of the aisle. I appreciate every one of them being there to help us celebrate the wedding festival.
As I watched Mary, coming down the aisle on the arm of her dad, Roy, she was absolutely radiant. What a wonderful picture to behold, I will never forget those few moments. There has never been anything in my life that I have been more certain of than knowing that marrying Mary was right for me.
Pastor Kolburg said something during the ceremony; I don’t remember what, that was to be taken seriously. Both Mary and I chuckled visibly. He rebuked us and let us know that what he said was to be taken seriously.
The reception was held in a large room just off the sanctuary. It was a wonderful celebration; it was obvious that Mary and her family and friends had done a lot of planning.
The Honeymoon
Our first night was in Kankakee, IL. It was a night to behold. We were two young people very much in love.
The next morning we traveled back to the Lubben farm briefly then headed to Lake Lawn Lodge in Wisconsin. It is a very nice retreat. Even though there were other people there, we were pretty much left alone to get to know each other. We played pool, which I won, ping pong, which Mary won and thoroughly enjoyed a wonderful honeymoon. We later traveled back to several locations in Illinois before returning to Danforth.
The Epilogue
The wedding was almost 40 years ago, I am still certain that marrying Mary was the best thing I have ever done. She has been a wonderful soul mate, wife, friend, and lover. We have had our ups and downs just as any other couple has. We have had our hard times as well as an abundance of good times. I sometimes wish we could turn the clock back and do it all over again. Knowing what I do now, there are a few things I would do differently, most things I would do the same.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
PATIENT ENDURANCE
PATIENT ENDURANCE
3101
INTRODUCTION
Recently, in a book titled Listening for God by Marilyn Hontz, I read a suggestion that I thought had some merit. Mrs. Hontz wrote that beginning several years ago she would, through prayer, ask God for a word or phrase that God wanted her to work on in her life throughout the coming New Year. She said that several suggestions would come to mind, but, by the first day of January, she and God had narrowed it to one. She would then keep that word or phrase in mind throughout the coming year, pray about it, and work on it. He provides the word, and then she works at it. It is work that God has given her to do; it is a gift from God.
I found this to be a very interesting means of allowing God to improve oneself. I thought about this approach for only a moment before I too asked God for a word or phrase I could work on in my life. Almost immediately the phrase “Patient Endurance” came to mind. I can see why God might have made such a suggestion; neither patience nor endurance have been dominating qualities in my life.
I am patient with people most of the time; however, I am almost never patient with machines like copiers, telephones, computers, or any other mechanical device that in some way tries to control or regulate my life. People is a different topic. I like people and do my best to be patient with them knowing that they, like me, are creations of God. My impatience comes in when there is a very laze-faire attitude; I expect commitment from people to some thing or some cause. I detest the current popular saying of “whatever” or “oh well.” Commit yourself to something; get off the fence or out of the middle of the road!
Endurance is another area of my life that could use a little work. I am one that will start a project when it sounds interesting but after a while I tend to lose interest. I tend to give up on something before giving it every chance, every opportunity, and explore every option to bring it to fruition. Then the project gets shoved aside and another one is begun. Eventually I may get back to the first project but not with the same enthusiasm I experienced the first time around.
But “Patient Endurance” is an interesting term. I knew patient, patience, endurance, and persistence, another form of endurance, were all in the Bible but, I could not recall ever seeing the term “Patient Endurance” used anywhere in the Bible. In fact, with patient endurance the term “Patient Endurance” may be found several times in the Bible.
To me, “Patient Endurance” means waiting for God. He has His own schedule, His own timetable. He will work things out for the good of those who love Him as He sees fit in His own time. He will not be rushed; He will not be badgered into acting against His will. If the endeavor we are occupied with is within the will of God, it will come about; God will always see to it that His will prevails. But, we must be patient and endure through the trials of life while we await the promise. The God given gift of faith is required to be patient; one must have faith in the promises of God in order to endure with patience.
Patient endurance is a godly trait. There are a number of passages in the Bible to back up this statement. In the book of Psalms we read that His name will endure (Psalms 72:17). In the same book we read that God will endure forever (Psalms 102:12) and that His glory will endure forever (Psalms 104:31). In Romans 15:5 we read about the God of patience and in Revelation 1:9 we read about the patience of Jesus. To be patient is to act in a godly manner. Throughout history, man has been testing the patience of God, yet the love and mercy of God endures. From the beginning when Eve succumbed to the temptation of being God-like, man has been testing God’s patience. Sodom and Gomorra exceeded the patience of God and perished. Nineveh repented and was saved. Just look at His tolerance with the Israelites in the Old Testament. Time and again they rejected God and His laws. God was patient. Time and again they followed other gods. God was patient. Time and again, they griped and complained. God was patient. The Israelites repeatedly tested the patience of God. Some of them perished, others repented and were saved.
Are we any different? Are we any better than the Israelites? Like a child who constantly tests the limits of his parents, we keep testing the limits of God and in his boundless mercy He forgives us as we repent. We question God and the reality of the salvation provided by His Son. God is patient. We follow other gods, job, money, physical beauty. God is patient. We gripe and complain about the circumstances in which we live or work. God is patient. Can’t we see that God is being patient with us, giving us chance after chance to turn to Him, to submit our lives to Him, to follow Him?
Many of us surrender our lives to Him and expect everything to be rosy. Unfortunately, that is not always Gods’ plan. In spite of our acquiescence to God, we are required to face a wide spectrum of circumstances we must endure throughout our lives; they are a part of life. It isn’t always easy, but endure we must. Some are pleasant, some are not. The most serious of these circumstances is death, the death of friends, of family, and eventually we must face our own demise. We must endure relationships, divorce, rebellious children, financial reversals, job changes, illness, and the list goes on and on. Life is not fair, nor will it ever be. When we are young, we may endure school while others thrive on it. When we are older we may endure a job or the lack of a job while others are content with their station in life. When we are parents we must endure nightly feedings. When we are older we must endure more aches and pains. When we are children, we must endure naps. When we are older we must endure missing a nap now and then. We look around us and we want a bigger house, a nicer car, and a fatter paycheck. We want things that we think will make us happy because other people have them and because they have them, they must be happy. Thinking that things will make us happier, we simply endure a smaller house, an older car, and learn to budget a smaller paycheck No matter who we are, no matter what our social or financial status, all of these circumstances are realities of life that must be endured.
So, what do we do?
We must learn to adopt the trait of patient endurance. When we adopt this godly trait we will be rewarded for all of eternity. In Matthew 24:13 and again in Mark 13:13, Jesus makes a promise to those of us who follow Him to the end. He said that those of us that endure in the faith will be saved. This is a promise from Jesus Himself that those of us who remain anchored in the faith will join the Lord on the day that He calls us home.
Second Timothy 4:3 gives us warning from Paul: Not everyone will be saved. Some will turn to follow false doctrine and false prophets preaching a theology that sounds good but is false, and ultimately fatal. Unless they return to the Truth of Jesus and His resurrection they will be lost. Lost to what? Hell. The world doesn’t like to think about that. Satan likes that, he prefers that humankind deny the existence of hell. It makes his work easier. Throughout scripture we are reminded that hell is real and a lot of people will be lost.
When we look to scripture for human models of patient endurance, three examples immediately come to mind, Abraham, Job, and Noah.
Abraham was a man of faith. He never wavered. Sarah his wife was much the same. When God appeared to them in their old age and told them that they would have a son, Abraham immediately took God at His word. Yes, the birth of a child seemed incredible at their advanced ages but Abraham never doubted Gods’ ability to produce miracles. When God told Abraham to climb the mountain and sacrifice Isaac, he knew God had a plan. Abraham had been told that from him would come many nations, and it could be only through Isaac that Gods’ plan could be completed. That was the kind of faith that Abraham had in our God. Paul wrote of Abraham in Hebrews 6:13-15, that he had patiently endured and has received the promise of the Father.
Job too was a giant of faith. No matter what the devil took from him, he patiently endured in his faith in God, he never wavered. Job lost everything, possessions, children, servants, everything.
Those of you who have suffered the loss of a child know that even though you may eventually have other children, the one that has died can never be replaced. No matter how many other children you may have, the one that has died is forever lost. Unfortunately, I speak from experience in that Mary, my wife, and I lost a child many years ago. God has since provided us with two wonderful children, both now married, but the sense of loss is always with us. How Job endured such a loss can only be explained by his incredible faith in the Lord. Eventually, God provided Job with additional children and restored Jobs’ possessions many times over. If anyone in the Bible ever had cause to doubt, Job is the man.
A third great example of patient endurance is Noah. He too was a man of great faith. God told him to build a boat, not just any boat, but an ark, a huge ark. According to the instructions handed down to Noah by God, it was to be 45 feet high, taller than a four story building. It was to be 75 feet wide and 450 feet long. That is longer than a football field which is 360 feet. This boat was huge! It has been said that it took Noah and his family in the area of 100 years to build the ark. That is endurance! I’m sure that Noah must have encountered the ridicule of his neighbors and friends as he laid out the keel and then the sides. Can you imagine the years of rumors that must have sprung up as the ark took shape on dry ground? But Noah patiently endured.
JESUS IS OUR PERFECT EXAMPLE OF PATIENT ENDURANCE.
Jesus endured the lack of faith in His own disciples. He endured the unbelief of many who would follow Him then fell away. He endured the ridicule and torture of His tormenters. And, He endured the agony of the cross. One thing, among many, that Jesus had which we mortals lack is a perspective of life eternal. He came from heaven, He knew it was His home and He would return there to be with the Father. We too know that there is a heaven, but we as mortals don’t know that much about it. The point is that like us, Jesus was eternal but He knew that He had to endure this world for but a short while in comparison to eternity. We need to take that same eternal perspective and understand that we too must patiently endure for only a little while, eternity awaits.
In the Old Testament there are a number of statements relating to God and His patient endurance, as stated earlier, patience and endurance are godly traits.
In 1 Chronicles 16:34 we are told that the mercy of God endures forever, God is mercy. In the book of Psalms 30:5, we learn that His anger endures a very short time, which is good. Also in Psalms 100:5 it is pointed out to us that His goodness, truth, and righteousness endure forever. These are all godly traits that we as followers of Christ need to adopt.
In Matthew 10:22 Jesus tells us that we will be hated because of our beliefs, but we are reminded that those of us that endure the hardships and hatred of the world will be saved in the end. I don’t personally know anyone who hates me because I love the Lord. But, there are people in this country and around the globe who are biased against the Christian. The vital thing for us believers is to endure patiently with the adversity of hatred in order to receive the prize of eternal life. It will not be taken from those who endure the animosity of the world; rather, the prize is theirs.
We are not to just sit back and twiddle our thumbs and call on God to do all the work. We are to remain active in pursuing the work that He has provided just as Abraham, Moses, and Noah did. These faith giants had a close, intimate relationship with our Lord. That is what God wants with us as well. We should look forward to each day, each moment, and have the faith that God will provide according to His will.
I am an old farm boy and if a farmer knows anything, he knows that after a seed is planted in good soil it may be days or weeks before the plant germinates and emerges from the ground. Patience is called for. Sure, all farmers after waiting a few days after planting a crop will go out to the field to poke a finger or two into the soil to uncover a couple of seeds, especially with soy beans and corn. This way he knows that the seeds have germinated and are starting to grow. But the farmer knows that the harvest is weeks or perhaps months away and there is nothing he can do to hasten the day. Life is a lot like that. We have hopes and aspirations that we want to yield good fruit. Some endeavors will take longer to mature than others; some we see germinate but will never see the mature fruit. Some we will. We must patiently endure the days and weeks, perhaps years before some of our seeds will come to fruition. That is life as God meant it to be.
A few years ago, Mary and I were praying that we might be able to move our family to a larger city, not a big city, but one that was larger than the city of 10,000 population we were in at the time. We prayed for such a move so that if the kids wanted to live close to Mom and Dad when they were grown and had families of their own they would at least have the option in respect to career possibilities to do so. God answered our prayer in a way we could not have imagined. The company I was working for was sold into a city with a metro area of about 80,000. I always thought living in a city of that size would be good, I was right. We love our new home town.
In our newly adopted home the children received a great education in the local school district. They were involved in activities they would never have been involved with in my home town. They both graduated from different but excellent universities. They both are now married to spouses they met while in college. Neither child lives real close to our home but they both have that option if they so desire. Our son Ryan lives in Virginia doing work that he enjoys and for which he is very gifted. Our daughter Jill has chosen rather than to use her degree in elementary education to become a staff member of Campus Crusade for Christ on the Western Kentucky University campus where she graduated. She is only seventy miles from home. It was a good move in all respects for our children.
Keep in mind that the timing of God is perfect; He has never made a mistake. His timetable may take a little longer than we would like, but He is consistent in the fact that His will prevails and it is quite likely His timing is different than our own. It isn’t always easy to wait on the Lord. I am reminded of the person who said, “Lord, give me patience, and give it to me now!” We need to learn to slow down and embrace the quiet assurance that God will act in a perfect manner in His own time and in His own way. All situations in our lives will be resolved according to His perfect will.
Those of you who have or are now in the process of raising children know the patient endurance required. Years of it. Looking back on the years we invested in our children, there is very little I would change with the exception that I would have spent more time with each of them. In my biased opinion we raised two terrific children to adulthood. The experience of child rearing gives me a little bit of a perspective on what God must go through and how he must sometimes feel as he rears us to be committed Christians. It can’t be easy but he never gives up on us. He disciplines those who he loves. He must love us very deeply to put up with our idiosyncrasies, our tantrums, our pouting and shouting. He must care for us very much to feed, clothe, and house us in spite of our rebellion. What an awesome God we have.
When we patiently endure, we are going against human nature, the nature that says to hurry up, don’t just stand there, do something. Unrestrained activity is paralleled with success in life. This is a lie we have been taught from the beginning. We must learn to slow down, quit depending on ourselves and trust in God. He has already, through Jesus Christ, assured us of our salvation; let us look to eternity in our hearts with eternal eyes. Let us learn to wait on God.
3101
INTRODUCTION
Recently, in a book titled Listening for God by Marilyn Hontz, I read a suggestion that I thought had some merit. Mrs. Hontz wrote that beginning several years ago she would, through prayer, ask God for a word or phrase that God wanted her to work on in her life throughout the coming New Year. She said that several suggestions would come to mind, but, by the first day of January, she and God had narrowed it to one. She would then keep that word or phrase in mind throughout the coming year, pray about it, and work on it. He provides the word, and then she works at it. It is work that God has given her to do; it is a gift from God.
I found this to be a very interesting means of allowing God to improve oneself. I thought about this approach for only a moment before I too asked God for a word or phrase I could work on in my life. Almost immediately the phrase “Patient Endurance” came to mind. I can see why God might have made such a suggestion; neither patience nor endurance have been dominating qualities in my life.
I am patient with people most of the time; however, I am almost never patient with machines like copiers, telephones, computers, or any other mechanical device that in some way tries to control or regulate my life. People is a different topic. I like people and do my best to be patient with them knowing that they, like me, are creations of God. My impatience comes in when there is a very laze-faire attitude; I expect commitment from people to some thing or some cause. I detest the current popular saying of “whatever” or “oh well.” Commit yourself to something; get off the fence or out of the middle of the road!
Endurance is another area of my life that could use a little work. I am one that will start a project when it sounds interesting but after a while I tend to lose interest. I tend to give up on something before giving it every chance, every opportunity, and explore every option to bring it to fruition. Then the project gets shoved aside and another one is begun. Eventually I may get back to the first project but not with the same enthusiasm I experienced the first time around.
But “Patient Endurance” is an interesting term. I knew patient, patience, endurance, and persistence, another form of endurance, were all in the Bible but, I could not recall ever seeing the term “Patient Endurance” used anywhere in the Bible. In fact, with patient endurance the term “Patient Endurance” may be found several times in the Bible.
To me, “Patient Endurance” means waiting for God. He has His own schedule, His own timetable. He will work things out for the good of those who love Him as He sees fit in His own time. He will not be rushed; He will not be badgered into acting against His will. If the endeavor we are occupied with is within the will of God, it will come about; God will always see to it that His will prevails. But, we must be patient and endure through the trials of life while we await the promise. The God given gift of faith is required to be patient; one must have faith in the promises of God in order to endure with patience.
Patient endurance is a godly trait. There are a number of passages in the Bible to back up this statement. In the book of Psalms we read that His name will endure (Psalms 72:17). In the same book we read that God will endure forever (Psalms 102:12) and that His glory will endure forever (Psalms 104:31). In Romans 15:5 we read about the God of patience and in Revelation 1:9 we read about the patience of Jesus. To be patient is to act in a godly manner. Throughout history, man has been testing the patience of God, yet the love and mercy of God endures. From the beginning when Eve succumbed to the temptation of being God-like, man has been testing God’s patience. Sodom and Gomorra exceeded the patience of God and perished. Nineveh repented and was saved. Just look at His tolerance with the Israelites in the Old Testament. Time and again they rejected God and His laws. God was patient. Time and again they followed other gods. God was patient. Time and again, they griped and complained. God was patient. The Israelites repeatedly tested the patience of God. Some of them perished, others repented and were saved.
Are we any different? Are we any better than the Israelites? Like a child who constantly tests the limits of his parents, we keep testing the limits of God and in his boundless mercy He forgives us as we repent. We question God and the reality of the salvation provided by His Son. God is patient. We follow other gods, job, money, physical beauty. God is patient. We gripe and complain about the circumstances in which we live or work. God is patient. Can’t we see that God is being patient with us, giving us chance after chance to turn to Him, to submit our lives to Him, to follow Him?
Many of us surrender our lives to Him and expect everything to be rosy. Unfortunately, that is not always Gods’ plan. In spite of our acquiescence to God, we are required to face a wide spectrum of circumstances we must endure throughout our lives; they are a part of life. It isn’t always easy, but endure we must. Some are pleasant, some are not. The most serious of these circumstances is death, the death of friends, of family, and eventually we must face our own demise. We must endure relationships, divorce, rebellious children, financial reversals, job changes, illness, and the list goes on and on. Life is not fair, nor will it ever be. When we are young, we may endure school while others thrive on it. When we are older we may endure a job or the lack of a job while others are content with their station in life. When we are parents we must endure nightly feedings. When we are older we must endure more aches and pains. When we are children, we must endure naps. When we are older we must endure missing a nap now and then. We look around us and we want a bigger house, a nicer car, and a fatter paycheck. We want things that we think will make us happy because other people have them and because they have them, they must be happy. Thinking that things will make us happier, we simply endure a smaller house, an older car, and learn to budget a smaller paycheck No matter who we are, no matter what our social or financial status, all of these circumstances are realities of life that must be endured.
So, what do we do?
We must learn to adopt the trait of patient endurance. When we adopt this godly trait we will be rewarded for all of eternity. In Matthew 24:13 and again in Mark 13:13, Jesus makes a promise to those of us who follow Him to the end. He said that those of us that endure in the faith will be saved. This is a promise from Jesus Himself that those of us who remain anchored in the faith will join the Lord on the day that He calls us home.
Second Timothy 4:3 gives us warning from Paul: Not everyone will be saved. Some will turn to follow false doctrine and false prophets preaching a theology that sounds good but is false, and ultimately fatal. Unless they return to the Truth of Jesus and His resurrection they will be lost. Lost to what? Hell. The world doesn’t like to think about that. Satan likes that, he prefers that humankind deny the existence of hell. It makes his work easier. Throughout scripture we are reminded that hell is real and a lot of people will be lost.
When we look to scripture for human models of patient endurance, three examples immediately come to mind, Abraham, Job, and Noah.
Abraham was a man of faith. He never wavered. Sarah his wife was much the same. When God appeared to them in their old age and told them that they would have a son, Abraham immediately took God at His word. Yes, the birth of a child seemed incredible at their advanced ages but Abraham never doubted Gods’ ability to produce miracles. When God told Abraham to climb the mountain and sacrifice Isaac, he knew God had a plan. Abraham had been told that from him would come many nations, and it could be only through Isaac that Gods’ plan could be completed. That was the kind of faith that Abraham had in our God. Paul wrote of Abraham in Hebrews 6:13-15, that he had patiently endured and has received the promise of the Father.
Job too was a giant of faith. No matter what the devil took from him, he patiently endured in his faith in God, he never wavered. Job lost everything, possessions, children, servants, everything.
Those of you who have suffered the loss of a child know that even though you may eventually have other children, the one that has died can never be replaced. No matter how many other children you may have, the one that has died is forever lost. Unfortunately, I speak from experience in that Mary, my wife, and I lost a child many years ago. God has since provided us with two wonderful children, both now married, but the sense of loss is always with us. How Job endured such a loss can only be explained by his incredible faith in the Lord. Eventually, God provided Job with additional children and restored Jobs’ possessions many times over. If anyone in the Bible ever had cause to doubt, Job is the man.
A third great example of patient endurance is Noah. He too was a man of great faith. God told him to build a boat, not just any boat, but an ark, a huge ark. According to the instructions handed down to Noah by God, it was to be 45 feet high, taller than a four story building. It was to be 75 feet wide and 450 feet long. That is longer than a football field which is 360 feet. This boat was huge! It has been said that it took Noah and his family in the area of 100 years to build the ark. That is endurance! I’m sure that Noah must have encountered the ridicule of his neighbors and friends as he laid out the keel and then the sides. Can you imagine the years of rumors that must have sprung up as the ark took shape on dry ground? But Noah patiently endured.
JESUS IS OUR PERFECT EXAMPLE OF PATIENT ENDURANCE.
Jesus endured the lack of faith in His own disciples. He endured the unbelief of many who would follow Him then fell away. He endured the ridicule and torture of His tormenters. And, He endured the agony of the cross. One thing, among many, that Jesus had which we mortals lack is a perspective of life eternal. He came from heaven, He knew it was His home and He would return there to be with the Father. We too know that there is a heaven, but we as mortals don’t know that much about it. The point is that like us, Jesus was eternal but He knew that He had to endure this world for but a short while in comparison to eternity. We need to take that same eternal perspective and understand that we too must patiently endure for only a little while, eternity awaits.
In the Old Testament there are a number of statements relating to God and His patient endurance, as stated earlier, patience and endurance are godly traits.
In 1 Chronicles 16:34 we are told that the mercy of God endures forever, God is mercy. In the book of Psalms 30:5, we learn that His anger endures a very short time, which is good. Also in Psalms 100:5 it is pointed out to us that His goodness, truth, and righteousness endure forever. These are all godly traits that we as followers of Christ need to adopt.
In Matthew 10:22 Jesus tells us that we will be hated because of our beliefs, but we are reminded that those of us that endure the hardships and hatred of the world will be saved in the end. I don’t personally know anyone who hates me because I love the Lord. But, there are people in this country and around the globe who are biased against the Christian. The vital thing for us believers is to endure patiently with the adversity of hatred in order to receive the prize of eternal life. It will not be taken from those who endure the animosity of the world; rather, the prize is theirs.
We are not to just sit back and twiddle our thumbs and call on God to do all the work. We are to remain active in pursuing the work that He has provided just as Abraham, Moses, and Noah did. These faith giants had a close, intimate relationship with our Lord. That is what God wants with us as well. We should look forward to each day, each moment, and have the faith that God will provide according to His will.
I am an old farm boy and if a farmer knows anything, he knows that after a seed is planted in good soil it may be days or weeks before the plant germinates and emerges from the ground. Patience is called for. Sure, all farmers after waiting a few days after planting a crop will go out to the field to poke a finger or two into the soil to uncover a couple of seeds, especially with soy beans and corn. This way he knows that the seeds have germinated and are starting to grow. But the farmer knows that the harvest is weeks or perhaps months away and there is nothing he can do to hasten the day. Life is a lot like that. We have hopes and aspirations that we want to yield good fruit. Some endeavors will take longer to mature than others; some we see germinate but will never see the mature fruit. Some we will. We must patiently endure the days and weeks, perhaps years before some of our seeds will come to fruition. That is life as God meant it to be.
A few years ago, Mary and I were praying that we might be able to move our family to a larger city, not a big city, but one that was larger than the city of 10,000 population we were in at the time. We prayed for such a move so that if the kids wanted to live close to Mom and Dad when they were grown and had families of their own they would at least have the option in respect to career possibilities to do so. God answered our prayer in a way we could not have imagined. The company I was working for was sold into a city with a metro area of about 80,000. I always thought living in a city of that size would be good, I was right. We love our new home town.
In our newly adopted home the children received a great education in the local school district. They were involved in activities they would never have been involved with in my home town. They both graduated from different but excellent universities. They both are now married to spouses they met while in college. Neither child lives real close to our home but they both have that option if they so desire. Our son Ryan lives in Virginia doing work that he enjoys and for which he is very gifted. Our daughter Jill has chosen rather than to use her degree in elementary education to become a staff member of Campus Crusade for Christ on the Western Kentucky University campus where she graduated. She is only seventy miles from home. It was a good move in all respects for our children.
Keep in mind that the timing of God is perfect; He has never made a mistake. His timetable may take a little longer than we would like, but He is consistent in the fact that His will prevails and it is quite likely His timing is different than our own. It isn’t always easy to wait on the Lord. I am reminded of the person who said, “Lord, give me patience, and give it to me now!” We need to learn to slow down and embrace the quiet assurance that God will act in a perfect manner in His own time and in His own way. All situations in our lives will be resolved according to His perfect will.
Those of you who have or are now in the process of raising children know the patient endurance required. Years of it. Looking back on the years we invested in our children, there is very little I would change with the exception that I would have spent more time with each of them. In my biased opinion we raised two terrific children to adulthood. The experience of child rearing gives me a little bit of a perspective on what God must go through and how he must sometimes feel as he rears us to be committed Christians. It can’t be easy but he never gives up on us. He disciplines those who he loves. He must love us very deeply to put up with our idiosyncrasies, our tantrums, our pouting and shouting. He must care for us very much to feed, clothe, and house us in spite of our rebellion. What an awesome God we have.
When we patiently endure, we are going against human nature, the nature that says to hurry up, don’t just stand there, do something. Unrestrained activity is paralleled with success in life. This is a lie we have been taught from the beginning. We must learn to slow down, quit depending on ourselves and trust in God. He has already, through Jesus Christ, assured us of our salvation; let us look to eternity in our hearts with eternal eyes. Let us learn to wait on God.
HEALTH AIDS
Dentures-To replace the teeth that have departed to the great gum in the sky. We can take them out, brush them, and store them in a glass overnight to fizz.
Hearing aids-to replace our hearing that has deteriorated over time from loud noises such as come from children, soccer games, industrial noise, and wives.
Wigs- to replace the hair that we have seen on the shower floor. This is something that serves a dual purpose of keeping the pate warm in wintertime and shaded in the summer sun assuming we stay out of strong winds.
Glasses- to take back some of the sight that God intended for us to loose over time. Without them we can’t see the wrinkles that are in our spouses or our own faces. She is still as pretty as the day you met. The arms grow shorter so the newspaper must be held out a ways and it would help if the print was larger.
The only facial feature we haven’t tried to correct is the sense of smell (I am ignoring the nose job by a plastic surgeon). It’s probably a good thing.
Loss of memory accompanies old age. I believe this is so that we can forget the bad things and trespasses that have happened to us. We can remember the good things instead.
Hearing aids-to replace our hearing that has deteriorated over time from loud noises such as come from children, soccer games, industrial noise, and wives.
Wigs- to replace the hair that we have seen on the shower floor. This is something that serves a dual purpose of keeping the pate warm in wintertime and shaded in the summer sun assuming we stay out of strong winds.
Glasses- to take back some of the sight that God intended for us to loose over time. Without them we can’t see the wrinkles that are in our spouses or our own faces. She is still as pretty as the day you met. The arms grow shorter so the newspaper must be held out a ways and it would help if the print was larger.
The only facial feature we haven’t tried to correct is the sense of smell (I am ignoring the nose job by a plastic surgeon). It’s probably a good thing.
Loss of memory accompanies old age. I believe this is so that we can forget the bad things and trespasses that have happened to us. We can remember the good things instead.
GOD IS GLORIFIED
GOD IS GLORIFIED
When God is glorified, I am satisfied.
God has implanted within each of us the knowledge of right and wrong. When right is done, God is glorified, and I am satisfied. I am satisfied whenever I know that God is glorified.
When I am satisfied, God is glorified.
God has met all my needs and I give Him thanks. He has glorified Himself in meeting those needs. I am satisfied with what He provides.
Jesus said to pray for anything in accordance with the will of God and He would grant that request so that the Father would be glorified by granting our wants and needs.
When God is satisfied, I am glorified.
For me, this is difficult, not that we don’t have it within ourselves to satisfy God, He has given us that gift, besides, we are washed clean of our sins by the blood of the Lamb. We know what it takes to satisfy God, that is to glorify Him in all we do and say. But, the difficult part for me is to feel worthy of glory. But, it is a promise from God, as co-heirs with Jesus we share in His death, His resurrection, and in His glory.
copyright 2005 Ron Goltry
When God is glorified, I am satisfied.
God has implanted within each of us the knowledge of right and wrong. When right is done, God is glorified, and I am satisfied. I am satisfied whenever I know that God is glorified.
When I am satisfied, God is glorified.
God has met all my needs and I give Him thanks. He has glorified Himself in meeting those needs. I am satisfied with what He provides.
Jesus said to pray for anything in accordance with the will of God and He would grant that request so that the Father would be glorified by granting our wants and needs.
When God is satisfied, I am glorified.
For me, this is difficult, not that we don’t have it within ourselves to satisfy God, He has given us that gift, besides, we are washed clean of our sins by the blood of the Lamb. We know what it takes to satisfy God, that is to glorify Him in all we do and say. But, the difficult part for me is to feel worthy of glory. But, it is a promise from God, as co-heirs with Jesus we share in His death, His resurrection, and in His glory.
copyright 2005 Ron Goltry
FINDING PEACE
FINDING PEACE
For many years I have sought peace. Not necessarily the restful kind, not RIP. After all, God has chosen to leave me here for a while; but the kind of peace that can sustain me through the trials of each day. The kind of peace that will see me through the myriad of obstacles I will confront. This is the same peace and joy promised by Jesus. For years these qualities have eluded me.
At the urging of our pastor I have begun daily reading of the Bible, prayer and devotions. Usually the devotions take place at the beginning of the day to better prepare me for the activities that God will place before me. This devotion period has become an important part of my day.
I perceived that there were two issues remaining, unresolved, between His joy and myself.
The first was the agony and miserable existence I experienced over the years in my job as a product service supervisor for a small electronics firm. The job was trying, to say the least, and pure hell to put it into proper perspective. Each day was chaos, each weekend a welcomed reprieve. There were so many demands that only rarely could I complete one task without others surfacing, demanding immediate attention. If I was on the phone I could hear the tone of other calls coming in that I couldn’t immediately get to and they would soon appear as a little red blinking light indicating that another voice mail was awaiting my attention. People often walked in with additional chores to be looked after. All of them important, all requiring immediate attention.
It has not always been like that. When I was in my previous position I used to drive my fellow workers crazy with my constant whistling. I was always in a good mood and expressed it outwardly through whistling. I hadn’t whistled for 16 years, ever since I came into my supervisory position. There was neither time nor inclination as I was constantly being rushed from one task to another.
It finally occurred to me, keep in mind that I am a little slow at learning, that God had used that job to bring me into a closer relationship with him. He had been trying for years to get my attention, I simply was not listening. Through the chaos, I began to rely on the strength of God to get me through the day. My own strength was gone, spent in a futile effort to keep up with the demands each day brought.
I prayed each morning that God would see me through the day, lead and guide me, to let me walk in His footsteps and surround me with His presence. I asked that He use me as His servant. This prayer helped, but something was still missing, something elusive was not taking place. Yes, my days went better but the chaos continued although not every day and not in the intensity I had previously experienced. But, something was missing.
A couple of weeks ago, I was reading a book called Listening for God by Marilyn Hontz. This book spoke to my heart in that in the book was the suggestion that rather than seeking God’s help to get through the day, I can count on Him to accomplish that, I should have instead been asking God what I could do for Him that day. He will take care of me and my challenges, I simply need to ask him to point out what it is He wants me to accomplish for Him each day. You see, we cannot serve both man and God. In the past I have been worshipping God but serving man. What a frustrating experience. I decided that from then on I will no longer serve man but commit each day in the service of our Lord.
Well, God finally got my attention. I took early retirement from the chaos that was my job. Now, each morning I ask what it is that I may do for Him. I go about the day in the confidence that God is with me. He awakens in me an awareness of His presence, a reminder that He is there looking out for me. Regrettably I still have some of the old man in me and periodically ignore His instructions and avoid a situation which I know may be stressful. But He forgives me and continues to bring about resolutions in a much easier fashion than I could ever have done on my own. Each day I whistle.
The second issue has been with me longer with much more intensity than the job.
For 39 years I have harbored pain and guilt over the death of our son, Little Ron. These emotions never went away. Sometimes they would emerge in an overpowering rage. Tears would bring relief for a while but the pain and the guilt were always just below the surface, constant companions to a grieving father.
Then in March 2005 I was invited to take part in a church retreat called Via de Cristo. The retreat began on Thursday evening and continued through Sunday Evening. It was a great retreat, heightening my awareness of the presence and blessings of the Holy Spirit. The weekend was going well but, by Saturday evening I was wondering to myself what it was that I would be taking home with me from the weekend. Surely there had to be more than I had so far experienced.
Back in our cabin late Saturday evening I was moved to explain to a couple of my cabin mates that I was experiencing the peace of God in my life but was not yet experiencing the joy of the Lord. Months earlier I had achieved the peace of God which had been the subject of a years long quest. Now, I wanted the joy. Jim, Danny and I talked at length and eventually they retired for the night. I went to the front porch to read scripture and write in my journal under a dim night light. After a while, I too retired but didn’t sleep. I prayed to God to help me remove these two barriers that stood between myself and His joy. I would lay there for a while listening for His voice. Only silence came. I tossed and turned, prayed and listened. No response. I believe He was awaiting my confession of my sins of guilt, anger and lack of faith in Him as related to my job and the loss of Little Ron. Finally, I have no idea what time it was early in the morning hours, I got up and went to shave and prepare myself for the following day knowing that soon someone would be coming to awaken us. I went back to bed and finally slept. I will never know how long I slept but sure enough, we were awakened for the days activities.
The day progressed pretty much as had Friday and Saturday. Then late in the afternoon we were handed a piece of paper with the instructions that if there was anything, anything at all, standing between us and God to write it down on that piece of paper. How did they know what I had been wrestling with God all night over? God, to His glory, was giving me His answer to my prayer. We were told that we were going to nail these pieces of paper to the cross. I cannot say I really understood what was going to happen, just as Jesus’ disciples frequently failed to understand what Jesus told them.
We were led to the building that had housed our chapel all weekend, only this time there was something different. Where the altar had previously been now stood a large wooden cross. It finally hit me what we were going to do. God was giving me His answer is a powerful way. He had heard my prayer, my desire to remove these two obstacles (actually my desire to confess of my sins ) to His joy. He was now providing the means to do just that. We were told that each of us could nail our barriers to the cross. Later these pieces of paper would be removed and burned as an offering to God.
We were instructed to nail them gently to the cross, not bury the head of the nail into the wood as that would make it difficult to remove the paper. Most of the guys listened, some so well that their nails fell out shortly after being driven in. When my turn came, it was such an intense experience that I tapped the nail once, twice, then on the third hit I slammed it with determination. After all, God was answering my prayer. The head didn’t go all the way to the wood but the gentleman who handed me the hammer looked at me a little funny.
I returned to my chair and whispered a thank you to God. He had heard my prayer and provided the avenue for me to place the barriers (my sins) into the past. There they will forever remain.
Later that evening, back at the church where the weekend had begun we had kind of a graduation ceremony for those of us who had gone through the Via de Cristo retreat. After each group had been recognized we were asked if any of us had anything we wanted to say. I told my story about my two barriers. I told them of God’s answer to my prayer. I hope the message came through loud and clear how God had heard me and then provided the means to accomplish my desire. I am sure it was His desire as well. It was a powerful message that God used me to deliver. He surely glorified Himself in my eyes that evening.
The next morning, Monday, I arose to partake in devotions. I opened my book, My Utmost For His Highest by Oswald Chambers. The entry for March 7th was titled “The Source of Abundant Joy.” God was talking with me again.
The Monday after the weekend I returned to work. The message light was not blinking. An astounding event considering I had been off work Thursday and Friday for this three and a half day retreat. All day Monday, the light never blinked. When I arrived at work on Tuesday morning, the light was dark. All day Tuesday the light never blinked, was this divine intervention after such a wonderful weekend retreat? I thought about leaving myself a message from another phone just to see if maybe the light was not working properly but I didn’t want to question God. Wednesday it blinked, it wasn’t broken after all. Two whole days and not a single blink? Divine intervention? I don’t know. I do know that over the sixteen years I was in that position there had never been a day that light had not blinked. It rarely went for two hours, let alone two days without blinking for my attention.
For many years I have sought peace. Not necessarily the restful kind, not RIP. After all, God has chosen to leave me here for a while; but the kind of peace that can sustain me through the trials of each day. The kind of peace that will see me through the myriad of obstacles I will confront. This is the same peace and joy promised by Jesus. For years these qualities have eluded me.
At the urging of our pastor I have begun daily reading of the Bible, prayer and devotions. Usually the devotions take place at the beginning of the day to better prepare me for the activities that God will place before me. This devotion period has become an important part of my day.
I perceived that there were two issues remaining, unresolved, between His joy and myself.
The first was the agony and miserable existence I experienced over the years in my job as a product service supervisor for a small electronics firm. The job was trying, to say the least, and pure hell to put it into proper perspective. Each day was chaos, each weekend a welcomed reprieve. There were so many demands that only rarely could I complete one task without others surfacing, demanding immediate attention. If I was on the phone I could hear the tone of other calls coming in that I couldn’t immediately get to and they would soon appear as a little red blinking light indicating that another voice mail was awaiting my attention. People often walked in with additional chores to be looked after. All of them important, all requiring immediate attention.
It has not always been like that. When I was in my previous position I used to drive my fellow workers crazy with my constant whistling. I was always in a good mood and expressed it outwardly through whistling. I hadn’t whistled for 16 years, ever since I came into my supervisory position. There was neither time nor inclination as I was constantly being rushed from one task to another.
It finally occurred to me, keep in mind that I am a little slow at learning, that God had used that job to bring me into a closer relationship with him. He had been trying for years to get my attention, I simply was not listening. Through the chaos, I began to rely on the strength of God to get me through the day. My own strength was gone, spent in a futile effort to keep up with the demands each day brought.
I prayed each morning that God would see me through the day, lead and guide me, to let me walk in His footsteps and surround me with His presence. I asked that He use me as His servant. This prayer helped, but something was still missing, something elusive was not taking place. Yes, my days went better but the chaos continued although not every day and not in the intensity I had previously experienced. But, something was missing.
A couple of weeks ago, I was reading a book called Listening for God by Marilyn Hontz. This book spoke to my heart in that in the book was the suggestion that rather than seeking God’s help to get through the day, I can count on Him to accomplish that, I should have instead been asking God what I could do for Him that day. He will take care of me and my challenges, I simply need to ask him to point out what it is He wants me to accomplish for Him each day. You see, we cannot serve both man and God. In the past I have been worshipping God but serving man. What a frustrating experience. I decided that from then on I will no longer serve man but commit each day in the service of our Lord.
Well, God finally got my attention. I took early retirement from the chaos that was my job. Now, each morning I ask what it is that I may do for Him. I go about the day in the confidence that God is with me. He awakens in me an awareness of His presence, a reminder that He is there looking out for me. Regrettably I still have some of the old man in me and periodically ignore His instructions and avoid a situation which I know may be stressful. But He forgives me and continues to bring about resolutions in a much easier fashion than I could ever have done on my own. Each day I whistle.
The second issue has been with me longer with much more intensity than the job.
For 39 years I have harbored pain and guilt over the death of our son, Little Ron. These emotions never went away. Sometimes they would emerge in an overpowering rage. Tears would bring relief for a while but the pain and the guilt were always just below the surface, constant companions to a grieving father.
Then in March 2005 I was invited to take part in a church retreat called Via de Cristo. The retreat began on Thursday evening and continued through Sunday Evening. It was a great retreat, heightening my awareness of the presence and blessings of the Holy Spirit. The weekend was going well but, by Saturday evening I was wondering to myself what it was that I would be taking home with me from the weekend. Surely there had to be more than I had so far experienced.
Back in our cabin late Saturday evening I was moved to explain to a couple of my cabin mates that I was experiencing the peace of God in my life but was not yet experiencing the joy of the Lord. Months earlier I had achieved the peace of God which had been the subject of a years long quest. Now, I wanted the joy. Jim, Danny and I talked at length and eventually they retired for the night. I went to the front porch to read scripture and write in my journal under a dim night light. After a while, I too retired but didn’t sleep. I prayed to God to help me remove these two barriers that stood between myself and His joy. I would lay there for a while listening for His voice. Only silence came. I tossed and turned, prayed and listened. No response. I believe He was awaiting my confession of my sins of guilt, anger and lack of faith in Him as related to my job and the loss of Little Ron. Finally, I have no idea what time it was early in the morning hours, I got up and went to shave and prepare myself for the following day knowing that soon someone would be coming to awaken us. I went back to bed and finally slept. I will never know how long I slept but sure enough, we were awakened for the days activities.
The day progressed pretty much as had Friday and Saturday. Then late in the afternoon we were handed a piece of paper with the instructions that if there was anything, anything at all, standing between us and God to write it down on that piece of paper. How did they know what I had been wrestling with God all night over? God, to His glory, was giving me His answer to my prayer. We were told that we were going to nail these pieces of paper to the cross. I cannot say I really understood what was going to happen, just as Jesus’ disciples frequently failed to understand what Jesus told them.
We were led to the building that had housed our chapel all weekend, only this time there was something different. Where the altar had previously been now stood a large wooden cross. It finally hit me what we were going to do. God was giving me His answer is a powerful way. He had heard my prayer, my desire to remove these two obstacles (actually my desire to confess of my sins ) to His joy. He was now providing the means to do just that. We were told that each of us could nail our barriers to the cross. Later these pieces of paper would be removed and burned as an offering to God.
We were instructed to nail them gently to the cross, not bury the head of the nail into the wood as that would make it difficult to remove the paper. Most of the guys listened, some so well that their nails fell out shortly after being driven in. When my turn came, it was such an intense experience that I tapped the nail once, twice, then on the third hit I slammed it with determination. After all, God was answering my prayer. The head didn’t go all the way to the wood but the gentleman who handed me the hammer looked at me a little funny.
I returned to my chair and whispered a thank you to God. He had heard my prayer and provided the avenue for me to place the barriers (my sins) into the past. There they will forever remain.
Later that evening, back at the church where the weekend had begun we had kind of a graduation ceremony for those of us who had gone through the Via de Cristo retreat. After each group had been recognized we were asked if any of us had anything we wanted to say. I told my story about my two barriers. I told them of God’s answer to my prayer. I hope the message came through loud and clear how God had heard me and then provided the means to accomplish my desire. I am sure it was His desire as well. It was a powerful message that God used me to deliver. He surely glorified Himself in my eyes that evening.
The next morning, Monday, I arose to partake in devotions. I opened my book, My Utmost For His Highest by Oswald Chambers. The entry for March 7th was titled “The Source of Abundant Joy.” God was talking with me again.
The Monday after the weekend I returned to work. The message light was not blinking. An astounding event considering I had been off work Thursday and Friday for this three and a half day retreat. All day Monday, the light never blinked. When I arrived at work on Tuesday morning, the light was dark. All day Tuesday the light never blinked, was this divine intervention after such a wonderful weekend retreat? I thought about leaving myself a message from another phone just to see if maybe the light was not working properly but I didn’t want to question God. Wednesday it blinked, it wasn’t broken after all. Two whole days and not a single blink? Divine intervention? I don’t know. I do know that over the sixteen years I was in that position there had never been a day that light had not blinked. It rarely went for two hours, let alone two days without blinking for my attention.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Greta
I learned via phone message from my sister, Linda, that our cousin Greta had passed away yesterday. Linda’s message indicated that Greta was in heart surgery and died in the process.
It had been years since I had seen Greta and her three sisters, Doris, Wanda who passed away a few years ago, and the youngest of the quartet, Cindy. They grew up in Texas, we in Kansas. It was a rare occasion that we ever got together so I feel I really missed out on getting to know them and their families. I regret that. I understand that Greta has a couple of children, probably all grown up but I wouldn’t know them if I saw them. That too is regrettable.
I called Linda a little while ago, she said that Greta had a heart condition and the odds of her coming out of the surgery were slim.
I believe our family is a little poorer for her passing and Heaven is a little richer.
It had been years since I had seen Greta and her three sisters, Doris, Wanda who passed away a few years ago, and the youngest of the quartet, Cindy. They grew up in Texas, we in Kansas. It was a rare occasion that we ever got together so I feel I really missed out on getting to know them and their families. I regret that. I understand that Greta has a couple of children, probably all grown up but I wouldn’t know them if I saw them. That too is regrettable.
I called Linda a little while ago, she said that Greta had a heart condition and the odds of her coming out of the surgery were slim.
I believe our family is a little poorer for her passing and Heaven is a little richer.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
One Room Schools
We started school at a one room rural school called Union Valley. It was two miles from the house, one mile south and one mile east. This put it in Neosho County. I attended there from first through third grades.
It was a brick structure with a full basement and indoor plumbing, modern for a rural school in those days. It was kind of a social center for the community with box suppers, student performed plays, and other social activities. We walked to school on nice days and Mom took us to school on rainy or snowy days.
There were about a dozen students from the first through the eighth grades. We said the Pledge of Allegiance each and every day. There was a flag pole out in front of the school. Every morning some privileged student would raise the flag and every evening the flag would be lowered and carefully folded. The bell in the bell tower was the signal that school was beginning and tolled when recess was over.
We had the traditional swings and slide out on the front lawn. We used to take the waxed paper from our sandwiches and sit on it a few times going down the slide. Wow, that made it fast. Speaking of sandwiches, Mom frequently made us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I guess I must have had enough of them, can’t stand peanut butter and jelly in the same sandwich to this day.
I don’t remember what grade I was in when our teacher called myself and a couple of other students up to her desk to read. We did it that way so as not to disturb the other students. I needed to tinkle but was afraid to tell her. We weren’t at her desk very long when finally my little bladder said no more and let go. I yelled at her “see what you made me do” then left a trail all the way to the back where the boys room was located.
Another time I and another student were in the basement painting pictures with Tempera paint. I managed to spill the green paint. I knew the teacher would throw a snit fit if she saw the mess so I started to paint everything on my paper green in an attempt to use up the spilled paint. The sky was green, The grass was green, the tree, the swing in the tree, everything was green. I broke out in a cold sweat when I heard her coming down the steps. Sure enough she through a snit fit. She probably went home that day and took a couple of aspirin.
For the fourth grade we had moved from the home place to another farm south and west a ways. This was an old farm house. It had not been lived in for quite some time so we had a lot of work to do to make it habitable. We painted, papered, and worked our buns off. Dad made a metal chimney for the wood heating stove. We dug two holes for the outhouse so now we could go with a friend if we wanted. There were two barns on the place, we never did anything with them. We had an area west of the house fenced off for a calf. Rod and I got into trouble a couple of times for riding that calf. There was an apple orchard east of the house which required a lot of cleaning to make it look presentable. The garden area between the house and the orchard had been completely overgrown with weeds. We worked for hours cleaning that area out. All the buildings that made up this home are now gone, nothing is left but an empty field.
We went to a one room school called Maple Grove. Miss Travis was our teacher. Maple Grove was an older wooden structure with no plumbing. That means we had a boys and a girls out houses behind the school. It was heated by a wood stove, someone came in early, maybe Miss Travis, to get the building warmed for us before we arrived. Our coats were hung on hooks in the back of the room. We didn’t have a bell tower, simply a hand bell to call the students to school in the morning and at the end of recess. We did have erasers, the kind that when cleaned left a cloud of chalk dust in the air and on the cement steps where they were cleaned.
Along with learning math and English, this is where I learned to fry ants with a magnifying glass. Poor little critters never had a chance.
There were only about eight or ten students there. One of them was a kid a couple of years older than myself. His name was Eddie. I used to call him Teddy Bear which he never liked. One day he told me to never do it again. The next day I did, he grabbed me by the sleeve, hauled me out to the front lawn and punched me in the face. Along with frying ants I learned to never call him Teddy Bear again.
There is now only a field where Maple Grove once stood, there is nothing left to indicate there was ever a school there. That is kind of sad but, Maple Grove met the same fate as thousands of other rural schools spread across the plains.
It was a brick structure with a full basement and indoor plumbing, modern for a rural school in those days. It was kind of a social center for the community with box suppers, student performed plays, and other social activities. We walked to school on nice days and Mom took us to school on rainy or snowy days.
There were about a dozen students from the first through the eighth grades. We said the Pledge of Allegiance each and every day. There was a flag pole out in front of the school. Every morning some privileged student would raise the flag and every evening the flag would be lowered and carefully folded. The bell in the bell tower was the signal that school was beginning and tolled when recess was over.
We had the traditional swings and slide out on the front lawn. We used to take the waxed paper from our sandwiches and sit on it a few times going down the slide. Wow, that made it fast. Speaking of sandwiches, Mom frequently made us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I guess I must have had enough of them, can’t stand peanut butter and jelly in the same sandwich to this day.
I don’t remember what grade I was in when our teacher called myself and a couple of other students up to her desk to read. We did it that way so as not to disturb the other students. I needed to tinkle but was afraid to tell her. We weren’t at her desk very long when finally my little bladder said no more and let go. I yelled at her “see what you made me do” then left a trail all the way to the back where the boys room was located.
Another time I and another student were in the basement painting pictures with Tempera paint. I managed to spill the green paint. I knew the teacher would throw a snit fit if she saw the mess so I started to paint everything on my paper green in an attempt to use up the spilled paint. The sky was green, The grass was green, the tree, the swing in the tree, everything was green. I broke out in a cold sweat when I heard her coming down the steps. Sure enough she through a snit fit. She probably went home that day and took a couple of aspirin.
For the fourth grade we had moved from the home place to another farm south and west a ways. This was an old farm house. It had not been lived in for quite some time so we had a lot of work to do to make it habitable. We painted, papered, and worked our buns off. Dad made a metal chimney for the wood heating stove. We dug two holes for the outhouse so now we could go with a friend if we wanted. There were two barns on the place, we never did anything with them. We had an area west of the house fenced off for a calf. Rod and I got into trouble a couple of times for riding that calf. There was an apple orchard east of the house which required a lot of cleaning to make it look presentable. The garden area between the house and the orchard had been completely overgrown with weeds. We worked for hours cleaning that area out. All the buildings that made up this home are now gone, nothing is left but an empty field.
We went to a one room school called Maple Grove. Miss Travis was our teacher. Maple Grove was an older wooden structure with no plumbing. That means we had a boys and a girls out houses behind the school. It was heated by a wood stove, someone came in early, maybe Miss Travis, to get the building warmed for us before we arrived. Our coats were hung on hooks in the back of the room. We didn’t have a bell tower, simply a hand bell to call the students to school in the morning and at the end of recess. We did have erasers, the kind that when cleaned left a cloud of chalk dust in the air and on the cement steps where they were cleaned.
Along with learning math and English, this is where I learned to fry ants with a magnifying glass. Poor little critters never had a chance.
There were only about eight or ten students there. One of them was a kid a couple of years older than myself. His name was Eddie. I used to call him Teddy Bear which he never liked. One day he told me to never do it again. The next day I did, he grabbed me by the sleeve, hauled me out to the front lawn and punched me in the face. Along with frying ants I learned to never call him Teddy Bear again.
There is now only a field where Maple Grove once stood, there is nothing left to indicate there was ever a school there. That is kind of sad but, Maple Grove met the same fate as thousands of other rural schools spread across the plains.
Zion Methodist Church
The church we grew up in was Zion Methodist Church. It was a small country church located at the intersection of two gravel roads kitty-corner from the cemetery. The church wasn’t real fancy, but then it didn’t have to be for God to bless us anyway.
Heated in the winter with a wood stove and cooled in the summer by open windows, it was an old wooden structure. It wasn’t uncommon for an intruding wasp to infringe on our worship service and Sunday School. The only means of cooling the church building were open windows, four on the north and four on the south sides and the double doors on the east. Along with this natural ventilation we had fans. Not the electric type that hung from the ceiling, but the hand type that was in each pew. They always had the name and logo of a local funeral home printed on one side. On the reverse side was a picture of an angel looking over the children. The handle, much like a wooden tongue depressor, was stapled to the cardboard.
The pews were made of wood, a row down each side and a third row in the middle. I was young enough that when we sat in the pews my feet wouldn’t touch the floor. I would occasionally feel a tap from Mom to get me to quit swinging my feet back and forth.
Our preacher was a fellow named Judd Jones; we shared him with the big Methodist church in town. He came to our church every other Sunday to deliver a sermon. Those were the services that for us kids seemed to last for ever so we would do our best to talk Mom and Dad out of going on those particular Sundays. Sometimes we were successful, most of the time we were not.
On those Sundays when Doctor Jones was not there one of the adults would lead us in a couple of songs, a couple of prayers then we had Sunday School. Broken up into three or four groups by age, we all met in the same building. It must have been somewhat noisy in there with three or four groups going at once but it worked.
The church hosted various events occasionally. Along with our summer Bible School and Christmas Eve service was the annual bazaar. This was a much anticipated event where all kinds of donated items were auctioned off to raise funds for the church. The Ladies Aid made quilts to be sold at the annual church bazaar. People came from miles around. People who attended other churches would show up, not for the bargains, but for the fellowship. There was an old fashioned bonnet, the kind worn by ladies in the early west, which was a perennial favorite of everyone at the bazaar. It was light blue with white polka dots. This bonnet sold at least once at each bazaar and would return year after year to be auctioned off again. The crowd would always applaud when the auctioneer brought the bonnet out, and roar with laughter when he put it on his head to demonstrate the bonnet. It became a much anticipated traditional article at our annual bazaar.
All that was a long time ago, gone is the bonnet, gone is the bazaar, gone is Zion Methodist Church. The congregation dwindled and the building was moved into town and is now the sanctuary of another church. All have evaporated into the past never to return.
God was with us in that church. Unlike the bonnet, He isn’t going to go away. Unlike the congregation, He is not going to evaporate into the past. By His grace, by His mercy He is with us. He was with us in the past, He is with us today, and He will be with us tomorrow. Let us remember and give thanks for the many ways He has blessed each of our lives.
Heated in the winter with a wood stove and cooled in the summer by open windows, it was an old wooden structure. It wasn’t uncommon for an intruding wasp to infringe on our worship service and Sunday School. The only means of cooling the church building were open windows, four on the north and four on the south sides and the double doors on the east. Along with this natural ventilation we had fans. Not the electric type that hung from the ceiling, but the hand type that was in each pew. They always had the name and logo of a local funeral home printed on one side. On the reverse side was a picture of an angel looking over the children. The handle, much like a wooden tongue depressor, was stapled to the cardboard.
The pews were made of wood, a row down each side and a third row in the middle. I was young enough that when we sat in the pews my feet wouldn’t touch the floor. I would occasionally feel a tap from Mom to get me to quit swinging my feet back and forth.
Our preacher was a fellow named Judd Jones; we shared him with the big Methodist church in town. He came to our church every other Sunday to deliver a sermon. Those were the services that for us kids seemed to last for ever so we would do our best to talk Mom and Dad out of going on those particular Sundays. Sometimes we were successful, most of the time we were not.
On those Sundays when Doctor Jones was not there one of the adults would lead us in a couple of songs, a couple of prayers then we had Sunday School. Broken up into three or four groups by age, we all met in the same building. It must have been somewhat noisy in there with three or four groups going at once but it worked.
The church hosted various events occasionally. Along with our summer Bible School and Christmas Eve service was the annual bazaar. This was a much anticipated event where all kinds of donated items were auctioned off to raise funds for the church. The Ladies Aid made quilts to be sold at the annual church bazaar. People came from miles around. People who attended other churches would show up, not for the bargains, but for the fellowship. There was an old fashioned bonnet, the kind worn by ladies in the early west, which was a perennial favorite of everyone at the bazaar. It was light blue with white polka dots. This bonnet sold at least once at each bazaar and would return year after year to be auctioned off again. The crowd would always applaud when the auctioneer brought the bonnet out, and roar with laughter when he put it on his head to demonstrate the bonnet. It became a much anticipated traditional article at our annual bazaar.
All that was a long time ago, gone is the bonnet, gone is the bazaar, gone is Zion Methodist Church. The congregation dwindled and the building was moved into town and is now the sanctuary of another church. All have evaporated into the past never to return.
God was with us in that church. Unlike the bonnet, He isn’t going to go away. Unlike the congregation, He is not going to evaporate into the past. By His grace, by His mercy He is with us. He was with us in the past, He is with us today, and He will be with us tomorrow. Let us remember and give thanks for the many ways He has blessed each of our lives.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
On the Farm
The home place was on the Wilson County side of the Wilson/Neosho County Kansas line. At the time we lived there, it was bordered on the South by a very busy highway which has since been moved two miles north leaving the road in front of the home place the distinction of being a secondary country lane. Even though we were next to Neosho County it always seemed a little more urbane than Wilson County. I guess it was because Chanute was in Neosho County and farming was in Wilson County.
I don’t know who built the house. It was lived in by four generations of Goltry’s, starting with my great grandfather. There was another farm house about a quarter mile north of the home place, Dad tells me he lived there from the age of two, about 1924, to age 14. At that time my Grandpa Goltry moved his family into the home place.
The house had three bedrooms upstairs. Downstairs was the kitchen, living room, a parlor that Mom and Dad used as a bedroom and a bedroom which all three of us kids used when we first lived there.
Grandma Goltry occupied the top floor. She sat every day in her rocking chair next to the window reading her bible. Dad says Grandma Goltry was a wonderful person, very kind and gentle which is the way I remember her. She passed away when I was about ten years old.
Grandpa Goltry died when I was quite young, I don’t remember him at all. His family was so poor they farmed Grandpa out to a family named Cook. I have heard my dad mention Granddad Cook on many occasions. The Cooks lived on the farm north of the home place, the same place where Grandpa Goltry had his family for about twelve years.
In about 1955 our family moved to another farm about five miles southwest of the home place. About a year later Grandma Goltry passed away and we returned to the Goltry family farm. My brother Rod and I occupied the room that Grandma had used for a kitchen/sitting room. Our sister Linda used the same bedroom that Grandma had used. Dad converted the bedroom we kids had earlier occupied downstairs into a bathroom. Wow, indoor plumbing, no more going to the out house on cold winter nights.
There was a third bedroom upstairs that remained vacant for several years until I decided I wanted it for myself. Mom helped me fix it up so it was my room. We had not used it before because it was the coldest room in the house; it was on the north side. There was no insulation and it was not uncommon to wake up on a cold winter morning with ice on the inside of the windows.
The house was heated with a Warm Morning wood stove in the living room. We usually grabbed our clothes on cold mornings and dressed by the stove. There were a couple of vents through the floor to the ceiling on the first floor but the north room had none, I guess that is why it remained unheated. Each winter Mom nailed plastic from the hardware store over the downstairs windows, kind of a poor man’s storm window. The upstairs windows could not be easily reached so they remained uncovered.
We knew nothing about air conditioning. I remember a couple of hot summer nights when it was too warm in the house to sleep so we all took our blankets outside and slept on the hay rack looking up at the stars. Later Dad brought home a water cooler, a device that circulated water over a fibrous material that covered three sides of the cooler. Air was sucked in through this material by a squirrel cage fan and blown into the house. This evaporation provided cooling through the east kitchen window. Felt pretty good.
The only trees in the yard were about a half dozen cedars. Kind of ugly but not much fun to climb. The sap would get all over your hands and nothing could wash it off. They provided wonderful shade though, especially on those hot Kansas summer days. It was fun to lie on the grass under the trees and let the gentle summer breeze flow over you. Lemonade tasted wonderful in the shade of those trees.
We had a large patch of iris in the north eastern corner of the yard. We had iris of all colors and shades. Each year Mom would invite us kids to help her pull the grass out of the iris. I hate iris to this day.
There was a honeysuckle bush growing up over the screens of the front porch so that when the wind blew in from the south, the smell of honeysuckle permeated the house. We rarely used this porch, the main entrance was our back porch. We later enclosed the front porch with windows and build a brick sidewalk to it from the main sidewalk that went to the back porch. Mom wanted everyone to start entering through the front which led to the living room, but as I recall all our family and friends continued using the back porch and entered the house through the kitchen.
We got drinking water from a well out in the pasture. Originally our only running water in the house was the cold water spigot in the kitchen sink. Our bath water was heated on the gas kitchen range then poured into the bathtub which was set in the middle of the kitchen floor. It was always nice to be the first to use the bath water.
We raised rabbits to sell and ate a lot of them ourselves. I once came running into the house after visiting the rabbit hutches yelling to Mom that there were baby mice in with one of the rabbits. She explained that those were baby rabbits. That is when I learned that there is no such thing as just two rabbits.
Our sandbox was right next to the iris patch. We spent many hours making roads and towns and then driving on them with our cars. We made a lot of our sandbox toys. We used some of Dad’s tools to make tractors and plows. We would then get the sand wet and plow our fields. The wheels for the tractors came from store bought toy tractors which eventually wore out. The plows were made from tin cans.
The garden was to the north of the yard. Each year we would plant sweet corn, green beans, onions and radishes along with others I cannot remember. One section of the garden was planted in strawberries which provided us with that wonderful fruit year after year. Mom would use a pressure cooker to can the corn and beans for consumption during the winter. In the corner of the garden was a pear tree. Not much of one but a pear tree. Once in a while we would get a few pears off of it and eat them right there.
The field to the east of the house was usually rented out to the neighbor who planted wheat and once in a while we got to ride in the trailer while he harvested it. Then a gas company put a pipeline through the middle of the field. In order to build the pipeline it was necessary to blast through the rock which was not far under the topsoil. We picked up rocks every weekend forever.
Our barn was a large red wooden structure. It had stalls for about 6 cows for milking but the most I ever saw used was two. There was a large area used for storing hay, not a hay loft but a large area from the cement floor up. There was an area elevated above all else, accessed by a ladder. It was lined with some kind of galvanized metal. I assume the metal was to keep mice and rats out of the grain stored up there. I never saw anything up there other than my brother, sister and myself. Rod and I would on a rare occasion find some corn tassels, wrap them up in corn husks like a cigarette and smoke them. They weren’t very good. We are lucky we didn’t burn the barn down. On other days we would jump from the highest small window to the rocks below, was a wonder we didn’t shatter our ankles.
Our cousin Lyle visited one day and brought his BB gun. Lyle, Rod, and I went to the barn and had a BB gun fight. We were lucky none of us hit the other, ever. Poor aim and chicken spirits that hid behind bales of hay saved us from the pain of a BB strike.
Most of the time we had a Guernsey for milk. Dad milked her until Rod and I were old enough then he bought a Holstein so that each of us had a cow to milk and Dad stayed in the house. Each morning and evening we would trudge out to the barn and milk the cows. Rod took the Guernsey, I the Holstein. He was on the other side of my cow so I could squirt him once in a while. The cows always walked to the same stalls, I guess they just knew where they were supposed to be. We always had barn cats and we would try to squirt them in the mouth. They didn’t seem to mind our bad aim. We had an old sprayer that we used on the cows before milking them. It had some kind of liquid in it that killed the flies on contact. This saved a lot of slaps in the face from the cow’s tail. Milking always looked like fun when Dad did it. It wasn’t much fun once I had to do it twice a day.
What we called the garage was more a work shop. Dad had all his tools and a welder in there. I don’t recall ever seeing a car parked in the garage. We used to throw a softball over the garage to play “Anty Over”. There was a basketball goal mounted near the top of the front of the garage where we played for hours even though our court was the gravel driveway. The roof of the garage was made of galvanized steel with a sharp edge on each side of the backboard. We went through many a basketball whenever our aim was off, which was often, and the ball was sliced open on the sharp edge.
The driveway was circular with a water well and old hand pump in the center. The water wasn’t good for drinking but it certainly felt cool on a hot summer day.
At one time the yard was fenced but during a 4-H project we pulled it all up and Mom mowed our yard which was huge. She not only mowed the yard but the ditches too. She would come in for supper at night after mowing and sit down on one of the benches we had at the table and proceed to pass out from too much heat. Scared us to death, we thought she had died.
Mom had some flowers in a bed near the back door. She had trouble understanding why they would not grow well in that location until she learned that Rod and I were afraid to go all the way to the out house in the dark.
It seemed like we had a lot of snow back then, a lot more than we do today. It would frequently get up to our knees whereas today we rarely have a snowfall that will be above the ankles. Then again, when you are three feet tall it doesn’t have to be very deep to come up to one’s knees. We would build snow men and forts of snow. We worked furiously gathering snowballs for ammunition. After the ammo was gone we would gather more and go at it again and again. After a while we would tire of the game and destroy each others forts and the game would be over. Time to go to the house, take off the wet boots and mittens and warm up.
At the north edge of the eighty acres was a small pond. Dad took us fishing there on many an occasion. We would catch catfish and blue gills. Usually we used worms as bait or an occasional unlucky grasshopper. There were a number of willow trees along the dam which was on the north side of the pond. We never swam in the pond, for some reason whenever we went swimming we went to the neighbors pond. They lived kitty-corner from the home place. That is where Dad taught us to swim. It was a little bigger than our own. We did learn to ice skate on our pond in our rubber boots in the winter.
There was a meadow in the North West corner of the home place, probably about twenty acres in size. Rarely did we go there except in the summer to bale hay. On those days it was always hot. Rabbits would come running out of the tall grass ahead of the mower. By the time the baler came around the rabbits had found a new home elsewhere, probably in the hedge row that ran along the north and west edges of the meadow.
On a rare occasion we would walk out to the meadow but it seemed so far removed from the house. Once, in a childish snit, I decided I was going to run away from home. I made it as far as the meadow and for whatever reason turned around and went home. No one even knew I was gone.
The first television we had was a black and white. Back then they were all black and white. The picture was very snowy, sometimes impossible to see. We had our favorite shows, Tales of the Texas Rangers was tops. Rod and I would do our best to imitate them using garden hoes for horses with belts for reins. We tied them up to the hitching rail which doubled as a shoe scraper. With our straw cowboy hats and Roy Rogers guns, one on each side, we probably were quite a sight. Another favorite TV show was Howdy Doody with Buffalo Bob and Clarabell the clown. Howdy had a cute little puppet friend named Dilly Dally. He was my favorite. Howdy Doody first aired the day I was born. I didn’t know there was TV before I was born.
Summer seemed to last forever back then. It was different than now, we had four months off during the summer. This was a hold over from earlier times and allowed the kids to help out on the farm during the active months. We played for hours. We had plastic cowboys and Indians, horses and corrals.
We had a good childhood, Mom was at home with us most of the time. Only when we got older did she go to work. We helped around the farm doing chores. We always had a cow for milk and chickens for eggs. Mom separated the milk and cream and sold some of it. She also made home made butter which was white and she colored it with a yellow powder so it didn’t look like lard. She also made homemade cottage cheese, it was yucky. We never needed anything, everything we needed was provided by our parents. We didn’t always have what we wanted but we never needed anything.
As children we always looked forward to Christmas on the farm, that was a special time of year. Once we popped corn and strung it on thread for a garland on the tree. We awoke the following morning to corn crumbs left behind by mice. The only Christmas that wasn’t any fun was the one that we found all our Christmas presents while Mom and Dad were gone one day. There were no surprises and we felt rotten.
Mom made Rod and I hand puppets using the tube from a roll of toilet paper and cloth. Mine was named Jim. Jim and I spent hours together, he was my best friend. I still have Jim. He sits in my office watching as I write, read, and generally piddle. Mom also made Linda a doll house out of orange crates and papered the walls with fabric pictures from the Wards catalog.
My first bicycle was a small belt driven device. Someone probably gave it to us. By then Rod and Linda had their bikes, nice shiny bikes with 24 inch wheels. Rod’s was red, Linda’s was blue. Later I got mine, a nice shiny red one. We rode the heck out of those bikes, first on the farm then later to school. When Rod and I got our first job at a greyhound farm we would ride them to work on Saturday mornings.
It has been over fifty years since we moved off the home place and I have no idea what the neighbors call it now, but in my heart it will always be the Goltry place. Contained within the four walls of that house and in the eighty acres it sits on are a lifetime of memories of childhood. We enjoyed long summers, shade trees, Christmas, and all the normal memories of childhood. It was a good lesson for all three of us. To the rest of the world it looks just like any other old farm house on a rural road. To me it looks like home.
I don’t know who built the house. It was lived in by four generations of Goltry’s, starting with my great grandfather. There was another farm house about a quarter mile north of the home place, Dad tells me he lived there from the age of two, about 1924, to age 14. At that time my Grandpa Goltry moved his family into the home place.
The house had three bedrooms upstairs. Downstairs was the kitchen, living room, a parlor that Mom and Dad used as a bedroom and a bedroom which all three of us kids used when we first lived there.
Grandma Goltry occupied the top floor. She sat every day in her rocking chair next to the window reading her bible. Dad says Grandma Goltry was a wonderful person, very kind and gentle which is the way I remember her. She passed away when I was about ten years old.
Grandpa Goltry died when I was quite young, I don’t remember him at all. His family was so poor they farmed Grandpa out to a family named Cook. I have heard my dad mention Granddad Cook on many occasions. The Cooks lived on the farm north of the home place, the same place where Grandpa Goltry had his family for about twelve years.
In about 1955 our family moved to another farm about five miles southwest of the home place. About a year later Grandma Goltry passed away and we returned to the Goltry family farm. My brother Rod and I occupied the room that Grandma had used for a kitchen/sitting room. Our sister Linda used the same bedroom that Grandma had used. Dad converted the bedroom we kids had earlier occupied downstairs into a bathroom. Wow, indoor plumbing, no more going to the out house on cold winter nights.
There was a third bedroom upstairs that remained vacant for several years until I decided I wanted it for myself. Mom helped me fix it up so it was my room. We had not used it before because it was the coldest room in the house; it was on the north side. There was no insulation and it was not uncommon to wake up on a cold winter morning with ice on the inside of the windows.
The house was heated with a Warm Morning wood stove in the living room. We usually grabbed our clothes on cold mornings and dressed by the stove. There were a couple of vents through the floor to the ceiling on the first floor but the north room had none, I guess that is why it remained unheated. Each winter Mom nailed plastic from the hardware store over the downstairs windows, kind of a poor man’s storm window. The upstairs windows could not be easily reached so they remained uncovered.
We knew nothing about air conditioning. I remember a couple of hot summer nights when it was too warm in the house to sleep so we all took our blankets outside and slept on the hay rack looking up at the stars. Later Dad brought home a water cooler, a device that circulated water over a fibrous material that covered three sides of the cooler. Air was sucked in through this material by a squirrel cage fan and blown into the house. This evaporation provided cooling through the east kitchen window. Felt pretty good.
The only trees in the yard were about a half dozen cedars. Kind of ugly but not much fun to climb. The sap would get all over your hands and nothing could wash it off. They provided wonderful shade though, especially on those hot Kansas summer days. It was fun to lie on the grass under the trees and let the gentle summer breeze flow over you. Lemonade tasted wonderful in the shade of those trees.
We had a large patch of iris in the north eastern corner of the yard. We had iris of all colors and shades. Each year Mom would invite us kids to help her pull the grass out of the iris. I hate iris to this day.
There was a honeysuckle bush growing up over the screens of the front porch so that when the wind blew in from the south, the smell of honeysuckle permeated the house. We rarely used this porch, the main entrance was our back porch. We later enclosed the front porch with windows and build a brick sidewalk to it from the main sidewalk that went to the back porch. Mom wanted everyone to start entering through the front which led to the living room, but as I recall all our family and friends continued using the back porch and entered the house through the kitchen.
We got drinking water from a well out in the pasture. Originally our only running water in the house was the cold water spigot in the kitchen sink. Our bath water was heated on the gas kitchen range then poured into the bathtub which was set in the middle of the kitchen floor. It was always nice to be the first to use the bath water.
We raised rabbits to sell and ate a lot of them ourselves. I once came running into the house after visiting the rabbit hutches yelling to Mom that there were baby mice in with one of the rabbits. She explained that those were baby rabbits. That is when I learned that there is no such thing as just two rabbits.
Our sandbox was right next to the iris patch. We spent many hours making roads and towns and then driving on them with our cars. We made a lot of our sandbox toys. We used some of Dad’s tools to make tractors and plows. We would then get the sand wet and plow our fields. The wheels for the tractors came from store bought toy tractors which eventually wore out. The plows were made from tin cans.
The garden was to the north of the yard. Each year we would plant sweet corn, green beans, onions and radishes along with others I cannot remember. One section of the garden was planted in strawberries which provided us with that wonderful fruit year after year. Mom would use a pressure cooker to can the corn and beans for consumption during the winter. In the corner of the garden was a pear tree. Not much of one but a pear tree. Once in a while we would get a few pears off of it and eat them right there.
The field to the east of the house was usually rented out to the neighbor who planted wheat and once in a while we got to ride in the trailer while he harvested it. Then a gas company put a pipeline through the middle of the field. In order to build the pipeline it was necessary to blast through the rock which was not far under the topsoil. We picked up rocks every weekend forever.
Our barn was a large red wooden structure. It had stalls for about 6 cows for milking but the most I ever saw used was two. There was a large area used for storing hay, not a hay loft but a large area from the cement floor up. There was an area elevated above all else, accessed by a ladder. It was lined with some kind of galvanized metal. I assume the metal was to keep mice and rats out of the grain stored up there. I never saw anything up there other than my brother, sister and myself. Rod and I would on a rare occasion find some corn tassels, wrap them up in corn husks like a cigarette and smoke them. They weren’t very good. We are lucky we didn’t burn the barn down. On other days we would jump from the highest small window to the rocks below, was a wonder we didn’t shatter our ankles.
Our cousin Lyle visited one day and brought his BB gun. Lyle, Rod, and I went to the barn and had a BB gun fight. We were lucky none of us hit the other, ever. Poor aim and chicken spirits that hid behind bales of hay saved us from the pain of a BB strike.
Most of the time we had a Guernsey for milk. Dad milked her until Rod and I were old enough then he bought a Holstein so that each of us had a cow to milk and Dad stayed in the house. Each morning and evening we would trudge out to the barn and milk the cows. Rod took the Guernsey, I the Holstein. He was on the other side of my cow so I could squirt him once in a while. The cows always walked to the same stalls, I guess they just knew where they were supposed to be. We always had barn cats and we would try to squirt them in the mouth. They didn’t seem to mind our bad aim. We had an old sprayer that we used on the cows before milking them. It had some kind of liquid in it that killed the flies on contact. This saved a lot of slaps in the face from the cow’s tail. Milking always looked like fun when Dad did it. It wasn’t much fun once I had to do it twice a day.
What we called the garage was more a work shop. Dad had all his tools and a welder in there. I don’t recall ever seeing a car parked in the garage. We used to throw a softball over the garage to play “Anty Over”. There was a basketball goal mounted near the top of the front of the garage where we played for hours even though our court was the gravel driveway. The roof of the garage was made of galvanized steel with a sharp edge on each side of the backboard. We went through many a basketball whenever our aim was off, which was often, and the ball was sliced open on the sharp edge.
The driveway was circular with a water well and old hand pump in the center. The water wasn’t good for drinking but it certainly felt cool on a hot summer day.
At one time the yard was fenced but during a 4-H project we pulled it all up and Mom mowed our yard which was huge. She not only mowed the yard but the ditches too. She would come in for supper at night after mowing and sit down on one of the benches we had at the table and proceed to pass out from too much heat. Scared us to death, we thought she had died.
Mom had some flowers in a bed near the back door. She had trouble understanding why they would not grow well in that location until she learned that Rod and I were afraid to go all the way to the out house in the dark.
It seemed like we had a lot of snow back then, a lot more than we do today. It would frequently get up to our knees whereas today we rarely have a snowfall that will be above the ankles. Then again, when you are three feet tall it doesn’t have to be very deep to come up to one’s knees. We would build snow men and forts of snow. We worked furiously gathering snowballs for ammunition. After the ammo was gone we would gather more and go at it again and again. After a while we would tire of the game and destroy each others forts and the game would be over. Time to go to the house, take off the wet boots and mittens and warm up.
At the north edge of the eighty acres was a small pond. Dad took us fishing there on many an occasion. We would catch catfish and blue gills. Usually we used worms as bait or an occasional unlucky grasshopper. There were a number of willow trees along the dam which was on the north side of the pond. We never swam in the pond, for some reason whenever we went swimming we went to the neighbors pond. They lived kitty-corner from the home place. That is where Dad taught us to swim. It was a little bigger than our own. We did learn to ice skate on our pond in our rubber boots in the winter.
There was a meadow in the North West corner of the home place, probably about twenty acres in size. Rarely did we go there except in the summer to bale hay. On those days it was always hot. Rabbits would come running out of the tall grass ahead of the mower. By the time the baler came around the rabbits had found a new home elsewhere, probably in the hedge row that ran along the north and west edges of the meadow.
On a rare occasion we would walk out to the meadow but it seemed so far removed from the house. Once, in a childish snit, I decided I was going to run away from home. I made it as far as the meadow and for whatever reason turned around and went home. No one even knew I was gone.
The first television we had was a black and white. Back then they were all black and white. The picture was very snowy, sometimes impossible to see. We had our favorite shows, Tales of the Texas Rangers was tops. Rod and I would do our best to imitate them using garden hoes for horses with belts for reins. We tied them up to the hitching rail which doubled as a shoe scraper. With our straw cowboy hats and Roy Rogers guns, one on each side, we probably were quite a sight. Another favorite TV show was Howdy Doody with Buffalo Bob and Clarabell the clown. Howdy had a cute little puppet friend named Dilly Dally. He was my favorite. Howdy Doody first aired the day I was born. I didn’t know there was TV before I was born.
Summer seemed to last forever back then. It was different than now, we had four months off during the summer. This was a hold over from earlier times and allowed the kids to help out on the farm during the active months. We played for hours. We had plastic cowboys and Indians, horses and corrals.
We had a good childhood, Mom was at home with us most of the time. Only when we got older did she go to work. We helped around the farm doing chores. We always had a cow for milk and chickens for eggs. Mom separated the milk and cream and sold some of it. She also made home made butter which was white and she colored it with a yellow powder so it didn’t look like lard. She also made homemade cottage cheese, it was yucky. We never needed anything, everything we needed was provided by our parents. We didn’t always have what we wanted but we never needed anything.
As children we always looked forward to Christmas on the farm, that was a special time of year. Once we popped corn and strung it on thread for a garland on the tree. We awoke the following morning to corn crumbs left behind by mice. The only Christmas that wasn’t any fun was the one that we found all our Christmas presents while Mom and Dad were gone one day. There were no surprises and we felt rotten.
Mom made Rod and I hand puppets using the tube from a roll of toilet paper and cloth. Mine was named Jim. Jim and I spent hours together, he was my best friend. I still have Jim. He sits in my office watching as I write, read, and generally piddle. Mom also made Linda a doll house out of orange crates and papered the walls with fabric pictures from the Wards catalog.
My first bicycle was a small belt driven device. Someone probably gave it to us. By then Rod and Linda had their bikes, nice shiny bikes with 24 inch wheels. Rod’s was red, Linda’s was blue. Later I got mine, a nice shiny red one. We rode the heck out of those bikes, first on the farm then later to school. When Rod and I got our first job at a greyhound farm we would ride them to work on Saturday mornings.
It has been over fifty years since we moved off the home place and I have no idea what the neighbors call it now, but in my heart it will always be the Goltry place. Contained within the four walls of that house and in the eighty acres it sits on are a lifetime of memories of childhood. We enjoyed long summers, shade trees, Christmas, and all the normal memories of childhood. It was a good lesson for all three of us. To the rest of the world it looks just like any other old farm house on a rural road. To me it looks like home.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Animal Gifts
Some years ago, near Lake Wannabe, on a warm summer day, as was their practice every day, several animal friends got together. They were the best of friends, always enjoying each other’s company. There was a frog, a horse, an eagle, a fish, and a wise old owl in the group.
Because they were such good friends, they could talk about just any topic that they wanted to discuss. On this particular day, the discussion was centered around what they liked to do and what they would like to do.
The frog said to the horse, I like to hop across the land, a little at a time. Hop, hop, hop. But I want to move swiftly across the land like you do, so fast and so gracefully, can you teach me to run? And I asked, “Me too?”
And the owl just shook his head.
The horse said to the eagle, I like to run across the land, I love the wind in my face and the smell of the wild flowers as I rush through the meadow. But, I love to watch you soar high above the land, higher than anything I have ever seen. The view of the earth below must be magnificent from up there, so free and unencumbered from the land.
Can you teach me to fly? And I asked, “Me too?”
And the owl just shook his head.
The eagle said to the fish, I like to fly and soar high above the land, but I want to see what you see below the surface of the water, I want to see the other fishes and water plants.
Can you teach me to swim? And I asked, “Me too?”
And the owl just shook his head.
The fish said to the frog, I can swim with the best of them in my school but, I want a closer look at the land. I want to smell the flowers and fresh air of a summer breeze. Can you teach me to hop? And I asked, “Me too?”
And the owl just shook his head.
All agreed they would help their friends to excel in their own areas of expertise.
And the owl just shook his head.
The horse took the frog aside and tried to show him how to make all four legs move in unison. His mane and tale flew in the wind as horse floated over the meadow. He was so swift and graceful.
The frog tried to run but immediately encountered problems. First, he couldn’t see beyond the stand of grass that was right in front of him much less run through it. He could hop over it but to get all four legs moving in a running motion was simply beyond his ability. He returned to the ponds edge close to home.
And the owl just shook his head.
The Eagle took the horse aside and tried to show him how to flap his wings to enable him to fly. The horse soon realized he had no wings to flap and that flight would be impossible. He returned to his stall in the barn.
And the owl just shook his head.
The fish took the eagle aside and tried to show him how to swim. Without fins, the eagle went nowhere. He didn’t even have the webbed feet of a duck and every time he put his head under water he came up spitting and sputtering. So the eagle retired to his nest high in the oak tree.
And the owl just shook his head.
The frog took the fish aside and tried to show him how to hop but with only fins and no legs the fish soon learned that hopping was beyond his abilities. Besides, the fish could only be out of the water for a few seconds before he began gasping for breath. The fish returned to the Lake Wannabe.
The owl called his friends together and said, “each of you have special talents unique to you . Frog, just because you can hop but not run makes you no less valuable in the eyes of your Creator. I love to listen to hear you croak in your deep melodious voice. Along with the other frogs you serenade us each evening, it is a wonderful sound. And think about how your ancestors were used in one of the plagues in Egypt in order to win the freedom of the Israelites.”
“Horse, just because you can run but not soar high in the sky means no less to Him. You are a wonderful, gallant steed, so brave and powerful. Many of your ancestors have carried courageous men into battle. You are a beautiful, magnificent creation, hold your head high.”
“Eagle, just because you can soar but not swim to the depths of the water does not make you any less precious to Him. You are a wonderful bird, so stately and majestic you were chosen as our nations emblem. Hold your head high.”
“Fish, just because you can swim but not hop does not devalue you in His eyes. You glide through the water with such ease and graceful movements. And remember how just a few of your ancestors made history by feeding the 5000.”
Then Owl looked at me. He said, “Son of Man, you are at the pinnacle of creation. You have been given dominion over all the land and the animals. If you wish you may stay here on the farm and raise food for the hungry of the world. If you wish, you have the freedom to travel to far away places.”
You too have talents that are unique to you. It is this unique combination of talents you have been given that makes you special, unique for the work that the Lord has given you.
Just because you cannot sing or have no desire to speak in front of people does not make you any less of a person.
Just because you cannot perform surgery with the skill of a surgeon makes you no less valuable to humanity.
If you are a frog, hop.
If you are a horse, run.
If you are an eagle, soar,
If you are a fish, swim.
If you are a people, do what you do best.
Because they were such good friends, they could talk about just any topic that they wanted to discuss. On this particular day, the discussion was centered around what they liked to do and what they would like to do.
The frog said to the horse, I like to hop across the land, a little at a time. Hop, hop, hop. But I want to move swiftly across the land like you do, so fast and so gracefully, can you teach me to run? And I asked, “Me too?”
And the owl just shook his head.
The horse said to the eagle, I like to run across the land, I love the wind in my face and the smell of the wild flowers as I rush through the meadow. But, I love to watch you soar high above the land, higher than anything I have ever seen. The view of the earth below must be magnificent from up there, so free and unencumbered from the land.
Can you teach me to fly? And I asked, “Me too?”
And the owl just shook his head.
The eagle said to the fish, I like to fly and soar high above the land, but I want to see what you see below the surface of the water, I want to see the other fishes and water plants.
Can you teach me to swim? And I asked, “Me too?”
And the owl just shook his head.
The fish said to the frog, I can swim with the best of them in my school but, I want a closer look at the land. I want to smell the flowers and fresh air of a summer breeze. Can you teach me to hop? And I asked, “Me too?”
And the owl just shook his head.
All agreed they would help their friends to excel in their own areas of expertise.
And the owl just shook his head.
The horse took the frog aside and tried to show him how to make all four legs move in unison. His mane and tale flew in the wind as horse floated over the meadow. He was so swift and graceful.
The frog tried to run but immediately encountered problems. First, he couldn’t see beyond the stand of grass that was right in front of him much less run through it. He could hop over it but to get all four legs moving in a running motion was simply beyond his ability. He returned to the ponds edge close to home.
And the owl just shook his head.
The Eagle took the horse aside and tried to show him how to flap his wings to enable him to fly. The horse soon realized he had no wings to flap and that flight would be impossible. He returned to his stall in the barn.
And the owl just shook his head.
The fish took the eagle aside and tried to show him how to swim. Without fins, the eagle went nowhere. He didn’t even have the webbed feet of a duck and every time he put his head under water he came up spitting and sputtering. So the eagle retired to his nest high in the oak tree.
And the owl just shook his head.
The frog took the fish aside and tried to show him how to hop but with only fins and no legs the fish soon learned that hopping was beyond his abilities. Besides, the fish could only be out of the water for a few seconds before he began gasping for breath. The fish returned to the Lake Wannabe.
The owl called his friends together and said, “each of you have special talents unique to you . Frog, just because you can hop but not run makes you no less valuable in the eyes of your Creator. I love to listen to hear you croak in your deep melodious voice. Along with the other frogs you serenade us each evening, it is a wonderful sound. And think about how your ancestors were used in one of the plagues in Egypt in order to win the freedom of the Israelites.”
“Horse, just because you can run but not soar high in the sky means no less to Him. You are a wonderful, gallant steed, so brave and powerful. Many of your ancestors have carried courageous men into battle. You are a beautiful, magnificent creation, hold your head high.”
“Eagle, just because you can soar but not swim to the depths of the water does not make you any less precious to Him. You are a wonderful bird, so stately and majestic you were chosen as our nations emblem. Hold your head high.”
“Fish, just because you can swim but not hop does not devalue you in His eyes. You glide through the water with such ease and graceful movements. And remember how just a few of your ancestors made history by feeding the 5000.”
Then Owl looked at me. He said, “Son of Man, you are at the pinnacle of creation. You have been given dominion over all the land and the animals. If you wish you may stay here on the farm and raise food for the hungry of the world. If you wish, you have the freedom to travel to far away places.”
You too have talents that are unique to you. It is this unique combination of talents you have been given that makes you special, unique for the work that the Lord has given you.
Just because you cannot sing or have no desire to speak in front of people does not make you any less of a person.
Just because you cannot perform surgery with the skill of a surgeon makes you no less valuable to humanity.
If you are a frog, hop.
If you are a horse, run.
If you are an eagle, soar,
If you are a fish, swim.
If you are a people, do what you do best.
Jacobe the Potter
There once was a potter named Jacobe. Jacobe was up in years, having worked at his trade for a number of decades. His hands were worn, knarled from kneading the clay over the years. He was slightly stooped from bending over the wheel for hours at a time. Jacobe had created many wonderful articles in his lifetime. He had made bowls that the women of the village used to prepare meals. He had made pitchers from which to pour the wines that accompanied the meals.
Perhaps he formed the chalice that Jesus passed to his disciples at the first communion.
Perhaps Jacobe made the jug that the woman brought to the well for water.
Perhaps he created the stone water jars used in the wedding feast at Cana.
Jacobe was not a rich man in terms of worldly possessions but he was a happy man having discovered early in life what his calling was to be. Jacobe could have just made decorative devices to sit on the shelf or hang on the wall. But, he was much more practical than that. Jacobe made utensils to be used, tools to help his fellow man.
He was used to working alone, his children were grown and had families of their own. He could retire to his small shop behind the house for hours to create his wares. Jacobe would patiently form the raw clay into his products, fire them in the kiln for days, then take pride in the final product. If it was less than up to his standards, Jacobe smashed the device to pieces, it would never be used.
Through our life experiences, God too shapes the clay of his handiwork. He forms us into the vessels He wants us to be, to be used for His purposes. It is not for us to ask why or how, He will provide the means through which we are to serve.
Perhaps he formed the chalice that Jesus passed to his disciples at the first communion.
Perhaps Jacobe made the jug that the woman brought to the well for water.
Perhaps he created the stone water jars used in the wedding feast at Cana.
Jacobe was not a rich man in terms of worldly possessions but he was a happy man having discovered early in life what his calling was to be. Jacobe could have just made decorative devices to sit on the shelf or hang on the wall. But, he was much more practical than that. Jacobe made utensils to be used, tools to help his fellow man.
He was used to working alone, his children were grown and had families of their own. He could retire to his small shop behind the house for hours to create his wares. Jacobe would patiently form the raw clay into his products, fire them in the kiln for days, then take pride in the final product. If it was less than up to his standards, Jacobe smashed the device to pieces, it would never be used.
Through our life experiences, God too shapes the clay of his handiwork. He forms us into the vessels He wants us to be, to be used for His purposes. It is not for us to ask why or how, He will provide the means through which we are to serve.
Rocks of Life
Having grown up on a small farm in Southeast Kansas I learned early what work was. There were morning and evening chores to do. There was firewood to carry in and stack on the back porch. There were cows to milk, a garden to hoe, and a lawn to mow.
One year while I was quite young, a pipeline company came through a corner of the farm and dug a deep trench in which to bury their pipe. Every year thereafter we as a family would take one of the hay wagons hitched to the tractor and work along the path of the pipeline picking up rocks which until the intrusion of the pipeline laid buried under the soil.
We would work for hours picking up rocks so they wouldn’t damage the farm equipment as it worked the field for another crop of wheat or corn. We used five gallon buckets to put the rocks in as we walked along. When the bucket became heavy we would deposit the rocks on the wagon which would later be emptied on the rock pile in the pasture. That pile eventually grew to be of considerable size.
Each year as the field was plowed a whole new crop of rocks would emerge to be picked up. Most of them were small enough to fit into our buckets. Very few would require two people to heft them onto the wagon.
Life has its own rocks. Each year of life brings with it a whole new crop of rocks which must be dealt with. Most of them are small, some large enough to require the help of another person to help us heft them onto the wagon. Once in a while we encounter a big one and we need help. Once in a while we encounter someone else who needs help with one of their rocks. That is what God put us here for, to help one another to heft our rocks onto the wagon. Then, together, we can take the gathered rocks to the pile and leave them there, forever.
One year while I was quite young, a pipeline company came through a corner of the farm and dug a deep trench in which to bury their pipe. Every year thereafter we as a family would take one of the hay wagons hitched to the tractor and work along the path of the pipeline picking up rocks which until the intrusion of the pipeline laid buried under the soil.
We would work for hours picking up rocks so they wouldn’t damage the farm equipment as it worked the field for another crop of wheat or corn. We used five gallon buckets to put the rocks in as we walked along. When the bucket became heavy we would deposit the rocks on the wagon which would later be emptied on the rock pile in the pasture. That pile eventually grew to be of considerable size.
Each year as the field was plowed a whole new crop of rocks would emerge to be picked up. Most of them were small enough to fit into our buckets. Very few would require two people to heft them onto the wagon.
Life has its own rocks. Each year of life brings with it a whole new crop of rocks which must be dealt with. Most of them are small, some large enough to require the help of another person to help us heft them onto the wagon. Once in a while we encounter a big one and we need help. Once in a while we encounter someone else who needs help with one of their rocks. That is what God put us here for, to help one another to heft our rocks onto the wagon. Then, together, we can take the gathered rocks to the pile and leave them there, forever.
Stewardship
Stewardship
Stewardship is a form of worshiping God. Why should we practice good stewardship? Out of love for Him. Why? Because He first loved us.
When we think of stewardship we often think first of the financial contribution we make to the church, which certainly is an important part of stewardship along with the support we provide other charitable causes. Currently we have the opportunity and obligation to provide for our brothers and sisters affected by the two hurricanes which recently devastated areas of the south. Our stewardship may be in the form of feeding the hungry through ongoing support of the Food Pantry or providing clothing to those in our community who are in need.
Supporting missions or becoming a part of a mission are important forms of stewardship. These missions are charged with taking the Good News to the world, to those children of God who otherwise may never hear the story of Jesus and the salvation provide by God through His Son.
But stewardship covers a much broader range of topics than just finances. For example, the use of our spiritual gifts and talents that God has provided so that we may accomplish the ministry that He also provides for us. Giving of ourselves is one of the first principles of a disciple of Christ. This form of stewardship might take the form of visiting shut-ins and the ill who are hospitalized. It might take the form of taking a meal to a family who has recently experienced the death of a loved one or providing a compassionate ear to a loved one in distress. Stewardship can also be in the form of the celebration of the good blessings God provides a friend.
Stewardship is a year round, life long responsibility for those of us who have been so generously blessed by our Lord. It is an ongoing awareness of the blessings God provides to us so that we may share those blessings with others. Just as He poured Himself out for us, we are to pour ourselves out for others.
Stewardship is a form of worshiping God. Why should we practice good stewardship? Out of love for Him. Why? Because He first loved us.
When we think of stewardship we often think first of the financial contribution we make to the church, which certainly is an important part of stewardship along with the support we provide other charitable causes. Currently we have the opportunity and obligation to provide for our brothers and sisters affected by the two hurricanes which recently devastated areas of the south. Our stewardship may be in the form of feeding the hungry through ongoing support of the Food Pantry or providing clothing to those in our community who are in need.
Supporting missions or becoming a part of a mission are important forms of stewardship. These missions are charged with taking the Good News to the world, to those children of God who otherwise may never hear the story of Jesus and the salvation provide by God through His Son.
But stewardship covers a much broader range of topics than just finances. For example, the use of our spiritual gifts and talents that God has provided so that we may accomplish the ministry that He also provides for us. Giving of ourselves is one of the first principles of a disciple of Christ. This form of stewardship might take the form of visiting shut-ins and the ill who are hospitalized. It might take the form of taking a meal to a family who has recently experienced the death of a loved one or providing a compassionate ear to a loved one in distress. Stewardship can also be in the form of the celebration of the good blessings God provides a friend.
Stewardship is a year round, life long responsibility for those of us who have been so generously blessed by our Lord. It is an ongoing awareness of the blessings God provides to us so that we may share those blessings with others. Just as He poured Himself out for us, we are to pour ourselves out for others.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Faith in Faith
We sometimes wish for more faith, we pray for it, and that is probably a good thing. We perceive that a strong faith will bring us closer to God; it will give us more security and peace of mind. The truth is that we do need a strong faith, but to seek a strengthening in our faith to ensure a more peaceful life or to provide for our salvation is to put faith in faith. This is misplaced trust in faith rather than trust in God the Father.
John MacArthur in Strength for Today writes: “Certainly faith is necessary for salvation, but it is God’s grace and not our faith that has the power to save us and maintain that salvation.”
John MacArthur in Strength for Today writes: “Certainly faith is necessary for salvation, but it is God’s grace and not our faith that has the power to save us and maintain that salvation.”
Guitars
Are there guitars in heaven?
I hope so. I have owned one for over forty years and I harbor no illusions about taking it with me. But, not being musically gifted beyond whistling, I have never learned to play. It sits in the case in a spare bedroom. Both of my children have played it, my son quite accomplished. But, alas, I am doing good just to tune the thing. The same is true with a piano (I don’t try to tune it). I hope God has those up there as well. I have toyed with the idea of playing the piano for years, my wife is quite accomplished and I thoroughly enjoy listening to her but I have never made it past “Chopsticks.”
As I age, I am learning there are a lot of things I wish I had done earlier in life. Granted, as long as God chooses to leave me here I need to be using those gifts He has provided to keep working to shorten that list. But, either there simply is not enough time or resources to accomplish all that one wishes to do or some of my anticipated activities are impossible to accomplish in this lifetime. It is my hope that life in heaven will provide an unlimited amount of time and resources to accomplish what we cannot now.
There are a lot of people in heaven I want to see, beginning with my son, Little Ron. He has been a resident there for over thirty-two years. I want to get to know him. I would cherish a long conversation with my mom. It has been quite a number of years since we have had the opportunity to sit and talk. I will enjoy that one day. I want to see Vera, my mother in law. There are a couple of things I vividly remember about Vera, her caring attitude and her wonderful warm laugh. I miss her terribly. I would like to go fishing again with my Grandpa Myers and eat some of Grandma Myers’ home made chocolate pudding. I would enjoy getting to know Grandpa Goltry. Grandma Goltry has been in heaven since I was in the fourth grade. It has been a lot of years since I have talked with her, I would love to. Each June we have a Myers family reunion. I can hardly await the reunion we will have up there.
There are a number of things I hope God will allow me to do when I get there. Travel has always been a desire of mine. I hope he will allow me to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. I would like to visit Rome, Prague, and a hundred other cities of the world. I would like to lie down in green grass on a warm summer day. A job that I enjoy would be nice. I hope he gives me time to learn a foreign language. There are probably people there that I need to mend fences with. Hopefully he will let me talk with some old friends and tell them I love them. I could enjoy the silence of a forest. I would like to loose my eyeglasses and not miss them then have the time to read a library of books.
I know Jesus said we neither marry nor are given in marriage in heaven. I hope He will allow me to continue being married to Mary.
All people there should have a home, there will be no homeless. All will have ample food and clean water. There will be neither hunger nor thirst.
Most of all I want to walk and talk with Jesus and tell him I love him. I want to thank him for the pain and agony he endured for my sake. I what to thank God for the resurrection of his son. I would love to touch the hem of the garment of Jesus.
I really have no idea of what heaven is like beyond what I read in the Bible, which by the way, only mentions a couple of the above. If I can’t do any of the above, just to kneel at the throne of God would be sufficient. I pray that God will allow me to kneel before his throne and give Him thanks and praise and tell Him I love Him. (Actually He appreciates our praise and thanksgiving now.) Maybe one of these days he will even let me play the guitar for him.
I hope so. I have owned one for over forty years and I harbor no illusions about taking it with me. But, not being musically gifted beyond whistling, I have never learned to play. It sits in the case in a spare bedroom. Both of my children have played it, my son quite accomplished. But, alas, I am doing good just to tune the thing. The same is true with a piano (I don’t try to tune it). I hope God has those up there as well. I have toyed with the idea of playing the piano for years, my wife is quite accomplished and I thoroughly enjoy listening to her but I have never made it past “Chopsticks.”
As I age, I am learning there are a lot of things I wish I had done earlier in life. Granted, as long as God chooses to leave me here I need to be using those gifts He has provided to keep working to shorten that list. But, either there simply is not enough time or resources to accomplish all that one wishes to do or some of my anticipated activities are impossible to accomplish in this lifetime. It is my hope that life in heaven will provide an unlimited amount of time and resources to accomplish what we cannot now.
There are a lot of people in heaven I want to see, beginning with my son, Little Ron. He has been a resident there for over thirty-two years. I want to get to know him. I would cherish a long conversation with my mom. It has been quite a number of years since we have had the opportunity to sit and talk. I will enjoy that one day. I want to see Vera, my mother in law. There are a couple of things I vividly remember about Vera, her caring attitude and her wonderful warm laugh. I miss her terribly. I would like to go fishing again with my Grandpa Myers and eat some of Grandma Myers’ home made chocolate pudding. I would enjoy getting to know Grandpa Goltry. Grandma Goltry has been in heaven since I was in the fourth grade. It has been a lot of years since I have talked with her, I would love to. Each June we have a Myers family reunion. I can hardly await the reunion we will have up there.
There are a number of things I hope God will allow me to do when I get there. Travel has always been a desire of mine. I hope he will allow me to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. I would like to visit Rome, Prague, and a hundred other cities of the world. I would like to lie down in green grass on a warm summer day. A job that I enjoy would be nice. I hope he gives me time to learn a foreign language. There are probably people there that I need to mend fences with. Hopefully he will let me talk with some old friends and tell them I love them. I could enjoy the silence of a forest. I would like to loose my eyeglasses and not miss them then have the time to read a library of books.
I know Jesus said we neither marry nor are given in marriage in heaven. I hope He will allow me to continue being married to Mary.
All people there should have a home, there will be no homeless. All will have ample food and clean water. There will be neither hunger nor thirst.
Most of all I want to walk and talk with Jesus and tell him I love him. I want to thank him for the pain and agony he endured for my sake. I what to thank God for the resurrection of his son. I would love to touch the hem of the garment of Jesus.
I really have no idea of what heaven is like beyond what I read in the Bible, which by the way, only mentions a couple of the above. If I can’t do any of the above, just to kneel at the throne of God would be sufficient. I pray that God will allow me to kneel before his throne and give Him thanks and praise and tell Him I love Him. (Actually He appreciates our praise and thanksgiving now.) Maybe one of these days he will even let me play the guitar for him.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Roller Skates
Growing up on a farm somewhat remote from any urban area, much of the fun we had we invented ourselves. There were three of us, an older sister, a middle brother, and myself, the youngest son of the family.
When we were quite young our parents bought each of us roller skates. Not the kind that kids have now, made of colorful plastic with four in line wheels. Ours were the metal kind that came with a key. The skates were designed to fit over the sole of a shoe, preferably one with a stiff leather sole. A skate key was used to tighten a couple of thingies over the toe part of the shoe, actually the shoe was wedged in between the thingies that never did hold very well. There was a leather strap that came up from the back of the skate around the ankle. This was designed so that when the toe thingies let go the skate couldn’t get away from the foot and would come up and smack us in the ankle.
Usually the key was hidden away somewhere for safe keeping apart from the skates. We usually took more time to find the key than we actually skated. If we couldn’t find the key, we resorted to using one of Dad’s Crescent wrenches in place of the key until the wrench was lost. We probably put it in the same place as the key.
We couldn’t use these skates in the house because the metal wheels would mar the linoleum floors. We skated outside on the sidewalk, the brick sidewalk, the brick sidewalk with the grass growing between the bricks. It wasn’t very smooth but it was better than the gravel driveway. Sometimes we would use them on the cement floor of the chicken house after we had cleared away all the chicken poop. The smell was somewhat offensive to the olfactory sensors not to mention it was not a good place to have the toe thingies let go, fall down and get smacked in the ankle. We then had no clean hands to wipe away the tears.
The first task at hand was to learn how to get them going. As with all novice skaters, it was easy to get one to move, then the other, without getting anywhere, kind of a foot shuffle in place. We finally learned to push off with one foot, then push with the same foot again and again. The other foot just kind of tagged along for the ride. Then one of the toe thingies would let go and here comes a banged up knee cap. So we get up and walk on one skate and one foot back to the key with the other skate tagging along strapped to the ankle.
After getting them going, we had to turn somehow, the house, the fence gate, or a sibling was coming up fast. Usually we just ran into whatever was unfortunate enough to be in front of us, turn 180 degrees and do it all again. Oops, there goes the toe thingies again, ouch. Back to the key.
Which brings us to stopping the danged things. As with skating anywhere, it was helpful to learn to stop the things before running into someone or something. These skates didn’t have the rubber stoppers under the toes like the fancy skates at the rink in town. With these it was user beware. Finally we learned that if we kind of dragged one skate kind of sideways it would slow us down. Unfortunately, the other skate wanted to keep going and we did kind of a splits there on the sidewalk. Ouch, there goes the toe thingies again. Back to the key.
I have no idea where those skates are now, maybe hanging on the wall of a restaurant somewhere. As with so many objects of our past, they are relegated to the memory. We had a lot of fun with them, as long as the toe thingies didn’t let go.
When we were quite young our parents bought each of us roller skates. Not the kind that kids have now, made of colorful plastic with four in line wheels. Ours were the metal kind that came with a key. The skates were designed to fit over the sole of a shoe, preferably one with a stiff leather sole. A skate key was used to tighten a couple of thingies over the toe part of the shoe, actually the shoe was wedged in between the thingies that never did hold very well. There was a leather strap that came up from the back of the skate around the ankle. This was designed so that when the toe thingies let go the skate couldn’t get away from the foot and would come up and smack us in the ankle.
Usually the key was hidden away somewhere for safe keeping apart from the skates. We usually took more time to find the key than we actually skated. If we couldn’t find the key, we resorted to using one of Dad’s Crescent wrenches in place of the key until the wrench was lost. We probably put it in the same place as the key.
We couldn’t use these skates in the house because the metal wheels would mar the linoleum floors. We skated outside on the sidewalk, the brick sidewalk, the brick sidewalk with the grass growing between the bricks. It wasn’t very smooth but it was better than the gravel driveway. Sometimes we would use them on the cement floor of the chicken house after we had cleared away all the chicken poop. The smell was somewhat offensive to the olfactory sensors not to mention it was not a good place to have the toe thingies let go, fall down and get smacked in the ankle. We then had no clean hands to wipe away the tears.
The first task at hand was to learn how to get them going. As with all novice skaters, it was easy to get one to move, then the other, without getting anywhere, kind of a foot shuffle in place. We finally learned to push off with one foot, then push with the same foot again and again. The other foot just kind of tagged along for the ride. Then one of the toe thingies would let go and here comes a banged up knee cap. So we get up and walk on one skate and one foot back to the key with the other skate tagging along strapped to the ankle.
After getting them going, we had to turn somehow, the house, the fence gate, or a sibling was coming up fast. Usually we just ran into whatever was unfortunate enough to be in front of us, turn 180 degrees and do it all again. Oops, there goes the toe thingies again, ouch. Back to the key.
Which brings us to stopping the danged things. As with skating anywhere, it was helpful to learn to stop the things before running into someone or something. These skates didn’t have the rubber stoppers under the toes like the fancy skates at the rink in town. With these it was user beware. Finally we learned that if we kind of dragged one skate kind of sideways it would slow us down. Unfortunately, the other skate wanted to keep going and we did kind of a splits there on the sidewalk. Ouch, there goes the toe thingies again. Back to the key.
I have no idea where those skates are now, maybe hanging on the wall of a restaurant somewhere. As with so many objects of our past, they are relegated to the memory. We had a lot of fun with them, as long as the toe thingies didn’t let go.
Jims
Jim 1
The first Jim to come into my life was a true friend. We were the best of friends from the moment we first met. We played together, we talked about most everything. We could tell each other anything and be assured that it would stay between the two of us. He was always supportive of my childish ideas and moods. He and I would periodically escape to a world of our own that no other person could invade. For hours we entertained each other. I don’t know if I ever told Jim I loved him. I don’t know where Jim is now, it has been forty years since I last saw him. He may be hidden away in one of the drawers here in the house, Jim was a hand puppet that my mother made for me when I was a child.
Jim 2
I worked with Jim Carey from a distance for a number of years, he in North Carolina, I in Kentucky. I met Jim face to face on five or six occasions over the years and always perceived his warm and caring personality. We talked often over the phone; ours was more than just a professional relationship. The last time I saw Jim was several years ago when he and his wife Cathy visited our city. Mary and I joined them for an evening of food and entertainment, and wonderful conversation. I truly enjoyed his company.
A couple of years ago I answered my phone at work. The distinct raspy voice told me immediately who was calling. Jim called to let me know he was sick, a tumor had invaded his brain. He wanted to let me know how much he appreciated working with me over the years and to let me know he valued our friendship. About a year ago I called him to see how he was doing and at that time he was doing better.
For some reason Jim had been on my mind a lot lately so last week I called the place where he used to work, not wanting to impose on Cathy if the news was not good. A man named Mark answered the phone. I asked about Jim and his answer was “Jim died a couple of months ago.” I felt so bad. I had allowed our relationship to simmer on the back burner of life while life itself was leaving him. I will never again enjoy the sound of his voice over the phone or look of his face. I will miss him. I wish at some time I had told Jim that I loved him. Now, it is too late.
Jim 3
This Jim is my next door neighbor. Jim is a likable fellow, a true friend. Jim and I can tell each other anything. We have spent hours discussing most every topic. We have shared experiences in common interests. We tell each other jokes frequently. We share each others joys and disappointments, our victories and defeats. Jim and I quickly became friends from the day my family moved in next to him and Marilyn in 1989. Jim has adopted me into his family as a brother. Most brothers aren’t as close as Jim and I. Jim has a givers heart; there is nothing he wouldn’t do for a person in need.
It is virtually impossible for either of us to have a project going in the garage without the other investigating then visiting for a while. If Jim needs to borrow a tool he knows all he needs to do is ask as do I. If I need help on a project Jim is the first one there every time.
I love Jim. I think I’ll tell him that before it’s too late.
The first Jim to come into my life was a true friend. We were the best of friends from the moment we first met. We played together, we talked about most everything. We could tell each other anything and be assured that it would stay between the two of us. He was always supportive of my childish ideas and moods. He and I would periodically escape to a world of our own that no other person could invade. For hours we entertained each other. I don’t know if I ever told Jim I loved him. I don’t know where Jim is now, it has been forty years since I last saw him. He may be hidden away in one of the drawers here in the house, Jim was a hand puppet that my mother made for me when I was a child.
Jim 2
I worked with Jim Carey from a distance for a number of years, he in North Carolina, I in Kentucky. I met Jim face to face on five or six occasions over the years and always perceived his warm and caring personality. We talked often over the phone; ours was more than just a professional relationship. The last time I saw Jim was several years ago when he and his wife Cathy visited our city. Mary and I joined them for an evening of food and entertainment, and wonderful conversation. I truly enjoyed his company.
A couple of years ago I answered my phone at work. The distinct raspy voice told me immediately who was calling. Jim called to let me know he was sick, a tumor had invaded his brain. He wanted to let me know how much he appreciated working with me over the years and to let me know he valued our friendship. About a year ago I called him to see how he was doing and at that time he was doing better.
For some reason Jim had been on my mind a lot lately so last week I called the place where he used to work, not wanting to impose on Cathy if the news was not good. A man named Mark answered the phone. I asked about Jim and his answer was “Jim died a couple of months ago.” I felt so bad. I had allowed our relationship to simmer on the back burner of life while life itself was leaving him. I will never again enjoy the sound of his voice over the phone or look of his face. I will miss him. I wish at some time I had told Jim that I loved him. Now, it is too late.
Jim 3
This Jim is my next door neighbor. Jim is a likable fellow, a true friend. Jim and I can tell each other anything. We have spent hours discussing most every topic. We have shared experiences in common interests. We tell each other jokes frequently. We share each others joys and disappointments, our victories and defeats. Jim and I quickly became friends from the day my family moved in next to him and Marilyn in 1989. Jim has adopted me into his family as a brother. Most brothers aren’t as close as Jim and I. Jim has a givers heart; there is nothing he wouldn’t do for a person in need.
It is virtually impossible for either of us to have a project going in the garage without the other investigating then visiting for a while. If Jim needs to borrow a tool he knows all he needs to do is ask as do I. If I need help on a project Jim is the first one there every time.
I love Jim. I think I’ll tell him that before it’s too late.
Face to Face
We sang a hymn in church this morning that struck me emotionally quite hard. There was a line in that old song referring to the time we will meet Jesus face to face. As unworthy as I am He has promised that I will see Him in all His glory in heaven one day.
Just the thought of such an encounter with our Lord choked me up; I was unable to finish the song first off because no sound would come out and secondly because I couldn’t see the words with my tear blurred vision.
What a wonder filled experience that will be, to actually be in the presence of Jesus. It is difficult for my human mind to comprehend what a wonderful encounter that will be.
I don’t know what I will say to Jesus when I see Him. I hope He has something wonderful to say to me. I want my first statement to be a thank you for the salvation He has provided His servant. I would like to acknowledge the pain He must have felt on the cross. Such abuse He endured for my sake.
I think I would like thank Him for the scriptures. Through these wonderful words we get to know Jesus and the love that He and The Father has for each of us.
I would like to thank and praise Him but then if a simple song can choke me up what will the real experience do?
Just the thought of such an encounter with our Lord choked me up; I was unable to finish the song first off because no sound would come out and secondly because I couldn’t see the words with my tear blurred vision.
What a wonder filled experience that will be, to actually be in the presence of Jesus. It is difficult for my human mind to comprehend what a wonderful encounter that will be.
I don’t know what I will say to Jesus when I see Him. I hope He has something wonderful to say to me. I want my first statement to be a thank you for the salvation He has provided His servant. I would like to acknowledge the pain He must have felt on the cross. Such abuse He endured for my sake.
I think I would like thank Him for the scriptures. Through these wonderful words we get to know Jesus and the love that He and The Father has for each of us.
I would like to thank and praise Him but then if a simple song can choke me up what will the real experience do?
Climb the Mountain
God has given you a mountain to climb.
No one can do it for you.
From here in the depths of the valley, the mountain towers.
The path is strewn with boulders, it will not be easy.
“Take me, Oh Lord, not my child.”
Sorrow and remorse will be your constant companions.
Anger and guilt will accompany you.
It feels like your heart is being ripped from your breast.
But, life goes on.
“Why my child, Lord?”
Is there light anywhere, has the whole world gone dark?
The world won’t stop and let you off, you must keep going.
If you try to make the trip alone it will be very long and very lonely.
You must endure.
“Oh God, it hurts.”
It seems as if no one understands your pain.
The anguish will consume all your strength.
Your zest for living is gone.
It hurts you just to breathe.
“Father, take away the ache.”
You will cry until there are no more tears.
“Oh God, where is my child?”
He answers with silence.
Sometimes you wish for the final silence.
The days are long
Sleep is elusive.
Sometimes you wish for the final sleep.
The nights are longer.
The memory will last a lifetime, it will never go away.
Deep within your heart your child lives on.
“God, please help me,” you cry, “I can’t do it alone.”
“My peace I leave with you,” you hear Him say.
“Your child is safe with me, you will see him again one day.”
“Father, take good care of him.”
No one can do it for you.
From here in the depths of the valley, the mountain towers.
The path is strewn with boulders, it will not be easy.
“Take me, Oh Lord, not my child.”
Sorrow and remorse will be your constant companions.
Anger and guilt will accompany you.
It feels like your heart is being ripped from your breast.
But, life goes on.
“Why my child, Lord?”
Is there light anywhere, has the whole world gone dark?
The world won’t stop and let you off, you must keep going.
If you try to make the trip alone it will be very long and very lonely.
You must endure.
“Oh God, it hurts.”
It seems as if no one understands your pain.
The anguish will consume all your strength.
Your zest for living is gone.
It hurts you just to breathe.
“Father, take away the ache.”
You will cry until there are no more tears.
“Oh God, where is my child?”
He answers with silence.
Sometimes you wish for the final silence.
The days are long
Sleep is elusive.
Sometimes you wish for the final sleep.
The nights are longer.
The memory will last a lifetime, it will never go away.
Deep within your heart your child lives on.
“God, please help me,” you cry, “I can’t do it alone.”
“My peace I leave with you,” you hear Him say.
“Your child is safe with me, you will see him again one day.”
“Father, take good care of him.”
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