FROM BIRTH    For His glory.

In my old age I am learning what influence God has had in my life.  When I think back to the people and events that God has put in my life-path over my 70 years I am humbled and amazed at what He has done for me.

From the time of the miracle of my birth God was there.  From the beginning of my life God put people in my life-path; people who would nourish me, take care of me and help me make it in this thing called life.  I had parents, a wonderful wife and children, siblings, teachers, fellow students, people I worked with, worship with, and socialize with. By the same token, I hope that God has used me to feed and take care of others.  I am certain that some of the people that God has put in my life-path needed help.  I hope I was able to provide a little for them. 

All through school I knew God was with me.  There were a lot of times I didn’t act like it but I knew He was there looking out for me.  Apparently someone saw that I had a relationship with God as I was privileged to be invited to be a charter member of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes chapter in my high school.  I was asked to say a prayer before each of our varsity basketball games, a practice which would be banned today I suppose.  Maybe it was because I was a second string bench warmer and the coach wanted to give me something to do.

In December of 1967 God had me go from my home of Chanute, KS to the Naval Training Center in Great Lakes, IL for boot camp followed by almost a year of electronics training.  You may recall that in 1967 the war in Viet Nam was going strongly and anyone not in school was receiving draft notices.  I had such a letter from Uncle Sam.   Since I would be going into the military I decided I was going to get something out of it.  I could go for a two years active, 4 years reserve enlistment and get nothing out of it with the exception of a year in Nam or I could go for six years active and get an education that would last me the rest or my life.  I had a strong interest in electronics from my youth since a friend was into electronics.  It just looked like fun.  I chose the education and never looked back.

God had his hand on us.  On May 3, 1968 I met my bride-to-be at a dance at a nursing school in Park Ridge, IL, a northern suburb of Chicago.  At the dance we sailor students were standing along one wall, the nursing students along another wall.  I looked across the floor and saw one young lady I found to be particularly attractive.  I asked her to dance.  We danced the rest of the evening. Mary and I dated whenever I could borrow a car or fix one of my classmates up with one of Mary’s classmates.  Those two classmates later were married and still are to this day 48 years later.

After almost a year of schooling in Great Lakes, God took me to Pensacola, FL for an additional six months of school with the Navy. 

My first duty station after school was on the Pacific island of Guam for a year and a half.  It may seem odd that being in the Navy I was not assigned to a ship.  The only reason was that the antenna system associated with the equipment I worked with was too large to fit on any ship. 

While on the island several friends and I made a trek into the boonies to a place called Talofofo Falls.  Again, God had his hand on me.  We didn’t have many waterfalls in Kansas.  None that I know of.   When we got to the falls I saw that it fell onto a ledge of rock then flowed into a large pool.  Not being familiar with waterfalls I decided to walk under the falls.  Not thinking that the water had been falling on the rock for thousands of years and not realizing the water had eroded the rock away I stepped into the falls and immediately fell into a pool of water that had no bottom.  At least I didn’t find the bottom.  I went down a ways then started scratching the walls with all the fingernail I could muster.  I would bet my fingernail marks are still visible on the walls.  I climbed out and went to relax with my friends.  A short time later I observed some children having a great time playing in the same hole I had been in a few minutes earlier.  They knew it was there.  God got me out for some reason.

After 18 months on Guam I returned to the States for a month of leave.  Mary and I were married on December 5, 1970.  After our honeymoon and a trip to Kansas to see my parents we drove to Bayonne, New Jersey to leave the car to have it shipped to my next duty station that God was sending us to in Rota, Spain. 

I went ahead to Rota leaving Mary in the States until I could establish a home for us.  It took me almost a month but I found and furnished an older 3 bedroom ground floor apartment.   Finally, my bride joined me in our new home. 

In Rota we knew no one.  We knew each other and that was it.  There was no convenient means to communicate with our families in the States except through the mail and a prearranged phone call.  We didn’t have cell phones then, no Facebook or Facetime. No Internet.  It was a great time to really get to know one another in a marriage that was just beginning. We had to rely on each other.  We had no radio, no television.  We talked.

We were soon blessed with new friends in the old world.  God permitted us to travel the southern part of Spain and see places we would never have seen without His putting us there to enjoy this part of his creation. We visited Cadiz, and Tirifa and a dozen other small cities.  We saw the Alhambra in Grenada, and the Alcazar in Seville. We enjoyed the Spanish people immensely.  What a wonderful place it is. 

After almost a year in Rota the Navy came looking for volunteers to work with a new program just being formed in Jacksonville, FL.  It was a program working with drug users at a newly formed drug rehab center. I wanted to be a part of that program so I volunteered to be one of the counselors.  Within about two weeks we were on a flight to Jacksonville where we would conclude my Navy career in about two years.

Again, God had his hand on us.  We were in Jacksonville only briefly when we learned that Mary was pregnant with our first-born.  Little Ron was to be born in August 1972.  In June of that year Mary’s brother John was getting married in Illinois. Since it had been a year and a half since we had see our families I went against medical advice and we made a trip to Kansas stopping to camp in Meridian, MS the first night.  We then drove on to Kansas.  We stayed with my parents a few days then headed to Illinois for the wedding.  We were at the family farm a few days when we made a trip to Chicago to enjoy the Brookfield Zoo with Mary’s nursing school roommate, Pauline.

Upon returning to the farm at the end of the day we retired to bed. The next morning Mary awoke with a start saying her water had broken.  I got her to the hospital in Watseka. Mary was visibly upset, I was too ignorant to understand the danger I had put our son in.  Little Ron was born about midnight the morning of June 23, 1972.  I still had no idea of the peril he was in.  I went to the nursery window often to look in on him; they had him in an incubator with oxygen fed to him.  His little chest was heaving in and out as he gasped for breath.  I was in an elevator going down for something to eat when one of his nurses joined me.  I asked with pride in my voice how my little son was doing.  She responded, “I don’t think he is going to make it.”  I nearly collapsed there on the floor of the elevator.  Only then did I realize the danger he was in. 

I kept checking on Little Ron through the morning.  As we approached noon I went to look on him and the nurse was just the rolling his little body away.  I quickly turned away from the window and went back to the fathers lounge.  Soon, one of the nurses came in to tell me the news and asked if I wanted to tell Mary or have her do it.  I said I would.  I walked into Mary’s room and bent over her and said, “It’s over.”  We cried.

A couple of days later we walked out of the hospital with empty arms and empty and aching souls.   Thank God for Mary’s parents, Roy and Vera, they made all the funeral arrangements, got Little Ron a plot in the cemetery, a casket and all.  Mary and I were in no condition to do any of the details required.  We obviously missed brother John’s wedding. 

It was a very long, very quiet two day drive back to our home in Jacksonville.  We cried.  We were overwhelmed with our thoughts and sorrows.  Little Ron had died and there was no getting him back, no turning the clock back to undo the mistake I had made. 

Over time, with the hand of God on us, we have healed.  The anger is gone, the guilt has abated.  The regret is still there and always will be.  My mistake falls under the list of items that I hope God will allow me to totally forget when I am with Him in heaven. 

On December 10, 1973 I received my discharge after six years in the Navy.  We loaded up the car and headed to Kansas not knowing what God had in store for us.  I soon landed a job with the local radio station selling advertising.  God didn’t want me there as I soon proved I would starve to death in sales.  I opened a TV repair shop and soon learned that was not what God wanted me to do as it had very little income.

At our church in Kansas I was asked to help serve communion, very serious rite.  It was a privilege I didn’t take lightly. 

It was about this time in December of 1976 our son Ryan was born.  That day was one of the most joyous of my life.  We had waited four years between the birth/death of Little Ron and the birth of Ryan.  It was a very difficult time with two miscarriages in the middle.

God provided a job at the local cement plant which had a position for an electronics technician.  The problem was I would have to be patient as the position would not open for a few years.  When it did open I bid on it and was the only candidate qualified for the position so I got it even over several others who had more seniority than I.  I stayed with the technician position only briefly; I’ll not go into detail other than to say there were serious personality conflicts.  Eventually, due to retirement, the plant carpenters position opened.  I bid on it and got that position.  It was the best place for me in that plant as I could work alone, at my own pace and frequently assigned my own tasks.

On February 20, 1981we were blessed with a little girl, Jill our wonderful daughter joined our family.

I decided I wanted to do something different professionally.  One day while I was walking the streets of Chanute looking for employment I passed the door of an electronics firm owned by a former high school friend.  As I walked by, my friend Ken came out the door and on the spur of the moment I asked if he had any positions for technicians.  His response was, “Yes, come to work Monday morning.”  That was the extent of my interview for the job with MPH Industries that God wanted me to do for the next 21years.

After several years with MPH, in 1988, the company was sold to MPD Inc. of Owensboro, KY.  I accepted an invitation to move my family to Owensboro where after a short time I was named Product Service Supervisor.  It was an extremely challenging position, fast paced and high stressed.  Looking back now I have to ask if God was telling me to leave or He was teaching me to depend on him.  My dependence on God was the only thing that got me through the 16 years as the supervisor. 

At our church in Kentucky I was one of two lay persons asked by our pastor to be trained as a part of the pulpit supply program so I could fill in at area Lutheran churches in the absence of the pastor.   I still don’t know why I was asked to participate in this program but I am grateful for the invitation.

In 2005 I was in a position to take early retirement.  I then went to work part time with a big box home improvement store for the next seven and a half years until I retired completely. 

After 28 years in Kentucky, God said He had something different for us to do.  Our daughter, Jill, and her husband and two young sons were moved from Bowling Green where they had been on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ on the Western Kentucky University campus.  They were reassigned to the office in Apex, North Carolina.  They bought a home in Fuquay-Varina.  This move put our grandsons eleven hours away from us rather than the one hour we were accustomed to in Kentucky.  We would move to be closer to them.

We called a realtor in Owensboro seeking an appraisal of our home.  She provided us with one then a couple of weeks later she called and said she had a buyer who would like to see our home if we were prepared to move.  This was in the fall; we had not planned to move until the following spring.  The couple toured our home, made an offer, we countered, they accepted and we were homeless!  But, God had his hand on us.

After 28 years we would be leaving Owensboro, we would be going to North Carolina to be near our grandsons.  We made a couple of house hunting trips but didn’t find anything we really liked until the final morning.  I woke up and was prepared to make an offer on one of the houses we had seen, not that I really liked it but it would do. We would settle on one.  Then our realtor suggested one that I had discounted before.  It was a brand new home on 1.5 acres with a creek running through the front yard.  As it turned out the new home was less expensive than the one I was about to settle on.  It has about one acre of lawn and a half acre of woods.  I loved it and knew as soon as we walked in this would be the home for us.  It was only eight miles, 10 minutes from Jill and her family. 

We made the move in December 2016 in time to set the Christmas tree up among all the boxes of unpacked possessions.

We were in North Carolina in time for our granddaughter to be born in May.  If we had waited until spring we may have missed her birth. 

On July 3^rd of this year we attended a fireworks display put on at the home of a couple who attend the same church we do.  Being the photographer I am I had to lug not only a camera and tripod but a couple of chairs and water bottles.  We got there and set up in a good location for making pictures of the fireworks.  We were a little concerned that the outside temperature may be more than I could stand plus the smoke from the fireworks.  The temperature was in the mid 80s with a gentle breeze, quite comfortable.  The smoke was not an issue as it was blowing another direction. 

Soon we were joined by friends Jim and Winnona, a couple we have enjoyed the company of in our home, in their home and at an occasional dinner.  Other people from our home group were there, Angie along with one of her sons, Kolton, and friend Linda.  We enjoyed a generous amount of ice cream and a very good display of fireworks.  When it came time to go home it was obvious that our friends had already discussed helping us get everything back to the car.  Jim picked up my camera and tripod.  Someone carried our chairs, leaving me to carry only my backpack oxygen concentrator.  Mary went ahead to get the car started and cooled down inside.  We were about half way to the car when I all of a sudden got very warm, very warm.  The house blocked the breeze and I was in trouble breathing.  Someone sat up a chair in the driveway for me to sit in briefly.  It soon became obvious that Linda had medical training as she coached me along to regain normal breathing.  They had Mary drive the car into the driveway near to where I was sitting.  When my breathing stabilized Linda and Winnona guided me to the car and got me situated.  Jim backed us out of the driveway while Winnona and Linda, with flash lights, stopped traffic so we could get backed onto the road and headed home.  We were home only briefly and Mary was texting Winnona to let them know we were safely home an all was well when Mary’s phone rang and it was Winnona.  She and Jim were at the end of our driveway checking to make sure we got home safely.

What wonderful friends God has put on our life paths to look out for us, to help us.  And not only that, God put us here to be of help to others when they are facing trials.  What a privilege it is to be used by God to care for his creation.

God was there at our birth.  One of these days God will give us the wonderful gift of birth into heaven.  He will be there to welcome us home.  We are in His hands from now through eternity. 

                       

My Dream

As I awaken into this new world, this new part of life I am amazed at what I see, at what I sense.  I see a world filled with a peaceful white light, a shadowless light that comes from all directions at once.  I hear music that is exceedingly pleasant to my ears, the kind that is beyond calming, beyond sedate.  There is singing in the far distance, a thousand thousand voices all in unison giving rise to music as gentle as a breeze blowing through the treetop leaves, as gentle as the breath of a sleeping child.   I feel a light wind blowing from I know not where, going to I know not where.  This new world is filled with a warm, caressing love beyond human experience.

For years I have been sleeping.  Through school and career, through travel and entertainment I have slept and dreamed.  I have dreamed of childhood adventures, of writing, of drawing.  I have slept through marriage and retirement and illness.  I was dreaming all along that I was living a reality.

I awakened in the arms of Jesus.  My past dream is a fading reality; I remember only the best of bits and pieces.  The bad and ugly are gone, I remember them no more.

I have awakened into eternity, the nightmare is over.  From this day forward I am in the holy presence of God.

Zion Methodist Church II

ZION METHODIST CHURCH II

Living on a Kansas farm in the 1950’s was a quiet existence.  We had a few neighbors but our social life centered on a one room school house and an older wood-framed 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 a couple of miles north of our home place. 

The building wasn’t real fancy, but then it didn’t have to be for God to bless us.  On a Sunday morning we could expect anywhere from three to 20 in attendance depending on the weather and the point in the harvest season. 

It was heated in the winter with a wood stove and cooled by three open windows on the north side, three on the south side, and the double doors on the east end.  It wasn’t uncommon for an intruding wasp to infringe on our worship service and Sunday school. 

The pews were made of wood, a row down each side and a third row in the middle.  In the ‘50s 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 Zion every other Sunday to deliver a sermon, conduct any rites such as baptism and communion.  After Dr. Jones concluded the worship service we had Sunday school.  Broken up into three or four groups by age, we all met in the same building.  It might have been somewhat noisy in there with three or four groups going at the same time but it worked.

The church hosted various events throughout the year.  Some were widely attended by the surrounding community whether they were members or not.  Along with our summer Bible School and Christmas Eve service was the annual bazaar.  This was a most memorable, 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.  Some women made cakes or pies or cookies.  People came from miles around for this event.  People who attended other churches would show up, not necessarily for the bargains, but for the fellowship.   

One item that sold was a perennial favorite; it was an old fashioned bonnet, the kind worn by ladies in the old west.  It was light blue in color about like a robin’s egg 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 roared with laughter when he demonstrated it by putting it on his head.  

Zion Methodist Church is no more.  Like many other country churches the congregation dwindled through the deaths of the more senior members and the moving of the younger generations.  Gone is the congregation.  Gone is the bazaar.  Gone is Zion Methodist Church.  All have evaporated into the past never to return.  In the 1970’s the building was moved into town and is now the sanctuary of another congregation. 

God was with us at Zion.  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. 

Grandmas' Chocolate Pudding

Grandma Myers’ Chocolate Pudding

It was quite an experience growing up in Wilson County in the Southeast corner of Kansas back in the 1950’s.  We had few neighbors but always something to do on the farm including chores such as milking the cows and feeding the chickens and homework from a one room schoolhouse named Union Valley.  Being the third of three children I would have been wearing hand-me-down clothes from my brother who is a year older.   About this time I’m referring to I was in the 4^th grade. 

Fortunately my grandparents lived only a few miles away so frequent visits were possible unlike today with grandchildren are spread across the country. 

Two or three times each year, like Thanksgiving and Christmas, we would go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for a big family meal with cousins, aunts, uncles, and naturally Grandma and Grandpa.  Whenever we shared a meal at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s it was always quite an event.  It was obvious that Grandma had been working all morning preparing dishes for all of us to enjoy.  And enjoy we did. 

Grandma’s kitchen was somewhat large with plenty of room for the range, cabinets, and a buffet and lots of people.  In one corner near the door leading to the living room was Grandma’s treadle Singer sewing machine and next to it on a small table was the telephone, one that had no dial and no buttons.  It was just a plain phone connected to a party line that was shared with four or five neighbors.

On these family occasions the kitchen was filled with the laughter of the ladies, Grandma’s laugh especially, as they visited while finishing the meal preparations.  There would be aunts and sisters, daughters and mothers and the crying of an infant or two. 

In an adjoining living room the men would gather, Grandpa in his favorite chair next to his shelves of Louis L’Amour books with dads and uncles spread around the room.  There was the old worn couch, a black and white Sylvania TV, the kind that you have to get up out of your chair and walk across the room and turn the dial to get one of the other three stations.  There was a door to the north porch which was only opened to bring in wood for the stove.  The men would visit telling stories and jokes while the young children played with their toys on the floor. 

The older kids ran and played outside in the yard and among the trees of the forest.  They would jump over the creek and rustle in the leaves.  We would follow a rustic road that lead down into and up out of a valley to the barn where cows were milked twice daily.

When the time came, Grandma invited us all into the kitchen, and asked Uncle Ed to say grace. He is a devout Christian and had the most resonous voice.  He could have been a radio announcer.   In real life he was a career Air Force man so if he and Aunt Margaret weren’t in England or Alaska he would ask the blessing.

Walking into Grandma’s kitchen was like walking into a warm hug.  The heat from the oven gave the kitchen a cozy, welcoming feeling. Kind of warm and fuzzy if you will.  The aroma of fried chicken and mashed potatoes filled the air.  Also, Grandma made the best noodles I have ever had.  They were not only tasty but their texture was pleasing to the pallet all the way down.  The table was covered with meats and salads and vegetables were always in plentiful supply.   And always, near the center, there was a big bowl of Grandma’s homemade chocolate pudding.

In our home chocolate pudding was treated as a desert.  But at Grandma’s house, chocolate pudding was something special.  Grandma served her chocolate pudding as if it was another dish of a meal to be enjoyed with the meats and salads.  That’s what made it special at Grandma’s house.  I could have chocolate pudding any time from the beginning of the meal to the end.  Wow!  I loved that.  I understand that one uncle put chocolate pudding on his mashed potatoes instead of gravy.

Her chocolate pudding was a dark brown and creamy.  It was so sweet tasting that one’s taste buds stood at attention at just the mention of it.  One’s tongue would whip around in the mouth against the teeth on each side in eager anticipation of the chocolaty taste.  It was so good that relatives would come from miles around in expectancy of the wonderful flavor.  It was home made.  Nothing out of a box.  Nothing off the shelf.  Just good old Grandma type of chocolate pudding.  Better than both of my other favorite deserts, Baklava and apple strudel.

After the “Amen” we would fill our plates with more food than we could possibly eat, always leaving room for chocolate pudding.

We kids would eat at card tables erected on the front screened-in porch.   

When the food had been enjoyed, when the dishes had been washed and dried and put away.  When the leftovers had been put into the refrigerator or doled out to various family members, after the kids had exhausted themselves eating and running, after the men had told all their stories and jokes and the women had caught up on all the family news, it was time to go home.  We had enjoyed one another’s company again.  We had eaten too much, again.  We had relished the love of family, especially the love that Grandma and Grandpa had for their family.

Now that I’m grown and considerably older I still take pleasure in the memories of family get-togethers at my grandparents’ home.  I look with fondness on the fellowship we shared with aunts, uncles, and cousins.  Now we are spread far and wide, some of the older ones have joined Jesus in heaven.  But, the memories of youth while growing up in Wilson County are still with me.  Especially the wonderful taste of Grandma’s chocolate pudding.

Claustrophobic

Claustrophobic

Please don’t close the lid just yet.  It scares me to think that very soon I will be in here confined to this very small space and all alone.  The lights are still on, I can see them.  I can see you. 

It has been quite a ride, this life.  There were the wonderful highs and a few devastating lows.  I remember many of the people whose life-path crossed mine, those through whom God has blessed me.  I remember their love and compassion.  I hope they remember mine.

I have a few regrets, things I wish I had done differently.  I hope God will permit me to forget them.  I hope God will allow me to remember only the good.  Like our wedding and the births of our children and grandchildren.  Like the travel we enjoyed, the places we have seen.  The experiences we have shared.  The cultures we have visited, the people different from ourselves. 

Life’s storm is nearing its end, the calm after should soon be here.  But don’t close the lid yet.  I have a few words to say.  Breathe in, breathe out, repeat.

Thank you for being a part of my life, of helping make me who I am.  Thank you for your sage advice, your humor, your kind words. Thank you for being there when I needed you.

The world will go on, it will not end.  Do good and bless those you can.  Be kind even to those who are difficult.  God has given you everything you need to accomplish His will for you 

I can smell the rain and feel it on my face; my heart feels the warmth of the Son.

I see Jesus coming for me; my parents and children are with him.  He is coming to me with an unbelievable look of compassion on his face.  He gives me peace. 

I crave to hear his words, “Come, good and faithful servant.  It is done.”

You can now close the lid, I am no longer alone.