Undeserved Grace

This week once again, I have been reminded of the graciousness of God through His loved ones. Over and over, Mother and I have been the recipients of the kindness of others who give time, resources, prayers, and encouragement in the name of the Lord without show or fanfare. To each of you – Thank you!
        Over the last few weeks, I have been observing the beautiful, vibrant purple flowers of vetch this spring. Seeing these gorgeous verdant creations of God brought to mind the words of Jesus in Luke 12:27, Consider how the wildflowers: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these! (HCSB). Those stunning vetch blooms in the pastures, meadow, and even in the yard had done nothing to deserve such visual exaltation – no work, no self effort.

        Jesus continued in Luke 12:28 comparing we humans to the short-lived wildflowers. Then He asked the rhetorical question at the end of the verse, …How much more will He do for you – you of little faith? (HCSB).
        Then Jesus issued a command that if heeded would be life-altering to His disciples. In verse 29 of the same chapter of Luke His words appear, Don’t keep striving for what you should eat and what you should drink, and don’t be anxious. Our Lord and Master addressed the basic needs of mankind but gave a terse command in His last three words – Don’t be anxious. In our country, so often our anxiety is fueled by worries over issues never concerning the gravely deprived populations of the third world countries whose primary need is their next meal or shelter for their family.
        Over the last 12 years since returning to the farm, it seems almost daily anxiety enters my mind. Prayers of thanksgiving all through the day have helped refocus me. Every time our needs are met, even though God primarily uses people to meet them, He is the source of every good and perfect gift.
        Frequently, I am reminded how undeserving I am of each need being met. Yet our loving Heavenly Father lavishes on us what we need. That is the beauty of grace, giving us something we in no way deserve.
        This week may we walk in the daily awareness of the truth of Paul’s words in Ephesians 1:7-8. May our meditation on God's undeserved grace energize our lives to obey the promptings of the Holy Spirit as we go through the week. 

It is through the Son, at the cost of His own blood, that we are redeemed, freely forgiven through that full and generous grace which has overflowed into our lives and opened our eyes to the truth. (I used a translation that Grandpa Calvin Callcayah Smith loved to read -  J.B. Phillips Translation.)

Curbing Spring Fever in the Bend

 As we find ourselves surrounded by the glorious season of spring, I always recall how challenging as a teacher it was to "corral" students inside the four walls when perfect weather awaited those winter-weary young people. My grandfather had a constructive solution for this malady.

In the late 1920s, Finis Ewing Rippee and his wife, Elizabeth, arrived in the Big Bend community to teach at the Woodland School (Lester Anson’s home is located where the Woodland School once stood.). Mr. Rippee captured the interest of his students as a creatively innovative teacher. He was one of the first people with a radio in the Bend. On historically momentous occasions, F.E. Rippee brought the radio into the rural school building, introducing the wide-eyed scholars to a world of which they knew nothing.

My father, Edmund
Gates, Jr., as cropped 
from a group
photograph taken at
 the Woodland School
located in the Big Bend.
Notice the hat on
backwards and his 
bare feet.

Even though my father, Edmund Gates, Jr., found Mr. Rippee fascinating as a teacher, when he was around 10 years old, he began loafing instead of studying in school.  Mr. Rippee visited with Edmund, Sr. about the situation. My grandfather, Edmund, Sr. told Mr. Rippee, “Just let me keep him out of school a week to help me clear walnut trees.”

Eighty years later, my father explained the process this way. He and my grandfather dug down around each of the tree stumps about a foot and a half, with both of them using a shovel. This allowed a place wide enough to maneuver a crosscut saw effectively. Then Dad and his father each got on one end of the crosscut saw and began pushing and pulling. Some of the walnut trees had trunks with 10-inch diameters. My father exhibited unparalleled strength for his small size. He was so agile that he could easily climb a tree to get a squirrel (Steve Gates, his nephew, would later categorize Dad as a squirrel on the rafters of a new dwelling. Dad was in his 70s and 80s at that time!). Even with the sturdy physique of my father in his boyhood, he characterized the week out of school as very hard work. I'm sure he collapsed his slim, work-weary body into bed each evening that week. 

When Monday morning rolled around, Dad was the first one in the buggy to go to school. He had learned the value of education on the end of the crosscut saw.

Both my father and Ruby Martin Rice conveyed the respect they had for Mr. Rippee as an educator and a person. They related how he taught them principles for life that made them better people after they graduated from the eighth grade at Woodland School. A teacher who can impart to his students the qualities that make a responsible employee, a reliable parent, a trustworthy spouse, and a dependable neighbor deserves the loftiest of accolades. 

The writer of Hebrews interweaves succinctly our earthly father's correction and the perfect discipline of the Heavenly Father. Children who learn to adhere to boundaries will more readily respond to God's correction. 

For our earthly fathers disciplined us for a few years, doing the best they knew how. But God's discipline is always right and good for us because it means we will share in His holiness. No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening  - it is painful! But afterward there will be a quiet harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way. Hebrews 12:10-11 (New Living Translation)

When Two Pennies Spoke Loudly

            On a recent warm spring morning I pulled out my short-sleeved t-shirts and rediscovered a tee Angie had given me last year. It reminded me of this blog post I had begun shortly after receiving the t-shirt mentioned in the blog post below. 

           One day last summer, I opened the mailbox to discover a plastic package on top of the mail. My name and address were handprinted. The return address label had such an attractive look.

Return Label on Package

            Upon arriving in the house, I carefully opened the plastic bag, wondering what this could be. I pulled out a t-shirt. Then I remembered my sister mentioning a Pawnee, Oklahoma-specific tee that she thought I would like. She was correct in agreeing that it would have significance to me.

As a child, I loved the movement of the mechanical horse at Ermy’s* in downtown Pawnee. Whenever we went into the unique store so my parents or grandparents could buy overalls, sewing patterns, fabric, boots, or lace, the store spelled F-U-N to a preschooler looking forward to a ride or two.

Front of the T-Shirt Bought By Angie for Me

            A ride on the mechanical horse located in Ermy’s cost only a penny. Usually, my dad or grandpa supervised my rides on the galloping steed. As a little one who craved activity, this charger afforded such fun for me.

One ride stood out as a learning opportunity for a little 2–3-year-old. Dad funded the trotting pony that day. He gave me a couple of pennies to hold in my little hand. I reveled in the shiny little pennies since they ensured more rides. He helped me insert the penny and soon I rode rhythmically on this thoroughbred with my imagination racing me outside the building. Suddenly, the pennies slipped from my hand. In consternation, I watched the pennies fall and roll over the antiquated floor. As my ride ended, I saw a child snatch the pennies I had dropped. To my horror, I overheard these words tumble from the child, “Look what I found!” A woman I guessed to be the little girl’s mother replied, “Did you?” The child nodded.

            Dad helped me off the mechanical horse. He got on my level and made sure with a quiet voice and calm demeanor that I understood what had happened. The child had grabbed something that did not belong to her. He said stealing was wrong and explained the little girl did the wrong thing. He continued to discuss that the little girl who stole my two pennies also didn’t tell the truth. It seemed that was the first day I heard the word lied. I got the message loud and clear because she had lied by telling she had just found those two pennies. I knew she saw those pennies fall from my hand.

            Do children listen to parents and learn important principles? They absolutely do, especially if it is tied to a personal experience or an observable happening. Dad had a knack for teaching life principles this way. Frequently, he quoted a Bible verse to provide a basis for the truth he was teaching.

            I haven’t worn the tee from Angie, my sister, yet but every time I wear it, I will recall how Dad used the mechanical horse fiasco to teach me the value of the penny many decades ago. Even more importantly, he instructed me in the integrity of honesty and truthfulness.

            Lord, give me eyes to see and take every opportunity You give to impart truth from Your Word. I know Your Word is everlasting just like each person I meet. Give me Your wisdom and boldness from Your Holy Spirit to invest in both of these – Your Word and people.

 *Cheatham’s stocked groceries, books, some toys, paper dolls, and 1,001 other items. The two stores were connected and under the same roof and owned by the same family.