A 20th Century Widow With Little More Than Two Mites

    Jesus pointed out to His disciples an impoverished widow as she gave her offering in the temple. No one but the Son of God would have noticed such a scant donation, only two minuscule coins (called mites in the KJV Bible) equivalent to 1/64 of the daily wage of that era. Jesus commented that she gave more than all the other big-name contributors because in His omniscience He knew she gave all she had. Ruby Hart often comes to my mind when I read this account in Mark 12:41-44.

      102 years ago, Ruby Luna Mason was born on October 24. Mrs. Hart, as I referred to her, grew up in a loving family. Upon completing her education, Ruby served at Oklahoma Baptist Children's Home in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. In the 1980s, she received a pleasant surprise to meet Norma Emmons, the wife of the  Ralston Bible Church's pastor, Roy Emmons, Sr. (Norma's son, Roy, Jr., now pastors at the Ralston Bible Church.) Norma lived during her early years at the Oklahoma Children's home at the same time Mrs. Hart served there.
      Then Ruby made her life-changing connection with Ralston when Ray T. Hart began courting her. He had grown up in Ralston, Oklahoma, graduated from Ralston High School and completed his collegiate education at Oklahoma Baptist University. Soon Ruby and Ray were married.
      Ray embarked upon his ministry to small churches with limited budgets. Perhaps Bro. Hart, as he was often called, felt a kindred spirit with those tiny congregations with a scarcity of resources. He grew up in the Ralston Baptist  Church, receiving key spiritual training as his parents faithfully took their children to the church house when its location was on the corner of First Street and Main Street.
      As Ray felt a pull to mission churches, rural churches, or small town congregations, Ruby was called upon to stretch the tiny salaries that were paid to her husband. Since few of the churches could provide a living wage, she canned, shopped sales, made her clothes, as well as those of her daughters. Yet Mrs. Hart, an economical wizard working on a shoestring budget, always gave generously to the Lord's work.

Ray and Ruby Hart with daughters, Rebekah
and Ila Rae. As a couple, Ruby was the humorous
one with her husband the serious one. Ruby
laughed easily. She always laughed with her
 eyes. Her tendency to find humor in the
mundane drudgery of life brought joy 
to her family and friends.

     Her warm smile and courageous attitude infectiously impacted anyone who encountered her. She steadfastly cared for her husband in his latter years even though he didn't recognize her. As his health declined, she was thrust into decision-making such as purchasing a car and learning to drive.
     Ruby' s neighbor, Robert Bradley, agreed to accommodate the request of his wife, who had become Ruby's dear friend. Robert Bradley, with his white hair and moustache, depicted the consummate Southern gentleman with impeccable manners. With his patient demeanor, his wife felt he would be the perfect driving instructor. The first day with Ruby behind the wheel and Robert in the passenger seat, she pulled onto Highway 18 almost in front of a truck! With an unflustered exterior, but his heart rate elevated beyond a safe limit, Mr. Bradley calmly said, "Ruby, let's pull back in and park. Driving lesson's over for today."
    Soon Mr. Bradley regained his courage and resumed the driving instruction. Ruby mastered each driving maneuver and passed her driving test. Even though she began driving in her senior years, she developed into a safe driver much to the satisfaction of both of them.
     Few knew what a paltry social security payment Ruby received each month. Never did she complain or hint about needing money. In fact, she faithfully set aside a tithe (ten percent) of that tiny cbeck. She believed God would provide for her on that 90% that she had left from her meager monthly check.
     There was only one thing that Mrs. Hart ever requested from others - prayer. As she dealt with the heartbreak of her husband, the gifted pastor and Bible teacher, slowly losing recognition of who she was, she asked for prayer for him and for strength to deal with her crushing anguish. Daily, Ruby went to visit him, even though his illness pained her, but she knew her friends' prayers enabled her to deal with the ongoing sorrow.

Ruby Luna Mason Hart in 1976

       Following Brother Ray's passing, once again Ruby treasured each prayer that was offered on her behalf. With the courage God had given her thoughout her life, in her senior years, she "reinvented" herself, mastering solo excursions, reaching out to help meet the needs of others with her limited financial resources, and always seeking and praying for each of her loved ones and church family to deepen their relationship and commitment to the Lord.
       Ruby' s strong courage grounded in her unshakable faith carried through her fight with cancer. In her weakened condition, she managed to worship with her church family. She arrived at church with a pleasant attitude ready to thank the Lord for His blessings.
       As I remember Ruby Hart, my desire is to honor her life by having a portion of her devotion to Jesus. Whether it is representative of her financial discipline for giving to the Lord's work here on earth or her unselfish expending of herself for her family and church or the unwavering courage and faith she demonstrated in her final days, anyone exemplifying any of her qualities will live life to the fullest and impact others in the process.

Dad in the Driver's Seat

This family story may appear quite remarkable in this day of regulations and warnings on everything from a cup of hot coffee to every part on a motorized vehicle. Dad related this to me in 2010.

            In the late 1930s, Bill McFadden, the father of Helen McFadden Buxton, operated a mechanic's garage in Fairfax. As he visited with Edmund Gates, Sr., my paternal  grandfather, Mr. McFadden said, "Ed, your boys are getting old enough to drive. You need to buy a pickup."

       Evidently, Grandpa had been thinking about "getting up with the times" - favorite phrase of my father's. So Grandpa bought a used 1937 green International pickup right there on the spot. He knew this newfangled mode of transportation would be much faster than the horse-drawn wagon or buggy. Using either the wagon or buggy required a half day to get to Fairfax. Then the rest of the day to return the 14 miles back to the Gates' place in the northwest side of the Bend.

Martha, my father's sister who is about six years younger
than him. She is posing in front of the Green 1937
 International pickup. What an asset and source of pride
to the Gates farm and family in that era of time!

        Chuck Shell, the younger brother-in-law of Bill McFadden, worked at the garage. Chuck was the brother of Bill's wife, Bertha Shell McFadden. (Bertha would later be a dear neighbor of mine when I taught scbool in Fairfax.) Chuck drove the newly-purchased pickup, with Grandpa and my father, Edmund Gates, Jr., as his passengers,out to the hill next to the Fairfax Cemetery on the north.

         Chuck's driver's training for Dad consisted of this brief instruction. Keep in mind that my father had never driven a motor vehicle in his life! Nevertheless, Chuck, only two years older than Dad, coached him by saying, "Edmund, drive in the middle of the road. If you see someone coming, get over so they can pass."

        With that ultra-condensed version of drivers' ed, Grandpa and Dad headed west on the dirt road. Fortunately, Dad recalled few cars were on the "trail" that day. 

        Dad's prerequisites to his inaugural driving excursion consisted of having ridden in the car with his maternal grandpa, Bob Black, driving. Dad had watched closely from the back seat as his grandpa drove. Those experiences with his grandpa gave him a working knowledge of the clutch, the brake, the foot pedal, and the gear shift, but he had never been behind the wheel. 

        Since Grandpa was profoundly hearing impaired, my father assumed the role of the family driver until he went to World War II. The family driver position was held by whomever was the oldest child still living at home.

        My grandmother, Mamie Tripp Gates, tried unsuccessfully to drive. Grandpa sought to give her directions even though he had never driven a motor vehicle. This made Grandma too nervous to safely maneuver the Gates' family vehicle. Her issue was not her inability to drive but being unable to ignore Grandpa as he tried to tell her how to operate a vehicle he never had driven himself!

         In that day and time, when Chuck Shell turned the wheel over to Dad, no drivers' licenses were required. No insurance proof was needed in those days either.
        As simplistic as it may sound, most parents, in those days were preoccupied with trying to do their best for their children so their families could "get by" - not "get ahead" but just "eak by." They would never have conceived of the many requirements not only to own, but to drive a car. Several of our staunchly independent ancestors would have interpreted these regulations as "excessive government overreach." Yet these people who survived the Great Depression with long days of backbreaking work retained a strong moral compass. It usually translated as simply treating others the way they wanted to be treated. So oversight and a myriad of laws seemed unnecessary since they daily tried to live out the Golden Rule. Why did they need someone to tell them what they already knew and implemented each day?
        Our ancestors would never understand the need for tamper-proof containers for food, medicine, makeup, and 1,000, 001 other items. Security systems, locks, and home surveillance equipment would seem an unthinkable expense from a limited family income. A mutual respect for what one's neighbor had acquired and the preciousness of human life undergirded most of our forebearers. A couple of foundational truths guided their lives. They believed God saw everything that a person did and secondly, that each human being would one day be held accountable for those actions. These two tenets drove community members to look out for the wellbeing of each other as taught in the Scriptures. (See I Corinthians 10:24, Philippians 2:4, and Romans 15:2).

         I seldom clip articles but one tiny printed piece caught my eye recently. It was a quote by our second president, John Adams. He said, "Our constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other."

         Solomon wrote, "Doing right brings honor to a nation, but sin brings disgrace." As the king during the era in ancient Israeli history dubbed, "the golden era," Solomon and his subjects reaped the benefit of the godliness of the previous generation.

          Laws are good but only if citizens obey them because they realize they are for the good of the individual and the community as a whole. A government will never thrive if its citizens must be monitored or "made" to do the right thing. May we search our hearts and seek God's way for us to live each day to honor the principles on which our nation was founded. 

Singing in the Jail

      Several thoughts came to my mind this week as I played the medley "Tell It To Jesus" and "Nothing Between" arranged by the gifted pianist/songwriter, W. Elmo Mercer. The lilting, joyful melody of "Tell It To Jesus" almost always triggers one of my earliest memories.

A photo of me at about the age
when we had services in the jail.

       I couldn't have been more than three years old. Our family participated in a jail service at Pawnee with others, including Ray Hart. At that time, Brother Hart, as he was known, pastored the newly formed Masham Baptist Church northwest of Pawnee, Oklahoma. Those who remembered him always affirm his love for his parishioners and his commitment to teach them the Bible.
        Brother Hart's love for people, coupled with his dedication to preach the good news, along with his desire that people experience forgiveness spurred him to take the church's ministry into the county jail. Obviously, no forms, no background checks, or no clearances had to be obtained. Probably someone in the sheriff's department recognized that wayward lives were best changed by transformation from within by the love of Jesus.*
       Why would a three-year-old remember reaching out to those incarcerated? It had everything to do with music! Truthfully, the source of my memory is tied to the song, "Tell It To Jesus." As my mother would say, "It moved out." She meant that the song had an upbeat, toe-tapping tempo. (Every song I liked as a child had a marked rhythm sung at a fast pace.) Evidently, "Tell It To Jesus" was not in the red hymnal at our church in Masham, but it seemed we always sang it during jail services. So I equated getting to sing a song I loved with a trip to the Pawnee County Jail! (A psychiatrist might have a productive session based on that statement.)
        In the dark recesses of one of the cells, my wide eyes glimpsed a woman who had stabbed another woman to death. (I have always had attentive ears, even as a young child. I doubt my parents or grandparents intended for me to have so many details), yet I do not remember being afraid. Of course, I was with my parents and maternal grandparents, but I do remember understanding the joy the adults had since the woman had asked Jesus to forgive her sins. In my childlike mind, I knew that was a good choice for her to make.
       As I thought on this long-ago experience, the words of Jesus came to my mind. In Matthew 25, he predicted the judgement of the nations. Then Jesus listed good deeds they had done (with the right motive) for him, and they questioned unknowingly,"When did we...?" Jesus told them if they did it for one of the least, they did it for Him. Ironically, one of the items on Jesus' list was visiting those in prison.
       I could not help but recall when we were caring for Dad. If he drifted off to sleep and I was all caught up on my tasks, I ventured to my spinet piano. One piano solo book had calming arrangements of hymns with rich harmonic combinations. The type of lush harmony about which one would say, "Oooooh that's good." The hymns had been arranged by renowned arranger, W. Elmo Mercer. I noticed on the back cover other volumes arranged by Mr. Mercer were listed. My journey to locate those volumes led me straight to the inbox of the arranger himself.
       The first interaction between Mr. Mercer and me seemed unbelievable in the 21st century. He let me know the two volumes of his piano arrangements that I was seeking were no longer in print. Yet in the very next sentence, he willingly offered to go to his local copy shop and copy the volumes he had. He only asked that I reimburse him for the copying expense and the shipping. This was the composer who had written the lyrics and the music for "Each Step I Take" in the 1950s! (Mother requested this song many evenings when we sang with Dad.) A few years later he wrote "The Way That He Loves," one of my favorite songs from my teenage years. (He said it was written while waiting in a doctor's office!)
        Since becoming an octogenarian, Mr. Mercer has written 123 songs, created innumerable arrangements, and recorded two CDs! Oh, that we all can be that productive in what God has called us to do when we are in our 80s!

W. Elmo Mercer - permission granted for
use in this posting by  Mr. Mercer in 2016.

       Thank you, Mr. Mercer, for using your giftedness to blend heart-touching lyrics with beautiful melodies that honor the Lord. Your authentic Christian life resounds with a powerful impact. What an example to emulate!

*After writing this posting, we sang in church these powerfully appropriate words written by Charles Wesley in 1739. What a precious promise for all of us who trust Him!

He breaks the power of canceled sin,

He sets the prisoner free;

His blood can make the foulest clean,

His blood availed for me. 

Almost a Year Ago

       October 3 marks the death of my father, Edmund Gates Jr.  Seldom am I in town or at a social occasion, even after almost a year, but comments like these are made to me:

Your dad was the friendliest man I ever knew.

or

Your father was one of the nicest men I've met.

or

Your dad never met a stranger, did he?

      Dad lived by the verse in Proverbs 18:34 "A man who has friends must show himself friendly."

       In the year before Dad's stroke, he and I were in Fairfax. I had to pick up an item in a store and encouraged him to go into the store with me. I was surprised by his response, " I can't always remember names now." Of course, I told him to just say "hi" and not worry about calling the person's name.

       People mattered so much to Dad. He genuinely enjoyed interacting with people. Each individual was important to him. This was the reason it disturbed him at being unable to recall people's names as soon as he saw them. Calling the name of the person he met validated the presence of that person and stressed on Dad's part the worth of that individual.

        According to Mother, Dad made the most of meeting strangers under extremely difficult situations. She told of a return trip from Wednesday night Bible study at their church in Ralston. The old pickup' s headlights began erratically flickering. Within a mile or so of the Belford River Bridge over the Arkansas River, the headlights went out completely on the old pickup! I guess he called on his long-ago experience of driving a wagon at night or maybe it was those many nights of coon hunting as a kid that strengthened his night vision and spurred him to keep puttering toward the bridge. Just as he approached the bridge, flashing lights atop a vehicle behind him rapidly drew near. Mother's heart skipped a beat. She knew they shouldn't have driven that old pickup, but she didn't say a word. Dad pulled onto the grassy shoulder and began cranking down his window.

      Mother said Dad immediately spoke with earnest gratitude in his voice before the patrolman could utter a word, "Oh Officer, I am so glad you came along. My wife and I were just returning from church and our headlights went out. I would sure appreciate if you would follow us across this bridge. We just live about a mile from here in the Bend. If you could follow us to our home, we sure would thank you."

        The official readily agreed to Dad's request, much to Mother's surprise. Yet she would say that Dad never lacked confidence. It never entered Dad's mind that the patrolman would not see the reasonableness of his solution to a sticky situation.  

         Upon reaching the farm, Dad jumped out of the old pickup and thanked the highway patrol profusely, with genuine sincerity. Dad probably ended his expression of thanks with, "The Lord bless you." I have a hunch that Dad had begun praying silently for a safe arrival for Mother and him as soon as the headlights began blinking. 

        Dad had a heart for serving others. He wanted to help people. One time I heard exasperation in Mother's voice when he tore the slacks of his suit checking under the baptistry following a church service. He had been made aware of a possible problem. He was small and agile enough to crawl in that tight space. Why ask anyone else to do it?
         The last Christmas program he attended was in December of 2011.  Mother and I were visiting with several others in the Church sanctuary foyer. Dad, as was his custom, was patiently waiting. The door opened and a single mother slipped into the foyer. Who immediately asked if she needed help? Dad did! She was looking for her little boy's jacket. Here was a 92-year-old man who was probably tiring and ready to go home, but he put that woman's need first and began helping her look for the child's coat.
          Dad's philosophy was pretty simple - He loved the Lord, his family, and people. These song lyrics from hymns sung at his funeral poetically depict his credo - a proven pattern for all of us to replicate in our own lives.

Oh, how I love Jesus, because He first loved me.

Trust and obey, for there's no other way

To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.

Dad and Me after church on his 91st birthday.