One Sunday in the Spring of 2012

 This story originated and was written soon after Dad's first stroke in 2012. Even though it has been five years since this occurred, I vividly recall that Sunday morning. Time and experience doing stuff like this have a way of strengthening a person. I don't think I would be as repulsed today.

You Did What on the Lord’s Day?

                One of the responsibilities of assisting my father in his stroke recovery was feeding his four farm cats. I finished feeding the two gray tabbies and the two ginger cats and decided to make a quick survey of the garden on the glorious spring Sunday morning.

Rows of green beans planted in 2012

                This activity seemed on the surface to be one that would be swift to complete. Unfortunately, for me this was not at all what was facing me. I glanced at the end of the newly planted row of green beans. There was a dead armadillo! Oh no! I had to get that dead carcass out of the garden. Dad had always been more than willing to do all of the dirty, disgusting jobs on the farm, but since the stroke he could do that no more.  I summoned all the resolve and courage within myself and got a large scoop shovel and empty feed sack. I knew if I delayed for even a moment I might talk myself out of this repulsive task. To leave that dead animal would result in an even more revolting situation because as I approached the dead armadillo I could tell some tiny sanitation members in nature were already at work. A slight odor could be detected. 

                As I used both hands to wield the bulky scoop shovel to cautiously lift the dead armadillo into the empty feed sack, it became apparent that I must use one of my heavily gloved hands to grab the stiff armadillo tail to successfully carry out this task. Even though there was no one else near me, I rolled my eyes and shook my head as if to say, “Why me? Why am I having to do this extremely abhorrent job on the Lord’s Day?”

                Then I carefully rolled down the top of the sack to lug it to the back of Dad’s pickup. As I hefted it into the bed of the pickup to haul it off to the far north ravine for disposal, an unusual thought entered my mind.

                Isn’t this what I do each Lord’s Day in the worship service? Don’t I ask to be aware of the Lord’s presence? Isn’t that so I can wholeheartedly worship Him? In turn, doesn’t some putrid thought, word, action, or attitude from the last week come into full view? For the first time since spotting the dead armadillo, a smile formed on my face. Each week don’t I bow my head and ask the Lord to forgive that specific sin He just revealed to me and doesn’t the Lord Jesus haul off that sin so I can renew that sweet fellowship with Him?

                Never would I have believed a dead armadillo on Sunday, the Lord’s Day, had so much to teach. I hope I can always remember that analogy I drew that day between sin in my life and the dead armadillo. As I recall dragging that sack with the dead armadillo out of the garden, may that forever be an impetus to seek quickly for the Lord to remove rancid sin from my life.

                Oh Lord, may the garden gate of my life be open to your forgiveness and removal so the sweet fragrance of your Holy Spirit may permeate it and positively affect those who pass through my life.

The garden Angie and Ben helped me put in
just a month after Dad's first stroke. This was in late May. 
Then the drought of 2012 hit. So much for harvest that year.

Bad Zipper, Snaps, and Strength

This manuscript was written in early 2015, right when we were in the throes of caring for Dad.

Strength Through Adversity

              My sister and I often worked on farm tasks together. She frequently exhibited greater strength than I did. Recently, as we labored on a small job around the farm, I observed her struggling with one portion of the task. I asked her to let me see what I could accomplish. I was a bit unsure since I could see that the situation required strong finger strength. We both were surprised when I got the job done.

              As I was astounded at my accomplishment, I mused on how I was able to do that. Then I recalled complaining early in the winter over sore thumbs. I had deduced my thumbs had overworked day after day opening the stubborn door of Dad’s old pickup. However, it dawned on me that something else had strengthened my thumbs – my lighter jacket’s snaps.

Thumb-strengthening snaps

           I  had begun wearing a jacket that Dad had been given by Bob Paslay after a renovation job at D and P Tank Service headquarters in Fairfax, Oklahoma. He had not worn it since it had a hood, but could not discard it since it was a gift from Bob.  He did not like hoods. I loved hoods and found a hood plus a stocking cap necessary for my cattle care attire. So when Mother offered the red D and P jacket, I snatched it up and began using it.

The logo on the red hooded jacket I wore.

              After wearing it during the years of 2012 and 2013, I wore out the zipper in the flannel-lined windbreaker through much use. Instead of replacing it, I began using the snaps on the old, comfortable hooded jacket to keep out the cold. During the moderately cool months of 2014, I strengthen my thumbs daily as I snapped the multiple snaps on the well-worn jacket.

          Often, we are strengthened emotionally and spiritually as we are forced to go through challenging experiences, being forced to exercise our weak faith in a mighty Lord. Only as we look back can we recognize how much stronger we have become by enduring a time of suffering, adversity, or sorrow.

After writing the above piece, Dad's health declined and worsened with one of the most challenging tasks being feeding him. He always wanted to eat and tried with all his being to swallow. The second stroke rendered that increasingly difficult for him. As the primary caregiver during his mealtime, I learned I must focus on my task - getting food down him without any choking. I couldn't dissolve into tears when I thought of having to help the strongest and most determined man I had ever known with a task necessary for his sustenance. My primary concern had to be positioning  just the right amount of food on the very best spot on the spoon to insure swallowing and no choking. My eyes must concentrate on the muscles in his throat. Time played no part. Getting every bit of nourishment from the container into Dad became my main mission, no matter how long it took. Assisting with those three meals each day built tenacity and strength into me. My emotions were tempered as a metal with this compassionate action three times daily. 

My grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith, liked using the translation by J. B. Phillips to enlighten his understanding of scripture. I close with a powerful scripture verse that, if  meditated upon, lived out, and internalized, will transform our response to difficulties. Here is a portion of James 1:2 from Grandpa's favorite version:

When all kinds of trials and temptations crowd into your lives, my brothers, don't resent them as intruders, but welcome them as friends! Realize that they come to test your faith and to produce in you the quality of endurance.

May God use this word of His to impact our daily existence. 

Tucker, You Have No Idea What You Fell Into

My sister, an animal lover, related this story to me about one of her dear friend's dogs. As I listened, the power of the account spoke so much to me of even deeper truths so evident at the Easter season.

                To her horror as she looked out her workplace's window, someone in a moving vehicle threw a small animal out of the window! An avid animal lover, the stunned teen-ager bounded outside full speed. She reached down and scooped the frightened puppy into her arms. How could people be so irresponsible and heartless? The compassionate teen knew she didn’t have to ask permission; her tenderhearted mother loved animals, especially the forsaken. She knew and trusted her Mom's heart and without hesitation, she and the "throw away" puppy headed home.

Sure enough, the discarded, abandoned pup found himself the center of more attention and care than his little canine mind could have imagined! He had toys, a soft, warm bed, dog sisters to play with, and all the food & treats he could hold.  Often her dad looked at Tucker, the name given the rescued dog, and commented, “Tucker, you have no idea what you fell into!”  He was part of a family instantly.  His future was bright and secure. Tucker had arrived in his forever home!

A recent picture of Tucker from his family's collection. 

                How many people are like little Tucker – misused, discarded, unwanted, and cast off without a sliver of hope? The only chance of survival is an intervention from One with the power to reclaim the rejected and ruined person from the state of destitution and ultimate destruction.

                Jesus addresses this in John 10 as He presents Himself as the Good Shepherd. Specifically, in John 10:10, He draws the obvious contrast between Satan and Himself, when he says, “A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy. I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.” (The Message, 2005)

                This “better life than adorable little Tucker could have dreamed of” became a reality for him when he was rescued and adopted into an animal-loving home. Tucker’s experience mirrors what Jesus did for each of us who have received His forgiveness and entered into daily living in His presence.  All humans are on a collision course with Satan and his plan to destroy in one way or another all humans’ lives.              

                His destructiveness glares menacingly in some lives ravaged by addiction or caustic, dangerous relationships or damaging choices. But Satan’s subtle plan for inner ruin in the life of an apparently upstanding person begins with pride that leads to judgmental attitudes, resulting in unforgiveness in relationships with family members, neighbors, or colleagues at work. As understated as his devastation appears in seemingly respectable individuals, the final result of ruin is no less destructive in lives.
                  As we have observed Good Friday, the sordidly, gruesome day when the perfect, holy Son of God allowed utter humiliation and inhumane violence to be inflicted upon Him without any retaliation, we witnessed His lavish, self-sacrificing love in action. Paul wrote that Jesus who was sinless became sin for us on the cross that we might have a new beginning - just like little Tucker.
                  Resurrection Sunday or Easter perfectly depicts the new beginning for the resurrected Christ and for us who have wholeheartedly place our trust in Him to take our sins in exchange for a new life - just like Little Tucker.

                Lord, may we have hearts of gratitude for how you reclaimed us from destructive paths and distressing thought patterns, recognizing how different our lives would be without You, the only source of hope and redemption. In turn, as we see others being wrecked by the wickedness of Satan, give us the boldness to prayerfully, reach out to bring them to You, the only one to rescue them from heartbreak and ultimate death. What joy that You alone can and desire to give us new lives,  new beginnings! Thanks be to You who is risen indeed!

She Taught Me Almost Everything I Knew About Teaching Third Graders

Tribute to Ruby Vinita Martin Rice

                Anyone who knows me knows that I wave the brightest orange. Being an Oklahoma State alum, I sing Oklahoma State’s Alma Mater with fervor. I received a good education, but I could put in a sewing thimble the strategies and skills learned there to make me a successful teacher. If I gained mastery in teaching third graders, I owed that to Ruby Rice, my first colleague when I began teaching that grade.

                I do not remember not knowing Ruby. She had gone to high school at Burbank with my father, Edmund Gates, Jr., and most of the other eligible secondary students in the Big Bend in the 1930s. She recounted how my father delighted in teasing her during the long bus ride. While at Burbank High School, she was not only a good student, but a great basketball player, playing on a winning girls’ team.

                Ruby began her coursework at Oklahoma State University to become a teacher the same year Dawn, Ruby’s youngest daughter, and I entered first grade. I enjoyed the few times when no one was going to be home after school at my house, and I got to ride the bus to the Rice home with Dawn. Marion and Vickie, Ruby’s older daughters were in charge. I do not recall either of the “big girls” having to correct Dawn and me.

                Ruby used Angie, my sister, and her kittens as props for one of her photography projects. Angie, as a preschooler, thoroughly enjoyed her role as photographer’s model when she got to help Ruby set up a tea party in the yard. Plus Ruby received a good grade from the assignment.

                Occasionally, Ruby would drop by the farm to visit with Grandma, Gladys Rainey Smith, and Mother, Bernyce Gates. One day Ruby stopped, only to discover that my grandma, always the adventurer in her cooking, had prepared a carp brought to her by her nephew, Leo Rainey. Leo had caught the carp in the Arkansas River. He knew if anyone would use the less desirable catch, it would be his Aunt Lyde, the name he always called Grandma.

                Sure enough, she cleaned the fish, flavored it with onions and tomatoes, sprinkling in some other seasonings, and then cooked it in the pressure cooker. My mother couldn’t get it passed her mind, but Ruby raved about it when she sampled it. Maybe she was just famished after a full day of classes at OSU, followed by the drive home to the Bend. Grandma fixed a jar of the tasty carp and sent it home with Ruby since she liked it so much.

                 Dawn got to stay with Angie, my sister, and me quite frequently. We delighted in playing dolls and whatever else our imaginations could dream up. Dawn got to visit overnight during the summers. Ruby always seemed to enjoy visiting with Grandma and Mother when she picked Dawn up. Most of the time, they ended up talking about the Bible.

                After earning her degree, Ruby began teaching third grade at Fairfax. In her early years of teaching, she, Elmer, her husband, and Dawn were still living on their farm near the Arkansas River in the Bend.

                One wintry late afternoon, Ruby and Dawn were maneuvering the icy roads to the Bend. They were nearing the hill just west of the driveway where the Koger family now lives. The hill that can be treacherous is located in Pawnee County about one mile east of the Arkansas River bridge, dubbed the Belford Bridge.

                Ruby had been unable to reach the crest of the hill. She was stalled midway up on the east side of the hill. She saw Dad coming in his green work truck that he had bought used from Otis “Babe” Goad. Dad never valued the appearance of his vehicle. The primary goal was two-fold – get him from Point A to Point B and transport his carpenter tools.

                Ruby told me that she could not believe he zipped around her stuck car. How could he do this to her? Then she said she watched as he stopped on top the hill. He began walking down the slick hill to where her car was immobilized. He instructed her  how to steer and then began pushing. Soon she and Dawn were moving up the hill and headed home.

                Ruby and I taught together at Marlin Crowder Elementary School in Fairfax, from 1979 until her retirement. Ruby disciplined much like my own mother. I don’t recall her raising her voice. In simplistic terms, she wasn't a talker, but she said what she meant and meant what she said.

The earliest staff photo that I have of Marlin Crowder Elementary. It was my second year of teaching.
Front - Jan Weston, Sharon Stewart, Nadine Hathcoat, Nelda Shafer, Debbie Stejskal,
Middle - Rosemary Durkee, Nadine Elsberry, Norma Wulf, Carolyn Long, Ruby Rice, Woogie Adams,
Gary Klopp, Burley Hathcoat, Top - Carlene Wilson, Bernadean Gates, Carolyn Hicks, Stefanie Parker,
and Marilyn Hadlock. Just looking at these faces bring so many wonderful memories of laughter and learning!

                Mrs. Rice was known for reading the entire Little House series of books by Laura Ingalls Wilder to her third graders. Since I taught primary music, Ruby read daily to all the third graders. I recall what a kick she got from John Holloway’s disdain of the character, Nellie Olsen. John would express sheer delight when haughty, snooty Nellie received her “comeuppance.” John probably never realized how he made Mrs. Rice’s day as he interacted with her shared reading time.

                Most of her students probably didn’t realize that she played the piano. Playing an hour after school on her beautiful grand piano, given to her by her husband, was her way to unwind. She had me swear to never ask her to play. She played by ear and quite well  but only for her own enjoyment.

                After Ruby’s retirement, I continued reading the Little House to third graders each year. Some have told me the shared reading of those books was one of their most memorable experiences in that school grade. I also followed her pattern for relaxing after a hectic day of teaching. Even though I might have several sets of papers awaiting my correction, I usually sat down at my piano to play the stress away, plus get in some good practice minutes.

                Even though we were relatives – her husband was my Mother’s cousin, and we shared a calling to the field of elementary education - the main point of connectedness was our love of the Lord. Ruby delighted in telling me how she and my grandmother argued about whether a person could know she was saved forever and assured of going to heaven. Her favorite part to relate to me was when she was vigorously rocking at her home reflecting on her conversation with Grandma and suddenly realized it was true that she had everlasting life that could not be lost. She loved the words of Jesus when He said in John 10:28-29:

And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father's hand.

                One of my personal favorite interactions with Ruby followed her retirement. We would see each other weekly at church. One beautiful Sunday in spring, as people exited the front door of the church, no one had bolted the church door back for easier departure. Ruby proceeded to bolt the door open when someone teased her about being the door keeper. With the typical lilting of Ruby’s voice and her enormous brown eyes looking sideways, she responded with the quoting of Psalm 84:10:

For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. 

I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God,

than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.

               Her quotation of this particular passage illustrated the humility in the heart of this godly woman. Her commitment to obedience of the principles of the Bible showed her desire to live a life of godliness and avoid any wicked ways in her walk while on this earth.

On the 96^th remembrance of Ruby’s birth on April 12^th, may those of us who have been so impacted by this woman of class, intellect, and grace, recall with hearts of thankfulness all she built into our lives, purposing to walk in the principles she lived by, thus carrying on her legacy.

The Determined Manx Cat, the Rodent, and the Purpose for Living

Bob, the orange and white manx cat, was born in early April of 2014. The last time I saw him was the morning of January 17, 2017. This manuscript was written in 2016 but edited after his disappearance. 
Bob, the Rodent, and the Purpose for Living

When Bob, the orange and white manx cat, was born, my father had suffered a major, debilitating stroke just five days earlier. Then about ten days later, the mama cat disappeared. We did not need four tiny kittens to bottle feed. Angie checked into shelters, but obviously, we would have to relinquish the kittens to a volunteer to foster them until they were old enough to be adopted. Since several of our cats had died or gone missing, Mother campaigned to keep them. She reiterated the necessity of cats for rodent control.

Thus, began Bob’s role of rodent eradicator. By the time, he reached his second birthday, he was the only one of the bottle-fed kittens surviving. Even though Doc Reavis suggested specified food to minimize maladies unique to his breed, he approved of Bob’s strong hunting desire on the farm.

Bob usually stayed out until I got ready to feed the cattle. He responded with rapidity to his name. However, one day, I called and called his name. I proceeded to feed the outside cats. Then I began loading the pellet-filled buckets for the cattle into the back of the pickup.

To my amazement, Bob appeared, lumbering toward the gate. He had an enormous rodent in tow. He seemed to understand the stunned, but living rodent could not be taken onto the screened-in porch where he slept each night. Neither did he try to approach me as he normally did.

Bob retained his focus as one of the farm’s best exterminators of vermin. He glanced at me loading the feed buckets into the back of the pickup, but he didn’t act on the wish to be with me. With lightning speed, he turned back and pounced on the semi-immobile pasture pest. Devouring this rodent remained his paramount mission.

As I drove back from feeding and checking Mother’s little herd, I thought about the earlier experience with Bob. The scripture from Luke 2 about Mary and Joseph accidentally leaving the 12-year-old Jesus in the metropolis of Jerusalem came to the forefront of my mind. When they located him, in the temple, involved in an intense discussion with the leading theological minds of the day, Mary expressed her anxious heart in her initial question to her son. The Savior of the world, in the body of a preteen boy, responded eloquently, “Why did you seek Me? Did you not know that I must be about My Father’s business?”

First a disclaimer – in no way do I equate Bob, the manx cat, with the Son of God, the Redeemer of mankind. But the young Christ was reminding His mother of what the angel had told her before His birth, along with the birth announcement to the shepherds explaining who He was that holy night. Likely,  the extravagant gifts presented in humility by men of renowned intellect when Jesus was just a toddler came to her mind. Jesus knew that he had a specific mission. I draw a simple comparison that Bob knew his purpose on the farm just as Jesus was laser-focused on his mission to the world.

That led me to a personal question for myself. Do I stay focused on what I was created to do? I proceeded in my thoughts to ask what God’s Word says about my purpose. The Bible has many verses about this topic, but here are three:

I want them back, every last one who bears My name, every man, woman, and child

Whom I created for My glory, yes, personally formed and made each one.

Isaiah 43:7 – The Message

The people I made especially for Myself,

A people custom-made to praise Me.

Isaiah 43:21 – The Message

Everything got started in Him

And finds its purpose in Him

Colossians 1:16 – The Message

One of my favorite verses dealing with this subject of our purpose, our mission, or our focus as humans was learned under the teaching of Donnie Linscott, the pastor of the Ralston Baptist Church from 1968-1971. Donnie came to Ralston when the church building was located on the corner of Main Street and First Street. Those of us in the young people’s Sunday night Bible study benefited from the clarity of his Bible teaching.

Connie Linscott with Lance, who was born while they
were pastoring at Ralston Baptist Church. During their
tenure in Ralston, the church facility located at First 
and Garfield was erected.

I can still recall the Sunday evening when he posed the question to introduce that Sunday night session. He asked us, “Why did God put you on this earth?” For teenagers, it has always been a question that has ushered the seeking young person from the carefree days of childhood through the right of passage into those tumultuous adolescent years. Donnie and his wife, Connie, ensured that we memorize Revelation 4:11. The only version of the Bible that we used at that time was the King James Version. Below is that powerful verse that became the foundation for my mission in life:

Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power:

For Thou has created all things, and for Thy pleasure they are and were created.

Revelation 4:11 – The King James Version

Based on Donnie Linscott’s introduction of this verse, I study the Bible even today with the quest of how can my life, my words, my attitudes, and my thoughts bring glory, honor, and pleasure to the mighty God who created me. Throughout my days and weeks, sometimes even minutes and hours, I pray for insight to know that every aspect of my existence is pleasing Him. Do I achieve this each day? No, but I seek to depend upon Him to enable me to please Him.

My mother, like Donnie and Connie Linscott, taught me a passage that has provided such a basis for pleasing Him. Mother taught me Ephesians 2:8-10 by her frequent quoting of it. Here are the verses I memorized:

For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God.

Not of works, lest any man should boast.

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.

Ephesians 2:8-10 – The King James Version

If I have accepted the gift of God, His Son, Jesus Christ, then I have the basis to please Him. But it really isn’t me. Paul said that we do what we do because of His good works at work in me if we are relying on Him as He has intended for us to do.

Just as Bob, the lovable manx cat, accomplished what he was created to do and kept on the farm to do, may each of us truly find our purpose. Seek that gift of salvation through faith and receive the impetus, the very Spirit of Jesus Himself,  to do good for Him so He can be  “bragged on” and exalted in our lives each day.