The Puffy Pest

The Deception of the Tomato Hornworm

                I grabbed my hoe one morning a couple days after a good rain shower. It seemed the perfect time to loosen the soil around the tomato plants in the beds on each side of the cellar door.

Glancing up from my tilling, I was startled to see a limb of one of the tomato plants devoid of leaves. Immediately, my search began for the dreaded tomato worm. I had almost given up. I had my gloved hand on one of the limbs of the maltreated plant. There next to my glove sat the culprit ready to resume its destruction. Its presence had been almost imperceptible.

I snatched the puffy pest from the tomato plant limb and placed it on an overturned flowerpot. Then as I glanced at the marred plant, I hurled it to the sidewalk. Instantly, the three musketeers, as I like to refer to the three ginger tom cats, (My mother likes to call them the three mouseketeers.) began their investigation of the garden pest. Soon their claws rendered the puffy, green offender harmless and destined to never damage another tomato plant again.

As I put the hoe away, I thought how I almost missed finding the damaging green caterpillar. Frequently, we nearly fail to identify something harmful in our lives. Often, we focus on the effects or symptoms of our problem instead of getting to the root of it – just as my analysis of the tomato plant’s damage interfered with my locating the detrimental larva.

In the same way the bloated, light green tomato hornworm camouflaged perfectly on the light green, slender limbs of the plant, so do spiritual activities appear as important aspects of our walk with the Lord. Yet instead of cultivating and deepening that relationship with Him, our activities rob us of the necessary time in soul-strengthening Bible study and heartfelt prayer.
Many times, the root of our spiritual problem is not difficult to identify, if we only will pinpoint it. To not oversimplify, but still retain an accurate assessment, it comes down to trusting and obeying. We usually know what we should do, especially if we honestly search our souls. Yet trusting that God’s Way is the best for us and following through with doing exactly what His word says - that is where the struggle occurs.

Lord, above all, help me this week to trust exactly what Your Scripture says. Give me courage and boldness to do what You have directed me to do.

Grandma and the Solar Eclipse 99 Years Ago

       My grandmother’s fascination with solar eclipses stemmed from her experience early in her life.  I never asked Grandma, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith, a specific date. History indicated one of the more noteworthy solar eclipses in Oklahoma occurred on June 8, 1918.  The site, timeanddate.com, recorded the total eclipse was visible from around 5:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. in Stillwater, Oklahoma, with its maximum effect being at 6:30 p.m.

My maternal grandma, Gladys Vivian
Rainey, about a year before the
total eclipse of June 8, 1918

Map of the Path of the Total Solar Eclipse on
June 8, 1918 - taken from NationalEclipse.com

       Grandma told of how in the brilliance of the day the landscape became as if it was dusk. The sounds of a summer night began to be heard all around her. Her mother’s hens went into the chicken house and automatically climbed onto the roosts as if preparing for nightfall.

       Grandma’s experience with the significant eclipse during her late teens was recounted usually when we read Matthew 27:45-46:

Then from midday until three o’clock darkness spread over the whole countryside,

 and then Jesus cried with a loud voice, “My God, my God, why did you forsake me?” (Phillips)

And then we compared the companion section in the Gospel of Mark and this passage in Luke 23:44-45:

It was now about midday, but darkness came over the whole countryside until three in the afternoon,

 for there was an eclipse of the sun. The veil in the Temple sanctuary was split in two.

Then Jesus gave a great cry and said, “Father, I commend my spirit into your hands.”

And with these words, he died. (Phillips)

       Grandma explained that when Jesus took the sin of the world upon Himself, God could not look on our sin that He bore in His body on the cross. (II Corinthians 5:21) She articulated that the death of Jesus coincided with the end of the darkness upon the area around Jerusalem. She often turned to one of her favorite chapters in Isaiah and read Isaiah 53:12:

Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the great,

And He shall divide the spoil with the strong,

Because He poured out His soul unto death,

And was numbered with the transgressors.

For He bore the sin of many,

And made intercession for the transgressors.

       These memories of the past will be in my mind, on August 21, if weather permits my viewing the effects of the solar eclipse. I’ll be thinking of Grandma’s excitement over this unusual natural phenomenon over 99 years ago.

Thank You, Jesus, that You endured the darkest day in all the history of the world with all the horrendous sin of ours weighing on You during Your most excruciating pain so we could experience the peace of being forgiven and the gift of Your  enabling power to live purposefully every day.

Only Two Names Will Do

                My father had passed away a couple of hours earlier. The two men from the mortuary arrived at my parents’ farm in the Big Bend. Mother mentioned to them a name “Gilbert Wayne.” Upon her speaking those two words, one of the men said, “When I hear both names, I know that is a person who has known Gil for a long time.”

                My mother quietly, with a slight twinkle in her eye, said, “Edmund and I were the first to see him after his parents, Junior and Merlene.”

                Mother loves to relate the story of her friendship with the Morris family. She and Dad met Gil’s father, Gilbert Forrest Morris or Junior, when he came frequently to the Bend to visit his maternal grandparents, Jim and Mary Clark. Jim owned and operated Clark’s Store located a half mile west from Mother’s present home (Sharon Gibson lives at the location of the store now.). At Clark’s Store, a person could buy a loaf of bread, pump and purchase gas for a car, and pull a cold bottle of pop from a vintage cooler, pop off the top, and drink it on the spot. (A person wanted to leave the empty bottle for recycling and refilling instead of paying a small deposit for taking the glass bottle.)

                About a year after Junior married Georgie Merlene Johnson in Texas, they moved to the Big Bend community. They lived on the farm that is now owned by my mother. At that time, Junior’s parents, Gib and Thelma Morris, owned it. Merlene set up her first country home in what is now the detached garage to the west of Mother’s home. At the time, the small house was situated where Mother’s house is now located.

                As newlyweds, my parents enjoyed doing things together with Junior and Merlene. Naturally, the four of them had their plan about when Merlene’s baby came. My parents would accompany them to the hospital at Pawnee, Oklahoma, where the baby would be born.

This era predated sonograms followed by reveal parties. The excitement of the baby’s arrival was heightened by the anticipation as to whether it would be a baby boy or a baby girl.

My parents, Edmund and Bernyce Gates, and grandparents, Calvin and Gladys Smith, sold a load of cattle at Wichita, Kansas. They arrived home and learned Junior had taken Merlene to the hospital. The first Morris baby was on its way into the world. Mother and Dad hopped into the car and headed to Pawnee.

Merlene and Gilbert Wayne -  from Mother's
photo collection 

As Mother recalled, the baby had held off his arrival. When little Gilbert Wayne Morris arrived on August 17, she and Dad celebrated joyfully with Junior and Merlene. In the 21^st century, when oodles of family members are on hand for the birth of a baby, it may seem an oddity that only my parents were there with Junior and Merlene. Mother explained that both sets of grandparents and the siblings of Junior and Merlene lived in Texas.

The four of them continued their friendship, with Mother and Dad doting on little Gilbert Wayne. Mother described him “as such a cute little boy” and remembered celebrating milestones with Merlene, such as his first steps. My parents and grandparents lived at that time on the Jefferson place just across the road.

Gilbert Wayne Contemplating
the Steps  - from Mother's 
photo collection.

           Even though the Morris family moved in the early 1950s, into Ralston, the families retained a friendship, serving together many years in the Ralston Baptist Church together. With Junior and Dad carpentering together, Gil’s son, Loy, even enjoyed working with them on some jobs. My sister, Angie, and I developed friendships with Gil’s sisters, Patricia and Pam.

Just months before Gil’s retirement, he assisted Mother in planning my father’s funeral. Having just arrived back from vacation, he scheduled a time for Mother to reminisce about all their memories. His handling of all the arrangements pleased my mother, the perfectionist. Gil even set the military marker on Dad’s grave at Pixley Cemetery in the Big Bend on his own time and at his own expense after he had retired.
          Mother was pleased how Gil developed his singing voice, even providing comforting music at family members' funeral services. (She has retained a cassette tape of his quartet, The Masters Men, and listened to it just last month!)
          Countless times, Gil compassionately navigated families, inundated with heart-wrenching grief, through a meaningful, comforting service, furnishing empathetic support to them. He used the God-given gifts and capabilities to assist during some of the most difficult times families encounter.

Since Gil’s first home is the farm that my Mother owns, sometimes he drops by to get some well water and recall with her his earliest days and memories of his grandparents and great grandparents. When your recollections intertwine and go back for so many years, one can’t help but cherish those friendships.

Happy Birthday, Gil!

(or as Mother would say, Gilbert Wayne)

A Wheelbarrow Vs. a Tractor...

...There's Really No Comparison!

A little windstorm blew in. The rain gauge registered over one inch of rain in just minutes, for which we were grateful. But the backyard fence was taken out when one-third of the maple that Dad had planted went down. Several decades ago, he received it from the Pawnee True Value in appreciation for using their material for his carpenter jobs.

On Monday, I began the cleanup in the front yard with a wheelbarrow and a rake. Working intermittently during the day, I hauled five wheelbarrows full to the brush pile. Other than large limbs that I could not move, that section was cleaned up so I could mow the lawn. Let’s just say as I told my leader at Weight Watchers, this was one of those days I didn’t need to work out! But I hadn't even touched the back yard.

Greg and Vonda Goad, our neighbors, had inquired at church on Sunday  about any damage we had. Then later that afternoon, they came over to survey the situation.

On Monday evening, they arrived with gloved hands and a chainsaw. What a

 big difference it made!

Little did I realize how much Greg and his tractor would do on Thursday. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, check out these:

 

As Vonda and I watched, I told her that my efforts with the wheelbarrow represented my own efforts in trying to do what is right or more succinctly, trying live as a follower of Jesus, in my own strength, when I deal with trials, difficulties, and the unknown.

Yet Greg and his tractor symbolizes the power of God that is available to us every moment of every day. If we have been forgiven by the power of Jesus’ blood, we have the very spirit of God living within us. He is ever-present with us. The verse in Psalm 138:8 states emphatically, “The Lord will perfect that which concerns me; Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever; Do not forsake the works of Your hands.”

The verse provides a certainty that God will perfect whatever is related to me. He will never give us what we deserve. That is what mercy is – not getting what really should be coming to us.

Those of us who have a restored relationship with our heavenly Father through Jesus are assured that the Lord of all creation desires to maintain a daily interaction with us. In His omnipotence, He will intervene on our behalf, just as Greg moved the enormous downed limbs.

Greg used about three moves to gather each load to move out of the backyard. I told Vonda how much that mirrors God’s work in our lives. We pray,  but we don’t see the results we have requested. Yet how often, God is working on our behalf to perfect what concerns us, but we don’t see what He is accomplishing because we are so focused on the result we so desperately want.

I pray to be able to recall Greg and the tractor as they moved slowly to collect the debris from the yard, not just once, not just twice, but several times to get the broken limbs onto the front-end loader. Our strong God is at work. As we daily read His word, may we reaffirm our trust in His work in our lives, thanking Him, and restating our love and commitment to Him. 

My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., would say upon reading this post, "Money can't buy good neighbors."

(I've said this on numerous times to many of our neighbors in the Bend.)