One of the Most Difficult Jobs

               Recently, upon hearing of the imminent birth of a former student's baby, I said, "They will find this will be the most challenging undertaking of their lives." As I observed parenting, I have seen parents experience the greatest joys, the most heart-wrenching sorrows, days of delight, and evenings consumed with worry over life-threatening illness because of their precious children.

              Thinking of that conversation caused me to pull from my digital writing files a manuscript inspired when I played for the wedding of one of  Shannon Pease Lockett's sons. I met Shannon when she and George, her brother, enrolled in school at Ralston. Even though their father had died years earlier, as an upper elementary student, I knew they must miss him. Shannon reflected a cheerful attitude even as a new student in our school. I didn't interact with Little George much (It's ironic how wide the age gap is between an upper elementary student and a primary student!) It seemed he usually walked through the hallway with determination as if to convey he would rise above their family's grief and make a difference.

School Photo of Shannon - 
hearkens back to days when
school friends exchanged 
photos.

             

Learning to Parent from Swallows

A friend asked me to play the organ at her son’s summer wedding. One afternoon I stood under her church’s front portico awaiting her arrival so I could practice the church's organ. 

Soon I heard agitated sounds coming from the apex of the portico. I glanced upward to observe elongated nests constructed of mud lining the eaves of the portico. I began watching those swallows. Even though I pressed my body as close to the building as possible, I was still regarded as a threat to the swallows and their young. The adult birds began diving quite close to my head. I braved their onslaught as they tried to remove me from the near proximity of their nests.  Momentarily my friend arrived quickly opening the church’s front entry.

I reflected on the determined swallows. Instantly I began drawing a comparison between parents of children and the aviary parents of those young hatchlings. 

First, the swallows protected tenaciously their young. How frequently I observed parents of young children only half-heartedly attempting to protect their little ones from the evil assaults waged against them! Perhaps even more detrimental to nurturing strong kids are parents  talking superficially of their love, concern, and diligence in rearing their offspring only to see their parental actions belying this fact.

            Repeatedly I hear the attitude echoing “You can’t protect them from everything” so parents stand by as their treasured children spiral into a mire of immorality along with undisciplined behavior devoid of any character training. Those swallows were unyielding in their endeavor to protect their helpless baby birds against a human giant invading the safe territory of the swallow nest. The small creatures were undaunted by the immense battle to safeguard their nests.

Finally, the swallows had the protection and welfare of those fledgling young ones as their top priority. The adult birds unrelentingly waged “war” on me as an unwelcome presence in their habitat. The defense of the helpless ones in the hanging mud nests superseded all other aspects of the birds’ existence.

What can parents of the 21st century learn from frail swallows? Be vigilant in protecting your child from the deluge of evil online predators and the bombardment of shallow commercialism seeking to strip your child of time-honored values. Model for your child a life free of conformity to and influence by social media. Commit to the long haul of parenting.  Do not become weary. Accept your responsibility as a parent, realizing if your poor choices lead to failure at that God-given task, all other successes in life pale, leaving you with heartache that time can seldom heal.

Watch the fragile swallow and take away lessons to empower you as a parent. Then you will rear children with character able to soar above a society of wickedness, stress, and compromise. The hard work of the present will reap abundant rewards in the future.

           

Galatians 6:9 “So we must not get tired of doing good, for we will reap at the proper time if we don’t give up.”

Just Some Snake Stories

Mother and I are so blessed to have some wonderful, young women as friends. A week or so ago, two of them saw what they believed to be a rattlesnake in front of our farmhouse. These thoughtful women turned around hoping to run over the snake, all the while thinking of the welfare of my mother and me. I graciously thanked one of them as she related the snake story and said, "We didn’t kill the snake, but at least it was crawling away from your house.” 
Once again I see why Mother says she wouldn't live anywhere other than the Bend. (Side note - These young women are relatively new Benders but we already love them. They carry on the tradition of women in the Bend being stellar examples of caring about their neighbors.)

The Back Story - April of 2014
           One of the best ways to explain about Tailer and Bob, the cats mentioned in the following account, seems to be through a link. A blog posting written four years ago provides the back story. https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-orphan-kittens-almost-90-days-old.html

Tailer and the Rattlesnake – Written in September 2014
           One late summer afternoon when Bob and Tailer were about five months old, I headed out the back door on my way to check the cattle’s water in the livestock tank located about a quarter of a mile from my parents’ farmhouse. Bob and Tailer always had to be “sequestered” on the enclosed back porch when I left the yard since they insisted on accompanying me anywhere I went. Usually, I could call their names a couple of times as I exited the back door, and they bounded up the steps into the enclosed porch. Not this time.

Tailer in an unusually calm pose.

          Tailer was focused on something near the pushed back garage door. The other farm cats were standing back observing Tailer. He was not to be distracted. I could hear what I thought must have been a loud cricket. As I got closer to Tailer, the sound became louder and I saw the markings. With a start, I leaped back quickly toward the house, realizing Tailer was within striking distance of a coiled rattlesnake. 
          My heart began to pound. Tailer was in danger, but I knew he was such a curious kitten. Tailer would never back away from the poisonous reptile. My head began to reel. Where was Bob? The two kittens stuck together most of the time. How could I protect both of them?
         As I breathed a quick prayer, I recalled my garden hoe was on the back porch. I needed to let my ninety-year-old mother know I was doing more than turning off the water at the filled livestock tank. Upon hearing “rattlesnake,” she insisted on going outside. By this time, Bob was ready to intervene in this noisy animal’s activity. Mother grabbed Bob using the “bad kitty carry” and transported him to safety on the porch.
         Sensibly, Tailer was keeping an eye on the serpent as well as keeping a safe distance. As I breathed a prayer for accuracy and strength, I struck a blow with the hoe at the snake’s head. Eventually, the dull hoe rendered the snake harmless for the young kittens wandering around the back yard.

         Tailer had sounded the warning on the poisonous snake. No person or other animal was injured because we adhered the warning of the orphaned, ginger kitten. How invaluable was the cat that some had scoffed at us for saving and repeatedly told us that he and his litter mates were expendable since we had so much to do with Dad’s care and the day-to-day farm chores! I shuddered to think if I had stepped on the poisonous rattler at dusk. How thankful I am that Tailer, the orange cat with the long tail, saved the day on the farm and earned a place in our hearts.

         So many people today do not see Satan for who he is. John was inspired to use an animal analogy to describe Satan, the enemy of God and people in Revelation 12:9 …that old serpent, called the Devil and Satan, who deceiveth the whole world.

         How many times do we receive warnings against Satan much the same way Tailer warned me of the rattlesnake? Do we heed the warnings?

Final Note
          Mother was chagrined at me for not photographing the rattlesnake that Tailer “hunted.” She was so disappointed the next morning when there was not enough of the dead snake left for an impressive photo.
          I am posting a photograph of Dad with one of the rattlesnakes he killed. Mother reminded me a cat alerted Dad to the rattlesnake in the photo below.
         Dad noticed a cat acting oddly in the front yard near the entry gates. As he got close enough for inspection, he heard the rattle and saw the characteristic markings.                  

Dad killed this rattlesnake in 1990.

            Mother insists the snake Tailer located was longer than the one Dad holds in the photo. I can't debate her. Let's just conclude cats are good for more than rodent control.

Three Stakes and a Tomato Plant

The Bolstered Tomato Plant

                This summer was the third year of planting tomatoes in the once ornamental flower beds on each side of the cellar door. In my maternal grandmother’s time, the beds bloomed profusely with pinkish hues of petunias and a border of resurrection lilies. Day lilies and tall phlox stood stately in the back of the carefully designed beds. I love beauty, but my leaning toward functionality and efficiency demanded tomato plants be planted there since I have been responsible for the gardening for the past three years. The large garden traditional to our farm hasn't been planted since the spring my sister and brother-in-law engineered “putting in the garden” as Dad supervised, less than a year before his stroke.

                2018 did see an additional area added. I planted three of the twelve Celebrity tomato plants I purchased at the Fairfax Feed Store in the bed east of the screened-in back porch. What a delight these three plants have been!

                When I planted the healthy, little Celebrity tomato plants in that east bed, I had no idea how prolific they would be, especially one of them. During the first half of each day, the east sun beamed down on the trio of fledgling plants for the precise amount of time – not too much or too little. The back porch protected them from the blistering afternoon sun so the thriving tomato triplets utilized the water effectively.

Thriving, but an out-of-control plant

                 Overnight, it seemed, the tomato plant in the southernmost part of the east bed grew so prolifically, as Dad would say “it outgrew itself." The productive plant was loaded with tiny, yellow blooms. I headed to the little green house shed where I stored the electric fence posts. They made perfect stakes for tomatoes last year.

                This flourishing plant required unique support. It had sprung up so profusely it demanded not one stake nor two, but its size necessitated three electric fence posts be re-purposed as stakes.

Three makeshift stakes.

                 The three bolstering stakes revolutionized the look of the plant, lifting the fruit of the Celebrity star of the 2018 summer. As the summer progressed, the little tomato plant on the southeast corner of the back porch bed produced delicious, homegrown tomatoes. There's hardly any food better.

                Recently, as I picked the ripe tomatoes, I thought of a bolstering incident in the Bible. In Exodus 17, God led Moses into battle with the Amalekites, an ancient terrorist-type group who had attacked the Israelites as they moved through the wilderness when exiting Egypt. God demanded justice for the ruthless Amalekites attacking all the stragglers…tired and weary; and did not fear God. (Deuteronomy 25:18) As the battle raged on, the people of God were victorious as Moses kept his hands raised. When the hands of Moses fell limp to his side, the Amalekites “prevailed.” Aaron, the brother of Moses, and Hur stepped to each side of Moses and lifted each of his hands. The scripture states, “…his hands were steady until the going down of the sun.” The Israeli army led by Joshua defeated the brutal Amalekite army.

                What a vivid picture of the need to bolster others, in this case, the leader! Leaders in our government at all levels need to be supported through prayer. Scripture clearly teaches a command to pray for those “in authority, that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and reverence. (I Timothy 2:2)

                Just prior to the exhortation to pray for leaders, Paul reminded Timothy to pray and make intercession for all people. As Aaron and Hur lifted up Moses’s hands, we must bolster those around us with our prayers for them. Our words of encouragement provide strength along with our willingness to support through our physical assistance as God directs in those lives that cross our paths.

                The thriving tomato plant became even more productive because of the three stakes I strategically placed around the plant. May we look for those we can support, anticipating the day we can rejoice and thank the Lord for the success we see in those lives we bolstered. 

Thriving  - with Support

At the Bus Stop with Two Freshmen Benders

The Year My Mother Waited for the Bus to Ralston High School

My mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, began her first year of high school at Fairfax. Her parents took her the almost 5.5 miles to the bus stop at the Nine Mile Corner west of Fairfax and north of the Belford River Bridge. After two weeks, she transferred to Ralston High School and daily was taken by her parents the 1 ½ miles to the bus stop located at the Y just west of the Belford River Bridge. She and her friend Wanda Faye Forrest sometimes walked home when debarking from the bus. (Taken from the blog posting entitled: Oh No! He Has a Corsage! Here is a link to it: http://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/04/oh-no-he-has-corsage.html  )
The section above explains the reason Mother attended her freshman year at Ralston, somewhat out of default. In Mother’s words, “That 5.5 mile-trip to catch the Fairfax bus twice a day got old real quick for Mama and Daddy.”

Mother and Wanda Faye Forrest had been friends since earliest school days. Ada Forrest, the mother of Wanda, taught them in first grade at Belford Grade School. (A photo of Ada can be viewed at this blog posting: https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/01/grandmas-temper-and-turkey.html ) Daring Wanda invited Mother to venture outside the north fence of the schoolyard. Wanda had spotted sheep showers or wood sorrel which she purported to be delectable. Mrs. Forrest disagreed strongly with the adventuresome first graders’ choice of greens. Wanda got the first spanking. That day, Wanda Faye’s mother gave little Bernyce, my mother, the only spanking she received during her entire school career. The girls never went picking greens again during school hours.

Wanda Faye Forrest when she lived in
the Bend. from Grandma Gladys Rainey
Smith's photo album.

Mother described Wanda as "dramatic." Often friends have opposite qualities that are complementary. I can attest that I would never characterize my mother as "dramatic." I have told her prior to learning to read, I always preferred Dad's reading of a book over her rendition. Although Mother read and still reads aloud flawlessly, she retorted, "No wonder you liked it. He acted out the story!"

           Mother and Wanda began meeting the bus at the Y, just a fraction of a mile west of the Osage County end of the Belford Bridge spanning the Arkansas River. A small home at the Y provided a sheltered place for the two girls to wait for the bus. The home belonged to John Bailey who operated the small store located steps away from his home.           
          Mother, at age 93, commented how embarrassing to initially only remember the store owner’s nickname, Mr. Gruffy. My grandfather, known for attaching a nickname to many, nicknamed the store owner “Gruffy” because of his gravelly-sounding voice. (As a child, I struggled to keep the given names and nicknames of great-aunts and great-uncles on the Smith side connected with the right relatives. To this day, I know two nephews of Grandpa Calvin Callcayah Smith only  as "Box" and "Boots" - the only names Grandpa used for them.)
           Even though they were in their early teens, as Dad would say, “they pulled a kid trick.” Wanda Faye and Mother took advantage of the bicycle parked at the store. Mother nor Wanda had ever been on a bicycle. In their teen self-centeredness, they hardly noticed the chagrin of the store owner’s son. It was his bicycle. The boy protested loudly to his father when the inexperienced riders crashed his bike frequently. Kids in 1939 didn’t receive an abundance of toys so he prized his bicycle. Mother remembered Mr. Gruffy never corrected Wanda or her. My mother’s reserved personality and by her own admission, her dislike of falling when learning to ride caused her to yield the bike use to Wanda. Mother never learned to ride a bike. However, Wanda Faye mastered riding the bicycle. (I’ve wondered if Mother's conscience might have been smitten by the boy’s strident complaints over their use/misuse of his bicycle without his permission.).

Wanda and Mother -" We didn't 
have many pictures back then."

            One winter morning, as Mother waited alone for the arrival of the bus, she quietly observed Mr. Gruffy preparing his morning meal. A can of potted meat sat heating on the wood stove. As the roaring fire caused the can to expand, Mother reached to retrieve the swollen can. Before her gloved hand could remove it, it exploded, with a boom, as tiny pieces of potted meat were flung to each corner of the room. Mr. Gruffy’s elderly mother slept in the same room each morning. That morning the sleepy woman with her nightcap askew sat straight up in bed!
           As with many of her recollections, Mother is the only one still living. Wanda Faye Forrest Dominguez died in 2009, 70 years after they waited to be the first to board the Ralston School bus. Wanda served as administrator of several nursing homes. Her three brothers are all deceased, too.                 

My grandparents and my mother lived on the Lora Kirk Betts place during this time. Since the Forrest family lived on the place adjoining them on the north, the Smith and Forrest families socialized regularly. Grandpa and Bub, Wanda's father, enjoyed philosophizing and discussing current affairs. Ada and Grandma could have been classified industrious, bordering on being workaholics. Even though the boys were younger than Mother and Wanda, they shared many happy times together.     

Little Junior Forrest who grew up to be
                 Dr. William J. Forrest, renowned plastic
surgeon

My maternal grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith, marveled that those little Forrest boys who got their start in the Bend made quite a success of their lives. Junior became a highly-regarded plastic surgeon. Sid was a successful rancher in Washington County. The baby boy, Jack taught at Northeastern State University in Tahlequah, an educational institution that Grandpa held in high regard because of its location in the “old country” where he was born and raised.

            As a little one, I knew any time Wanda’s parents were coming back to the Bend, these were special people. Our family hosted Wanda, her husband, Andy, and their children, Gary and Janet, for a special meal. I knew this was a dear friend of my mother. Even though Gary and Janet were several years older than me, they made sure a four-year-old enjoyed the day, 

May we decide to form good memories when we interact with those who are meaningful in our lives. Prioritize choosing to be present with family members and friends, refusing to allow the temporal and transient to rob the precious time with those we love. In our hearts, we know those lost moments cannot be reclaimed, so let's make them count so they will last as long as Mother's memories have.

The Shamrock's Turnaround

Shamrock Living

                Mother has a vibrant green thumb. I wrote about how a little shamrock plant, given by Charlotte Hutchens, provided encouragement as we cared for Dad for most of the 42-month span of his convalescence. (Here is a link to this previously mentioned blog posting:

 https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/03/living-shamrock-life.html )

                 A few months ago, my mother agonized about the shamrock given to her by Charlotte Hutchens, her dear neighbor and friend. It seemed on the brink of dying. An accurate, but depressing statement emitted from my mouth. I told her, “Mother, you know plants are not going to live forever.”

                Unfazed, she mused, “Maybe it is not getting enough light.” She had placed its little pot under a pretty mirror in the dining room.

                Mother set about clearing the recess near the north dining room window. Glorious sunlight streamed into that spot. She centered the puny-looking shamrock plant in that nook.

                Within days, an unbelievable transformation took place. The distressed plant began to flourish. What delight when the shamrock even bore delicate, white blooms!

                The growth-altering variable was the light of the sun flooding daily onto that little tri-leaved sprig with spindly stems. The dying shamrock flourished with the abundant light pouring onto every part of it throughout the daylight hours.

                We marveled at the shamrock’s conversion from a plant on life support to one thriving and attracting all types of attention as it bloomed in its own tiny nook of the house. After expressing surprise and joy, my mind recalled the Apostle John’s small letter, inspired by God, and written, most likely, to his congregation at Ephesus. These words from I John 1:7 appeared in the forefront of my memory:

But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another,

and the blood of Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.

                Living in the light of Jesus, the Son of God, enables us to get along amiably with each other. His Light illumines the areas that need to be cleansed, cleaned up by the blood of Jesus. Our primary goal is to remain in His light - as the little shamrock soaked up the light of the sun. He does the rest – just as He caused the struggling shamrock to grow and thrive because of the warm, radiance of His sunlight.

                I would neglect an important aspect of what John wrote around 2000 years, if I did not mention the two verses that preceded the one printed above. Verses 5 and 6 say:

This is the message which we have heard from Him and declare to you,

that God is light and in Him is no darkness at all.

If we say that we have fellowship with Him, and walk in darkness,

we lie and do not practice the truth.

                The longer we walk with the Lord, complacency and self-confidence can creep into our lives. The Bible is replete with examples of people who, through the power of God at work in them, did great exploits in His Name. But then down their road of life, somehow, they drifted into darkness and did not practice the truth.

As I apply this Biblical reality to my own life, several words have floated through my mind – guarded, cautious, terrified. None are accurate. Attentive is the best way to portray the thought pattern needed as I age. An attentiveness to walking in the light of my relationship with Him can assure staying out of the darkness which leads to lying to myself and results in failure to practice the truth. Instead I live a lie.

John wrote initially, in verse 6, of our fellowship with Him, a daily interaction with Him through reading His word and praying to Him. A natural, spiritual flow from our fellowship with Him is noted by the Apostle John, in verse 7, to  fellowship with one another, positive exchanges with family, friends, coworkers, and literally anyone we encounter.

Only by remaining in the light of His Word daily, asking Him to reveal those areas prone to self-reliance, and to correct those prideful attitudes can I continue to flourish just like the hearty little shamrock. The shamrock plant’s only source of life has been the sun. A vibrant relationship with the Son of God will be the sole basis for me to thrive as a believer.