Her Story Inspires Me

Within the last few weeks, a couple from Ralston, when in another Oklahoma town, was asked where they lived. When "Ralston" was their answer, the person who had inquired responded, "There was a preacher from Ralston  who always carried his Bible." The Ralston couple nodded and said, "That was Ray Hart."  Today's blog posting is about his younger daughter, Becky.

What happens when your talent seems taken away? Suddenly, your livelihood, your much-loved pastime, your service to the Lord, and even day-to-day tasks become monumental. Several years ago, this happened to Becky.

Becky, her sister, Ila, and her parents are in my earliest memories. Even though she and her sister were a few years older than me, I always anticipated their family’s visits. Most of the time her father pastored churches a distance from the Bend so we spent time with them infrequently.  (To read more about her parents, access these two previous postings: https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2015/06/one-of-most-unused-sources-of-power.html and https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/10/a-20th-century-widow-with-little-more.html).

However, in their late high school years, Becky and Ila Hart moved to Ralston for a few months when their father was between churches. We shared lots of laughs and fun times. I learned what a gifted pianist Ila was, with Becky an equally talented vocalist. As a voracious reader, I met my match in Rebecca Joyce Hart. She loved to devour books even more than I did.

Ila Rae and Becky Hart in 1972

During that short time, the Hart family lived in Ralston, my grandmother had a deep desire for one more attempt to have the gospel preached in the Bend. She arranged to use the vacant house where George and Hazel Goad had raised their family. It served to house the vintage foldable metal chairs, an antique pulpit and old song books. For a week that summer, the chairs, the pulpit and song books were set up nightly in the abandoned house's front yard. Brother Ray Hart preached each evening, with Ila playing the out-of-tune upright piano, housed in a protected area of the porch, as Dad led the singing. Becky sang solos several nights, too.

When the Hart family moved, we kept in touch but, with all of us having busy lives, seldom saw each other. Then Becky’s parents retired to Ralston, and our friendship with Becky and Ila renewed. But after the death of their parents, once again distance and time separated us.

In the early days of their marriage, Becky and Mark were involved in a dairy operation. Mark marveled at Becky’s care of the many little calves. Even though she had not grown up on a farm, she tackled dairy farming with the fervor of doing the best job possible – no matter what task she needed to do. She had learned this in her home with each chore she was assigned to do. What a testament to the parenting of Ray and Ruby Hart!

With joy, we read in one of Becky’s Christmas cards that she had begun singing with the Singing Church Women. Her husband, Mark accompanied her each month to the concert. Usually, at least one of the concerts each season took place close enough for Mother, Dad, and me to drive and enjoy the gorgeous, uplifting choral performance. Getting to reconnect with Mark and Becky made each evening a stellar event.

Then how saddened we were to learn of Becky’s health issues. Ila had passed away and now Becky’s voice and breathing prevented her from singing. Not only was Becky losing her opportunity to use her God-given vocal talent, her position as a loan officer at the bank had to be relinquished. Becky was diagnosed with “vocal-cord dysfunction.” Any scented product such as perfume, smoke residue, or as Becky would say “products too numerous to list” used by her clients caused her vocal cords to swell and in turn, affected her bronchial tubes.

But God was not finished with Becky yet. The last time we saw each other, Mark showed me this photograph on the left (or above—depending on your display) from his phone. He informed me Becky was operating the off-road dump truck in his photograph. The construction company for which Mark works was building a road near Pawhuska, Oklahoma. (Mark's company replaced the small bridge in Pawnee County near the home of Delsie Robbins Barrett.) They were short-handed that day. Becky hopped in and “made a hand” for the day. Her breathing remained strong during the day since she was in an enclosed cab.

God has restored her singing voice. It is lower than previously, but still she sings so each word can be understood. People continue to be greatly blessed by her solo voice. The day of  the 120^th Anniversary of the Ralston Baptist Church in 2017, Becky was able to bless the congregation with a moving solo.

She still struggles with warm, humid air and the other triggers mentioned earlier. Her “asthmatic” type reaction to these make her breathing feel like she is "breathing through a wet blanket or sucking air through a straw." Yet she rejoices that, on most days, she can sing. She also rejoices that God is good. Oh that we can all have Becky’s attitude each day!
This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it. 
                                                                          Psalm 118:24

The Coyote and the Rabbit

A Coyote in Action

                One winter morning I walked to fill the stock tank with water for the cattle. Glancing into the west pasture, I spotted a coyote. It sauntered aimlessly. Suddenly, it broke into a sprint. I thought for a millisecond, What is it chasing? Almost immediately, only a few steps ahead of the predatory animal ran a small rabbit. The frightened hare stretched to its full length to escape its determined predator. The tiny prey raced to a gully where used hay coverings are placed. As it approached the shed, the coyote pulled up, recognizing it had lost the chase.

                Being so tenderhearted, I breathed a sigh of relief to not witness the demise of the rabbit. Scriptures began to appear in my mind. The first verse was:

Flee fornication. I Corinthians 6:18

In my memory, Jon Ogle, a former pastor of our church in Ralston, is associated with this verse. Jon preached boldly on this verse. He explained “flee” should be interpreted from the original Greek as “flee or run as a man in terror.” Brother Jon recognized how devastating sexual sin is in individual lives, marriages, and most of all, in families, especially impacting the children. 

Bro. Jon Ogle when in
Ralston in the 1980s.

The Bible commands three other reasons to “flee” or as Brother Jon’s would say “run as a man in terror.” The second verse can be found a few chapters further in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.

Flee idolatry. I Corinthians 10:14

Idolatry refers to anything or anyone elevated above God in our lives. Sometimes we don’t recognize our idolatry because it isn’t overt or obvious to us. But anytime we look to our own strategizing, finagling to achieve what we want or think is best, or lean on our understanding, we are not trusting Him. We are trusting ourselves and making our own capabilities the idol.

               In Paul’s writing to his protégé, Timothy, he addressed the third verse when he wrote “those who desire to be rich fall into temptation” and “the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” In the following verse, He told Timothy:

But you, O man of God, flee these things and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, gentleness.  I Timothy 6:11

Using Brother Jon’s admonition, we should run from the obsession to be rich since it leads to loving money which is defined by the Apostle Paul as “a root of all kinds of evil.” Ironically, when we love money, the money becomes an idol.

                Finally, in Paul’s second letter to Timothy, written shortly before his beheading by the Roman government, he instructed Timothy in chapter 2, verse 22:

Flee also youthful lusts; but pursue righteousness, faith, love, peace with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart. 2 Timothy 2:22

Paul told Timothy to flee, run as a man in terror, from youthful lusts. Youthful, immature indiscretions are not limited to younger people in age. Years lived on the planet never guarantee wisdom nor wise living. As a person ages, experience should add wisdom but, how easily an older person can slip back into youthful temptations. My father used to quote the adage, There’s no fool like an old fool. Solomon wrote in Proverbs 3, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” That reverential respect of the Lord will compel a person, no matter the age, to pursue righteousness, faith, love, peace.

                Like the rabbit, running in terror from the coyote, may we run from any form of immorality, idolatry, the love of money, and lust characteristic of youthfulness. Brother Jon Ogle would affirm this will honor the Lord and lead to a life worth living.

Bro. Jon Ogle during the 120th
Anniversary of the Ralston
Baptist Church on 
November 5, 2017.

The Discarded, but Clean Milk Jug

This Week I Was Glad Mother Recycles

            When teaching third graders, I used my mother frequently as Exhibit #1 for the proverb, “Waste not, want not.” Since her childhood days in the Great Depression, she honed the art of repurposing. I recalled introducing Mother to Phyllis Rottmann Murphy, a former Woodland School administrator. The two discovered quickly their shared habit and laughed as they related the numerous ways they recycled and enjoyed  frugal living.

            This week after the little ice storm and the subsequent, bitterly cold days, Mother’s recycling habit was a boon to me. I exited the house to feed the farm cats only to find every gate frozen, vehicle doors frozen shut, and frost-free hydrant handles encased in ice. Thankfully, even though my boots crunched loudly on the ice-and snow-covered ground, my footing kept me upright – most of the time.

            Thankfully, even though Mother is making a concerted effort to "repurpose" less frequently, she had washed and saved a half-gallon plastic milk container with its lid. It was perfect for filling with hot water for thawing the ice-enclosed gate latches and the hydrant handles.

Notice how Mother stores the lid -on
the side - she masking taped it. 
In her experience, tightening the lid 
on the recently washed jug will cause
 the air in the jug to smell stale.

            The light weight plastic container held the amount of hot water I needed and was easy to transport. The handle and light-weight plastic made it easy to tote.

            Soon the slow pouring of the hot water from the recycled container achieved its desired results. All gates and hydrant handles were operable. God’s glorious sun rays warmed the frozen vehicle doors.  Almost imperceptibly, the once immovable doors could swing freely open.

            As I walked toward the house, I realized the little plastic half-gallon container illustrated an important Biblical truth. The paraphrase from the 1970s of the Bible, The Living Bible, conveyed clearly what I thought as I carried the empty, repurposed container. Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 4:7 –

But this precious treasure – this light and power that now shine within us – is held in a perishable container, that is, in our weak bodies. Everyone can see that the glorious power within must be from God and is not our own.

What a powerful word picture of a “perishable container” encasing something incredibly precious! Based on our faith in Jesus to redeem us from the darkness of sin, in His gracious lavish forgiveness, the God of the universe places in our weak, fallible bodies His Spirit to daily empower us to live lives that bring glory to Him. No wonder Paul emphasizes “everyone can see” it “must be”… God’s power and “not our own.”
             In our 21st century, the physical appearance of a person is celebrated. To retain that perfect appearance, in our country, literally, billions of dollars are spent each year to maintain flawless, youthful Americans faces and bodies. (According to www.plasticsurgery.org, in 2016, Americans spent $16 billion on elective plastic surgery.) To some extent, many of us fight aging (and rightly so), but with truthful hearts, as believers, we must agree with God that our souls are really housed in perishable containers. 

When trying to shut a gate,the
recycled milk jug sustained a
puncture from a frozen wire.
Since Mother had only saved
ONE jug, I had to used extra
strength duct tape to make it
serviceable again. So often in
 aging, perishable bodies incur
scars and flaws. Ironically,
sometimes, in spite of one's
marred, imperfect condition,
the Spirit of God shines
resplendently, astonishing all
who see, especially the skeptic 
and unbeliever.

           How like the discardable, recycled plastic milk jug we are! In the sub-freezing weather, its only value to me was its containment of the hot water for thawing. God has graciously privileged us to have His gentle, ever-present spirit within our unreliable, weak frame (Psalm 103:14 ESV). Though unfathomable, He daily guides us to join the work He desires to do in and through us. 

            God, thank You for calling us into a relationship with You, imbuing the Holy Spirit in our frail, mortal bodies. Enable us to respond with hearts committed to obedience so that Your glorious power overwhelmingly illuminates our feeble humanity and magnifies the beauty of the loving Savior to those we encounter.

A Dear Friend Remembered

          Banetha Buchanan and I discovered we had a lot in common during our first conversation when we first met in block classes at Oklahoma State University. This was our "student teaching" semester during the fall of 1977. We both designed our custom-made outfits, usually from double knit, one of the most wearable fabrics. Our love of the rural life immediately formed a bond. But one connection loomed larger than our other shared “likes.” We discovered we had both made life-altering commitments to follow Jesus in our early years.

    Oklahoma State College of Education officials photographed Dr. Troxel, Banetha,
    and me. Banetha and I were in our early 20s. This photograph appeared in the 
    Pawnee Chief on November 3, 1977, to announce our upcoming student teaching
    assignments. Sadly, Dr. Troxel passed away a couple of years ago, too.

Anyone who knows “my collegiate story,” knows I honed my frugality during my years at Stillwater. Yet by the time I met Banetha, I could visualize graduation in May of 1978 as achievable, so spending money for unnecessary expenses was allowable. Most days, if our schedules provided a lunch break, Banetha and I walked to the Student Union, hiked up to 5^th floor, ordered chef salads, and solved the educational problems of the state of Oklahoma. We laughed a bunch, shared hopes and dreams, anticipated our student teaching stint and encouraged each other in our walk with the Lord. 

As I reflected tonight on her death, I suddenly realized at the time we forged a friendship over forty years ago, none of her much-loved children had been born!  It was just she and Calvin. Over the years, we faithfully exchanged Christmas cards. I came to anticipate her “Christmas Letter” each December.

My heart broke for her when Cole was killed. I recall learning of Will’s fatal accident and remember vividly verbalizing my sorrow, concern, and questionings to my mother as we drove home from church on January 1, 2012. My empathy with Banetha’s sorrow so permeated my thoughts, I didn’t even notice the black smoke pouring from Dad's destructive barn fire until I was within a quarter of a mile of my parents’ place.

When my father had his stroke and I assumed the care of Dad’s small herd, my sister encouraged me to become a member of the Oklahoma Cattlemen’s Association. Dad had chosen to align with the Pawnee County Chapter for a couple of reasons. Pawnee was much closer than Pawhuska, even though Pawhuska was his county seat. Also, Dad had built many homes for cattle producers in Pawnee County. The bottom line, he had more friends in the Pawnee Cattlemen’s Association Chapter. Dad was all about his friends. 

Prior to Dad’s stroke, Banetha and I saw each other only at Vacation Bible School trainings annually. Thankfully at Angie’s insistence, I attended each Cattlemen’s event held at Pawnee. Angie would come specifically to care for Dad so I could attend. At the banquet or other event, Banetha and I would pick up just as though we were back on campus in Stillwater preparing to student teach. We always laughed, shared how the Lord had blessed our families and encouraged each other to keep strong in serving Him.

The final few times we visited, even though I tried to downplay it, I realized Banetha’s health had become a challenge. She had a valve replacement surgery that was miraculously cancelled due to the Lord’s divine intervention.

But on November 8, 2018, the last time we spoke, laughed and encouraged each other, it was different. She told me of the impending surgery in January of 2019. Then she looked across the table at me and with her unique, winsome demeanor indicated that she was “fine” with whatever happened. She had those she dearly loved in heaven – her boys, but she had her girls, grandchildren, and Calvin she cherished here on earth. Even though I told her we wanted her to stay here longer, she had reminded of a truth we don’t often face. None of us are promised tomorrow.

In our high-tech world, where we have answers for just about everything, we still do not have the answer for facing death. The scripture says Prepare to meet your God. In John 14, Jesus related to His disciples that His father’s house had many mansions and He was going to prepare a place and explained, “I will come again and receive you…so you may be there, also.”

 When Thomas heard this, the apostle, asked Jesus, “Lord, we do not now where You are going, and how can we know the way?” Jesus gave the most succinct, unequivocal answer when He stated, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.”

Banetha made that preparation when she was a young girl. She had come to Jesus, trusting His blood sacrifice He gave for her on the cross to forgive her sin. For that reason, I knew when I first read of her death, exactly where she was. Just as Jesus promised, where He is, she is there also. My dear friend would insist every family member, every friend, and every neighbor be assured of that for themselves.

Banetha wrote a beautiful card when Dad died, but the verse she placed in the card stood out. I remember as I turned to the verse in my Bible, I thought, If anyone could give a verse of comfort, it would be Banetha. The verse was Isaiah 41:10:

Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you, Yes, I will help you,

 I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.

            May those of us who loved her and greatly miss her find comfort in being held in the right hand of a loving God who promises to strengthen and uphold all through this deep valley of grief.