Blown About Like Bale Wrap

            On a blustery day, I began crossing the Belford Bridge spanning the Arkansas River. I glimpsed something small moving chaotically from side to side on the bridge. Seeing the light blue color, I deduced it must be discarded bale wrapping. As I approached the east end of the bridge, the useless wrapping from a big, round bale twisted wildly, being propelled mercilessly in the gusts of wind off the river. 

Stored hay in the protective bale wrapping;
Dave Goad began processing Mother's hay
when her nephew, Tim Gates, retired.

As I drove off the bridge into Pawnee County, a phrase by the Apostle Paul came to mind. He wrote it to the early Christians at Ephesus. The phrase that came to my mind was, “no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine.”

In Ephesians 4:11-16, Paul asserted to the young believers the importance of good pastors and teachers shepherding and teaching the saints –one in whom Christ dwells. Receiving this teaching resulted in building up the entire body or congregation in the early Ephesian church. Paul explained that we should not be childlike in our understanding. We love the impulsiveness of children, but that same characteristic, in an adult, leads to poor decisions, a naivety and gullibility, falling for unscrupulous ideologies and being misled by deceptive shysters of spiritual truths.

Paul challenged the Ephesians to grow in Christ, the head of the church. Their growth led to being able to speak the truth in love. 
In this way, we can each contribute using the giftedness the Holy Spirit has endowed on each believer. The whole congregation will grow strong in Biblical doctrine, the basis of our faith, and benefit from our willingness to serve.

May each of us who are in Jesus take measures every day to grow stronger in Him. We never want to be a spiritual lightweight like the little, discarded bale wrapping. In our spiritual lives, we do not want to be blown around from one concocted philosophy or ideology based on obscure passages plucked from scripture and crafted by a deceptive, self-proclaimed founder to get followers. 
          Let the visualization of that piece of bale wrap being blown all over the river bridge spur us to study purposefully His Word each day. Biblical meditation provides stabilizing growth in the power of His might. Nothing can better prepare us for facing the turbulent winds of life.

Armed Robbery in the Big Bend

As long as I can remember, my family has been friends with Merlene Morris and her family. In honor of her, I am posting an event occurring on March 25-26 of 1956. Merlene's newspaper clippings and her recollections, along with Mother's memories, have been the inspiration for this blog posting.  Thanks to Marcy Sterling and Jamie Sears at the Fairfax Library for their help as I accessed articles related to this happening from their archives of the Fairfax Chief.

                In April of 1932, Jim and Mary Clark purchased the country store in the Bend. (It was located where Sharon White Gibson now lives, about a half-mile from my mother’s farm.) The Great Depression cast a deep gloom over the entire nation, but despair, hunger, and lack hovered over the state of Oklahoma. According to an article about his knife-making that appeared in the Ponca City News during the late 1950s, the Clarks extended credit to their customers but never received payment from a few Benders during the worst economic crisis in the history of the Bend. (The photo of Mr. Clark appeared with the above mentioned article.)

                During the 1950s, Merlene and Gilbert (Junior) Morris lived on the place now owned by my mother, Bernyce Smith Gates. During that time, their three children, Gilbert Wayne Morris, Patricia Morris Chaffin, Pamela Morris Felix were born. Many events and happenings filled Merlene’s memory from those early days of her family. One of the most vivid, frightening days involved the robbery of the store owned by her grandparents-in-law, the Clarks. Junior was Mary and Jim’s grandson.

                Many of the people in the community went to the evening service at Big Bend Baptist Church on Sunday, March 25, 1956. (My parents and maternal grandparents had been asked by Brother Ray Hart to assist with music and teaching at the newly-formed Masham Baptist Church just across the Arkansas River in Pawnee County. The four of them were attending the night church service there.)

                Around 7 p.m., that evening a couple of men pulled up to the Clark Store. Jim Clark and his brother-in-law, Riley Drake were minding the store. The Fairfax Chief article from the weekly issue, published on March 29, quoted Clark as saying, “the women folk had gone to church.”

                The younger man, age 28, entered the store, pulling a gun on Mr. Clark and Mr. Drake. Even though Jim Clark at age 76 suffered a lack of mobility in his legs due to a childhood illness, he defended himself with his crutch. My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., when retelling this happening, always said, “Jim was very strong in his upper body.”

                The young perpetrator hit Mr. Clark over the head with his gun. In the scuffle, the gun fell to the store floor. Mr. Drake, the brother of Mary Clark, began hand-to-hand conflict with the would-be robber. Drake eventually secured the gun and got off a shot as the culprit fled the store without apprehension. The forty-year-old driver/accomplice had parked a short distance from Clark’s store. Upon hearing the shot, he sped from the foiled robbery site. Mr. Clark suffered head lacerations and caved-in ribs. The paper reported their bruises and scratches required medical attention.

This photo accompanied a newspaper clipping that
appeared on Mary's 88th birthday. She lived to be 99
years old, dying just a couple months shy of her 100th
birthday. She and Jim were married about 50 years.

                Merlene recalled Coyt Auld came to the door at the back of the church to tell the worshipers of the attempted robbery (An interesting piece of Bend trivia - Mr. Auld’s great-nephew, Ron Howard aka Opie Taylor, frequented the Bend with his family when the actor/director’s great-grandmother, Carrie Freeman Tomlin, lived with the Auld family. My father hardly ever saw Ron Howard in a movie or television show without making the remark, "He's been on that road right out there!"). Merlene remembered the women and children being taken from the church service to safety at George and Hazel Goad’s home located southeast of the present home of Hubert and Charlotte Hutchens. She mentioned Geraldine Rice Forbes and her daughters sought safety, too, while the men began the search for the would-be thieves who had escaped.

                The article from The Fairfax Chief indicated several agencies, including Osage County, Fairfax and Pawnee police departments, and the Oklahoma Highway Patrol, searched until midnight and concluded the two desperados had escaped the area.

                Mother clearly recalled that spring evening. She was 31 years old and in her third trimester anticipating my birth. My parents and maternal grandparents lived on the place owned by Omer Jefferson, Jr. He had inherited it from his mother, Louise Butler Jefferson, the descendant of an Osage original allottee. The Jefferson land was located south across Big Bend Road from Mother's home today.

                In the early 1950s, my parents and grandparents responded to the need of workers at the newly-formed Masham Baptist Church. That March night, they returned from their Sunday evening service at Masham, only to be stopped at the east side of the Belford Bridge spanning the Arkansas River. Law officials alerted them to the robbery suspects on the loose in the Bend.

                Many residents were out on what is now Big Bend Road, the main artery into the Bend. The place they rented had been combed for Mr. Clark’s attacker. Soon my parents and grandparents were assured, following a thorough search, the perpetrators had left the area. Grandma, Gladys Rainey Smith, remained tense over the afternoon events, nevertheless they settled in for the evening.

                A little after midnight, the driver of the getaway car, evidently with a pang of concern for his younger partner in the crime, attempted to return to the Bend via the Belford Bridge, only to encounter the road block. He was detained by the Pawnee County law officials.

                Realizing the gunman was still at large in the Bend, the intense search resumed. According to Merlene’s notes, at 3:20 a.m., following a trail of blood, the officials discovered the would-be robber hiding in a ravine on the Jefferson place. His capture occurred a scant half-mile from my family’s dwelling where he was holed up in a cave on the bank of the dry creek bed. (Mother reiterated the location of his seizure was slightly south of the small WPA bridge located west of her present home. Were my father alive, he could take you to the precise spot of the robber's apprehension!)

                The Pawnee Chief reported the men were initially housed in the Fairfax jail and later transported to Osage County Jail in Pawhuska. Both had previous criminal records for similar offenses.

                The scripture condemns stealing. One of the verses that rings true for our society today is found in Ephesians 4:28.

Let him who stole steal no longer, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have something to give him who has need.

I like this crystal-clear rendering of Ephesians 4:28 from The Message:

Did you use to make ends meet by stealing? Well, no more! Get an honest job so that you can help others who can’t work. 

Other Blog Postings - Merlene and her family have been featured in other postings. Below are links to these:

https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2015/11/when-cotton-was-king.html

https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2017/08/only-two-names-will-do.html

https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-spokes-must-be-connected-to.html

She Moved with Grace and Elegance

On Friday, March 8, my cousin notified us of his mother's passing. In December of 2014, I had written a blog posting about Aunt Martha. It was entitled "The Missing Photograph from the Panel." I am posting an edited version to honor her this week.

Florence Martha Gates Johnston was born on December 12, 1925, at her family's home in the Big Bend community west of Ralston, Oklahoma. My father, Edmund Gates, Jr. always said his older sister, Ella, who was almost 11 years old, was allowed to name his new baby sister. She named her Martha for one of her dearest school chums, a girl named Martha Frasier who also attended Woodland School.

Mart, which was the name Dad frequently used for her, had another older sister, Mary who was 9 years old when Martha was born. Later, she would have two younger sisters. Julia would be born in 1933, and Mamie Marie, as Dad would say, came along in 1938. This placed Martha as the middle sister in the family. Her brother Jess was born two years before her, Herbert was born in 1928, and Jim was born in 1931.

             Dad recounted Martha’s graduation from eighth grade at Woodland School in 1939. The rural school was located in the Big Bend where Lester Anson’s home now sets. The three-room school educated over 100 students yearly in first through eighth grades during the Great Depression Era. (See photo of Martha as a teen at right.)

            The spring rains were in full force in May of 1939, when the day of the climactic celebration of the school term was held. Graduations marked accomplishments of the scholars and called for accolades of praise for them. Today large cheering sections of family “whoop and holler” for their graduate. This was not to be for Martha.

            Every time my father retold the story he would say, “I really felt sorry for Martha since she had on her nice dress.” I have heard left-handed men are more sensitive than right-dominant males. Whether this is truth or an urban legend, I do not know. I do know my father was sensitive, not soft, but quite aware of others’ feelings. Martha’s soggy eighth grade graduation day was no exception.

                Dad took Martha to Woodland School on horseback in the rain from their home. He was the only family member who attended. Creeks were flooded along with bar ditches. Dad always intimated that it was a miserable day for a young lady to graduate. Nevertheless, he was glad to be there to act as her chauffeur and escort. 

Bernie, Martha's older son,
Martha, and Patsy, her only
daughter at the farm of Ed
Gates, Sr. in the 1950s.

             Martha’s sensitivity to her brothers and the need for the family’s crop to get to the cotton gin trumped a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have her picture taken for her senior class panel. Even though she was a teenager, she had already learned to think of others. Isn’t that what life is about?                

             I updated Aunt Martha periodically on Dad’s condition following his stroke, One day when we visited about six years ago, she explained to me why her photo was not on the 1943 senior panel of Burbank High School. The senior portraits were being taken during the height of cotton-picking season. Martha said her brothers were working in the field to get the cotton out of the field in a timely manner. She said, “I just felt like I should stay home from school and help my brothers.
          Putting others first has always been a challenge to humans. Today it seems technology has isolated people. Sometimes this results in self-absorption and a disregard for those in close proximity and their needs.

Martha moved with such grace and elegance. This photo
illustrates why she was a walking testimonial for Estee
Lauder at age 88. My sister told her she should get free
products from the company because of how great she
looked!

          From volunteering for her three children's activities when they were young and even into their high school years to caring for neighbors and serving in her church, she put others first. She gave and gained much pleasure from one of her final, rewarding tasks - delivering Mobile Meals.

Martha always cared deeply for her family. At least one time during every one of our telephone conversations, she would use a phrase to comment on the preciousness of something one of them had done by saying, “Wasn’t that dear?” I heard that spoken almost every time we visited my grandma, Mamie Irene Tripp Gates.
          Each time we talked, she thanked Mother, Angie, and me for caring for Dad. She reiterated in each visit how she prayed faithfully for us. Many times she would lament she could no longer read very well or attend church, but she mailed her tithe to her church and prayed fervently every night. 
          As I reflected since Aunt Martha’s death on March 8, 2019, a few verses from Jesus’ words of comfort to His closest earthly companions, His disciples, just prior to His crucifixion came to mind. These are select verses from John 14.

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.  (verse 6)

“A little while longer and the world will see Me no more, but you will see Me. Because I live, you will live also.  (verse 19)

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.  (verse 27)

Randy Johnston, Martha's younger son, with her
at the Gates Reunion in 2013.

                How important for us to remember that Martha would want us to be reminded that Jesus is the way to heaven and because He lives, we will live also. In this truth, we can rest in His peace and be thankful Martha moved among us with grace and elegance.

The Great Depression and Two De-Icers

                                Glad to Be Trained by a Depression-Era Mother and Grandma
        My maternal grandparents, Calvin Callcayah and Gladys Rainey Smith, were young adults with a preschooler when the stock market crashed in 1929. The childhoods of my parents were imprinted indelibly by the Great Depression. How unfathomable that my paternal grandparents, Edmund, Sr. and Mamie Tripp Gates, were faced with providing for six children when, as my third graders loved to say, “The Dirty 30s” struck the families in the Bend mercilessly!
       Seeing value in every item on the farm, no matter how old or used, was the norm in our multi-generational household. My grandmother, Gladys Smith, warned on a regular basis, “Take care of that. You will be without someday.” Mother never verbalized this dire prediction but, as my sister characterizes, she gets the “goody” out of everything.
       Fast forward 45 years - In December of 2017, my clumsiness got the heating element of the livestock water tank red de-icer on its cord, compromising its electrical safety. Chagrined at my mistake, I headed to Fairfax Feed Store and purchased a replacement. Under the influence of the Great Depression mindset, I stored the damaged red de-icer in a bag on a shelf on the enclosed back porch.
      Usually, I “dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s” - yet another faux pas. I never  cleaned and put away the “new” blue de-icer cleaned as the winter ended. When I realized my blunder, my primary focus was getting water run in the tank before the freezing weather of this winter was predicted to begin.The blue de-icer, that had not been cleaned and stored, thankfully worked…until the cold blast of February of 2019. Early that February morning, in a single-digit wind chill, I discovered the blue de-icer was cold as ice!

The older red de-icer now back in service.

         As I trudged up the incline to the house, I remembered my depression-era actions of June, about seven months earlier. In that summer month, as I cleaned the shelf of the back porch, I removed the older red de-icer. I thought, Now is the time to either throw this away or try to remedy its problem. I sat down and began encasing the damaged cord of the red de-icer in carefully-wrapped electrical tape. I surveyed the repaired cord of the de-icer, as this thought pervaded my mind, This might bail me out in an emergency. 
        As soon as I ate breakfast that bitterly cold February morning, I zipped down to the stock tank, gripping the “emergency” old red de-icer. I unplugged the inoperable blue de-icer. With painfully cold hands, I cut awkwardly the recycled old baling twine that held the cord of it securely. To get perspective on the icy cold atmosphere, I recalled stories Hubert Hutchens told of welding on the North Slope of Alaska. Those thoughts of Hube's endurance and my audible prayers warmed me as I tested the old red de-icer. Instantly, it heated! As I breathed a prayer of thanks to the Lord, I attached securely the cord of the old, but restored red de-icer using saved and repurposed bale twine from the days Tim Gates, my cousin, baled Dad’s hay.
         Plodding back to the house, I reasoned within myself, I’ll just put this useless blue de-icer on the back porch and throw it away after I warm up. Ironically, the next day, while it snowed, I reread the manual of the newer, but inoperable blue de-icer. A tiny spark of hope sprung up in my mind. Maybe I should try to clean the coil of the heating element. I collected some old rags and procured once-used, cleaning vinegar from Mother. (She periodically runs six cups of Heinz white vinegar through her coffee maker as maintenance to counteract the high lime content from our water. She recycles the cleaning vinegar.) After soaking the rags in vinegar, I wrapped the heating element in those pungent recycled strips of old towels and left it in an old metal dishpan for several hours. Late in the day, I unwrapped the coils of the heating element and rubbed them thoroughly of lime buildup.

The cleaned heating element of the newer blue
 de-icer

        The next morning, I grabbed the cold blue de-icer with clean coils and decided to test it while Mother prepared the old-fashioned oatmeal. What a sense of satisfaction and success when the newer blue de-icer (bound for the garbage) readily became super-hot! Now I once again had a spare de-icer – thanks to the persistent training of my grandma and mother!

Listen to your father who gave you life; don't despise your elderly mother. Proverbs 23:22 (CEB)

         Frequently, generational differences create clashes in approaches to problem solving, spending money, and making life decisions. No matter the generation label society attaches to us, foundational godly principles for a productive, healthy life that positively impacts those we love remain timeless. They span all ages, embracing every age group, creating a strong bond of love, support and nurture for each one - from the youngest to the oldest. 

A Daffodil, an Enduring Marriage, and a Greek Martyr

Weathering the Storms

                The day before we received the recent February snowfall, I opened the front door and glimpsed a lone daffodil standing stalwartly in the east flower bed. I thought, Little daffodil, you have no idea what is ahead of you!

                A few days later, as Mother and I exited the door to leave for church, to my surprise, the same sturdy daffodil swayed ever so gently in the light breeze. I marveled since a little less than a week ago, I had been positive the little flower would not survive the wintry weather. 

                I ticked off in my mind all that the flower had endured. The temperature dropped, freezing drizzle began, followed by snow. Then, we experienced blustery winds most of one day into the night. Some gusts measured 40 miles per hour!

                When the sun shone brightly, the gorgeous little daffodil’s brilliant yellow color virtually glowed in its glory. 

The Inspiring Daffodil - after the
freezing rain, snow, and wind

                As I reflected and questioned how this fragile, buttery-colored posy endured, one fact came to mind. The solitary daffodil was located on the southern side of the house in the bed east of the porch. This tiny, resilient early bloomer had excellent protection from the brutal elements of the week’s weather. 

                 Viewing the hardy daffodil reminded me of a strong marriage. My parents’ wedding took place almost 71 years ago on March 4. They worked at their relationship for 67 years until Dad's death. Mother and Dad worked hard, managed diligently, and sacrificed to meet the financial challenge - well-known to many rural couples. Surely, it would have been much easier to satisfy some personal whim they might have had. Instead, both of my parents practiced faithful “team” parenting day after day.

Mother and Dad at their 50th Wedding
Anniversary in 1998

The beauty of the regal daffodil that withstood the brutal weather exemplified Mother and Dad's marriage enduring the storms of life. In 1948, Mother and Dad never dreamed how challenging life would become for them. Health issues, compounded by their aging, left them feeling like the little daffodil in the throes of disagreeable weather. The frigid wind blowing around it, the driving rain and sleet stinging its petals, and the gusts of wind yanking on the lone flower, trying to jerk it from the frozen ground by the roots my parents’ relationship in their last few years. Yet anyone who experiences a successful marriage will weather the storms of life.

The last words I recall spoken by Dad illustrated vividly his commitment to Mother. Following his second stroke, he seldom spoke. He communicated with nods of his head and his eyes. Our procedure each evening was reading the Bible, praying, and singing. Then we made sure he was comfortably positioned in bed for sleeping. Then I usually said, “Good night, Dad. I love you” while Mother sat in a chair next to his bed and holding his hand until he drifted off to sleep. One night she surprised me when she said to him, “We love you. Do you love us?”

I remember thinking, Mother, that’s a bit cruel since Dad seldom can speak. The thought had barely passed through my head when my father’s piercing blue eyes looked directly at Mother, articulating with a strong voice and genuine, fervent sincerity, “I sure do!”

Both of my parents affirmed adamantly their trust in the Lord enabled them to  withstand the storms of married life. Their commitment to Him gave strength to keep the vow “Till death do us part.”

Through every storm, they lived by this verse from Isaiah 25:4 You have been a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in distress, a hiding place from the storm, a shade from the heat. When the breath of tyrants is like a winter storm. (CEB)

Like Polycarp, who was martyred in the ancient city of Smyrna (in what is now Turkey), at age 86, in the 2^nd century, A.D., Mother and Dad would attest to God’s faithfulness. Polycarp  was quoted as saying, just prior to his sentencing, "Fourscore and six years have I served Him, and He has never done me injury; how then can I now blaspheme my King and Savior?"

Lord, may we look to You as storms come into our lives, as turbulence threatens our stability and sometimes bends us so low, we fear destruction of all we hold dear. May we dwell securely in You as our hiding place, as Your loving-kindness overshadows our worst situations, and Your peace envelopes us in a way beyond our understanding.

An afterthought - Dad enjoyed listening to bluegrass music, especially after his second stroke. As I wrote about Polycarp, I recalled this rendition of "He Ain't Done Me Nothing But Good" by the Isaacs, one of my favorite bluegrass groups. Mother cringed at the grammar but agreed with its message. Here is a link to it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll1QJS6UkSY