"The Christmas Tree" Wish Never Granted

 This is a revisiting of a blog post first published in December of 2013. Even though Mother was an only child (she dislikes the stereotype associated with her status), at 96, she continues to live as a caring, compassionate person with a grateful heart.

   Wishing, wishing, wishing, with all her heart but to no avail. That phrase described my mother’s yearly experience at the annual Christmas Tree at Belford School.

   My mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, attended first through eighth grade at Belford School. Belford, located on the east side of the Big Bend, was always considered the smaller school since Woodland (not to confused with the present-day consolidated district serving Ralston and Fairfax) in the west part of the Bend had a three-room building and a larger student population. How hard to believe that little two-room Belford School in the Great Depression had over seventy students!

   In rural schools like Belford, the Christmas Tree was an annual event in the first half of the twentieth century. The performance of the Christmas program by the students from first through eighth grades kicked off the evening. The Christmas tree was beautifully decorated with presents the parents had brought for their children, and the children could hardly wait for their individual names to be called so they could receive their present from the "tree."

    As a little girl, Bernyce wished and hoped to hear her name called and see a hand take one of the beautiful dolls from the tree and hand it to her. This wish was never granted - first of all because Mother never told her parents of her secret wish. Secondly, her mother, Gladys Rainey Smith, was far too practical and cautious for my mother to receive a doll from the Christmas Tree. My grandmother feared little Bernyce’s gift would be stolen or lost. In the 1930s, all things (including food and clothing) were precious and hard to come by--not to mention something so extraordinary as a doll for Christmas. She and Grandpa Calvin just couldn’t take that chance of having an extravagant gift stolen or lost since they knew it would spoil their little girl’s Christmas, and they could not afford to replace it.

    My grandparents had gotten her a doll when she was four or five. It had real brown hair and its eyes would open and then close when she laid it down to sleep. Mother’s excitement peaked when she realized this 18-inch doll could walk when she held its hands. She treasured this doll for many years. Children of the Great Depression learned quickly to vigilantly care for anything they called their own.
   Even as she got older this doll held a special place in her heart and in her small collection of keepsakes; her doll was a precious possession until one day she looked north from their home on the Jefferson lease and was horrified to see the home of the Peters family (incidently located on what is now my mother's place) engulfed in flames. Her heart ached with empathy for the little girl in the family named Bethelea. Little Bethelea was younger than my mother. Almost immediately my mother knew what she wanted to do. She pulled her treasured doll from her small collection of keepsakes and at the first opportunity, gave her doll to the little girl who had lost everything.   

Bernyce Smith Gates (top) and
 Bethelea Peters Myers (bottom)
taken from the 1934 Belford
School Group Photograph

   Isn’t that what Christmas is about? God gave to us His very best because of our dire need for a Savior. Mother saw how desperately a little girl needed a doll to help provide security and comfort since her family had lost everything. Mother never got her wish to receive a doll from the Belford School Christmas tree, but her compassion and generosity prompted her to give freely to little Bethelea who must have so wanted a doll to cuddle. Mother didn’t receive a doll the way she wished from the community's Christmas Tree, but she did receive a life-long memory of the blessing of giving. After all, Jesus said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” At Christmas, many of us give to others less fortunate or with needs out of our abundance or give what we have no attachment to and are wanting to discard and never experience sacrificial giving. When I think of the phrase "give until it hurts" I am reminded of this story and the generosity and sacrifice of a little girl--my mother.

Christmas Eve, 2020

As we discussed this incident, Mother mentioned something she had never discussed. She said she didn't think her mother wanted her to give the cherished doll away. Then she added, "But she didn't try to stop me. She knew I was giving from my heart."

Stage Fright at Big Bend Baptist Church

         Each of my parents and maternal grandparents believed whatever one did should be done well. I must memorize my part for the Christmas program at our church. The songs needed no daily rehearsal. I sang them just for the fun of it. Daily practice of the assigned lines assured their recitation became instinctive to me.
         In 1962, we attended church within a few miles of our newly built home. The church building was located on Ball Diamond Hill or Church House Hill, as it was referred to in those days. The church was named The Big Bend Baptist Church. We usually only had morning church services each week. Jimmy Warnock, an Oklahoma Baptist University student, preached each week.
         Often in the early 1960s, Anna Marie Jefferson, Janet Nix, Mike Mitchell, Charlie Adair, and I enjoyed Sunday School class together. Older kids who attended regularly were Wayne Ray Mitchell, Jobe Adair, and Donald Wilson. When we had Vacation Bible School in the summer, the number of students tripled. (To see a photo from one summer VBS, go to the posting at: https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/05/celebrating-hundred-year-old-treasure.html )
         At home, I enjoyed reciting the lines I had been assigned. I thrived on praise, as any child does. Every time I recited “my piece” distinctly, loudly, and fluently, my grandpa would heap compliments upon me.
         Grandpa knew much more about public performances than his little six-year-old granddaughter. He knew I was gregarious and outgoing at home, but shyness overtook me around others.
         Anytime I rode into Fairfax with Grandpa, we went into my favorite store, Drake’s 5 and 10. The usual purchase Grandpa allowed me to make was a Little Golden Book, but my doting grandfather permitted me to browse through the toy aisle. I wandered up and down the southernmost aisle, engrossed in all my eyes could absorb.
        Grandpa observed my enchantment with a “pop” drinking mechanical bear. Grandpa said, “If you say your part during the Christmas program, we’ll get that bear for you.” What an incentive he had given me! He hoped the promise of this mechanical bear would be enough encouragement for the delivery of my few lines at the Christmas program.
        On the evening of the Christmas program as we drove up the hill to the church, the lights glimmered through the windows of the church that chilly December night. That was different. Usually, we arrived at the church in the sunlight of Sunday mornings. As we entered the church building, it appeared the church was packed with people.
        The program began. Our beginner class walked in orderly fashion onto the stage. Upon turning to face the crowd, I thought Every person in the Bend must be here. Stage fright crept upon me, a first grader in her custom-designed Christmas dress created by her grandma, Gladys Rainey Smith. The silvery rickrack trim on it dimmed. Suddenly, all I could see were more faces than I had ever seen in one place. It seemed everyone in the world showed up for that Christmas program! (For another blog posting about Grandma's sewing prowess, go to: https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2015/12/the-gift-that-forever-changed-my.html )

One of my rehearsals of the Christmas songs 
prior to the Christmas program at the Big Bend
Church. Notice the rickrack detail Grandma
used to make my Christmas dress
 "one-of-a-kind."

        Then the inevitable happened. It was time for me to “say my part.” Despite all the practicing, the promise from Grandpa, and the vision in my mind of the mechanical bear on the shelf of Drake’s 5 and 10, I could not eke out a syllable. I distinctly remember these decades later my thought. Well, there goes the bear!
        Grandpa and I never spoke about my failure to deliver during the Christmas program. Even though, he was the most doting of the four adults in our home, I did not receive the mechanical bear, but neither did I ever fail to recite parts in other plays or programs later in my life.
        Fear can paralyze us as it did me the night of the Christmas program in 1962, or it can motivate us to do greater things than we thought possible from ourselves. As this final posting before Christmas Day, I thought of central figures at the first Christmas - Mary, the mother of Jesus, Joseph, her betrothed, and the shepherds. Each were told initially by the heavenly messenger, “Do not be afraid."
        Mary could have responded, “This will destroy my reputation. It sounds like I am hiring on for a lot of trouble. No thanks.” Instead, she said in Luke 2:38 “Let it be to me according to your word.”
        Joseph probably wanted to tell the angel of the Lord, “I don’t want to get caught up in this mess. After all, I am just beginning my carpentry business.” But what did Matthew 1:24 record? “Joseph…did as the angel of the Lord commanded him…”
        Finally, the lowly shepherds could have focused on their lowly social standing and inferiority in the eyes of many instead of obeying the angel's instruction. But Luke 2:15-20 documents their eagerness to travel into Bethlehem not only to see the new little Savior but also to joyfully publicize about “this Child.”
        May we reject fear and follow the obedience of Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds in whatever area God’s Spirit is prompting us to heed Him. Let’s take every opportunity to make Jesus the purpose of this Christmas season.

An Unlikely Marriage on December 13, 1900

The 120th Anniversary of Robert Thomas Black and Nettie Ann Venator Tripp Black 

        My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., often indicated his mother, Mamie Irene Tripp Gates, “wasn’t much for stories.” His father, Edmund Gates, Sr., tried to draw Grandma into his frequent family recollections. Dad said Grandma responded a bit perturbed, “Oh I don’t care anything about those old stories.”
        Just months before Grandma’s death, I visited in her home near the Arkansas River in the Big Bend, west of Ralston, Oklahoma. I gathered the courage to ask about her early life. Surprisingly, Grandma said, “I remember telling my father good-bye when I was five.” He died on October 25, 1900, just a couple of months after her fifth birthday.
        At the time, my great-grandparents, Rufus and Nettie, lived on a farm having livestock and a dependable hired hand. My Aunt Mamie Marie Gates Judkins Tice related her grandfather, Rufus, had a permit to work in Indian Territory.
        Brenda Gates, another granddaughter of Mamie Tripp Gates, gave me a letter written from Nettie to Rufus. Great-grandma Nettie dated her letter August 28, 1897. Grandma Mamie had just turned two years old. She was a sick baby according to her mother who said doses of quinine made her feel better. Every time she referred to her in the letter, she called her "your baby." Rufus listed his age as 34 when they married in 1892. Little Mamie was the first baby for them both, with Rufus in his late 30s and Nettie in her mid-20s.
        Quinine was used until late into the last century for combatting malaria. Untreated malaria can lead to renal failure. Dad’s youngest sister, Mamie Marie Gates Judkins Tice, related that Grandma said her father, Rufus, died of kidney disease. My mother found it interesting that prior to Grandma’s death, her doctor explained she only had one working kidney that had become “compromised.” The second kidney was non-functioning. How interesting to comb through an over 100-year-old letter and discover perhaps it was not a genetic predisposition to renal disease but the malaria-transmitting mosquitoes that plagued our ancestors in the hot Oklahoma summers of the 1890s!
        Suddenly, Great-grandma Nettie had lost the man she dearly loved. Her primary responsibility had been to care for little Mamie and the twins, Cora and Nora, who were age two. Cora, in her later years, described Little Nora as “always sickly.” How could Nettie go on?

Edna, Robert T., Tommy, Nettie, and Ruby Black. My father said this was taken
at the Mayse place when his Grandpa Black worked for Mrs. Mayse. For more
about the Mrs. Mayse, the grandmother of Ann and Roger Noble go to:
https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2019/06/the-lady-who-made-fourth-of-july.html

        

       Exactly seven weeks later, Nettie and Robert Thomas Black, the trusted hired hand, were married in Pawnee on Thursday, December 13, 1900. At her death, in her obituary published in The Fairfax Chief following her death at age 80, one highlight mentioned was the celebration of their 50th wedding anniversary less than six months prior to Bob Black’s death. 
        I observed how my grandmother loved dearly her brother, Tommy Black and her youngest sister, Edna Black. I don't recall meeting a third child, Ruby Black, born to Robert and Nettie Black.
        

Thomas Guinn Black, Mamie Irene Tripp Gates,
Lee Alice Forbus Black, Edna Jane Black. Taken
in 1961 at Tommy and Lee's home in rural
Maramec in Pawnee County, Oklahoma. Photo
provided by Brenda Gates.

        Longevity in a marriage finds its basis in commitment. My father spoke often of his Grandpa Black and intimated he shortened his life working so hard to care for Nettie in their last years. Aunt Mamie Marie described the only grandpa she ever knew as "the sweetest man," telling me she cried bitterly at his death.
        As I envisioned their simple civil ceremony with vows spoken, offering each other a lifelong pledge, even as the bride’s grief hovered in the background, a scripture came into my thoughts. The Apostle Paul wrote in Ephesians 5:25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her. Every marriage based and nurtured on the sacrifice of love for each other will last as Grandpa and Grandma Black’s promises did.
        God ordained marriage to illustrate His relationship with individuals who respond to His call on their lives. Just as a good marriage involves daily communication to maintain a vibrant, marital relationship so does our relationship with Jesus, the one who loved us and gave Himself for us. May we daily respond to Him in obedience with thankful hearts for His coming to sacrifice Himself for us. 

        

Additional link:

Earlier Blog Written About the Marriage of Robert and Nettie Black - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-marriage-of-robert-and-nettie-black.html

The Early Gift

We never experience success without God's faithfulness and favor. Neither are we successful without dependable and unselfish friends and relatives. Tim Gates and Hubert Hutchens supported Dad enabling him to stay in his favorite life's work, raising cattle. Greg and Vonda Goad and Mother's son-in-law, Ben Bradley, have provided equipment and maintenance for Mother to live in the Bend where she most wants to be.

I began cattle care on the farm with Dad’s vintage 1990 F-150 truck modified by Tim Gates, Dad's nephew, with a winch to put out round bales. Hubert Hutchens, one of Dad’s closest neighbors and friends, used his welding prowess to create a “dandy” spike. I wore out two winches which my brother-in-law replaced.

My brother-in-law cautioned me sternly to drive extremely carefully. He warned me to remain mindful or, “You’ll break that axle.” For the first few years of dry, mild winters, I managed to care for the cattle. My brother-in-law’s maintenance kept the old pickup running.

Some wintery weather changed the situation for putting out bales. Vonda Goad would call with an offer to help get a bale out for the cattle. Over and over, she and Greg extended a helping hand.

 Vonda and Greg offered graciously their Dodge Ram with a hydraulic bed and hay fork at its back. For several years, they loaned the 1998 Ram to Mother and me. Every time I needed to use the four-wheel drive feature of the truck, I gratefully thanked the Lord for Vonda and Greg’s generosity.

Even though I used Dad’s vintage truck every time I possibly could, we needed to locate a dependable truck for Mother to buy. Along with my sister and brother-in-law, I conducted an unfruitful search for over three years.

During the summer when visiting with a friend, I indicated I had written in my prayer journal my request for an updated pickup with a four-wheel drive and a hay spike. She said. “That’s a God-sized task!” 

This is the entry in my journal. I remember wanting to put "Ford" since Dad only owned  Ford
 trucks during my lifetime! But that seemed to be asking beyond our need.

In September, when getting a new battery for my car, I met a friend, a seasoned cattleman, who teased me about updating my car. I responded that needing a truck might be more important. I told him I had been told finding a good used truck was a “God-sized” task. He nodded and agreed a truck might be hard to find.

In mid-October, while getting my car serviced in Ponca City, I conversed with an older man from north of Ponca City who ran a dairy in his early years and had retired from his cow/calf operation. His wife was a retired schoolteacher. As we visited, I astounded myself by saying, “You probably haven’t heard of anyone with a pickup with a hay spike for sale. They’re pretty hard to find.”

This pleasant gentleman said, “I might.”

He continued saying his nephew, who leased his land and bought his cattle, used the truck. I responded quickly that he had better not sell it. He let me know his nephew had his own truck, but he would ask him to be sure.

 He provided details – 2009 Ford F-350, Four-wheel drive, hydraulic bed with hay fork. Then he said, “But the color is beige.”

I exclaimed, “I don’t care if it is purple polka dot if it will put out a bale!”

The pickup Mother purchased. I could hear Dad
say to her, "Honey, You got it for a song and you
sang it yourself!" She may be one of the older 
vehicle purchasers in the county but doesn't want
to drive it!

           My brother-in-law wanted to know how soon we could see it. Ten days later, Angie, Ben and I saw the truck for the first time in the Wal-Mart parking lot at Blackwell. Mother at 96 years old sent the personal check which the retired cattleman had told her would be an acceptable method of payment. Ben drove it to the farm. Mother and I had a new-to-us truck.

We marveled how God blessed us. In His own time, He provided exactly what we needed. Jesus explicitly taught us of His Father’s ways with His children.

…For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him. Matthew 6:8

But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. Matthew 6:33

We are celebrating this season of God giving His gracious gift of Jesus as our only way of salvation from our sin. The Apostle Paul wrote of the perfect timing of the coming of the Redeemer in Galatians 4:4-5:

But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as children.

Lord, thank You for providing for us as we wait for Your answers to our prayers. Our hearts fill with gratitude that You know our needs before we ask and daily you load us with Your goodness. As we celebrate the most extravagant gift You ever gave - Your Own Son. with the Apostle Paul we say, Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!

 The only issue for me with the new-to-us truck 
  was the big step into the cab for my short legs. My
   brother-in-law installed a side step for both doors.

                  

The Broken Stem and Personal Christmas Preparation

As uncanny as it might seem, this photo of the
broken zinnia and its wilted leaves was not
retouched. Patches of green grass is visible.

                A vibrant volunteer zinnia sprouted and flourished in the summer right next to one of the Celebrity tomato plants. Dad and my grandmothers planted these pollinators in their gardens.
               The volunteer zinnia grew on the east side of the cellar. One morning, I discovered a large zinnia flower on its tall stem laying down and broken off from the plant – perhaps from cats launching off the cellar door. Hoping against hope, I propped the broken stem against a tomato cage.
               Of course, the broken stem remained bolstered by the wire tomato cage, but the leaves began wilting. The healthy green of the vigorous, volunteer zinnia faded from the badly damaged stem, leaving it an ashen gray. Its beautiful flower’s brilliant color began losing its luster, eventually turning brittly brown.
               As I mourned briefly over its loss, the teaching of Jesus the last night He was with His disciples came to mind. His teaching on the absolute necessity of abiding in Him is recorded in John 15. Jesus’ final discourse with His eleven apostles the night before His crucifixion offered the setting for Jesus’ comparison of His relationship with them as a vine giving life, nourishment, and fruitfulness to its connected branches. The droopy, broken stem with a withering, once-prolific zinnia demonstrated the opposite of what Jesus wanted for His followers. The shriveling zinnia pictured the demise of a believer’s effectiveness making choices to “disconnect” with Christ.
               In an article entitled "The Grammar of Faith," Jen Pollack Michel wrote of the prepositions associated with our relationship with God. She identified “with” as the most intimate preposition - descriptive of a vibrant, on-going relationship with Jesus.
               God inspired Isaiah to prophesy of the virgin birth of Jesus and revealing His name Emmanuel “which being interpreted God with us.” Then Matthew quoted from that very prophecy that Isaiah wrote about 700 years before the birth of the Messiah to Mary in Bethlehem.
               Jen Pollack Michel discussed the thought of God with us in conjunction with Jesus’ teaching on the vine and the branches. How insightful His words as recorded by the Apostle John are in John 15:5, “I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without me you can do nothing.”
               Then Jesus gave a sobering reminder to the believer who lagged back from abiding with Jesus in John 15:6 - “If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out as a branch and is withered; and they gather them and throw them into the fire, and they are burned.” The renowned Bible teacher, Dr. Warren Weirsbe, expounded on this verse in his second volume of the New Testament from The Bible Exposition Commentary. He wrote, “It is a tragic thing for a once-fruitful believer to backslide and lose his privilege of fellowship and service. If anything, John 15:6 describes divine discipline rather than eternal destiny.”
              As we begin the advent season, recall the prophecy of Jesus being “God with us” and Matthew restating it as a reminder of Emmanuel, the name given the tiny King, meaning “God with us.” As we plan Christmas celebrations, may the undergirding thought of “God with us” sustain us through the complications of 2020. When feeling overwhelmed, may we whisper,

“Emmanuel, You are with me.

Nothing is too hard for you.

Calm my heart.

Grant me clarity to think thoughts in line with Your Word.

Give me courage to obey,

Being confident You are with me.”

Wisdom and the Deer Season Event

Two years ago, this devotional published online. It seemed so appropriate for it to reappear as deer season is in full-swing this week in Oklahoma. In the devotional, I simply recounted a chance brush with a couple of men who exuded the attitude, "If deer can be hunted and killed, we can do it so much better than anyone else."

An impromptu photo snapped by my
 brother-in-law recently. He, Angie, and I 
saw about three or four times more than
the ones captured in the photo.

These guys were “outsiders” hunting deer. What gave it away? A high-powered pickup towing a classy trailer loaded with two expensive all-terrain vehicles had pulled off the state highway to gas up at the only gasoline pumps in our little town. These men were not overtly rude, just dismissive and aloof in attitude. Hunting whitetail deer was preeminent in their thoughts. Never would they have guessed that the short, retired schoolteacher saw deer on a regular basis without even looking through a rifle sight. How could they have known this nondescript female could point out a meadow where she had counted 15 deer one snowy morning?

King Solomon told of a little city that was being threatened in Ecclesiates 9:16  A wise, but poor, man provided a strategy to rescue the city from certain destruction. (ESV) Yet no one recognized what a contribution the poor man’s astute plan had made to their entire population’s safety.

Many times, we discount wise people who God brings across our life’s path. An elderly person with a soft, halting voice, a middle-aged woman restricted to a wheelchair, a precious preschooler, or a battle-worn man in a soup kitchen may have learned greatly from experience in following the Lord and studying His word. Sometimes their wisdom has been gained from initially making poor choices. The wheelchair-bound individual learns from adversity thrust into her successful life. The elderly often has gained wisdom as they have proven God’s promises through life experiences, both negative and positive. The little child simply lives her life with the innocence that Jesus said we should model.

As we go through our day, may we pause and listen each time God brings wisdom from an unlikely source. May we never judge God’s use of people in our lives based on their appearance, age, societal status, or any other stereotypical categorization. God’s wisdom comes in unlikely forms. Don’t miss it!

Survivalist? We Lived That Way Every Day!

The previous post dealt with our unpreparedness during a two-day power outage in October of 2020. When my mother declined the invitation to be a guest of my sister, Angie, and her husband, my sister dubbed us survivalists. Upon hearing her new title, Mother exclaimed, “Survivalist? We lived that way every day!”

During some of our hours by candlelight, Mother recalled her pre-electricity days. In her late teen years, Mother’s parents became members of the local REC or Rural Electrification Cooperative entitling them to electrical power in their home located on the farm leased from Louise Butler Jefferson, the grandmother of Anna Marie and Tracey Jefferson Romine and Tincy Fish. Anna Marie and Tracey lived there with their parents in their early childhood. In later years, CeCe Bledsoe, a great-granddaughter, also lived on the original land allotted to Louise Jefferson's ancestor.  It is now owned by Betty Hutchison.

Once Mother's family had electricity, a used refrigerator was the first large appliance her parents bought. Prior to that they had a small ice box about four feet in height. A block of ice was stored in the upper section.  Perishable food like milk and butter, which was always produced on the farm and never purchased, was kept cool in the lower portion of their little ice box. She recalled all her “Bender” cousins had larger vertical ice boxes for their bigger families. The “side-by-side” doors held the ice block in the upper section of one of the vertical compartments with food stored below and the other side could be filled entirely with perishable food.

Mother mentioned Mr. Hines, a relative of Wanda Nix, Bob Rice, and Revae Baugh, was their ice delivery man. Each family had been given cardboard signs with 25#, 50#, 75# and 100# on each of the four sides. The customer knew the day Mr. Hines delivered ice so was expected to display the card showing the amount they needed positioned at the top of the sign. Mother laughed as she told of Dad recounting the ornery Gates kids turning the sign to a much larger amount than Grandma Gates wanted! Mother then added, “You know the reason they wanted the big amount was so they could chip ice off to eat. And, of course, Edmund’s family got electricity before we did. And they (the Gates kids) got away with way more than I could!”

When we discussed kerosene, Mother recalled their upgrade from a wood stove to one fueled by kerosene. Grandpa was lighting the kerosene circulating heater after it had gone out. He used a piece of cloth to relight it. It began burning his hand. Even though he saw a visible puddle of kerosene in the lighting plate, he threw the cloth in. Mother said it “boomed” loudly and tiny, black soot filled the air, even going behind the pictures on the wall, covering all furniture, and carpet of their living room. Grandma asked him, “Why did you throw that on the oil?” Mother said Grandpa replied loudly, “I saw all the oil, but it was burnin’ my fingers!” Mother laughed before, during, and after she told of this survivalist experience. Extensive cleanup was required. I doubt she was hilarious during that laborious chore.

Most of Mother’s studying and reading were all done by the kerosene lamp since she was 17 before her family had their home wired for electricity. They enjoyed radio broadcasts such as “Fibber McGee and Molly” and “Amos and Andy” on their large cabinet radio with a big battery powered by a wind charger. The harder the Oklahoma wind swept down the plain, the brighter the radio’s lighted dial glowed.

In those days, Mother knew of no houses in the Bend with indoor plumbing. Every home had a privy usually behind their dwelling. Since Mother was an only child, their outhouse was only a “one-seater.” My father’s family had twelve children, so they had a “two-seater” privy. Grandpa Gates never saw a need for an indoor bathroom. A blog post entitled The Little House That Jake Built  tells of Grandpa's veto of  Grandma's plan to include an indoor bathroom in her decision to renovate their home. It can be accessed at https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/05/the-little-house-that-jake-built.html

Grandpa  Gates waving from their privy.
Taken on August 2, 1964. 
 He was 87 years old.

Mother reminisced that when she started coming to the Gates home, my grandma still pumped her water from the well several steps outside the house. She was impressed when she and Dad arrived at a family gathering and Dad noticed the empty water bucket. He grabbed the bucket,  pumped it full of water and carried it in for Grandma's use. A cute photo of Steve Gates at the old water pump can be viewed at https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/08/remembering-steven-glenn-gates.html .

The evening our hardworking IEC power crew restored the power so many of our statements began “I am so thankful for…” We were thankful for running water, flushing stools, refrigeration, freezers that had stayed frozen, heat, and wonderful light. Although we were still without phone service, we appreciated the internet allowing contact with the outside world.

As we approach the season when we observe Thanksgiving, may we commit  to maintain a thankful heart every day as we follow this precept from Psalm 136:1;

Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever.

Survivalists in the Bend

Mother and I thank profusely the IEC linemen and the entire IEC team that worked so diligently to restore power when a large number of their IEC customers were without. My sister offered us their fully furnished guest room. When Mother declined, Angie categorized us as "survivalists." I was leaning toward accepting the brief respite at Angie and Ben's home, but I couldn't leave my 96-year-old mother in the dark!

                As with many of our electrical cooperative's customers, Mother and I lost power mid-afternoon on Tuesday. Soon I headed out to put a bale in the bale ring for our small cattle herd.

                Upon returning to the dark house, I opened the door, calling out “Hello???  Are you here?” while taking off my boots and work clothes. I heard a weak, little voice from the north bedroom. Just hearing that, struck a bit of fear in me. Had Mother gone in the room and fallen? There was no good path for her walker in that room.

                Soon I learned she was searching for a kerosene lamp. My heart sunk. I hadn’t seen that in ages or at least around seven to eight years. It might be in the cellar.

                After a brief exchange about how I had no idea where that lamp might be, the reality struck of the importance of finding her emergency lamp. She said emphatically, “I need light to be able to read.”

                That statement from a 96-year-old brought clarity into my thoughts. I breathed a prayer, Lord, IF that kerosene lamp is in the house, help me to find it.

                I moved quickly to the north bedroom’s large, enclosed storage area that Grandpa Calvin had built for my maternal grandma. My memory recalled the location of items on most of the shelves. However, the items stored in the lowest section were unclear in my memory. Upon pulling out a couple of items, I spotted the globe setting next to the kerosene lamp itself! Pulling it carefully from its safe place, I carried it and placed it on bed in her bedroom where she was cleaning. We could have celebrated, but we had no kerosene.

The Old Kerosene Lamp - a bit dusty but found

                Immediately, as I snapped a photo of the globe and the bottom of the kerosene lamp, I thought of the parable of Jesus about the wise and foolish bridesmaids from Matthew 25:1-13. He compared His coming for the believers or the true church to a groom coming for the marriage to his beloved bride. Five of the bridesmaids had their lamps trimmed and ready. Unfortunately, the other five, dubbed foolish, had neglected to obtain the essential for their lamps – oil. When the groom swept into the wedding venue, the foolish bridesmaids had left to secure the necessary oil for their lamps. To their detriment, the young women failed to prepare for this once-in-a-lifetime event. As the cultural mores of that time dictated, upon the arrival of the groom, the door of the wedding venue immediately closed to any further entrants. The celebrants must have made provision to be inside the wedding venue. For whatever reason, the five foolish bridesmaids failed to be prepared and were left on the outside of the marriage celebration.

                The scripture often symbolizes the Holy Spirit as oil. The Apostle Paul writes in Ephesians 1;13 – In Him (Jesus) you also trusted, after you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation; in who also, having believed, you were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise.

                The foolish bridesmaids made no preparation for the arrival of the groom. Jesus represents the groom in the parable He told. Romans 8:9 succinctly supports this mandate for preparation, But you are not in the flesh but in Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God dwells in you. Now if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he is not His.

                Mother and I survived the 50+ hours of the outage even though we had no kerosene for the old lamp. However, when Christ returns, we must be assured we have the Holy Spirit indwelling us because we have received Jesus. The new life He gives raises us from the deadness of our sin. His Spirit empowers us to have a relationship with Him, having our sins cleansed and being made new. There is no reason for anyone to be unprepared.

The Vulnerable Tomato Blossom

                Each fall as the first freeze approaches, I get a little remorseful when I observe the tiny, exposed yellow tomato blossoms. The inevitable awaits the helpless, miniature, lily-shaped blooms. The green tomatoes can be picked and stored safely for further ripening. Yet there is no way to preserve the miniscule, golden flowers from the harsh cold’s destruction to their tender state. They will never become luscious, red, ripe tomatoes. 

Late Evening Photo of Late October Tomato Blossoms

                As I watered the tomato plants late one evening, I snapped the photo embedded in this blog post. Children of the 21^st century entered my conscious thought. How defenseless are the children in our communities! Families have negated the mandate from our Creator and God of might and power. I have never applied this verse to the protectiveness of children, but the pertinence of its relevancy overwhelms me. Apostle Paul wrote it to the young pastor, Timothy in his first letter to him, in chapter 5, verse 8.

But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.

                I find abhorrent a negligent parent, unwilling to sacrifice for a helpless child. A selfish, obstinate parent who seeks his own pleasures and desires at the risk of denying his child food and clothing fits the example mentioned above in Paul’s writings.

                Stories have been told of men who didn’t get all the nourishment they needed so their children could have a share of the meagerness of the Great Depression. I have related in prior postings of my paternal grandmother who set aside her talent and love for the arts, especially music and sketching. Grandma Gates had a greater calling to feed, cloth, and nurture her nine children to be responsible, respectable adults. She would have relinquished her giftedness to have seen the three sons whom she and Grandpa buried before any of them reached adulthood grow into strong, handsome young men.

                As despicable as an adult averse to willingly renounce personal interests to provide basic needs of his child, I find more disheartening how many parents are unwilling to guard their children’s hearts by purposefully leading them from infancy through adulthood to understand their Creator and Savior. Instead as the little saffron-hued, delicate blooms face the harsh cold and imminent death before they realize their potential of developing into a gorgeous, tasty tomato, the disregarded child whose spiritual health is neglected will likely confront decision-making in life ill-prepared and sadly be on course for disastrous effects. 

          When the angel, Gabriel, told Zechariah of the upcoming birth of their son, John, who would later be dubbed “John the Baptist” this prediction was given about their much-desired son’s preaching ministry –

And he (John the Baptist) will go on before the Lord in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous – to make ready a people prepared for the Lord (Jesus first coming to earth). Luke 1:17

Lord, turn the hearts of the fathers of our American children back to the children. May they obediently instruct their precious offspring in the wisdom of Your Word and prepare them for living a life pleasing to the Lord and for the return of Christ. Use each of us in whatever way you see fit to accomplish Your will in our young families of today.

The Wide Gate and the Wayward Calf

                 This summer, one of the 2020 calves, an adventuresome white steer, insisted on getting into the trap. Numerous times, I walked down with my extraordinarily long sticks (basically long skinny limbs) that extend my short arms. Slowly veering widely around the delinquent calf, I quietly unlatched the gate carefully opening the gate widely. Then I moved stealthily, gently influencing the errant little Charolais mix, with a soft, calm voice assuring him, using my long sticks to guide him to the open gate. In seconds, the white bovine ran to join the rest of the herd.

The Preferred  "Broad" Way for the White Steer

                As I approached the wide-opened gate, lifting it back to the gate post and latched it, the wide-opening caused me to remember the somber words of Jesus from Matthew 7:13-14:

“Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it.

Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it.”

                I recalled a previous time with this same wayward calf and a narrow opening. Getting him out through that opening was unsuccessful. What a grave illustration of the words of Jesus describing the two choices for each human!

The "Narrow" Way

                More than any time in the history of mankind, the gate to destruction appears an enormously broad expanse, such an enormous opening that can hardly be avoided. Ruinous behavior, influences and activities seem to drive, propel, prod, and coerce mankind through the wide gate that Jesus warned to avoid. Most deceptive of this broad way is the enormity of people who crowd every inch of it leading to the thought, Surely all these people can’t be wrong. King Solomon wrote of the hazard of the broad road in Proverbs 14:12 – There is a way that seems right to a man, But its end is the way of death.

                My memory of the unsuccessful movement of the little white steer through narrow gate opening reminded me of his difficulty locating the small gap. His peripheral vision made it seem too restrictive for him. This must be unsafe, must be a trap. Much like the unruly steer, humans react negatively to Jesus being the only way to life, heaven, and contentment. It appears constrictive, limiting one’s creativity, and stifling to happiness.

                Yet countless people from my past have responded to the call of the Lord by following Him on the narrow road with intrinsic and eternal rewards. King Solomon of Israel also wrote of the only way of salvation through Jesus in Proverbs 15:24 – The way of life winds upward for the wise, That he may turn away from hell below.

                As I revisited this memory of the feisty steer’s persistence, the thought surfaced of our own waywardness from God. The only solution required Jesus "humble Himself" by taking on a human body, enter our world and give His life on the cross thus making salvation possible "for as many as received Him." 

               Finally,  I recalled one of Billy Graham’s favorite hymns entitled And Can It Be? written by Charles Wesley almost 300 years ago. A couple of lines persisted in my mind. May these words encourage you if you are on the narrow road. If you are still on the broad road, may you respond to the call of Jesus to go through Him, the narrow gate, and follow Him on the narrow road to heaven.

Amazing Love!

How can it be

That Thou my God

Shouldst die for me?

Friendship at Age 96

                On October 17^th, my mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, celebrated her 96^th birthday. Especially when I come in from “town” or church, I rattle off the names of people who asked about her. Since she is such an introvert, it always surprises her. She considered Dad the “outgoing one” who never met a stranger and considered everyone he met his friend.

                Almost all her friends are younger than she and some of them quite a bit younger than her. Pre-COVID-19 era, each Sunday, Mother would stand at her seat in our sanctuary during the fellowship time of our morning worship service as friends of all ages came to greet her with hugs or handshakes. 

                Mother has retained a few of friends for more than seven decades. Two close friends grew up with her in the Bend and attended Belford Grade School, too. Lora Jean and Betty Jo Woods, two sisters, met Mother in their early elementary years. The Smith and Woods families lived life together during the 1930s and early 1940s. (Here is a link to a blog post about the families and some experiences. (https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/07/softball-singing-and-skin-tests.html )

                A few years ago, Angie, my sister, hosted a soiree for the three friends at her home in Jenks. Johnnie Alene “Pood” also joined them. She was the youngest of the five girls in the Woods family. They laughed, shared old stories, recalled memories, and laughed some more. Dad enjoyed the conversation, too, since he had worked for Perry Woods, the father of Lora Jean, Betty Jo, and Johnnie Alene. Lora Jean and Betty Jo Woods now live in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. Sadly, Johnnie Alene has died since their memorable afternoon.

Dad, Mother, Lora Jean, "Pood" and Betty Jo.

                June Moore Loyd, a friend Mother met in high school at Burbank in 1941, continues to live in Arkansas. She surprised Mother when she arrived at my parents’ 50^th wedding anniversary. June braved a rainy March morning, driving from Springdale, Arkansas, by herself to celebrate with Mother. As with most of Mother’s friends, June and Mother laughed over and over that afternoon. (A link to an earlier blog post about a fun time shared by June and Mother can be accessed at: https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/04/oh-no-he-has-corsage.html  )

Lela, Mother and June laughing
and enjoying my parent's 50th 
wedding in March of 1998

Upon looking at this photo of June, Lela Lieber Stewart and herself from the 50^th wedding anniversary, Mother recalled so many times of staying with Lela at the Lieber home in Burbank in the early 1940s. Lela had an older sister, Betty, and two younger brothers, Clarence and Philip. Mrs. Lieber, Lela’s mother, was categorized as a “stern parent” but Mother found her to be a kind host every time she visited their home.

                One memory of a visit with Lela, her dear friend, centered around a box supper being held in Burbank of which Mother was unaware. (A box supper involved teen girls/women in the community preparing a decorated box containing tasty treats. Interested boys/men bid on the boxes to raise money for various community activities.) Mother found herself relying totally on Mrs. Lieber as she included Mother in the event by preparing her box along with the one for Lela. Mother watched in amazement as Lela’s mother ground bologna and mixed other ingredients that Mother was too shy to question. Normally, Mother said my grandma purchased specific cold cuts for the sandwiches plus luscious fruit for Mother’s box for a Bend box supper. Mother’s eyes widened at the delicious taste when she sampled the flavorful bologna filling for the sandwiches. We tried to duplicate Mrs. Lieber’s sandwich spread unsuccessfully. Just days before Lela’s death, her daughter, Janice, and I visited. I asked her about her grandma’s bologna spread, but she regretted having no recipe for it, either. 

Mother, Lela, Janice, her daughter. Standing in front are Janice's
daughters, Kristen and Nicole at the Burbank High School Reunion
 Reunion in 2008.

               On the eve of turning 96, Mother remembered no-nonsense Mrs. Lieber’s reminder as she, Lela, and Lela’s sister prepared to go out one evening. She said to her teenage daughters, “Girls, remember, you are members of the Baptist church.” Even though Mrs. Lieber hardly left their home, she valued the truth of the Word of God held up by the church. She reinforced to her daughters that the one to whom they had made a commitment should influence their behavior and choices even when having a good time. To this day, Mother recalls the profound admonition of her friend’s mother.

                Mother received an early e-mail birthday greeting from Thelma (Johnson) and J.D. Frank, former Benders who reside in Tulsa. They rode the long bus ride together to Burbank. J.D. is only a couple of years younger than Mother, so they were upper classmen who both strived for excellence in their academic studies. Thelma told me once what a genuine friend Mother was to her when she moved into the Bend. Mother remembered being so concerned about Thelma’s relationship with the Lord. She recalled maybe being “pushy” with her faith. Thelma and J.D. have been married over 70 years, still live in their home, live independently and express thanks to the Lord. Thelma wrote of their friendship “When we were kids in the Bend we never thought of the three of us knowing each other in our 90s.”

                Finally, the most sustaining friendship for 78 years has been her relationship with God because of the sacrificial death of His Son. At age 18, she publicly professed her life-altering faith in Jesus. That friendship influenced her choice to marry my father. The close friendship with God steered her parenting philosophy of my sister and me according to God’s outline in His Word instead of popular societal methods. His friendship supported her through the deaths of her parents within 7 months of each other – quite a grief for an only child. Day by day, the Lord carried her through the lengthy illness leading to Dad’s death. May we all have this eternal friendship that James wrote of in the book bearing his name, in chapter 2, verse 23 –

And the Scripture was fulfilled which says, “Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to him for righteousness.” And he was called the friend of God.

Happiest of Birthdays to You, Mother!

Moving Beyond Bitterness

Our shared biography cost 50¢
but now a new copy is available 
online for over $800!

With the deadline looming for the blog posting, this memory of  Clara Barton's experience of overcoming bitterness popped into my mind, causing me to locate this elementary-level biography of one of America's most famous nurses from the book shelf. (I had written about bitterness in the blog for 10/04/2020.)  Mother let me order it from the Scholastic Book Club in 1967. An inscription inside has my name and the date. Angie and I shared everything so you notice her name is on the front upper right corner of the paperback book.

This week I spotted the area where the old stump had stood for many, many years. What joy to see that grass is flourishing, even in this season of drought!

As I walked back to the house, Clara Barton, the founder of the American Red Cross, came to mind. Immediately, after seeing her Civil War- era photograph in my mind, I recalled hearing of Barton’s dealing with the battle against bitterness.

Luis Palau, the late Argentinian evangelist, wrote in his book, Experiencing God’s Forgiveness, of Barton’s approach to bitterness and forgiveness. Palau wrote of an egregious offense against Clara Barton being brought into a conversation many years after the wrong was done to her. When someone tried to reopen old wounds, Palau wrote that one of the most renowned 19^th century women, Clara Barton responded, “I distinctly remember forgetting it.” Clara Barton assured the person she had made a choice to forget the wrong done to her. The case had closed for this famous American woman on that chapter of bitterness in her life.

Clara Barton, nicknamed the Angel of the Battlefield, learned to let go of offensive actions targeted against her. Her release of the bitterness and hurt enabled her strength and effort to be exerted on positive, life-effecting, and societal-altering endeavors.

As I reflected on Barton’s response, focusing on praising God for forgiving our own sins turns us away from an obsession with our offender’s sin. Instead, we begin to clearly see our own shocking sins that  have been committed purposefully with rebellious hearts.  At other times, we have sinned because of our thoughtless, casual neglect of obeying His principles, almost imposing impudently and willfully on His loving forgiveness.

Meditating on the overarching truth that we have been forgiven becomes the only way to minimize the offenses others have committed. When we maximize the undeserved mercy, grace, and forgiveness He has given to us, our hearts are overwhelmed with thankfulness for God’s lavish compassion toward us. Then He takes the bitterness away.

May these powerful words of Jesus recorded in Matthew 6:14-15 guide our thoughts and actions –

“For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

The Old Stump

                Summer mowing is more manageable if obstacles are removed. I mow two areas that were “chicken yards” when I was growing up. In those days, the chickens “mowed” these areas beautifully with the hens (flock of 200-500 depending upon the year) earning enough money with their eggs for the groceries to feed the six of us – my parents, my maternal grandparents, my sister, and me.

                For several years since accepting the responsibility of mowing, a few obstacles slow my mowing each time. One source of irritation has been a stump of a cedar tree with two bottomless buckets around the stump to ensure no one got “hung up” on it.

The Old Stump

                Late this summer, I decided to inspect the stump. To my surprise, two large pieces of the stump moved. With ease, I pulled them out of the protective bottomless buckets and then removed the buckets, too. Left standing was a thin section of the stump still being held in the ground by a stubborn root. I pulled and twisted on the strong splinter of the cedar stump until finally it came loose.

The small, but stubborn root is evident on the
upper right of the photo.

               As I carried the stump’s remnants to the trailer, tossing it on other brush to be hauled off, I thought of the scripture written by the writer of Hebrews about the root of bitterness. Hebrews 12:15 states: 

See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no “root of bitterness” springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled;

                How often a person will hold onto bitterness! The writer of Hebrews implies that a “root of bitterness” can interfere with obtaining the grace of God. Without the grace of God, we cannot receive the salvation bought by the death of Jesus on the cross for us. Grace means “getting something we do not deserve.” In no way do we deserve forgiveness, as well as being made alive when we were dead in our sins.

                Frequently, a bitter attitude is guarded or protected, almost daring any effort to remove it, just as the two old, bottomless buckets guarded the stump I mowed around. Frequently, an attack, insult or hurt looms so egregious and vicious in one’s memory.* The one offended reasons letting go of it would only let the perpetrator or offender “off the hook.”

In Romans 12:19, Paul restated a phrase from the Old Testament, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” says the Lord. Each person must refuse to retain the root of bitterness in one’s heart but turn it over to the Lord of all justice who will get retribution for wrongs done to us and lavishly give us undeserved salvation and new life.

The Apostle Paul admonished Christians in Ephesians 4:31, Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Even after we have entered a relationship with Jesus, these temptations can creep into our lives and impede our growth. We must allow the Lord to remove these evil tendencies from us. Just as I removed the stump that interfered with the mowing and made the task so much easier, so allowing our loving Savior to deal with these troublesome areas brings productivity, peace and contentment to our lives.

The spot soon after the stump was removed. Grass
has begun to grow back since this photo. 

* Jamieson, Fausset, and Brown's renowned Commentary on the Whole Bible explains that "root of bitterness"  is a person, a principle, a doctrine or a practice "so radically corrupt as to spread corruption all around."  My personal comment - Bitterness never affects only one person. In the same way, as a "bitter" principle, doctrine or practice has ever-widening circles of infectiveness so does a person bitter over an offense negatively impact almost anyone they contact.

One Version of Learning From Home

                My only sibling, Angie Gates Bradley, celebrates a birthday this week. A few days ago, as I slowly mowed the area outside the yard fence, Angie came to mind as I cut closely to the concrete surrounding the west end of the chicken house repurposed for a storage shed to park the vintage Ford pickup.

                Trying to minimize weed-eating, as I crept the lawn mower along, I glimpsed letters barely visible, engraved in the concrete. After completing the mowing, I returned to the mysterious letters. 

The barely perceptible A N G E L A

Angie’s name printed in the concrete caused memories of that time in our lives to surface in my thoughts. I recalled my second and third grade years at Ralston. To my delight, Mrs. Akers taught me both in second and third grade. She and I shared a great love for music so being in her classroom for two years delighted my musical soul.

            I distinctly remember Angie as a preschooler eager to learn as soon as I debarked each day from the Bend bus. Most days, Angie and I played school with me teaching, but it was solid learning. Angie’s drive to learn coupled with a commitment to mastery ensured that.

In February of 1964, Mrs. Akers planned a presentation for our 2^nd and 3^rd grade combination class. She assigned a poem entitled, Dear Granny, I Love You, for me to recite at the program. Mrs. Akers requested I have a large heart to hold as I recited the poem. Of course, My mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, created a gorgeous red heart edged in lace, adorned with glittery flowers and the poem title emblazoned boldly on it. 

Angie delighted to be holding the heart.

With four adults who spurred us to do any task to the best our ability allowed, I recited the poem probably ad nauseum. Being the driven, sharp cookie that she was, Angie, at 2 ½ years of age, memorized it and could recite it flawlessly. The huge heart enamored her, and my maternal grandparents and parents allowed her to hold it and exhibit her memorization skills. Boy! Her prowess with voice projection, inflection and knowing the poem by heart demanded I “step up my game” for my own performance at school.

Looking at the printing of her name in the cement from decades ago, it is likely she could write that well no matter what tool Dad had given her. I was surprised it was in all capital letters since I stressed that she learn to form and distinguish between lowercase and uppercase letters and the appropriate time to use them. Daily in our play school, I administered tests over letters and numbers even when she was very young. As Dad would say, I never recall Angie “backing up” from the challenge.

                I mused why were two little girls almost 3 and 8 years old so purposeful.  Then I remembered a few weeks earlier spotting an inscription in the concrete on the south side of that same building. It read, “Ed G. May 1, 1965.” 

It was Dad’s custom to inscribe a date in the wet concrete poured on the farm. Dad would have been 45 years old, and Angie would have been age 3 at the time of the pouring of the concrete. At that era in our family's life, Dad worked tirelessly on the farm after building houses with his brother, Herbert Gates in Ponca City. Many times, Dad hauled in a load of rocks from “busted-up” curbs following upgrades in new housing divisions. He unloaded each discarded rock by hand to bolster areas of his pond dam. This illustrated only one of numerous demanding tasks that he, Grandpa and Grandma Smith did to create the home where we grew up.

                That was it! That explained how we both had a “work ethic” even in our childhood. Dad and Mother had modeled persevering, diligent work throughout our lives. They set the pattern for us.

                Finally, probably the pinnacle of our persistent tenacity occurred when we helped Mother care for Dad at home as he worked to regain strength following his first stroke. One day, one of our favorite nurses during one of Dad’s doctor appointments wanted Dad to stand up from his wheelchair. Angie and I immediately went into action. The nurse looked at Dad and said, “I’m just getting out of the way. These girls have this down to a science!”

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.  Ephesians 6:4

           I am glad we are still working together.

Happy Birthday, Angie!

Note: Another blog posting about Angie and her desire to read can be accessed at:  https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2017/01/a-lofty-goal-for-little-girl.html