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

Rain from Heaven, Not Water from the Hose

                The morning after an inch of rain fell, I zipped out to feed the cats. As the felines gobbled down their crunchy food, I inspected the tomato beds. The black repurposed tub with the zinnias planted in it caught my eye first. Following the blessing of the overnight rain, the zinnias’ brilliant colors rivaled any dazzling colors that could be mixed on an artist’s palette.

                They gleamed vividly in the early morning sun peeking over the eastern horizon. One of my last outdoor tasks as I end each day finds me giving the little zinnias “a drink” as my grandma, Gladys Rainey Smith, would say.

                But the morning following the much-needed rain, the zinnias appeared perkier, with their colors more vibrant and intense than the previous day. The primary variable lending to this spectacular display of “God-painted” hues was the precious precipitation received.

                As I walked slowly back to the house, stopping to pet a cat or two, I compared the two forms of moisture. Our water pumped from the well that had been dug several years before Dad's death. He assured me we would never run out of water on the farm. Usually, he would cite the depth of the new well. It meant so much to him since prior to that we had to monitor our water use, especially when watering the garden or flowers.

                Even though my daily watering kept the tomatoes growing and the zinnias blooming, the well water was incomparable to the rain that fell that predawn morning. I reflected how often we read what someone else has written about God’s Word or we hear someone quote a verse or teach on it. We encourage one another with actions like this, but Luke wrote in Acts, the history of the early church recorded in the Bible, about a group of believers from Berea who received the word with all readiness, and searched the Scriptures daily to find out whether these things were so. (Acts 17:11)

                In the same vein of thought, Isaiah wrote God’s words to His people in chapter 55, verses 10-11:

"For as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven, 

And do not return there but water the earth, 

And make it bring forth and bud, 

That it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater, 

So shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; 

It shall not return to Me void, 

But it shall accomplish what I please, 

And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it."

As I thought on Isaiah’s comparison of God’s Word to “the rain” that “comes down,” I realized how our personal study of God’s Word is much like the rain we received on the little container of zinnias. We can grow and be encouraged by Scripture shared by others in much the same way the nightly well water refreshes the flowers. Yet as precious rainfall causes the zinnias to thrive in beauty so does a daily time reading, studying, and meditating on God’s Word as His Spirit guide us. No other method of receiving God’s Word can replace or foster our spiritual growth so strongly.  Recently, a dear friend expressed it like this, “Nothing can replace me digging into the Bible and studying for myself.”

Lord, may we deepen our relationship with You as we meet with You seeking nourishment from Your Word. Open our eyes and our hearts to the life-giving truths from Your Scriptures. May these principles impart strength so we can obey and honor You, knowing with an assurance Your Word will accomplish Your plan for us.

The Scarred Limbs and the Tiny Green Tomato

          Several weeks ago, I wrote of spotting tobacco hornworms on the Celebrity tomato plants I put in the back beds. By the time I saved one little tomato plant from the destructive hornworm, the little plant had been gnawed pitifully. I regretted not saving it from the vicious pest before so much harm was inflicted.

The gnawed limbs are visible near
the tiny green tomato.
           I continued watering all the tomato plants faithfully. Soon I noticed a tiny green tomato emerging on the damage plant. Maybe it would be productive. Day after day, I watered each plant - that is except on those glorious days that God sent rain. Almost imperceptibly, the tiny green tomato grew. Within weeks, I noticed the limb on which the tomato was attached hung a little lower as it grew.
           A slight reddish hue started enveloping the tomato as it flourished. Finally, the day came when it could be picked. What an accomplishment for the little tomato plant attacked by the devastating tobacco hornworm!
                                                                                         
Just about ready to pick!

             As I thought of the ordeal of the little tomato plant, I remembered Joseph, the great-grandson of Abraham, the patriarch to whom God made the eternal promises for his descendants, the Israelis. Joseph was born to Jacob and Rachel, Jacob's true love and the only woman he really wanted for a wife. Yet Jacob ended up with twelve sons and a daughter born to three different women and Rachel. No one would be surprised to learn this conundrum of family dynamics led to jealousy.
             Jacob lost his soul mate in childbirth when their second son, Benjamin, was born. Joseph became his father's favorite. Jacob even designed a beautiful coat for his much-loved son. Just seeing the multi-colored garment incensed the older ten brothers. Their jealousy morphed into hatred. The hatred denigrated into the premeditation of Joseph's murder. In God's providence, He caused a caravan of traders to intersect with the brothers bent on Joseph's demise. They sold Joseph, their father's beloved son and source of comfort, for the price of a slave.
            Despite Joseph’s years of adversity in Egypt as a slave, multiple times, God’s Word records, “The Lord was with him” and “the Lord gave him success…” Over and over when disheartened by difficulties generated by situations and people, Joseph trusted and obeyed the Lord.
            How often does the little tomato plant illustrate our lives! We all, without exception, are attacked by Satan’s schemes to “steal, kill and destroy” us. As the destructive hornworm inflicted its ruinous consumption on this tender tomato plant, so our lives reflect the toll of the enemy’s damage. The Apostle Peter in his first letter clearly delineates the only way to rise above such adversity –

Therefore, those who are ill-treated and suffer in accordance with the will of God must [continue to] do right and commit their souls [for safe-keeping] to the faithful Creator. I Peter 4:19

          Yet Joseph’s story did not end there. Just as the harmed little Celebrity tomato plant produced a gorgeous tomato right at the point of loss, so God revealed to Joseph His purpose for his family and eventually, the entire nation of Israel who would give the Messiah – the Lord Jesus to the world. May this explanation spoken by Joseph to his sibling captors be a watchword for us when we feel like the little misused tomato plant. 

Joseph said to them, “Do not be afraid, for am I in the place of God? 

But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, 

In order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive. Genesis 50:19-20

Note: To learn how Jacob ended up with children from four women, read Genesis 29-30:1-24.

For a clear Biblical understanding of Joseph's life, read chapter 37 and chapters 39-50 in Genesis. You will not be disappointed.

Can It Make That Much Difference?

 It Was Just One Uppercase Letter Off

                Passwords, user names, URL addresses, and email addresses have increased our society’s need for accuracy.  Ironically, in a world where beliefs, standards, policies, and principles are relative and “fluid” according to the situation or how the individual feels, the push for open-mindedness appears to be the chosen approach. But being inaccurate by one character in a password won’t work. You won’t log into the program.

                I have a different password for every need. Most are cryptic in nature. This approach to passwords dates back to my stint of teaching at Woodland Schools. I remember telling Sam Ready, our technology director, when he asked about changing the new district’s grading program password assigned to me, “No, I don’t want to change it. Memorizing it will help me stave off Alzeimer’s!”

                You can imagine my consternation this week when I struggled logging onto a program. I double checked the username section. Then I recognized my mistake. The first letter needed to be capitalized in my password. Repeatedly typing in a “c” had not helped me log into the site even though I was quite sincere in my effort. What a minor technicality! My only change was from “c” to a “C.”

C not c

                Frequently, I hear or read of sincerity or all-in commitment as basis for a person having a form of spirituality, yet with little concern for what is actually believed. Jesus cleared this up when He answered Thomas’s question about the way to heaven in this direct, unequivocal answer,

I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me. John 14:6

So often, the response to the direct words of Jesus involves a defense of the sincere commitment of the person who refuses Jesus as the only way. The Apostle Paul responds to radical dedication to a cause with these words from I Corinthians 13:3:

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.

Paul says this ultimate sacrificial effort is futile.

                That prompts the question “What is love?” The Apostle John answered that question in his first letter of John, chapter 4, verses 8-9 in this way –

…for God is love. In this the love of God was manifested toward us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him.

                So just as there was no way to log onto the program that I desperately wanted to be working in, neither can we arbitrarily choose one of the top 20 ways our world has touted as roads to heaven. No matter how sincerely I typed in “c” to begin my password, it never worked.

                May we embrace wholeheartedly these eternal truths from God’s Word. Our prayer should be for opportunities to boldly share these Biblical certainties with those seekers of truth sent across our paths.