They Have Gone On to Their Reward

...And We Stand on Their Shoulders

Daisy Bernet

Twenty-five years ago, I served on the centennial committee in charge of planning the observation of the 100^th anniversary of the church. It was founded on November 9, 1897. 

Daisy Bernet – always Mrs. Bernet to me – related of how her grandfather, Ira Henderson, helped the tiny congregation in Ralston organize by traveling across the Arkansas River from the Osage in a small boat she called a skiff. Mrs. Bernet as a spry, enthusiastic lover of life inspired me since she shared the same profession with me - teaching.

Elisabeth Kelly

              A humorous story came to me two and a half decades ago from Elisabeth Henderson Kelly. She had been told the first church building was destroyed by a fire allegedly started by the pastor’s son. Even though she had faced tragedy and pain, Elisabeth usually had a funny twist to her stories to evoke a laugh from her listener. In 1997 at the centennial event, Elisabeth was recognized as the longest one with membership in the church.

When I was only a seventh grader, Mrs. Lelia Goodson Baker, requested I come to Ralston Baptist Church to play the piano. Mrs. Baker, an accomplished pianist, suffered from ill health with no one to play in her place for worship services. Not even knowing what an offertory was, I began playing with guidance from my mother, an accomplished accompanist herself, and my gifted piano instructor, Mildred Wedell. (Mr. and Mrs. Baker donated a new Story and Clark piano, one of my favorites to play. To protect it from rain leaking from the archaic structure's roof, they fastidiously covered it with a huge plastic covering after each service.)

Lelia Baker & Laura Hines 

         Laura Hines served in the card ministry in the small congregation. Mrs. Hines struggled with each step she took. Looking back now, I recognize how much she needed a hip replacement, but she never complained. Instead she provided loving support to her sister, Vera, and assisted any way she could. Week after week the cards she sent provided encouragement and comfort throughout the community.

Effie Rice 

      In those early days, Ralston Baptist Church building was still at its original location on the north side of Main Street just east of 1^st Street. I can remember Effie Stark Rice walking slowly, but faithfully each week across Highway 18 (Main Street) to worship every Sunday with a cheerful heart and sometimes a little self-composed rhyme. What a blessing that she has over fifteen descendants that attend regularly and actively serve the Lord in Ralston Baptist Church in 2022!

Modine Royster

        One of my most memorable Vacation Bible Schools occurred in that building that leaked and creaked. VBS was scheduled as soon as school was out to avoid the heat of summer because it was not air-conditioned. Additionally, a May VBS would not conflict with the wheat harvest. Modine Culp Royster served as one of the 7^th-8^th grade teachers. She exuded calmness and patience as she led us through the steps of putting gold leaf on an apothecary jar. I loved that craft experience!

Faces and names fill my mind from my memories of worshiping in the building on Main Street. People who quietly but faithfully followed Jesus each day - ones like Mr. I.P. Royster who provided solid, godly leadership. Mrs. Royster exhibited a smile as she worked wholeheartedly, unselfishly giving of herself. I remember Mrs. Memory Price for carrying a well-worn Bible. (Oh that we had more of those today!) Mrs. Dora Brown’s punctuality and commitment to teach little ones inspired many future teachers. How many more unheralded heroes walked through those doors!

Each of the names I have invoked have gone on to their reward. Each of them would be the first to remind us they served in the kingdom of God in the little community of Ralston not to earn eternal salvation, but instead out of grateful hearts for the undeserved forgiveness given by God because of their faith in Jesus. They would recite for us from Titus –

Not by works of righteousness which we have done

But according to His mercy He saved us…

Paul wrote to the believers in the church at Colosse these words of encouragement in chapter 3, verses 23-24:

And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men,

knowing that from the Lord you will receive the reward of the inheritance;

for you serve the Lord the Christ.

Each of you who were impacted or influenced by the Ralston Baptist Church are invited to join us for a celebration of the work of God in this community for 125 years. Only He has been here for each of these years and only He deserves the glory.

The One Who Loved Beauty - Mamie Marie Gates Judkins Tice

 I originally wrote this blog post as a way of working through my grief for my aunt in 2017. At her funeral Pastor Gilchrist used the word "impeccable" and the phrase, "was put together" in describing Aunt Mamie. Her funeral folio had printed the scripture passage from John 14:2-6,19.Upon hearing the beautiful violin duets performed during the service by Levon and Elliott Eudaley, Mamie's beloved grandsons, I thought  Nothing would have pleased her more.

                October 29 will mark the 84th birthday of Mamie Marie Gates Judkins Tice. Aunt Mamie was my father’s youngest sister to whom he usually referred to as – “Mame.” Dad and Mamie retained a sweet, big-brother-little-sister relationship. Dad was 19 years old when his baby sister entered this world. Mamie was only three years old when Dad volunteered for the Army Air Corps in December of 1941.

Mamie, Dad, and Julia

                Mamie enjoyed a close relationship with my mother when my parents were newlyweds. In one of our last telephone conversations, Mamie told me she had kept a small keepsake box given by my parents many, many years ago. Sometimes Mother indulged Mamie, making trendy accessories of the 1950s, for her youngest sister-in-law.

                Mamie’s sensitive nature caused her to sorrow deeply for her dear step-grandfather (the only grandfather she knew) when he died suddenly. Grandpa Black's kind, gentle nature had touched her young life. Mamie was only 12 years old when Robert Thomas Black passed from this life.

                Mamie married Dewey Judkins, a Korean veteran and an OU fan and graduate of Oklahoma City University. She and Dewey reared their three daughters to pursue their own interests, capabilities, and professional goals.

Dewey and Mamie at their wedding
shower.

She realized her marriage to Uncle Dewey, an electrical engineer, afforded her a more affluent lifestyle than some of the rest of the family. Since Mamie had lovely homes, she expressed genuine concern about me dwelling in a mobile home during my teaching career. I truly appreciated her apprehension each time I sought shelter as the tornado siren blew! Thankfully, I survived my days living there.

                After Uncle Dewey’s death, she married her friend and neighbor, also grieving the loss of his wife. Jack Tice brought joy and comfort into her life. She said they traveled at the same pace. Jack could fix almost anything for her.

                On September 19, 2015, Mamie and Jack traveled to Olathe, Kansas, to participate in the Induction of Elizabeth Studebaker Gates into the Kansas School for the Deaf Hall of Fame. This evening proved to be a highlight that fall for Mamie, since she was the youngest granddaughter of the inductee who had been the first student of the Kansas School for the Deaf when it began in 1861. Mamie shared the milestone evening with her niece, Claudia Gates Lentz, and her great niece, Kimetha Mitchell Bennett.

Mamie and Jack

                Mamie and I spoke by telephone more frequently during my father’s stroke recovery and after his death. Invariably, we would discuss gardening - the reseeding of her beds in the fall, in early summer our conversation turned to vintage roses, or her vegetable endeavors. I recall her launching into such an informative explanation about numerous rose species along with specific treatments for various maladies that often strike the fragrant plants. I thought to myself, Why aren’t you taking notes on this?

                Our last telephone conversation occurred prior to my late purchase of tomato plants to plant in the back flower beds. She told me emphatically her personal favorite type of tomato was the Celebrity. When I browsed the plants at Fairfax Feed Store and spotted the tag labeled Celebrity, I thought of Aunt Mamie and chose six healthy-looking Celebrity plants. Each summer, I still think of her as I purchase and plant the tomato plants she recommended 

                Mamie described her father, Edmund Gates, Sr., as a man of principle. Some people defined him as hard-headed. Others said, “He knows his own mind.” In the same way, Mamie knew her own mind. Much like Grandpa, she could delineate her likes and dislikes. Frequently, she had solid reasons for the opinions she held.

She was a woman of faith. She lived out her faith in morally-upstanding behavior. The last time she saw my father before his final debilitating stroke, just before she and Jack left, Dad prayed. His strong prayer provided the confidence she needed that he was content and felt comfortable even in his stroke recovery.

                Mamie loved beauty. She loved beautiful music, and I often envied her since she regularly attended symphonic concerts in the Oklahoma City area. Aunt Mamie loved color. Using color masterfully, she always “was put together” impeccably in her makeup and her clothing choices. Seldom do I use absolute words, but I cannot recall one time seeing her appear disheveled or unkempt (Wow! I wish that could be said about me!).

                Only in the last few years, did I realize she was a cat lover. When her daughters, Sheryl, Jill, and Lisa were young, the family usually had a poodle. I guess I deduced that she was a dog lover. Once I learned about her Himalayan feline, she and I enjoyed discussing our cats. In her compassionate manner, she commiserated with me when Bob, our orange and white Manx cat, disappeared just about six months before her own death.

Jill, Mamie, Lisa, and Sheryl with the family dog

                As soon as I heard of the serious accident injuring her great nephew, Justin Gates, I called Mamie as well as my other aunt in Oklahoma City. Aunt Mamie and her husband, Jack, made plans to go the hospital. Even though I told her not to feel obligated to contact me, she insisted she would. The day after as they returned from the hospital, she called to share about Justin’s condition. Mamie was a person of her word.

                She loved family history. Mamie reveled in sharing the same German ancestor, Johannes Stutenbecker, with the famous car makers of the 20^th century. When Johannes Stutenbecker's sons arrived in the colonies in 1737, they changed the spelling of their name to “Studebaker.” Peter, from whom we descend, and Clement, from whom the renowned wagon makers and later automobile designers came, were blade makers in Germany. Mamie knew more about this connection than anyone else in the Gates clan.

                 Aunt Mamie pursued membership in the Daughters of the American Revolution since we descend from a lieutenant, Jacob Snider. However, his son-in-law refused to provide fresh horses to the continental army. So Mamie’s great-great-great grandfather, Jacob Studebaker’s conscientious objection to the American Revolution dashed her hopes of entry into the DAR.

                Her passing from this life, on June 4, came too soon for me. In one of our last conversations, when I lamented coming into possession of vintage family photographs with no information, Aunt Mamie assured me that she and Jack planned a trip to the Bend, and she would try to assist in identifying the photograph subjects. After her death, Jack reaffirmed their plans for a trip to southwest Osage County to “decorate” graves at Pixley, but Mamie wasn’t feeling “up to it.”

                When death comes, we can reflect on “what might have been.” We can rejoice in past cherished times, but primarily, I focus on the loved one’s preparation for eternity.

The following morning after Mamie’s death, my mother, based on Mamie’s hope and trust in Jesus, said, “There’s a big Gates reunion in heaven.” We can be assured of taking part in the heavenly family gathering someday, if we have embraced the promises of Jesus from John 14 with which He assured His disciples just days before His crucifixion:

Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me. 
In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. 
I go to prepare a place for you. I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you will be also. And where I go you know and the way you know.”

Thomas said to Him, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, and how can we know the way?”

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

May each of us, whether in the Gates family or not, be certain of our relationship with Jesus, trusting Him alone to forgive our sins, and living each day to invite as many as possible to enter a restorative bond of forgiveness through Jesus. Not only will each individual find a more fulfilled life here on earth in Him but will join in that heavenly reunion someday, too.

A Merry Heart at 98

I am indebted to my sister, Angie, for some proofreading and editing on this blog about Mother. Angie does some of this every weekend before she posts this on her Facebook page. This is only one of the 1,001 ways she helps me on a regular basis.

If the Lord grants Mother life until October 17, 2022, she will celebrate her 98th birthday. We thank Him for that. She still likes to laugh. Sometimes I tell her unfortunately she lives with the more serious daughter (I am trying to learn to lighten up). Many times over the years she has quoted these verses from Proverbs 17:22b and Proverbs 15:13a:

A merry heart does good like a medicine…

A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance...

Here are a few memories that provide a glimpse into Mom's character.

Matter-of-Fact but Funny Preschooler
One day the two Herring boys, neighbors of Mother’s family, and their little sidekick, my mother, were busy exploring on the Oliver Morton place. The two older boys yelled, “It’s a snake!” The boys spotted the snake’s head emerging from one of their father’s knee pads. Erma, the mother of Wayne and Jack, heard the commotion. She rushed out to investigate, arriving just in time to see little Bernyce leaning over the reptile and responding in a matter-of-fact voice, “It’s just an old tuddle.” Wayne and Jack had misjudged the shell of the turtle for one of their father’s knee pads used when harvesting cotton, but not calm little Bernyce; she was fearless.

Mother, Wayne and Jack Herring
in front of the barn on the Oliver 
Morton place. Lisa White Crabtree
is a Bender who descends from
Oliver Morton. Our neighbor to
the south, Betty Hutchison and 
her siblings are cousins of the 
Herring boys.

The Five-Year Old at the Tulsa State Fair
Recently, Mother and I laughed at her running unaccompanied literally all over the Tulsa State Fair. She insisted she was a preschooler. Sure enough, my grandparents were operating the Belford Booth that had won at the Osage County Fair in 1930. Mother was only 5 years old (almost 6) and had never gone to school. Any time she got a nickel or dime, she was at the midway. At almost age 98, she insisted again, she would have been a Dizzy Lizzy if she would have had a Mega Ride Pass! Let's just say it was a different day, and Mom followed the directions from adult strangers if she got lost. She said she would just ask where the building with the booths were and off she would go.

The Daredevil Might Have Made It on a Bomber Crew
Mother and Dad had their first "date" when she agreed to meet him at the carnival of the Osage County Fair in Pawhuska. She was still in high school. He was five years older than she and was already out of school. Dad arrived late. That didn't stop Mother because she loved amusement rides. Since she had time on her hands, she rode with several other guys who asked her to ride. In one sense, that was just fine with Dad. Even though he would later fly twenty-five missions over enemy territory in Europe, he wasn't as wild about amusement rides as Mother.

She Did What in the Bank?
Mother worked in a temporary capacity at the First National Bank in Burbank, Oklahoma. She was filling in for the bank president’s wife while she went to be with their daughter who was having a baby. The stream of customers slowed, and she had caught up all responsibilities she had been assigned. Because she preferred busyness to idleness, Mother began “tidying up” the bank, including dusting the gun case and the guns kept in it! She carefully handled each firearm not concerned that she was violating some policy of "hands off", but merely seeing what needed to be done and doing it. Despite her unusual use of her time while on the clock at the bank, Mother was offered a permanent position at the bank, but instead chose to marry Dad in 1948.

We Had a Good Time
Mother recounts frequently what good young people she and Dad taught at Masham Baptist Church. Usually, she taught the girls’ class with Dad teaching the young men as he often referred to them as. But some of their best memories were the get togethers they had and the silly, fun games they played. Mother still laughs that since she was still in her 20s, she could outrun all the youth, even the boys, when the weather allowed outdoor activities. Most of all she cherishes the faith she saw flourish and remain strong in so many. 

Larry Mitchell, Mother laughing 
heartily, Janice Wolfe, Nancy LeForce,
and unidentified girl.

But Mother does have a serious side and is not a risk taker about important issues. When Thelma Johnson moved to the Bend, she found a friend in Mother, even though she was a bit older than Thelma. The last time I visited with Thelma she told me what a genuine friend Mother was to her when she moved into the Bend.

        Shortly before the Johnson family move to the Bend, Mother courageously professed publicly her faith in Jesus. She was 18 years old. Mother chose to take a stand for Jesus no matter what her friends thought and sometimes found she was the only one not going to certain activities. She remembered being so concerned about Thelma's spiritual condition that she may have bordered on being “pushy.” I can attest now in their 90s, Thelma and J.D. Frank, her husband, who Mother has known longer than Thelma, rely on their strong faith in Jesus. These three Benders share joyfully how meaningful their daily walk with Jesus has been for them.

        Christians ought to be happy people, as Dad liked to say. Mother, even as she approaches 98, believes we should tell everyone that only Jesus gives purpose, contentment, and comfort. Here is a warning from Jesus and His wonderful promise:

The thief (Satan) comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Work-Brickle But Kind

           
October 5 marked the seventh year since Dad's death. This week, a cousin mentioned what a kind man Dad was. Yet he was so work-brickle, meaning he didn't have a lazy particle in his being. How did he come to be like that? 
            Even though my father, Edmund Gates, Jr., found Mr. Rippee a “fascinating” teacher, when he was around 10 years old, he began loafing instead of studying in school. Mr. Rippee, Dad's teacher at the Woodland School in the Bend, visited with Grandpa. My grandfather, Edmund, Sr. told Mr. Rippee, “Just let me keep him out of school a week to help me clear walnut trees.”

Dad was
about  this
age when
he helped 
clear the
walnut 
trees.

            My father explained the process this way. He and my grandfather dug down around each of the tree stumps about a foot and a half, with both using a shovel. This allowed a place wide enough to maneuver a crosscut saw effectively. Then Dad and his father each got on one end of the crosscut saw and began pushing and pulling. Some of the walnut trees had trunks with 10-inch diameters. Needless to say, Dad slept well each night, but because of work of that nature, he exhibited unparalleled strength for his small size well into his 90s.

            The tough, work-brickle young man transported his sister Martha on horseback to her eighth-grade graduation in a flooded deluge of rain when a buggy would have gotten stuck. Later Dad said how sorry he felt for Martha trying to navigate in her pretty new dress such muddy areas on her special day. Sensitivity for others emerged so often in Dad.
            In the late 1930s, Grandpa was convinced by Bill McFadden, a Fairfax mechanic and the father of Helen McFadden Buxton, to buy the family’s first motorized vehicle, a used 1937 green International pickup truck. The upgrade made sense because it took Grandpa half of a day to get to Fairfax in his wagon or buggy and then the rest of the day to make the 14-mile-trek back to the farm in the northwest of the Bend.
            Dad had to step up to the challenge when Chuck Shell, the brother-in-law of Bill McFadden, drove them to the hill north of the Fairfax Cemetery. Chuck's driver's training for Dad consisted of a brief instruction to my father who had never driven a motor vehicle in his life! Nevertheless, Chuck, only two years older than Dad, coached him by saying, "Edmund, drive in the middle of the road. If you see someone coming, get over so they can pass." With that ultra-condensed version of drivers' ed, Grandpa and Dad headed west on the dirt road. Fortunately, Dad recalled few cars were on the "trail" that day.

Martha, Dad's sister, in front of the only family
vehicle - the '37 International Pickup.

              Dad's prerequisites to his inaugural driving excursion consisted of having ridden in the car driven by his maternal grandpa, Bob Black. Dad had watched closely from the back seat as his grandpa drove. Those experiences with his grandpa gave him a working knowledge of the clutch, the brake, the foot pedal, and the gear shift, but he had never been behind the wheel. Since Grandpa was profoundly hearing impaired, my father assumed the role of the family driver until he went to World War II.
               Dad had so many demands on him since he worked with his father seven days a week from childhood until his 16th birthday. After his brother’s death during the summer of 1935, his parents became Christians, and his father no longer worked on Sunday. From that point until my father volunteered for the Army Air Corps, he worked Monday-Saturday on the family farm.    
               Ironically, Dad is the only person I have heard described military basic training as a “vacation.” He said, “I had time to come in and just relax on my bunk.”
               Let’s revisit the initial question, How did Dad become “work-brickle and kind”? As simplistic as it may sound, most parents, in those days were preoccupied with trying to do their best for their children so their families could "get by" - not "get ahead" but just "eak by." Yet these people who survived the Great Depression with long days of backbreaking work retained a strong moral compass. It usually translated as treating others the way they wanted to be treated. They daily tried to live out the Golden Rule.
               A mutual respect for what one's neighbor had acquired, and the preciousness of human life undergirded most of our forbearers. A couple of foundational truths guided their lives. They believed God saw everything that a person did and that each human being would one day be held accountable for those actions. These two tenets drove community members to look out for the wellbeing of each other as taught in the Scriptures.

                       Let no man, then, set his own advantage as his objective, but rather the good of his neighbor.
                                                                                                                I Corinthians 10:24

             The dire economic situation demanded a strong work ethic from parents down to the youngest child that could do the smallest task. They internalized the truth of Paul’s command to the Thessalonian believers in the third chapter, verse 10.

For even when we were with you, we commanded you this: If anyone will not work, neither shall he eat.

             Finally, my mother believed my father inherited the calm, sensitive temperament of his mother, Mamie Irene Tripp Gates. Both my father and my maternal grandma could “shed tears” easily. So many times, I heard Dad say when he needed to discuss a sticky subject, he approached it “in a kind way.” Most importantly, he lived by these simple Bible verses:

Love suffers long and is kind; loves does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up. 

I Corinthians 13:4 

              And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.

                                                                                                                     Ephesians 4:32

You'll Probably Never Have to Make One of Those Again

My sister spoke the title of this blog post to me upon my completion of the "clothespin bag." I guess the following sentence should be a spoiler alert. Upon my completion of the clothespin bag, my sister located a cute clothespin bag for sale online for about the cost of the fabric, but it wouldn’t have been as sturdy!

         Mother has an indoor clothes dryer; it's a wooden one. She isn’t “trying to save the planet” but maintains her reason for no electrical dryer boils down to room. It would involve a renovation of the utility room. At age 97, the chaos that goes with remodeling a room is not appealing. So, a clothespin bag is an essential component for clothesline use.

        Early this summer, the vintage clothespin bag crafted by my maternal grandma revealed its antiquity when the strap snapped apart as I threw it over my head. After finding a large safety pin and securing the strap once again, I hung the laundry on the clothesline.
        I avoided railing about the much-worn bag and the need to replace it. An internet search reveal no pattern that remotely resembled the one we were using. Pushing the need to replace it into the dark recesses of my memory, I purposely decided to make the old one work.
        Then one day I realized it must be replaced after the strap broke again. When a discussion ensued with Mother, she mentioned a pattern. I responded, “Well, where in the world would I find it?” She promptly described where to find it in her bedroom. I located a sack labeled “Pattern for clothespin bag” just as she directed me! Much to my chagrin, the pattern was the pieces of the deconstructed clothespin bag made around 60 years ago with no instructions!
        A few days later, in a moment of surging sewing confidence, I told Mother, “I think I can figure it out. I’ll just have Angie pick up some fabric for it.”
      Angie's search yielded fabric of the perfect weight, design, and reasonable price per yard. Of course, Mother found it an exorbitant price to which I piped up by reminding her of what Dad would say, “Honey, you’ve got to get up with the times!”
        Angie arrived with the material she had selected, but the step-by-step construction of it eluded me. I took the pattern. Persevering, I cut out the pieces for the new one.
        My dread of the task of sewing the new bag was embarrassing. I knew Angie was coming and would assume the day-to-day tasks. I tackled the job remembering Grandma always said, “The dread is the worst part of the job.”

        I began with the strap. Sewing it on the machine wasn’t too bad but turning the strap right-side out literally took about two hours. I persisted with minimal complaining. It looked pretty good for something that would only be seen at the clothesline.
        I stitched the rest tenaciously only to discover it looked terrific except for one small thing. I had attached the strap too low on the pin pouch itself.
        I refused to rip out my sewing to reattach the strap since this was not a garment to be worn in public. The clothespin bag simply had to hold clothespins. Upon studying the problem, I lengthened the strap by cutting it and splicing it together with an extension piece between the two severed ends. It worked, seemed strong, looked semi-professional, and was worthy to be out into service at the clothesline. 

Perhaps the Last Clothespin Bag I'll 
Ever Need to Make

        On my journey of creating most likely the last clothespin bag I’ll ever need to make, I found my uncertainty leading to procrastination. Solomon in the book of Ecclesiastes warned of this in chapter 11, verse 4:

    He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap.

The Message succinctly spells out the hazards of hesitation and delay in its interpretation of Ecclesiastes 11:3-4:

When the clouds are full of water, it rains. When the wind blows down the tree, it lies where it falls. Don’t set there watching the wind. Do your own work. Don’t stare at the clouds. Get on with your life.

        Postponement in creating a clothespin bag is inconsequential compared to hesitation in reaching out to loved ones and friends. Showing our love, sharing Jesus with others, and doing good when we can should never fall victim to our trivial delays.

The habit of always putting off an experience until you can afford it, or until the time is right, or until you know how to do it is one of the greatest burglars of joy. Be deliberate, but once you’ve made up your mind – jump in.”  Charles Swindoll