The Neighbor, His Brother, and Edmund Gates, Sr.

 A phrase my father used in this family story was "bury the hatchet." According to the Cambridge Idioms Dictionary, the origin of this phrase traces to a Native American peace ceremony that literally involved burying a hatchet, a weapon of war.

 Burying the Hatchet
As told by Edmund Gates, Jr. to Bernadean J. Gates

              In the early 1920s, a neighbor hit Grandpa Black over some small disagreement at the Black home on what is now the Travis Anson place. This neighbor hit Grandpa Bob Black in the head with a club “addling” him and bloodying his nose. As a result, Edmund, Sr., my father, was “laying” for the neighbor, wanting to get even.
             About a year later, when I was around four years old, I was in the wagon with my father. Papa was bringing a load of corn out of the bottom from the Dyer Place’s triangular field. He had been shucking corn all day. I was with him because I always liked to go with Papa even though I was too young to work. We were getting ready to go home through a gate that opened onto the main road. Suddenly, out stepped the brother of the neighbor who had struck Grandpa Black. He wielded a club in his hand as he stood at the gate refusing to open it. Papa, with one swift motion, reached behind and brought a shotgun down, lowering it on the brother blocking the gate. Papa had the shotgun with him hoping to get a rabbit to take home for Mom to cook. The brother of the neighbor quickly said, “Oh Ed, Oh Ed, Hold it!” and immediately opened the gate. The incident was the talk of the community for a while. Thankfully, that day we decided to call a truce and “bury the hatchet.”

Edmund Gates, Sr. and Edmund
Gates, Jr.in the 1950s

             As I prepared this blog post, I purposefully left out the names of the neighbor and his brother since my father and my grandfather put this disagreement behind them about ninety-nine years ago. Revealing the names might “unearth the hatchet” or "take up the hatchet" which incidentally means just the opposite of a peace pact.

           “Burying the hatchet” or “letting bygones be bygones” continues to be a healthy, life-altering choice and is just as relevant today as in yesteryears.  I find it interesting that Dad used the pronoun "we" in the final sentence of his account of this happening. Since he was a preschooler, evidently Grandpa conveyed unequivocally to his young son, my dad, that this feud was ended and in the past. What a powerful impact my grandfather's actions, as well as the other two men's responses, had on this impressionable little boy!
             This Christmas season of giving is the perfect time to consider a mutually agreed upon answer to an ongoing disagreement be it great or small. The best way to accomplish this begins with requesting prayerfully from the Prince of Peace a heart for resolution, words for soothing the disagreement, an understanding heart from the seeming adversary, and a perfect opportunity to “bury the hatchet.” The forgiveness of past bitterness can be received from the One who brings peace on earth, good will to men. What a wonderful way to honor Him as His miraculous birth is recognized at this season of the year!

Thanksgiving Observance 40 Years Ago

 So many people are dealing with grief, loss, and serious illness within their family. As my heart continues to ache for those who have suffered devastating losses since last Thanksgiving, may this family recollection from a family Thanksgiving forty years ago provide encouragement to focus on an attitude of gratitude and restoration in the midst of grief.

The Thanksgiving of 1982

                A strong woman was born in 1924. Bernyce Smith Gates, my mother and the only child of her parents, showed her strength at seven when standing on a stool, she began cooking for her father and herself. Her mother, a trained nurse, had begun assisting families in the community since these neighbors could not afford health care during the Great Depression of the 1930s. 

             My mother's strong determination spurred her to chase a much bigger boy when she was quite young. She spotted him stealing her father's tobacco and couldn't let him get away with it. Upon sensing little Bernyce in pursuit, he tossed down the stolen tobacco, which Mother triumphantly retrieved.

             She loved to run. As a little girl, Mother even spied a rabbit and chased it as it scampered away. She caught it but then let it go. She just wanted to prove to herself that she could catch the bunny.

             Mother worked in the fields with her parents as they farmed. She excelled in school even though she always walked to grade school and rode lengthy bus routes in high school (Her bus picked up students in Masham and other small communities in Pawnee County when she attended Ralston High School. In her last three years, as the bus meandered to Burbank High School, other high school students were picked up all along the way).
             One of my more vivid memories of her strength was in the fall of 1982. Mother had watched her parents weaken in health and had spent about two years giving them full-time assistance. She had put her own life on hold. Grandma suffered a massive stroke in mid-October and was hospitalized. Grandpa’s condition deteriorated, and he was hospitalized. Soon Grandma was transferred to a rehabilitation center over seventy miles away. Within two weeks, Grandpa died on October 30. 

                The week of Thanksgiving rolled around. Grandma was making little progress in her rehabilitation; however, she had a few weeks of therapy remaining so would not be home for the Thursday holiday.  My sister and I, both in our twenties, were devastated by the loss of Grandpa since our maternal grandparents had lived with us all our lives.  We both said, “Let’s not have a family Thanksgiving celebration.”  Mother, without blinking an eye or pausing a second to reflect on her response, immediately shot back, “Thanksgiving is about being thankful.” 
            We observed Thanksgiving that year because my mother knew there was always a reason to give thanks even though she had just lost her beloved father to death and her mother, a once vibrant, intelligent, creative woman was making minimal progress in a rehabilitation center. 

Autumn Photograph from Mother's
 yard in 2010

            Now 40 years later, that pivotal moment in time provides strength for me whenever I am faced with insurmountable difficulties and want to give up. Anyone who knows my mother knows her as a champion supporter of family, desiring all feel comfortable and welcome in her home. Her entire life has been devoted to being a keeper of the home, bolstering her family all the while, but her thankfulness is directed at God who provides breath, rain, sunlight, and all needed to sustain our lives. Over and above those blessings of life, Mother thanks the Lord most for sending His Son, Jesus, to provide salvation for those who repent and receive Him. No other gift compares to Him.
            At this Thanksgiving season, may we truly give thanks. All of us could spend hours compiling a list of blessings and not even scratch the surface of just the blessings we daily receive. Hopefully, we can take time this week to read and then meditate throughout the week on this psalm of praise.

Psalm 100

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.

Serve the Lord with gladness; come before His presence with singing.

Know ye that the Lord, He is God; it is He who made us, and not we ourselves; 
We are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.

Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise; 
Be thankful unto Him, and bless His name.

For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting, and His truth endures to all generations.

Parallel Friendships - Two Aunts and Their Nieces

 Parallel Friendships

Mary Elizabeth Gates Roberts - My Mother
recalled Mary's generosity to allow my father
to repeatedly use her new car when he was
dating her. Mary's car easily outclassed the
older pickup truck that he had.

                November 17 marks the 106^th birthday of Mary Elizabeth Gates Roberts. Aunt Mary was the second daughter born to my paternal grandparents. She was three years older than my father, Edmund Gates, Jr. She completed grade school at Woodland, the country school in the Big Bend community. Many girls, especially living in a rural area in that era, concluded their formal schooling; however, my grandfather, a strong proponent of education, brokered a deal with A. C. Hightower for Mary to live with his family in Fairfax, Oklahoma, and attend high school at Fairfax High School. The men agreed upon an amount for her room and board with her assisting Mrs. Hightower with household chores.

Mary in the car that
she couldn't back up!

                Mary formed a friendship with the Hightowers’ older daughter, Margaret Jane, known to her family and friends as “Janie.” Janie’s outgoing personality meshed with Mary who was quiet and reserved. Mary graduated from FHS in 1934 with Janie receiving her diploma in 1935.

                The two friends went their separate ways with Mary training as a beautician and working in that profession until her marriage to Marion Roberts in 1942. My father told of Mary driving from Arizona where her husband was based in World War II without being able to drive in reverse! He recorded this account in the retelling of his experiences as a B-17 crewman in the book, Okie Over Europe published by his nephew and namesake, Daniel Edmund Newland.

                Janie attended Hills Business College and then was employed in various positions in Fairfax, including working for her father in his grocery store. She moved to Washington, D.C. and worked for the F.B.I. in its identification department from 1941 until 1946. She married Albert Phillippe in 1946.

Margaret Jane Hightower Phillippe

                Aunt Mary and her husband lived abroad in many countries, including the Philippines and Tripoli, Libya, because of his career in the United States Air Force. Janie never lived outside the United States, but she and her husband traveled extensively in Europe, Asia, and South America.

Both Mary and Janie loved music. Mary enjoyed playing the organ in her home, often accompanied by her husband on his harmonica. Janie continued taking piano lessons well into her seventies.

The similarity in these two friends continued in their love of painting. Mary’s granddaughters have cherished paintings, representative of their grandmother’s talent and artistic ability. Janie’s art classes and painting with her friends remained a high priority even as she advanced in years.

                Janie’s niece, Debbie Sue Hightower Ballinger, and I don’t remember not knowing each other. We began a strong friendship in first grade that lasted into high school. Even though we parted ways for our collegiate careers, we "had a blast" living next door to each other in West Bennett Hall for one semester at Oklahoma State University.

Debbie asked me to be her maid of honor at her wedding to Christopher Ballinger in 1980. Our friendship remains stronger than ever. We share prayer requests and keep in touch even though we live in two different states.

Debbie and I on her wedding day.

Debbie and I during one of those hilarious
study sessions.

                My dad would often say when Debbie came to “study” at my house during our high school years, “You girls are sure having a lot of fun. You laugh all the time.” We did and we still do. Almost any time we get to visit, we have several moments when we share hearty laughter together. 

         The scripture says, “A merry heart does good like a medicine.” Countless studies and articles promote this same line of thought. Hopefully, each reader has an enduring friendship like Aunt Mary and Janie Hightower Phillippe and one full of laughter as Debbie and I do. 

Down Memory Lane

On Sunday, NOVEMBER 13th at 10:30 am, the Ralston First Baptist Church will celebrate its 125th year since formation. The present congregation invites former pastors and members to return for a time of remembrance and thankfulness. A fellowship lunch will follow the service and all are welcome to attend. 

The church marked its centennial year on November 9, 1997.  This week, twenty-five years hence, seemed an appropriate time to present some visual remembrances from decades ago.

Centennial Service - 1997

Mary and Ray Moffeit at the
 Centennial Celebration. Ray
 pastored during the 
centennial  year.

How shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed?
And how shall they believe in Him of whom they have not heard?
And how shall they hear without a preacher?
And how shall they preach unless they are sent? As it is written:
"How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the gospel of peace, 
Who bring glad tidings of good things!" Romans 10: 14-15

Centennial Service

Centennial Lunch in the Unfinished Fellowship Hall

Rick Rice and John Crowley, who pastored the church from
1974-1979. 

Charles Welch, interim pastor in 1984, 1986, 1988,
 visiting with Geraldine Forbes. Bro. Charles and Geraldine
are both deceased. 

Joe Urbon, oldest pastor in attendance, visited with
Pam Morris Felix. He came as pastor in 1960. He 
passed away in 2009.

Gregg, Krystal, Whitney, Kallie, and Torie Engle at his
ordination when he pastored at Ralston FBC.
20 years ago at the Centennial, he touched hearts
as he sang, "Precious Memories" and the girls
sang, "Come Just As You Are."

Ralston FBC was Larry Wilson's first pastorate
 in 1986. He and Debbie enjoyed reuniting with
friends at the 100th anniversary in 1997.

              Those who are wise shall shine 

Like the brightness of the firmament,

And those who turn many to righteousness

Like the stars forever and ever.

Daniel 12:3

On November 5, 2017, the congregation of Ralston Baptist Church observed the 120th Anniversary of Its Founding

Below are a few photos from the day.

Former Pastors - Ray Moffeit, Michael Ridgway, and Jon Ogle

Kathy Sawyer Smith and Joan Higgins

Wayne, Carson, and Crystal  Dilbeck

Briley, Janet, and Kelbi Smith

Cailea and Barbara Rice

 

Bruce and Pat Myers

Carol Bledsoe and Nancy Wills

 

Chloe Cox, Paisley and Emily Yarnell

Kristy and Lee Bryant Bledsoe

Kelly, Michael, Arizona, Rachel, and Chris Ridgwa

\

              

Gayle Reynard and Ruby Bentley

                                 

Dr. Charles and Nancy Wills

              
   

Tawnya and Carolyn Watkins

Greg and David Goad

Rick Rice and Becky Laughlin

Jim and Edna Brooks with their great granddaughter, Raelyn

Krystal and Josh Corley

Sandy Wudener, Debbie Mote, and Jolie Woods

Wanda Nix and Sue Sparks

        

Kimberly and Rochester Windom

Diana Hutchison and Crystal Dilbeck

    

Kayleannah Windom and Jaygen Hutchison 

Vonda Goad and Gayle Reynard

 

Bernyce Gates, Jim Hutchison, and Penn Dilbeck

Ray and Mary Moffeit

Jim Hutchison  and Charles Batschelett