Remembering New Year's Eve Birthdays

I never mark New Year's Eve without thinking of these two precious relatives who are the subjects of today's blog posting. Remembering those who have impacted our lives fosters a thankfulness that strengthens us more than most of us realize. A grateful heart focuses us on our heavenly Father who desires to bear our burdens and direct our decisions and steps throughout 2024.

  Emma Maryann Rainey Buckley - December 31, 1903 - January 31, 1996

The youngest daughter of Rosa Jarrell Rainey and William Marion Rainey was born on December 31, 1903, at Sacred Heart, Indian Territory. My maternal grandmother, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith, at age three, welcomed her into the family. They named the New Year’s Eve baby Emma Maryann.  Her father selected her middle name after his own mother, Mary.

According to my grandma, Aunt Emma quickly became a favorite of her father. Grandmother related how Aunt Emma, as a sick little one, needed to take medicine. Her father, in his effort to entice Emma to take her medicine, illustrated how easy it was to swallow and ended up taking her medicine himself! That suited little Emma just fine.

As an older sister, my grandmother and AIice, another sister, thrived on teasing Aunt Emma. Aunt Emma always had many suitors. Alice and my grandmother teased her when they attended Woodland School in the Bend and Emma received a love note. The boy who didn't excel in spelling or handwriting wrote a note to Emma referring to her as his “Humey” instead of "Honey." Even in her 70s, this same man enjoyed meeting her and visiting about days long gone as well as his agri-business.

Aunt Emma formed strong friendships when she stayed with the McInroy family in Fairfax to attend high school. She found employment at Big Hill Trading Company. While there she met and married Bill Buckley in 1929. More about their relationship can be read at the blog post link: http://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-theater-manager-who-married-rainey.html .

The death of her beloved husband forced my great-aunt to begin carving a new path for herself. Following her recovery from an emotional collapse, she and her niece, Hazel Rice Goad Guthrie, enrolled in Hills Business College in Oklahoma City. Coincidentally, my paternal aunt, Ella Gates Bledsoe, was studying at the same time at the same college.

Upon completing her coursework, she accepted a job with the United States Government Printing Office in Washington, D.C. Her new employment adventure propelled her into an entirely new venue and atmosphere. She attended worship services at the National Cathedral. Aunt Emma, with her newfound friends, toured each historical site in their leisure time. The couple of decades in social circles in the nation’s capital afforded her opportunities to enjoy the festivities of presidential inaugural balls as well as the historic performance of Marion Anderson, the world-renowned contralto, in Constitution Hall.

Upon Aunt Emma’s move back East, she began buying the farm on which her mother, Rosa Jarrell Rainey lived. Her mother (my great-grandmother) died in 1953, and soon Aunt Emma retired to begin farming with her brother, Eugene Robert Rainey. After his death in 1961, she lived the remainder of her life by herself on the farm.

Aunt Emma transitioned from an urban lifestyle with a full social calendar to raising chickens, planting a garden, and canning the garden produce she harvested. Her nephew, Virgil Rice, farmed her tillable ground for her. As she aged, he checked faithfully on her daily.

Aunt Emma was generous with her time and money. She gave of herself to help her sister-in-law, Pearl Rainey, care for her older brother, Lewis, the last few months of his life. She spent many nights with her oldest sister, Daisy Rainey Rice. Calvin and Gladys Smith, my grandparents, enjoyed shopping outings with her to Ponca City on a regular basis.

My love of music prompted Aunt Emma to underwrite my first piano lessons. She always expected a mini concert from my sister, Angie, and me when she was at our house. She and my mother fostered my love of classical music.

Aunt Emma with me in February of 1957. I always admired her keen
  business savvy and understated sense of style and have tried to emulate it.

In her later years, many times I traveled the short distance to her house from my parents’ farm or stopped by after school on Friday. We discussed current affairs, family news, fashion trends, our personal Bible study, and family stories from the past. That strong relationship led me to what no one else had the courage to do - return a photograph.

Bill Buckley’s World War I photograph retained a prominent place in our home all during my early days. My inquisitive nature caused me to inquire why we had his photo in our home and Aunt Emma had no pictures of him in sight at all. A brief explanation of her difficulty with his death was told to me. I knew names of men smitten with her were bantered about for many years.  An engineer who remained a bachelor until his death was discovered in my research! A banker, a train conductor, and a successful farmer were just a few who were quite taken with her, but with each one, she countered with a respectful, polite response that indicated no interest on her part. 

Prior to my grandma’s death, when cleaning, I proposed a novel idea – give Bill Buckley’s photo back to Aunt Emma. Initially, every family member supported me from afar in that effort to return the heretofore unwanted portrait. To everyone’s astonishment, Aunt Emma accepted and displayed prominently the photograph she rejected over sixty years earlier. Evidently, this sophisticated lady with a brilliant business mind had come to accept her dear Bill’s death and embraced their brief marriage as a relationship that could never be matched even though she lived into her 90s. Years of heartache and loss had finally been replaced with fond memories of the love they shared.

   Her nephew, Virgil Rice, who loving watched over Aunt Emma had these words etched on her tombstone, She graced her family with acts of loving kindness. May those who loved and admired her carry on her legacy with loving kindness for others as she did.

Elizabeth Purcell Hammer - December 31, 1913 - July 17, 2016

Around twenty years ago, I discovered a relative that I had heard about but had never met. At the time, I was trying to find a member of my maternal grandfather’s family because of a portrait. Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith had married my grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith after his father’s death, but she always told me a portrait of him hung in the Smith home in Hickory Grove, Oklahoma. I didn’t locate the portrait of Walter Smith, however, my search led me to Elizabeth Purcell Hammer. How she enriched my life!             Elizabeth was born to my grandfather’s older sister, Rachel and her husband, Arthur Purcell on December 31, 1913. Like my mother, she is one-quarter Cherokee. Elizabeth is one of the three Purcell girls. Ferrall and Fern were her sisters. Elizabeth attended school at the historically significant -at least to the Smith family - Hickory Grove School in Delaware County. My grandfather and his siblings attended school there. Grandpa’s parents and other relatives were buried in the Hickory Grove Cemetery near the school (For more information about the Smith family’s influence in the Hickory Grove Cemetery see the final photograph in the blog posting entitled Typhoid! that posted on October 19, 2014. - https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/10/typhoid.html).             Elizabeth grew up on a farm that raised hogs, cattle, and chickens. Those days were hard, battling the drought, the Dust Bowl, along with couple of years of infestation by armyworms and grasshoppers. The adversity of her formative years built the tenacity and determination that has served Elizabeth well over these many years.             She graduated from Chouteau High School and began her study at Northeastern State College. When she had completed approximately two years of collegiate study, Elizabeth began teaching at her first school. She taught 60 students ranging from first through eighth grades. Her entry salary was $60/month. She later earned her degree from NSU with postgraduate hours from OSU. Elizabeth Hammer at age 90. Her excellence as an educator and her polished persona still inspire me .             Elizabeth also served as an elementary principal at numerous locations in eastern Oklahoma. She retired in 1977, after teaching science and math to junior high students for 15 years in Claremore with innumerable accolades coupled with the admiration and respect of a myriad of students from all over the eastern half of the state.             She was married to the love of her life, Ellsworth Hammer, for over 60 years until his death in 2000. Since her father and husband were in the agriculture business, she advised me in her 2013 Christmas card, “Please don’t try to be a full-fledge farmer. It’ll take up too much time and energy.” Truer words were never spoken.             Elizabeth served in various capacities in civic, educational, community, and service organizations in Pryor, her home of almost 80 years, as well as Mayse County. Her larger-than-life persona pervaded the area so that her son told her upon her 100th birthday that perhaps she should relinquish the keys to her car since everyone in Pryor knew her age!             In one of our last telephone conversations, I told her about a family photo that I had found in my grandma’s album. Elizabeth did not have a copy of it. I told her within the month I would get a copy sent to her. This dear relative who had written pages of family history for me and had visited with me about a great-grandfather I had never seen, said to me, “Now don’t you be concerned about getting that to me. You have enough to do already caring for your father.” Her compassionate comments filled with sensitivity serve as an encouragement when weariness crept into my being.             Since Grandma told me about the portrait of Walter Smith, my mission to lay my eyes on it drove me in search of as many Smith relatives as I could possibly locate. Being unable to find the portrait was a blessing since it led me to contact Elizabeth, the treasure trove of Smith family history - an accomplished relative with a loving, caring heart. What a family jewel and a dear blessing to me!

The Enduring Commitment of Polar Opposites

 Once again I thought I knew what this week's blog post would feature. Then Saturday morning, I woke up with the thought to check Elmer and Ruby Rice's wedding date. It was on December 23. I felt compelled to repost this inspiring family story of making love work by honoring a commitment. May their stick-to-itiveness encourage us in every area of our lives.

Elmer Marion Rice had just turned 22 years old when he pledged his love and commitment to Ruby Vinita Martin on December 23, 1940. Ruby had dated others, even Elmer’s cousin. Yet Ruby, at age 19, chose Elmer. They kept the promises made in that wedding ceremony until Ruby’s death on December 11, 2002, less than two weeks before what would have been their 62^nd wedding anniversary.

Family stories indicate that Elmer spoke occasionally with a brusque tongue in their early days of marriage. The family story goes that after the glowing luster of newlywed bliss had turned to marital reality, Elmer leveled a jab at Ruby’s cooking when he asked for cornbread at a family dinner at his parents’ home by saying, “Please pass the cake." This comment implied that his young bride's cooking was not very good compared to his mother's.  Although the comment was meant in jest, his father, fearing Ruby might be embarrassed, reprimanded him and diverted the conversation quickly.   

Elmer’s parents creatively and humorously supported Ruby when Elmer was adjusting to marriage. One day when he was a bit disagreeable with Ruby, his parents, Ernest and Daisy Rice drove to town with their young daughter-in-law seated securely right between them! Obviously, they adored her.

All who knew Ruby and Elmer could certainly attest to the fact that “Opposites attract.” Elmer was unorganized and somewhat messy. In fact, I had the privilege of learning the art of teaching third graders from Ruby beginning in 1979 until her retirement. The only time I saw her upset with Elmer was one morning when Ruby, who was always early, arrived at school later than her usual time. She had cleaned off the top of his persistently messy desk the previous evening. Then just as she was preparing to depart for school, he began to say, “You cleaned up my desk, and now I can’t find anything!” He had waited until she was ready to walk out the door to look for an important document that he needed that day. Ruby didn’t malign Elmer in any way, but I knew she was annoyed!

Ruby was smitten by his brilliant mind. His ability to assess opportunities and calculate the risks led to Elmer being a stellar businessman. Ruby trusted him implicitly to make wise business decisions for their family.

Increasingly, Elmer leaned on Ruby’s quiet stability. She considered her words and their ramifications before she spoke.

Ruby was an attractive woman even into her latter years with gorgeous brown eyes. Many times, I saw her look quizzically or glance teasingly sideways at Elmer.

I still chuckle to hear Elmer’s voice call her when he was ready to go. He called her name with a noticeable accent on the final syllable and with a much higher pitch than the first syllable.

Elmer made providing for Ruby an important goal in his life. He wanted her to have a dependable, safe car – in actuality, he liked for her to have a statement car that accentuated her understated sophistication.  A spacious, comfortable home for her became an aim for him. I will never forget how excited Ruby was when he bought a grand piano for her. She daily played the piano upon arriving home from school as a way to unwind from all the stresses of the teaching day.

Living together as husband and wife for over 60 years doesn’t just happen. After Elmer and Ruby made that matrimonial commitment to each other, they later chose to commit their lives to Jesus. I think they’d say that decision impacted their individual lives and their relationship with each other more than anything else.

Elmer and Ruby at the wedding of their daughter, Vickie to Tom
            Cabell at the Ralston Baptist Church in the early 1970s.

After Elmer suffered a debilitating fall, Ruby insisted on caring for him, even though it possibly jeopardized her own health. She had made that promise, “for better, for worse, in sickness or in health” and she was determined to keep it, even over the worried protest of those who loved her best.

For those of us who admired and loved Ruby and Elmer, these endearing memories of two opposites who dearly loved each other serve as a precious reminder of loving, sacrificial dedication. What a shining example of commitment for those of us living in the 21^st century!

My father, Edmund Gates, Jr. with Ruby and Elmer Rice posing with the
  highly respected teacher and coach, Grover Bradley at the Burbank High
   School Reunion in Burbank, Oklahoma, on June 27, 1993. Elmer, Ruby,
     and Dad graduated from Burbank High School in the late 1930s.

The Christmas Tree at Woodland

  I initially posted this Christmas family story ten years ago while Dad was still living. The truth of it never becomes outdated and is worth revisiting.

        As a child, I would hear my parents and grandparents talk about the Christmas Tree – not as an object but as an event. In the 1930s, both schools (Belford and Woodland) in the Big Bend community held an evening extravaganza each December for the students and their families at each particular school.

        My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., recalled the enormous decorated tree in the Woodland (not to be confused with the district consolidated in 1990, also named Woodland) schoolhouse located where Lester Anson’s home is currently. The students would perform in the school Christmas program. Then the highlight of the evening was the children receiving gifts that decorated the tree. 
        The parents would purchase gifts for their children and then take the gifts to a designated lady from the community who would tie the gifts to the school tree. The children could hardly wait to have their names called and receive a gift from the Christmas tree.  As children living in the Great Depression, you can imagine their anticipation. 
        The most memorable Christmas tree for Edmund Jr. was in 1931 when his younger brother Jess at age eight received a rifle off the tree. To his delight, Edmund Jr. who was 12 years old received a watch when his name was called. It was a magical night filled with beautiful music, laughter, and delicious sweet treats which children of the Depression era seldom received. Then with elation the children shared with pride what the Christmas tree had given them.  In the excitement of the evening, Edmund laid his newly acquired watch on a school desk. Unfortunately, he only briefly enjoyed the first expensive gift he’d ever been given, before it was stolen.

Edmund Gates, Jr. in the 1930s

        As I visited with Dad about the stolen Christmas watch, my heart ached for a young boy who experienced such joy and delight over a precious gift only to have those feelings dashed into a million pieces a few minutes later. He described how he spent the rest of the evening in a futile search for his Christmas watch. 

        As I recounted the story of that night, a heartwarming realization dawned on me. Dad frequently thanked God in our nightly prayer time saying, "Thank You for the Lord Jesus." He so clearly understood that Jesus is the gift that once received can never be stolen or lost. What an amazing thought to bring perspective as we ponder peacefully when the hectic and harried pace attempts to sabotage this season!

He (Jesus) came to His own, and His own did not receive Him. But as many as received Him, He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe on His name.  Taken from the Gospel of John, chapter one, verses eleven and twelve.                   

The Bend Story Merlene Morris Insisted Be Told

        When someone passes from this life to eternity, memories flood my mind. That happened upon hearing of Merlene Morris's death this past week. As far back as I can remember, Merlene and her family have been my family's friends.

        Since I had not settled on a blog post for this week, the post from March 24 of 2019, came quickly to my mind. Merlene had insisted I retell this true account from the spring before I was born. She even helped with "primary sources" such as newspaper articles. 

        As a tribute to her, I am reposting the story that she "willed" me into retelling. May her family and friends find comfort in knowing as the hymn, It is Well With My Soul, states Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight, Merlene's faith is now sight because of her trust in Jesus.

Pam Morris Felix, Patricia Morris Chaffin, Merlene, Gilbert Wayne Morris

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Earliest Story

            It is funny the things we remember. I remember how much Dad loved to tell my earliest story. When he came in one day from working in the field, I met him with my first story. The condensed version with just the bare facts, no elaboration, but told in a little one’s animated manner impressed him.

            My story was comprised of these four words, “Kitty, Nanny, skunk, shovel.” Grandma and Mother interpreted the events for Dad.

            One of the kittens had been attacked in broad daylight by a skunk. Grandma Gladys managed to get a shovel and opened the window above the endangered kitten and its predator, a skunk. Somehow, she maneuvered and wielded the shovel and saved the kitten.

            This can be characterized as a cute adventure story from a toddler told with spot-on accuracy. Yet, as with so many happenings in our lives, a spiritual application can be made.

            We humans identify with the endangered kitten. Each of us are vulnerable to the consequences of sin – illness, death, disappointment, and so many other sorrows or pitfalls.

            The predatory skunk is so like Satan, the enemy of God and of God’s most valued creation – humans. Lucifer, another name for Satan, is quoted in Isaiah 14:14 when he boasts of his planned takeover of heaven from God, “I will ascend above the heights of the clouds, I will be like the Most High.”

            Jesus uses terms like murderer and liar to brand Satan in John 8:44. In the same gospel, Jesus teaches so beautifully of His love as the Good Shepherd for His sheep. In John 10:10, where Jesus promises abundant life to those who follow Him, He describes the sheep’s enemy who comes to steal, kill, and destroy.

            Nanny, my maternal grandma, intervened in the violent attack on the tiny kitten. The comparison breaks down a bit since Nanny had not created the kitten as God created us, but she was the caretaker of the farm cats that we had. Her concern demanded she actively intercede to preserve the kitten’s life.

            Finally, her tool to destroy the skunk was a shovel. It demanded only courage on her part. God’s tool to break Satan’s hold on humans was the cross, one of the cruelest methods of execution ever devised. In God’s perfect timing, He sent His Son, Jesus, to live and give His life on the cross to redeem us from the clutches of Satan, His archenemy.

        

This is the only cat permitted indoors. Mother was adamant
in her training that if we mishandled a cat and felt the cat's
displeasure we deserved the consequences. Cougar, this
cat, was not the kitten that tangled with the skunk. 

           My first story of only four words has a cuteness and illustrates how concern and care for animals had been fostered early in my little soul. How much greater is the true story of God’s love for us, the sacrificial death of His perfect Son, and the defeat of Satan--the nemesis of every thing good, holy, just, and connected with God! May we tell that story every chance we get. My nanny would love that.

A Pretty Good Eyeballer

                For over a decade, cranberry relish has graced our Thanksgiving table. Its simple recipe of cranberries, an orange, and some sugar makes it a perfect dish for me to prepare.

                After Dad’s first stroke, he and I made the cranberry relish while Angie took Mother to her yearly appointment with her oncologist. It seemed to be scheduled Monday or Tuesday of Thanksgiving week each year. Dad asked about Mother’s whereabouts routinely about every hour. For that reason, I planned and filled our several hours they would be gone with activities.

                This year, I had already used the round, frosted glass container from which I usually serve the cranberry relish. I bit my tongue and didn’t mention the pretty glass dish embellished beautifully in the perfect size had a noticeable chip-- knowing that Mother can’t part with it.

                I pulled down the two serving dishes that seemed most compatible with the cranberry relish. I bemoaned a bit about having used the most appropriate glass serving dish with another salad. Mother eyed the two glass containers before her and said empathetically, “I think it will fit in this one.”

Mother was a pretty good eyeballer on
choosing this fluted serving bowl!

                As I began spooning the fragrant cranberry relish into the dish Mother selected, I thought No big deal. I’ll just transfer it to something else if the cranberry’s quantity exceeds this little glass container. To my surprise, the Thanksgiving cranberry relish fit perfectly into the serving dish Mother at age 99 chose by eyeballing it.

                Pondering on the solution for serving the cranberry relish brought to mind the account in Luke 5:1-11. Jesus used Simon Peter’s boat as a nautical pulpit. When He finished His message, Jesus asked Simon to Launch out into the deep and let down their nets.

                Simon Peter wearily, “Master, we have toiled all night and caught nothing; nevertheless, at Your word I will let down the nets.” Peter astounded at the vast number of fish causing the net to break called another boat, but both boats began sinking with the huge haul.

                Upon seeing the power of Jesus, Peter fell at the feet of Jesus recognizing the Lordship of Jesus, his own sinfulness, and the incompatibility of the two. He requested Jesus depart from him. Unfazed, Jesus calmed the trepidation within Peter and gave him a new direction – to fish for men.

               How often we doubt commands, instructions, and directives given clearly from God’s Word or by the leading of the Holy Spirit in the same way I questioned Mother’s recommendation for the serving bowl for the cranberry relish! Each time we follow Him and see His plan work for His glory may we find courage to obey even quicker and with a heart full of faith. Just as the cranberry relish fit perfectly in the bowl as Mother predicted it would, we can know anything our Father suggests for our lives will work for our good and for His glory.

Photo of Mother and me taken on
Thanksgiving Evening 2023

A Beautiful Thanksgiving Prayer

 Bach and the Blood of Christ

        Several years ago, I listened to an interview of a gifted vocalist who sang in a chorale featuring classical choral selections. She loved the strong melodies and lush, complicated harmonies of Bach’s cantatas. Then she made a disparaging comment about the libretto (words) written in the 12th or 13th century for which Johann Sebastian Bach had composed music in the 18th century. She recoiled at lines about sorrow, suffering, and blood, specifically the blood of Christ.

Cristo Crucificado painted by
Diego Valazquez in 1632. It is
housed in the Museo del Prado
in Madrid. 

        Clearly, the singer did not understand the red thread of the Gospel. The writer of Hebrews in chapter 9, verse 22 wrote, …without the shedding of blood there is not remission (of sin). May we be like J. S. Bach and sing, speak, and tell of a Savior so full of love for rebellious humans that He submitted to torture, ridicule, and a cruel death shedding His own blood.
        May this verse of Bach’s O Sacred Head, Now Wounded be our prayer of Thanksgiving and commitment this week.

        What language shall I borrow

            To thank Thee, dearest Friend,

        For this Thy dying sorrow,

     Thy pity without end?

               O make me Thine forever,

                 And should I fainting be,

Lord, let me never, never

Outlive my love for Thee.

Thomas Schaffer gave me the Diego Valazquez print from his European trip. I taught Thomas in church and his third grade year. The photo to the left caught Thomas and my father, Thomas's upper elementary grade Sunday School teacher following Thomas's high school graduation from Woodland High School. Dad and I taught very differently. He opened the boys class that he taught often with this phrase in his prayer, "Lord, help us to learn a little bit today." I was appalled when Thomas as a early high school student prayed this phrase during his offertory prayer. I had to confess to the Lord my judgmental and inaccurate attitude. I have come to believe that if we walk away with one kernel of Biblical truth that will impact our life during the week, then we have  connected with God. 

(Family/Friend Trivia: Thomas and Ashleigh, his wife, lived in extreme northwest Illiniois in one of their early pastorates located 20 miles south of the burial place of Dad's great-grandfather, the first Edmund Gates who was born 1805 and died 1876. Dad would have commented, "Thomas, it's a small world!)

The Come-Along

                Recently, I had to open a “Goad” gate into the meadow to get a cow and calf out. I picked up the phrase “Goad Gate” from our dear friend and neighbor, Vonda Goad. Any wire gate that is next to impossible for the ordinary person to close is the type of gate she referred to as a “Goad Gate.”

                Thankfully, my brother-in-law constructed a “come-along” of twisted wire connected to a wooden rod. I positioned the wire and the wooden rod that comprised the come-along around the post. The immovable post of the “Goad Gate” began to inch toward the post of the fence enabling me to loosen the wire holding the gate closed. I breathed a quick “thank-you” to the Lord as I opened the gate.

The come-along hanging idly 
between the gates post and
 fence post.

                After driving the two bovines slowly from the meadow without incident through the “Goad Gate” I closed the gate with the assistance of the come-along. What a powerful tool the come-along proved to be that morning!  

                The Holy Spirit’s work in the lives of true believers in Jesus bounced around my mind all while I opened and shut the “Goad Gate.” I remember the original text of the New Testament used the word paraclete to describe the Holy Spirit . I have read one of its best translations in English is helper.

                Jesus spoke to His disciples these words from John 14:16-17, And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him. You know Him, for He dwells with you and will be in you.

                The Holy Spirit promised by Jesus and sent by the Father indwells anyone who has received Jesus. Since the Holy Spirit is always with us, we can be assured that His help is always available for us, just as the come-along was my only hope for shutting the gate.

The come-along ready to be tightened
around the gate post.

                The Apostle Paul wrote of three invaluable characteristics of a true believer imparted by the Holy Spirit. Romans 14:17 states, For the kingdom of God is not of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Nothing gives greater joy and peace than seeing the Holy Spirit empower us and those we love to live righteously. As only the come-along enabled me to close the meadow gate, so only the Holy Spirit can endow a believer to obey the principles of the Word of God.

                How do we understand God’s teachings as they appear in the Bible? Paul gives us a glimpse of how the Holy Spirit helps us in I Corinthians 2:13, “…we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual.”

                The Holy Spirit acts as a seal or guarantee of all we have received in Christ. A notarization, our 21^st century type of seal, legally guarantees the authenticity of a document. The Ephesians were reminded of this by Paul in his letter to them in chapter 1, verses 13-14, In Him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in Him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of His glory.

                Without the come-along, I cannot close most of the wire gates on Mother’s farm, but with it I can. The use of this simple tool illustrates precisely that apart from the Holy Spirit we cannot successfully live the life God planned for us as His children.

Saluting a Veteran

            As Veterans Day approached, I chose this passage from the military account of my father’s years serving during World War II.  He recalled in Chapter 4, based on his experiences in 1944, a unique responsibility given to him following his return to the States after completing his tour of duty in the European theater. 

Portrait of Dad  taken in London shortly after
being awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

Dad earned the Distinguished Flying Cross in February of the same year when he completed 25 combat missions as an upper turret gunner/flight engineer on a B-17 bomber crew. He then began training young airmen since he had been recommended for a direct commission as a gunnery officer. However, his course drastically changed when his crew went down as the lead plane over Berlin after taking a direct hit. He was quickly processed to return home. More about this time in his life can be found in the posting entitled Neither of Them Got Over March 6, 1944 and accessed at: bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2017/02/neither-of-them-got-over-march-6-1944.html

By May of that year, Dad had arrived in Oklahoma. Against all advice, he requested to be based in Ardmore, Oklahoma. Much to the surprise of his advisors, he was assigned to Gene Autry Air Base, exactly as Dad had hoped. This section lifted from his memoirs details his new assignment.

Edmund’s superiors made a unique request of Edmund based on his prewar agricultural experience. He was asked if he would be willing to supervise German prisoners of war as they worked in the huge base victory garden of four to five acres. Edmund was put in charge of seventy-five to one hundred twenty-five German POWs. The number of garden laborers fluctuated. 

One German prisoner of war was fluent in English and served as Edmund’s interpreter. In a time of relaxation, as Edmund and his German interpreter were resting, three or four B-17s flew over the Gene Autry Army Air Base. As they both glanced upward, Edmund casually inquired as to whether he had ever seen B-17s fly over Germany. Immediately his German interpreter responded, “Some days we didn’t move for hours until those bombers flew over.” Edmund mused within himself of missions when the bombers could have numbered as many as 1,500 planes in the German sky. He thought it prudent not to tell his German POW interpreter that he flew twenty-five missions over German-controlled territory on Flying Fortresses exactly like those roaring above them. The divulgement of Edmund’s previous military exploits might have damaged the otherwise cooperative and amiable working relationship between the two of them.

The enormous victory garden, with Edmund as the overseer, was in the midst of harvesting vegetables like carrots, potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower, and turnips. The German prisoners were diligent, exemplary workers. Edmund never sensed any action that could be construed as complaining or insubordination. Perhaps the fact that he wore simple working fatigues as opposed to a uniform may have contributed to the German prisoners’ willing compliance in this horticultural endeavor. Edmund communicated only work directives to the laborers. Other casual exchanges of cordial friendliness were impossible since Edmund must rely on his interpreter to communicate for him. Edmund focused on his basic duty of simply insuring that all workers continued doing the task assigned to them for that day.  The prisoners he supervised were physically larger and of a stockier build than Edmund. His height was only five feet eight, and his weight was about 165 pounds. His imposing physique was obviously not the reason for Edmund’s achievement as the overseer of the productive victory garden. Edmund contributed the success of the agricultural venture to the work ethic instilled from a young age in the industrious German prisoners of war.

 This supervisory assignment of the German POWs working in the base’s victory garden seemed uncharacteristic for a decorated airman who had recently returned from his flying exploits over enemy territory in Europe. Now he had been asked to oversee workers from the enemy country where his buddies had given their lives. 

At this point, Dad had been informed all his crew were missing in action. He had received a letter from his pilot’s wife earlier in the year. Dorothy Rabo, the young bride of Fred Rabo, felt in her heart that Fred, Dad’s pilot and dear friend, was alive. (Later, Dorothy's intuition proved correct, with Fred surviving as a POW, along with three others. The other seven crew members were killed.)

With uncertainty in his heart, Dad returned to the soil. My mother mentioned as we discussed this juncture of my father’s life that Dad readily followed orders. He learned that as a young boy on the farm due to the discipline his parents instilled in him. For this reason, superintending a large “truck patch” did not seem beneath his ranking as a Tech Sergeant in the newly formed Army Air Force. He was merely obeying a directive and being subordinate.

Dad’s friend and dentist, Dr. Gary Henderson, indicated that he knew all the military stories in Dad’s memoirs but expressed surprise that Dad had earned the Distinguished Flying Cross. Never had Dad mentioned that to him. This same understated attitude about accolades received during his World War II service, made it easy for him to remain tight lipped with his German POW interpreter about his combat activity in Europe during 1942-1944.

Perhaps Dad renewed his inner strength as he witnessed the production, growth, and harvest of the enormous garden, much larger than any his mother had raised in the Big Bend. The slow pace of gardening and the interaction with capable German soldiers who much like him had responded to serve their country may have been therapeutic. Unfortunately, the homeland of these German POWs was led by a power-crazed, maniacal leader.

The agricultural setting removed Dad and the German POWs from the volatile situation that had placed them in adversarial positions. Their common goal to successfully raise vegetables from the earthy bed united them in their efforts and purpose. Dad, especially, must have experienced healing by letting go of his sorrow and loss, realizing nothing would be gained by allowing it to be a driving force in his life.

Much like Dad, many of us can find healing and renewal in tasks that appear mundane and even, mindless. Seldom do we realize that it is God’s way of removing us from the harried pace with its frustrations, failures, and disappointments to rejuvenate our souls. Jesus even told His disciples at one point to in Mark 6:31, Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.

As my father did, almost eighty years ago, may all veterans along with us find God’s purpose and His peace as we choose His pace. May we cease striving and know that He is God; He will be exalted among the nations, He will be exalted in the earth as David so eloquently penned in Psalm 46:10.

Lord, bless the veterans in our communities with Your strength. In turn, may Your Name be honored by their endeavors so our communities will flourish. Thank You for strong men and women who faithfully served our country. Bless them as they live out Your principles throughout their lives.

Falls Creek and Halloween During 1978

            What do Falls Creek and Halloween in 1978, have in common on Faith_Family_Farm? The answer would be John and Susie Crowley. The only blog post I have written that touched on Halloween featured a funny photo of these two.

            John Crowley pastored the Ralston Baptist Church from 1974 through 1979. John served as a vocational agriculture teacher prior to being called by the Lord to preach the gospel. With that background, Dad thought John had a head start on so many pastors coming to a rural community. He understood so many issues of rural residents that urban-based pastors might not.

            Mother often commented on Brother John’s series on the book of Revelation. Ralston Baptist Church was one of his first pastorates, but she mentioned how he tied other Biblical prophetic passages so succinctly with the Revelation, the final book in the Bible. My grandma, Gladys Smith, believed teaching end times events as Brother John did spurred believers to lead others to faith in Jesus. Grandma and Grandpa listened and turned to the many Bible passages Brother John used in his messages.

            John, Susie, and their young family enhanced the congregation during his ministry in Ralston. Susie always had something funny to say. Her humor is featured in the only Halloween blog post that appeared on Faith_Family_Farm. (To access the blog post featuring Susie go to https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2014/10/when-preachers-wife-went-crazy.html). Yet this young pastor’s wife sewed, cooked, and managed on a small church pastor’s salary, stretching the money to provide a loving home for their children, Darren and Shawna. Later while at Ralston, Scott, their youngest, was born.

            Recently, I discovered the Falls Creek photo from the summer of 1978. I had not seen this photo in years. Brother John was only 32 years old and Susie only 30 in this photo. As with so many of the men who pastored the small-town church, John cared for those in his congregation and the community. His utmost desire – wanting each person to have a life changing salvation experience - remained constant.

Front Row - Dorothy Hutchison, Donna Evatt, Gay Lynn Rice, Donnell Tucker, Sheaila King, Pam Estep,

Nancy Hutchison, Cathy Tanner, and Ginger Hopper

Middle Row - Susie Crowley, Bernadean Gates, Linda Tanner, Connie Evatt, Mattie Hutchison, Nikki

Brown, Betty Chapman, and Pat Myers

Top Row - John Crowley, Gordon Renfro, Bobby Coble, Michael Bartlett, David Carter, Robbie Rice, 

Huey Keeling, Robert  Wilson

            John dedicated time each summer to pray, promote, and lead the church to provide transportation, camp facilities, and food minimizing expense to the youth attending Falls Creek. His energy, willingness to laugh, and wholehearted devotion to preach and teach God’s Word expressed to the young people of our church and any Ralston teen that he and Susie loved them.

            Susie and John returned to the church’s centennial celebration in 1997. That would be the last time the people of Ralston Baptist Church who loved Susie so much would see her on earth. Sadly, Susie passed away in 2005, at the age of 56 after battling heart issues.

            After 38 years of marriage, John found himself alone with his children grown. He began corresponding with a missionary in South America grieving the death of her husband. John introduced Jan, his wife, to Ralston friends at my parents’ 60^th wedding anniversary. They returned on the church’s 125^th anniversary and reconnected with so many who loved John. What a wonderful comment was made when Jan encouraged hearts of widows as she shared about her widowhood and listened compassionately to their grief-ridden journeys! 

Jan and John Crowley with Bernyce Gates at the 125th
Anniversary of the Ralston Baptist Church on 
November 13, 2022.

            Many pastors served tirelessly proclaiming the Gospel in church services, in homes in Ralston, and in their everyday encounters. Paul’s letter to the Romans came to mind. After laying out the road to salvation, he asked, “How shall they hear without a preacher?” in Romans 10:14. He asked another question in verse 15, “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!

In verse 15, Paul quoted from the prophets, Isaiah and Nahum in Isaiah 52:7 and Nahum 1:15, respectively. When the Holy Spirit inspired the same thought, which appeared three times, it became necessary the trio of reminders be taken to heart. As followers of Jesus, we must imitate the examples of godly pastors and preach with our lives and words so that, as our present pastor Mike Brock exhorts, "you take as many people as possible to heaven with you.”