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.”

Revisiting a Past Drought

As my boots crunched on the parched lawn grass, I remembered longingly five years ago the late summer and fall rains that rejuvenated our soil, our hearts, and our desire to continue pursuing farming and ranching. Even more so, I was reminded how desirous God is to alleviate dry seasons of the soil of our hearts. This five-year old blog post touched a chord with me so maybe it will with someone else, too.

A Tiny Area of Ground

                A small piece of dry, cracked ground caught my eye this past summer as I walked past it. The pronounced cracks widened as our part of the state suffered through months with little moisture. Finally, in late July, I snapped a photo of the noticeable deep crevices in that tiny parcel of ground.

 

                 

As that vision of the parched plot lingered in my mind, I found myself drawn to God’s Word. I located an interesting passage in the songbook in the Bible. The specific psalm penned by David stated in Psalm 68:6:

God sets the lonely in families, 

He leads out the prisoners with singing;

but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.

                How interesting that God acted on behalf of the lonely and provided deliverance for those imprisoned, but a rebellious person was relegated to land like the little patch I had been walking past each day. As a loving parent toward a hard-headed prodigal, God revealed how His relentless love reached unwavering toward the rebellious heart in Isaiah 65:2:

I have stretched out My hands all day long to a rebellious people,

Who walk in a way that is not good,

According to their own thoughts.

                The phrase “stretched out My hands” reminded me of seeing a strong-willed toddler insisting on his way, defying the patient parent who cajoled the child to accept the obvious “good way.” Only when the stubborn child changed his way of thinking, agreeing with the parent, was the relationship restored.

Photo of the dry, tiny plot taken on
August 24, 2018

                The person who changed the thought pattern toward God had a prayer on penitent lips stemming from a repentant heart. David wrote eloquently of a heart thirsty for God to quench the parched soul in Psalm 63:1.

O God, You are my God; Early will I seek You;

My soul thirsts for You;

My flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land 

where there is no water.

                Without fail, God responded to the humble heart by pouring His lavish mercy and grace as He promised in Isaiah 44:3:

For I will pour water on him who is thirsty, 

And floods on the dry ground;

I will pour My Spirit on your descendants, 

and My blessings will be on your offspring;

This Photo was taken on September 6th

                The last book of the Bible, Revelation of Jesus Christ, John, inspired by the Holy Spirit, wrote in his conclusion,

…let him who thirsts come. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely. Revelation 22:17

Just as the late summer rains watered the cracked, dry area in the driveway, the Lord Jesus empowered our lives to move from unproductive to growing, verdant, and flourishing when we received His “water of life” to resurrect us who were “dead in our sins.”

The transformation of the cracked, dry
ground was hastened by an over 2-inch
rain in early September. 

                Finally, I chose a photographic progression to show that even though our salvation, just like birth, is a one-time experience, our sanctification is a process even as physical growth is a process. Recently, our Sunday School guide, Explore the Bible Personal Study Guide Fall 2018 defined sanctification as, "A process of spiritual growth as one yields to the the power of Holy Spirit on a daily basis." These two verses written by the Apostle Paul to the believers in Philippi conveyed His powerful, daily work within our lives.

Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ. Philippians 1:6

For it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure. Philippians 2:13

Snippets from 99 Years

Mother and Grandpa on the
Belford Bridge in 1926 shortly
before it opened.

A Doting Father
        Grandma Gladys Rainey Smith thought Grandpa Calvin Callcayah Smith never corrected my mother, their only daughter, Bernyce. Angie and I can attest he never corrected us other than a barely audible “Uh-uh" which we interpreted as "Stop right now!"
        When Mother was quite small, she cried because she didn’t want their family to spend the night at the home of her maternal grandma, Rosa Rainey in the Bend (just about a half mile from where Mother lives now). Grandpa placed her in the Model T Ford and drove around “the square” until Mother drifted off! Then he carried his sleeping little one back into Grandma Rainey’s home, and their family spent the night at the Rainey home as planned.

An Only Child Trying to Help

Mother as a preteen.

        

        Even though Grandma never earned money, she often worked outside the home, leaving Mother, an only child, to make good decisions. According to family stories from her Rice cousins, she began cooking at age 7, standing on a step stool. Grandma served as a Bend community nurse pro bono during the Great Depression. She also worked alongside Grandpa in the field.
        One day my mother spotted ironing that needed to be done. In her young mind, she reasoned This is a way I can help Mama.
        In those days, ironing wasn’t a matter of simply plugging in an electric iron. They used a sadiron. Its name derived from an Old English word sald which meant “solid.” It was heated on a stove and then grasped with a padded holder for the ironing to begin.
       Mother successfully heated the sadiron and lifted it with the pad to press wrinkles from one of Grandma’s dresses. Alas, since the sadiron had no heat regulator, Mother’s inexperience caused her to “pucker” the fabric on Grandma’s dress. As Mother described it, “That dress was history.” Grandma didn’t make a big fuss. Evidently, she looked at the intent of Mother’s heart in trying to help. I jokingly told Mother I am not sure she would have reacted with such understanding if Angie or I had ruined one of her dresses!

Playing Basketball for Belford Grade School
        Mother played basketball when the basketball court was divided into three sections with two forwards, two guards, and two centers comprising each team. The third section (no longer used) was a center court where obviously the two centers played. The two guards played on the opposing team’s offensive end with the two forwards playing on their team’s own offensive end. Each time the ball went down the court it must go to one of the two players in the center court.

Willard Clarence Tautfest,

Mother's teacher and coach

        

        Mother recollects her most memorable game found the little rural grade school of Belford playing at the old gym in the “big town” of Ralston. As she approaches her 99th birthday, she recalls being passed the ball and immediately launching the final shot to win the game at the buzzer. Coach Woodson, the Ralston girl’s coach exclaimed when it swished the net, “She’s a wizard!”

Life-Altering Decision
        Mother began living in a home that practiced their faith in the early 1930s, when both of her parents, made commitments to Jesus that altered their lifestyles, their language, and their priorities. Grandma began teaching Mother Bible stories when she was around seven years old. They attended church if services were being held.
        Mother recalls, at age 14, wanting so much to make the same commitment her parents made about seven years earlier but was unwilling to courageously make a public profession of faith in Jesus as her Savior and Lord. She based her understanding on Matthew 10:32-33, where Jesus stated, "…Whoever confesses Me before men, him I will also confess before My Father who is in heaven. But whoever denies Me before men, him I will also deny before My Father who is in heaven."
        At age 18, she publicly professed faith in May 1943, under the preaching of Brother Aubrey. From that day forward, she has exemplified her faith through her words, actions, and faithfulness in serving with God’s people through her church. She attests she hasn't been perfect, but her utmost desire has been follow the Lord.

Final Observation

        This week Dr. David Jeremiah preached from I John. I was cleaning in the kitchen but  returned to the table where Mother was sitting when I heard Dr. Jeremiah began quoting a passage. Mother was quoting the verses aloud with him. She was not looking at the TV screen or her Bible. I could tell she was adjusting in her mind to adapt to the New International Version from which Dr. Jeremiah was quoting even though she had memorized it from the King James Version.

        Memorization helped her focus her mind on reliance on Jesus when she memorized His words from Matthew 11:28-30 during Dad's care and death. Many of the verses of John 3 can be quoted word perfect by Mother. I believe the early memorization of so many passages and often repeating of those powerful words from the Word of God have strengthened and encouraged her far more than anyone will ever know.

Happy 99th Birthday, Mother!

Dad described this photo as, "the one I carried
all through the war."

The Unwanted Tissue Box

    I wrote this following Dad's death on October 3, 2015 but felt the grief, especially for my mother, was too raw and painful for her to read. She overheard my sister and me discussing it and wanted to read it. Several times she has mentioned how it captured the reality of Dad's passing. At the 8th anniversary of his promotion to glory, it seemed  fitting to repost.

As my father’s health deteriorated, changes occurred. His eating time, with my assistance, increased from 45 minutes to 90 minutes as I urged him to swallow by massaging his throat. Dad tried with all his might to take in nourishment three times a day.

                His coughing and choking worsened and became more frequent, much to my despair. Each night I prayed for Dad to be strengthened. This prayer seemed to be going unanswered. 

The magnitude of this reality forced a tear from my eye. For uncanny, practical purposes, I managed to handle my inner emotional upheaval without tears. As I have aged, tears have led to excruciating headaches for me. Bottom line - I try to avoid tears.

I couldn't allow more than a tear or two to trickle from my eyes since I had to feed Dad that morning. Silently, I breathed a prayer for health, strength, and stamina so I could care for him in the best way possible.

I reached instinctively for a tissue from the box on the end table closest to Dad’s bed. With my back turned to his bed, I looked out the living room’s large window as I made a comment about the beautiful sunshine warming the autumn morning, hoping to hide any tears from him. Just at that point, I realized I had pulled the last tissue from the box. I spoke loudly so his impaired ears could hear me, since my back remained turned to conceal my emotions, “Dad, we’re out of tissue. I need to go get a new box in the north room so I can blow my nose. Ok?”

I scuttled to retrieve a new box of tissue and grabbed for one with blue water pools and droplets pictured on each side. Unsuccessfully, I tugged, finally, deciding to get the most available box. It had a beige background – far too mundane a color for an already depressing day.

As I carried the gloomy-hued box into the living room, I pressed out the opening, drew out the first tissue, and blew my nose, precariously holding the box under my arm. As I placed the new tissue box on the end table, the pattern on the box leaped off the dull background. Butterflies were scattered over each visible side of the tissue box.

A Butterfly from the Dull Tissue Box

My heart sank. The butterfly reminded me of change. Those butterflies all started as larvae or caterpillars. Then my mind rolled to a video I showed third graders to help them understand the metamorphosis of an egg into a caterpillar into a cocoon and finally transformed into a stunning butterfly. I recalled the narrator of the teaching video mentioning the pupa (cocoon) appeared to have no life in it as it remained perfectly still just before its transformation.

I consciously shook my head. That "metamorphic" thought resounded too closely to Dad’s present reality. Dysphasia, shallow breathing, and increased hours of sleeping by Dad mimicked in my mind the later life of the pupa. 

The scripture verse came to mind from 2 Corinthians 4:16 – So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.

It was obvious that my father’s body was weakening. I continued to pray for him but added the prayer for his inner self to be strengthened. Since Dad had his faith in Jesus, he had an inner self indwelt by the spirit of God Himself. (The Bible repeatedly indicates a person who has not committed to follow Jesus is dead in sins. There's nothing to be strengthened.) I realized the new way to pray. My prayer became an expression of Ephesians 3:16  I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His spirit in your inner being.

 As difficult as it was to admit, just as the butterfly in the cocoon was strengthened until it developed to a point to emerge as a gorgeous butterfly, so God was strengthening Dad’s inner being. He could not express verbally to us of his renewed inner strength, but by faith, we could trust that God was accomplishing this for him.

The moment he took his final breath, his inner being strengthened with power through His spirit left behind the empty cocoon, his weakened body. The metamorphosis had been completed.

Each of us who has trusted Jesus has His power within us. May we pray to be strengthened in our inner beings with our greatest desire to have His power at work in us to live for Him. Scripture bears out the end result is peace, that inner calmness even in trials. Then when our time to “emerge from the cocoon” comes, we will welcome the metamorphosis.

Just a Little Damp

            When teaching third graders, I only focused on the long-range weather forecast for the one day a week when I had noon playground duty. Knowing the forecast for that specific day of the week helped me plan my clothing and footwear for the “yard duty” as Dad referred to it.
              As I tell my friends and former colleagues, I prepare for playground duty 365 days a year. In addition, my clothing often must sustain me for a much longer period of time than the 30 minutes of the third and fourth grade recess.
               For this reason, the weather forecast has become the most important portion of the news. Accessing radar from a couple different websites has been crucial. On the flip side, no meteorologist, no matter how trusted and experienced, has attained 100 percent accuracy.
               Frequently, my limited time, the nature of the task, or the daylight left demands that I proceed with the work I need to do. This occurred one morning this summer.
               I fed the eight adult cats here at the pink house. By 7:30 a.m., I had hopped into Mother’s truck. The online hourly forecast predicted rain at 9 a.m. My primary purpose was to get a solid count on the cattle herd. The previous day one of the white cows was not at any of the places I looked. I like to lay my eyes on each cow, calf, or Mother’s bull at least every other day.
               Upon opening the first gate, I sensed a few sprinkles tapping on my hat. Sure enough, raindrops appeared on the windshield. I thought, Well, so much for forecasting accuracy.    
                I prayed for guidance to at least see the one cow that had been AWOL. I spotted the herd so I parked and began walking to identify them one by one. Thankfully, Mother has a small herd.
                The rain fell on my hat and glistened on my multi-season Muck boots that I wear every time I go into the pasture. The bovines grazed unfazed as soon as they heard my low “sooking” as I meandered through them. I noted on my pocket-sized notebook each one I passed. Sure enough, there was the missing white cow. Mission accomplished!

My damp boots

                As I bumped along driving slowly back to the house, I thought I wouldn’t have gone out to check the cattle with rain in the morning forecast when I first started caring for the cattle. Then I remembered reading and meditating at length on a verse Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes 11:4, He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap.

The wet glove palms and rain-glistening brim of
my hat.

                When I transitioned to college life from living at the farm, I read each night from The Living Bible, a paraphrased version published in 1971, and given by Grandpa and Grandma Smith. It succinctly conveys the point of the verse. This is how the verse is paraphrased. If you wait for perfect conditions, you will never get anything done.
                Reading it from The Living Bible reveals its application for every person, not just those in agriculture. No matter the age of the person or their occupation or the task needing to be done, this verse reminds how seldom the conditions are just right. Whether a project to be completed, a difficult conversation of reconciliation, admission of wrongdoing, reading the Bible daily or 1,001 other tasks or good practices , we can always find a reason to not do what in our hearts we know we should and need to do.
                If I did not seem eager to embark on one of many jobs in the garden, flower beds, or in the house, Grandma Gladys Smith always quoted, The dread is the worst part of the job.
                So I have tried to learn to just “jump in and get it done.” Another strategy is breaking a large task into smaller ones. Yes, I arrived back that early summer morning damp, not soaked to the skin, just damp. Yet what satisfaction to have a complete count on Mother’s herd! That’s a good way to start a day.