Undeserved Grace

This week once again, I have been reminded of the graciousness of God through His loved ones. Over and over, Mother and I have been the recipients of the kindness of others who give time, resources, prayers, and encouragement in the name of the Lord without show or fanfare. To each of you – Thank you!
        Over the last few weeks, I have been observing the beautiful, vibrant purple flowers of vetch this spring. Seeing these gorgeous verdant creations of God brought to mind the words of Jesus in Luke 12:27, Consider how the wildflowers: They don’t labor or spin thread. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these! (HCSB). Those stunning vetch blooms in the pastures, meadow, and even in the yard had done nothing to deserve such visual exaltation – no work, no self effort.

        Jesus continued in Luke 12:28 comparing we humans to the short-lived wildflowers. Then He asked the rhetorical question at the end of the verse, …How much more will He do for you – you of little faith? (HCSB).
        Then Jesus issued a command that if heeded would be life-altering to His disciples. In verse 29 of the same chapter of Luke His words appear, Don’t keep striving for what you should eat and what you should drink, and don’t be anxious. Our Lord and Master addressed the basic needs of mankind but gave a terse command in His last three words – Don’t be anxious. In our country, so often our anxiety is fueled by worries over issues never concerning the gravely deprived populations of the third world countries whose primary need is their next meal or shelter for their family.
        Over the last 12 years since returning to the farm, it seems almost daily anxiety enters my mind. Prayers of thanksgiving all through the day have helped refocus me. Every time our needs are met, even though God primarily uses people to meet them, He is the source of every good and perfect gift.
        Frequently, I am reminded how undeserving I am of each need being met. Yet our loving Heavenly Father lavishes on us what we need. That is the beauty of grace, giving us something we in no way deserve.
        This week may we walk in the daily awareness of the truth of Paul’s words in Ephesians 1:7-8. May our meditation on God's undeserved grace energize our lives to obey the promptings of the Holy Spirit as we go through the week. 

It is through the Son, at the cost of His own blood, that we are redeemed, freely forgiven through that full and generous grace which has overflowed into our lives and opened our eyes to the truth. (I used a translation that Grandpa Calvin Callcayah Smith loved to read -  J.B. Phillips Translation.)

Curbing Spring Fever in the Bend

 As we find ourselves surrounded by the glorious season of spring, I always recall how challenging as a teacher it was to "corral" students inside the four walls when perfect weather awaited those winter-weary young people. My grandfather had a constructive solution for this malady.

In the late 1920s, Finis Ewing Rippee and his wife, Elizabeth, arrived in the Big Bend community to teach at the Woodland School (Lester Anson’s home is located where the Woodland School once stood.). Mr. Rippee captured the interest of his students as a creatively innovative teacher. He was one of the first people with a radio in the Bend. On historically momentous occasions, F.E. Rippee brought the radio into the rural school building, introducing the wide-eyed scholars to a world of which they knew nothing.

My father, Edmund
Gates, Jr., as cropped 
from a group
photograph taken at
 the Woodland School
located in the Big Bend.
Notice the hat on
backwards and his 
bare feet.

Even though my father, Edmund Gates, Jr., found Mr. Rippee fascinating as a teacher, when he was around 10 years old, he began loafing instead of studying in school.  Mr. Rippee visited with Edmund, Sr. about the situation. My grandfather, Edmund, Sr. told Mr. Rippee, “Just let me keep him out of school a week to help me clear walnut trees.”

Eighty years later, 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 of them 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. My father exhibited unparalleled strength for his small size. He was so agile that he could easily climb a tree to get a squirrel (Steve Gates, his nephew, would later categorize Dad as a squirrel on the rafters of a new dwelling. Dad was in his 70s and 80s at that time!). Even with the sturdy physique of my father in his boyhood, he characterized the week out of school as very hard work. I'm sure he collapsed his slim, work-weary body into bed each evening that week. 

When Monday morning rolled around, Dad was the first one in the buggy to go to school. He had learned the value of education on the end of the crosscut saw.

Both my father and Ruby Martin Rice conveyed the respect they had for Mr. Rippee as an educator and a person. They related how he taught them principles for life that made them better people after they graduated from the eighth grade at Woodland School. A teacher who can impart to his students the qualities that make a responsible employee, a reliable parent, a trustworthy spouse, and a dependable neighbor deserves the loftiest of accolades. 

The writer of Hebrews interweaves succinctly our earthly father's correction and the perfect discipline of the Heavenly Father. Children who learn to adhere to boundaries will more readily respond to God's correction. 

For our earthly fathers disciplined us for a few years, doing the best they knew how. But God's discipline is always right and good for us because it means we will share in His holiness. No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening  - it is painful! But afterward there will be a quiet harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way. Hebrews 12:10-11 (New Living Translation)

When Two Pennies Spoke Loudly

            On a recent warm spring morning I pulled out my short-sleeved t-shirts and rediscovered a tee Angie had given me last year. It reminded me of this blog post I had begun shortly after receiving the t-shirt mentioned in the blog post below. 

           One day last summer, I opened the mailbox to discover a plastic package on top of the mail. My name and address were handprinted. The return address label had such an attractive look.

Return Label on Package

            Upon arriving in the house, I carefully opened the plastic bag, wondering what this could be. I pulled out a t-shirt. Then I remembered my sister mentioning a Pawnee, Oklahoma-specific tee that she thought I would like. She was correct in agreeing that it would have significance to me.

As a child, I loved the movement of the mechanical horse at Ermy’s* in downtown Pawnee. Whenever we went into the unique store so my parents or grandparents could buy overalls, sewing patterns, fabric, boots, or lace, the store spelled F-U-N to a preschooler looking forward to a ride or two.

Front of the T-Shirt Bought By Angie for Me

            A ride on the mechanical horse located in Ermy’s cost only a penny. Usually, my dad or grandpa supervised my rides on the galloping steed. As a little one who craved activity, this charger afforded such fun for me.

One ride stood out as a learning opportunity for a little 2–3-year-old. Dad funded the trotting pony that day. He gave me a couple of pennies to hold in my little hand. I reveled in the shiny little pennies since they ensured more rides. He helped me insert the penny and soon I rode rhythmically on this thoroughbred with my imagination racing me outside the building. Suddenly, the pennies slipped from my hand. In consternation, I watched the pennies fall and roll over the antiquated floor. As my ride ended, I saw a child snatch the pennies I had dropped. To my horror, I overheard these words tumble from the child, “Look what I found!” A woman I guessed to be the little girl’s mother replied, “Did you?” The child nodded.

            Dad helped me off the mechanical horse. He got on my level and made sure with a quiet voice and calm demeanor that I understood what had happened. The child had grabbed something that did not belong to her. He said stealing was wrong and explained the little girl did the wrong thing. He continued to discuss that the little girl who stole my two pennies also didn’t tell the truth. It seemed that was the first day I heard the word lied. I got the message loud and clear because she had lied by telling she had just found those two pennies. I knew she saw those pennies fall from my hand.

            Do children listen to parents and learn important principles? They absolutely do, especially if it is tied to a personal experience or an observable happening. Dad had a knack for teaching life principles this way. Frequently, he quoted a Bible verse to provide a basis for the truth he was teaching.

            I haven’t worn the tee from Angie, my sister, yet but every time I wear it, I will recall how Dad used the mechanical horse fiasco to teach me the value of the penny many decades ago. Even more importantly, he instructed me in the integrity of honesty and truthfulness.

            Lord, give me eyes to see and take every opportunity You give to impart truth from Your Word. I know Your Word is everlasting just like each person I meet. Give me Your wisdom and boldness from Your Holy Spirit to invest in both of these – Your Word and people.

 *Cheatham’s stocked groceries, books, some toys, paper dolls, and 1,001 other items. The two stores were connected and under the same roof and owned by the same family.

 

Encouragement from the Little Wild Violet

         Recently I walked from the bunk feeders up the slope near Mother’s “Big Pond” to check on a cow. Once I arrived, I realized I had misidentified the cow from a distance. Since it wasn’t the cow I was in seeking, I trudged on thinking The cow of interest must the one farther north in the pasture. Alas, as I approached the second cow, I recognized I was mistaken again. Finally, based on color, I knew the cow I sought was farther northwest near the large ravine dubbed The Bear’s Den by my father long ago. I quickly assessed her and headed back.

        I turned quickly back to the house. To minimized anxiety for Mother, I  wrote the time for her to expect me back from checking and feeding cattle. I glanced down at my work watch that I usually strap on my wrist but in my haste had forgotten it. I hadn’t calculated in Mother’s timetable the additional time of the hike to check the cow.

        My speed walking began with an awareness of the possible hazards of perambulating too fast in a pasture. I remembered a few times my knees took the brunt of a fall when moving too quickly over unlevel terrain. In my memory of a fall several years ago, I uttered this prayer midfall, “Lord, heal me. Let me walk back to the house. Keep me out of the ER!” I finished the prayer as I got up off the ground.

        As I approached the shed near the bunk feeders, the rocky ground necessitated that I walked at a slower gait and stick to the cow path as I looked carefully where my feet were going. What a wonderful surprise came to my eyes!

        There at my feet was a lone wild violet. I had spotted little wild violets in previous years and in a couple of different locations. The little purplish flowers appear in our area between March and May.

        As I took a moment to look at it, I immediately thanked our gracious Creator for placing it on my path for that moment when I was a bit stressed.

        The pretty little bloom caused me realize if God created it and allowed me to see it at that very moment, He was reminding me of His care for Mother, the cow, me and all that concerned me.

        During this welcomed stress relief, I was reminded of His Word and it was what I needed to hear in David’s Psalm 138's last verse, The Lord will perfect that which concerns me; Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever; Do not forsake the works of Your hands.

        Then in the New Testament, the Holy Spirit inspired Paul while in a Roman prison to write a companion verse to Psalm 138:8 in his letter to the new Philippian believers* found in Philippians 1:6, 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. As we daily read God's Word, we can rest that He will use His powerful Word as He works in us.  May we rely confidently on the assurance of His completion of His work in our lives until we meet Christ.

       

*Lydia was one of the young converts in the fledgling church at Philippi of whom Acts 16:14 records, The Lord opened her heart to heed the things spoken by Paul. The Philippian group of believers had no building but met by the city’s riverside for prayer. What is the backstory on this woman? After the Lord opened her heart to Paul’s teaching, she invited Paul and Silas to stay in her home while ministering in Philippi. How did a woman in the days of the early church have a lucrative business to afford such an ample home and household to host Paul and Silas for an extended time? Lydia was a seller of purple, a product craved by the wealthy and elite of the day. They desired the  color of the little wild violet that God allowed on my path. Don’t we serve an awesome, good God?

Memories of an Eclipse

 My grandmother’s fascination with solar eclipses stemmed from her experience early in her life.  I never asked Grandma, Gladys Vivian Rainey Smith, a specific date. History indicated one of the more noteworthy solar eclipses in Oklahoma occurred on June 8, 1918.  The site, timeanddate.com, recorded the total eclipse was visible from around 5:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. in Stillwater, Oklahoma, with its maximum effect being at 6:30 p.m.

My maternal grandma, Gladys Vivian
Rainey, about a year before the
total eclipse of June 8, 1918

Map of the Path of the Total Solar Eclipse on
June 8, 1918 - taken from NationalEclipse.com

       Grandma told of how in the brilliance of the day the landscape became as if it was dusk. The sounds of a summer night began to be heard all around her. Her mother’s hens went into the chicken house and automatically climbed onto the roosts as if preparing for nightfall.

       Grandma’s eclipse experience in her late teens often came to her mind when we read Matthew 27:45-46:

Then from midday until three o’clock darkness spread over the whole countryside,

 and then Jesus cried with a loud voice, “My God, my God, why did you forsake me?” (Phillips)

And then we compared the companion section in the Gospel of Mark and this passage in Luke 23:44-45:

By this time it was noon, and darkness fell across the whole land until three o'clock. The light from the sun was gone. And suddenly, the thick veil hanging in the Temple was torn apart. (The Living Translation)

       Grandma explained that when Jesus took the sin of the world upon Himself, God could not look on our sin that He bore in His body on the cross. (II Corinthians 5:21) She articulated that the death of Jesus coincided with the end of the darkness upon the area around Jerusalem. She often turned to one of her favorite chapters in Isaiah and read Isaiah 53:12:

Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the great,

And He shall divide the spoil with the strong,

Because He poured out His soul unto death,

And was numbered with the transgressors.

For He bore the sin of many,

And made intercession for the transgressors.

       These memories of the past will be in my mind, on April 8, if weather permits my viewing the effects of the solar eclipse. I’ll be thinking of Grandma’s excitement over this unusual natural phenomenon over 105 years ago.

Thank You, Jesus, that You endured the darkest day in all the history of the world with all the horrendous sins of ours weighing on You during Your most excruciating pain so we could experience the peace of being forgiven and the gift of Your  enabling power to live purposefully every day.

The All-Important Easter Photographs

 How many times are holiday photos next to impossible to snap? Easter 1958 seemed to be one of those times. 

Mother recalled what an active, but happy little one I was. I remembered car trips with my grandparents in the back seat and my father driving as Mother sat in the passenger seat. Of course, child restraints in a vehicle were unheard of in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Many excursions found me climbing numerous times over the front seat to get to my grandparents and back. Finally, my patient, but firm, mother indicated, “No more. Stay up here.”

Perusing the photos from my second Easter revealed a somber two-year-old in the more formal Easter poses. Yet one blurry snapshot showed me, in my terrible twos, with an expression of delight, hugging tightly an apparently new stuffed bunny doll. Probably Mother tried to get a better candid shot but couldn’t get me to hold still long enough for that. Videos were non-existent for our family in those days. (As I got a couple of years older, I remember being told the expense of photographs, from the film purchase to the cost of film developing. Wow! Have times changed? Now we just erase those imperfect shots and take another one!)

Looking at the "Easter family portrait," I was a subdued child between my smiling parents with Dad holding my left hand and his right hand cuddled me on his right knee so my grandma, Gladys Rainey Smith, could quickly take the photograph. I couldn’t muster a smile since I was concentrating so strongly on keeping every muscle still to ensure a good picture! Truthfully, my serious countenance probably denoted my slight displeasure at not getting my way. (How thankful I am that both of my parents continued to build structure into my daily life to direct my excessive activeness into purposeful life responsibilities so that I learned to smile during needful tasks that I didn't really want to do.)

Old photographs tell remarkable stories. This photograph of my parents and me from the most festive day of the year reveals what a special observation it was. All three of us are wearing hats. Dad and Mother have on their suits with him sporting the necessary tie. My frilly dress with its full skirt held out by a can-can exuded the joyfulness of the day. Dad had purchased corsages for Mother, Grandma, and me. Mine was a replica of a bunny with stiff ribbon forming its ears.

Always egg decorating and subsequent hunting, sometimes cuddly stuffed animals, new Easter frocks (my grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith always referred to our new Easter dresses in that way), and usually a special candy treat highlighted memories from the spring season’s holidays. Yet always we knew in our home, the main reason for Easter was the resurrection of Jesus. Dad most usually referred to Sunday as “the Lord’s Day.” That moniker for Sunday originated with the first Easter.

The first day of the week began to be called The Lord’s Day following the resurrection of Jesus on a Sunday. Each of the four gospels record the women approaching the tomb early on the first day of the week, only to be startled to find the stone rolled away and alarmed at the empty tomb. Later that day, in the evening, the frightened disciples hid in a locked room to avoid the same fate of their Master. Suddenly, the resurrected Christ appeared in the middle of them and said to them, “Peace be with you.”

Each Lord’s Day provides an opportunity to reboot with a group of people who like myself needs to be reminded only Jesus, the Prince of Peace, can bring lasting calm and assurance to our hearts. Each day as we spend time with Him in His Word and prayer, we sense a deep-seated awareness that the peace of the Perfect One who endured shame and pain for our sins can permeate our day. How many times during a chaotic moment, following a cruel outburst aimed at us, or a sudden earth-shattering crisis must we stop and recall the words of Christ as recorded in John 14:27 –

Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you.

I do not give peace to you as the world gives.

Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

As we celebrate the day Jesus came back to life after being sacrificed willingly for our sins on the cross, may we renew our commitment to daily turn to Him for the only peace that will enable us to navigate a world full of fear, uncertainty, and turmoil.

Lord, I trust what You did on the cross to pay for my sins. I receive the gift of salvation that only You can give even though I don’t deserve Your forgiveness. I know I can do nothing to earn eternal life from You. Each day, may I look to Your Word to know Your plan for me, choosing to be aware of Your peace. Give me courage and strength to resist the incessant pull of society’s unrelenting demand to compromise and cave in to a destructive thought pattern—realizing that prevalent damaging thinking relegates me to stress, depression, with the constant search for acceptance yet never attaining it and being left with a sickening feeling of inadequacy in most areas of my life. Jesus, just as You brought peace to the frightened disciples on that first Easter evening, I commit to hear and live by Your words of “Peace be with You,” even if I have to “restart” (confess my wrong thinking and renew my pledge to rely on You and obey Your words) frequently throughout the day.

Celebrating St. Patrick's Day with Julia Irene Gates Newland

        My dad’s only living sibling announced to her son, Patrick, her desire for her 90th St. Patrick’s Day. She wanted a hat to celebrate. Patrick, her son, chose the best hat in the store. Her photograph with Patrick reveals her delight at his choice for her.

I am indebted to my sister for this great photo from 
Pat's Facebook post.

Rory photographed at my
 parents' 60th anniversary
by Cathy Gates LeForce.

        I loved the photo of Aunt Julia and the brightness of her eyes. I never see her eyes whether in person or in family photos without remembering a Gates-Rainey family story that happened in Texas but began in the Bend. I posted this special account eight years ago.

Only Julia would be the one of my father's siblings to connect with a Rainey while living deep in the heart of Texas. Julia's boys were playing in the neighborhood in Garland soon after moving there. Rory, her second from the youngest, appeared at Marilyn Rainey Firestone Brager's door with her son, Craig. Marilyn said to Rory, "I knew someone with eyes just like yours, but they were from Oklahoma." Rory, never at a loss for words, immediately responded, "My grandma lives in Oklahoma." Soon Marilyn and Julia were renewing their friendship that had begun decades earlier in the Big Bend. Marilyn, my mother's cousin, had lived for some time with my mother's family. Dad's response was "It's a small world" when Grandma Gates called and told him of the connection that Rory made.     

Craig Firestone in his youth
from my mother's photo
collection

Marilyn Rainey in early
college days - from my
maternal grandma's picture
collection.

Julia with Rory, Mike, Dan, and Pat at 1999 Gates Reunion

       Aunt Julia was the 10^th child born to my grandparents, Edmund, Sr. and Mamie Irene Tripp Gates in 1933. My grandma gave Aunt Julia her own middle name “Irene” for Julia’s middle name, too. Incidentally, she named each of her sons with monikers that are linked to famed Irishmen – Michael, an Irish politician, Daniel, a notable Irish musician, Rory, a well-known golfer, and of course, Patrick bears the name of Ireland's patron saint.

           The celebration that Aunt Julia wanted to recognize is one of the most misunderstood observances. The confusion stems from not knowing who Patrick truly was. Patrick was born to Roman parents when Rome ruled Britain as a colony in the 5^th century. He was kidnapped in his teens by Irish marauders and forced into slavery as a shepherd for around six years until he miraculously escaped but not before returning wholeheartedly to the faith he had been taught as a child. Upon returning to Britannia, Patrick felt a calling to return and share the gospel he had embraced while enslaved on the Emerald Isle. He is credited with leading Ireland to Christianity and away from paganism. Below are a couple my favorite quotes from Patrick which he wrote over 1500 years ago and yet it still makes me in awe of God’s wonderful work in the heart of a privileged young man while in bondage to fierce captors was change by the power of Christ.

The Lord opened the understanding of my unbelieving heart,

so that I should recall my sins. 

Christ beside me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,

        Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me.

Remembering Two March Birthdays and a Strong Relationship

          This past week marked the 156^th year since Rosa Jarrell Rainey was born on March 7, 1868. She was the beloved maternal grandma of my mother, Bernyce Smith Gates. Mother lived near her dear grandma all her life, usually within walking distance.

Rosa Jarrell Rainey

          On July 23, 1923, Rosa and her husband, Bill, gained a son-in-law when my maternal grandma, Gladys Rainey married Calvin Callcayah Smith, of Cherokee descent and an original allottee on the Dawes Roll. I understand my great-grandparents had reservations about their daughter entering an interracial marriage. Rosa had experiences that shaped her opinions when they lived near the Seminoles in Indian Territory near Konawa, Indian Territory. (To read more go to: https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/05/when-raineys-lived-among-seminoles.html)

          My great-grandparents instantly loved my mother when she was born on October 17, 1924. They began learning to accept my grandfather. Then Rosa Rainey buried her husband in 1931, after he succumbed following a brief illness. Grandma actively began helping her mother and her visually impaired sister, Alice, who lived with her mother. Likely it was Grandma's way of working through her own grief.  

Grandma, Grandpa, and Mother at the
new house on the Oliver Morton place.

          Grandpa with his understated humor and helpfulness, endeared himself to the woman he referred to as Granny. Grandpa and his mother-in-law would load a couple of cases of eggs in the back of her Model A two-seater Ford that had belonged to her deceased husband. According to Mother, her grandmother never learned to drive but thoroughly enjoyed going to town, usually on Saturday, as my grandpa drove her car with her riding in the front seat and the back seat filled with eggs to sell. The two chuckled about filling the back of her little car with as many eggs as possible. Mother reminded me that a case held 30 dozen or 360 eggs. She said usually in that little car they could transport two cases or 720 eggs!

          As I remembered Grandpa’s upcoming birthdate on March 13, I recalled he was born in 1894, to a pureblood Cherokee father whose first language was Cherokee, and his first language written and read had been created by Sequoyah and embraced by the Cherokee Nation about the time Grandpa’s grandfather for whom he was named was born. Grandpa grew up in the Cherokee Nation and lived there until shortly after his father died from pneumonia. Then Grandpa relocated to Osage County.

          His own mother died the year after Grandpa Rainey died. This may have forged the bond between Grandpa and his mother-in-law. No matter the factors that influenced this close tie, it served as an example of treating one another right with respect and dignity.

          The Apostle Paul preached these words recorded in Acts 17:26, He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth, and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings.

          Later Paul addressed the two major divisions in the early church – Jewish people and everyone else, sometimes referred to as Gentile. Here Paul uses the term Greek in Romans 10:12, For there is no difference between the Jew and the Greek: for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him.

          Since we know the Holy Spirit inspired the writing of the sacred scriptures, we know it was not coincidence or happenstance that verse 13 from that same chapter says, For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. A few verses previously written in Romans 10 explained succinctly the need to confess Jesus as Lord (boss) and believe that Jesus was raised from the dead.

          Paul wanted his readers to know how to be saved from their sins. He laid out the need to recognize Jesus as Lord, “God come to earth” who died but rose from the dead. Any who believed those truths would willingly allow the Lord Jesus to daily guide their lives, with the commitment to live out the truth that the Lord is rich to all, and there was no difference in ethnicity. May we follow Grandma Rainey and Grandpa and not let old presumptions overrule the truth of God’s Word but instead work on the relationships in our own lives by the power of God’s Word.

The Defaced Envelope From 65 Years Ago

            My sister and I had quite different reactions when we stumbled onto this important envelope containing a pivotal letter written to our parents in 1959. She said, “I can’t believe they let you get away with doing that.” I thought to myself I was such a hyper little one that even though surrounded by four adults – my parents and my maternal grandparents – all day on the farm, they could not keep up with all my activities.

The front of the envelope  adorned by my scribbles.

            As we looked at it, I marveled that we had run onto my first written story. The composition required I use both sides of the envelope when I crafted my first known manuscript at 2 ¾ years old. If only an adult would have translated my toddler scribbling into English. Based on family lore, without a doubt I could have told anyone the exact meaning of the scrawls that covered the front and back on the envelope.
            

The back of the historical letter's envelope

The letter inside the envelope was a verbal agreement from G.K. “Gib” Morris to accept the offer from my parents to buy the place that my mother still owns. I was forced to agree with Angie, my sister. How did I ever get my little almost-three-year-old hands on that important correspondence?

            One of the first aspects of the envelope that I noticed was the “four-cent postage stamp.” I think, as of this writing, the cost of a first-class stamp has increased to $0.67! Times have changed.
            This letter predated the use of ZIP codes. The telephone number listed within the letter predated the use of area codes. That era reflected a simpler, more personal world.
            The second paragraph appeared a little out-of-step with a real estate deal. Gib Morris, the father of Jr. Morris and grandfather of Patricia Morris Chaffin, Pam Morris Felix, and the late Gilbert Wayne Morris, expressed the importance to him and his wife for desirable neighbors for “the folks” and for the community.

The first two paragraphs of the letter that changed the course of our family.

            Gib’s wife, Thelma, was the only daughter of Mary Clark. She and her husband, Jim, owned the Clark Store “catty-cornered” from the southwest corner of the farm Thelma and Gib were selling. They were the folks that Gib had mentioned in the letter. Thelma and Gib wanted good people as neighbors to their loved ones. The home of Todd and Kelsey Gibson and Lainy is situated on the former location of the Clark Store.
            In the interest of having desirable neighbors for the Clarks and the community, Gib and Thelma did not explore other buyers that would have paid more for the place than my parents did. Gib and Thelma genuinely cared for the well-being of her parents and their neighbors even though they lived in Texas and only came back to the Bend for periodic visits.
            But they did have a reason. Moses recorded it in Deuteronomy 6:5 You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. Gib and Thelma loved the Lord. This couple knew that Jesus affirmed this verse in Luke 10. A lawyer asked Jesus how to have eternal life. Jesus in turn asked the lawyer what God’s Law said. The lawyer quoted this same verse from Deuteronomy 6:5 but added and your neighbor as yourself. God had spoke to Moses in Leviticus 19:18 You shall not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the children of your people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the Lord.
            These few impressions from a 65-year-old envelope serve as a reminder of valuing people over money or possessions. If we truly have a love relationship with Jesus, then His love will touch the lives of those we live near and encounter in our daily lives. Postage rates have escalated from 65 years ago. Addresses and telephone numbers have become more complicated. But living a life for the Lord because we love Him so much that His love spills into all our other relationships is just as relevant and needed as it was 1959.

Signature of Gib Morris from the letter.
Every time I saw  the name "Gib" or typed it, I
recalled the last time Gilbert Wayne Morris
came and visited with Mother and me at the
 farm. He mentioned that Dad always called
 him Gib instead of Gil. He wondered why. I told
 him, "Maybe because Dad liked your grandpa
and liked to remember him every time he
  called you by his name."

Learn to Say "Not Good"

          Michael Ridgway came to pastor our church at Ralston in the early 2000s. Our church was one of his first pastorates. He had a heart for a rural congregation and community since he lived his adolescent years with his grandparents in a farm setting that transformed his life. Kelly, his wife, became a well-respected mathematics teacher at Woodland High School.

Kelly, Michael, Arizona, Rachel (wife of Chris), and Chris at the
120th Anniversary of Ralston Baptist Church. Joshua had up-
coming tests in his coursework in law at University of Tulsa that
kept him from being with his family that day.

            Michael and Kelly’s three children were the last pastor’s children I taught. What a treat! Chris, Joshua, and Arizona had been “schooled” in the Bible stories.

Chris, Joshua, and Arizona at
my parents' 60th wedding
anniversary in 2008.

 Arizona Ridgway, their only daughter, was around five years old when I first met her. I had been given a sturdy gift bag with popular animated heroines being illustrated in vivid colors. Its sturdiness rendered it perfect for carrying the TeamKids teaching materials. I had seen none of the animated movies but did know the original stories of each character or historical figure. As soon as incredibly smart Arizona spotted the bag at the Wednesday night TeamKids session, she pointed to each figure and said in a low, but emphatic voice, “Not good.”*
            Kelly and Michael had trained their children to discern between Biblical truth and ideologies based on false religions or any concepts with no regard for the true God. How deceptive can music, movies, social media, and other areas of influence be to children raised in a Biblically-based home unless they have been trained to recognize and refute and "destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God..." (2 Corinthians 10:5)!
            To produce an Arizona with convictions that stands in any situation, God’s Word must be taught consistently in the home with discussion of the ways to apply the principles in everyday life.
            Moses gave the nation of Israel the three main principles and “best practice” for teaching them in Deuteronomy 6:4-7:
Three Main Principles Listen, Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is One.** Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. These words that I am giving you today are to be in your heart.
Best Practice for Teaching Repeat them to your children. Talk about them when you sit in your house and when you walk along the road,*** when you lie down and when you get up.
            Asaph, the worship leader appointed by King David, wrote a psalm (song) almost 1400 years after God inspired Moses to write God’s commands in Deuteronomy. Asaph dedicated the lengthy Psalm 78 to teach the young Israelis of their Almighty God and his work in their nation. Asaph’s introductory words in verses 4-7 emphasize the necessity of teaching God’s Word:
            We must not hide them from their children, but must tell a future generation the praises of the Lord, His might, and the wonderful works He has performed. He established a testimony in Jacob and set up a law in Israel, which He commanded our fathers to teach to their children so that a future generation - children yet to be born – might know. They were to rise and tell their children so that they might put their confidence in God and not forget God’s works, but keep His commands.
            The power of teaching a little one was so evident in Arizona’s life and impacted me greatly. To this day, hardly does a day pass without me saying “not good.” It may be an article Mother is reading to me or a news story we may be hearing. Occasionally, Mother asks me to repeat the account of when I first heard “not good" almost 20 years ago. We end up recalling good memories of the Ridgway family.
            No matter our age, we must be discerning in sifting the truth from error, no matter how insignificant it may seem. In Galatians 5:9 Paul warned about the harmful impact of false beliefs, “A little yeast leavens the whole lump of dough.”
            Finally, Jesus warned about the most powerful religious groups and political factions of His day and compared them to leavening. Just the ingestion of a miniscule grain of a false concept can erode a person’s godly perspective and undermine a true relationship with God in exchange for ideologies devoid of the power of God at work. Let's be like Arizona and say, "Not good."

*I retired that repurposed gift bag.

**Other translations use: the only God, the only Lord, the only true God, or God, the only One.

*** This phrase implies in the Biblical culture "relaxed walking" or "walking as a means of travel." For the 21st century, training should be done during travel.

Celebrating the Oldest Married Couple in the Bend

         75 years represents many sunsets, snows, trials, and joys. This week on February 16th, Hubert and Charlotte Hutchens marked a milestone enshrined by tradition as a diamond wedding anniversary.
        The latter part of January and into February has been fraught with illness for this couple, culminating in Hubert’s grave illness and hospitalization. Charlotte and her family were given no hope, but people began to pray, seeking for God to be glorified. In Charlotte’s words, "Our Lord answered on Wednesday evening the 7th of February when Hubert sat up as if he had a very restful sleep. He was fully awake, knowing everyone and his whereabouts."    
        When Charlotte arrived at our door with a note, as I answered the door, Mother quizzed Angie about who had rung the doorbell. When Mother heard the name “Charlotte” she insisted on seeing her even though Angie indicated Charlotte had already said she couldn’t come in. Angie sensed Mother’s intense desire to see her and helped her get her walker and navigate into the living room.
        Mother had formed a close bond with Charlotte as she and Angie cared for Grandma following her stroke and Charlotte went above and beyond her job description as their home health nurse during the last months of Grandma’s life. Even though Dad would say, “Hube and Charlotte are transplants” in the Bend, he and Mother looked upon them as dear neighbors and friends for over 40 years.
        Dad loved Hube’s stories so I have chosen an apropos one for this occasion. This retelling is from a previous Faith_Family_Farm posting.

                Hubert and Charlotte met in Hominy when she was barely 15 years old. Their dates were always chaperoned by Hube’s older brother, Lloyd.

            Hube’s military induction and a family move by Charlotte’s family interrupted the budding romance. They met up in Charlotte’s new home in the state of California. During their reunion, Charlotte recalled vividly the two of them kneeling at the altar of an empty California church. In her heart, Charlotte pinpointed that moment as the day she committed to love and live with Hubert until death parted them. They made long-range plans for their marriage to take place a few months later. But her mother couldn’t approve of her only daughter, at age 15, marrying a 20-year-old soldier.

One of my favorite early day photos of Charlotte and Hubert

            Savvy determined 15-year-old Charlotte boarded a bus heading east to Colorado right into a snowstorm. Finally, she arrived, knowing everything would be fine now that she was with her beloved soldier. As they applied for their marriage license, worldly-wise Charlotte knew that she was under the required age of 16, with no parental permission. When the clerk asked her age, Charlotte looked directly into her eyes and replied assertively “16.”

            The clerk turned to Hubert, addressing him with the same question. Hubert honestly responded, “20.” To his surprise, he was queried, “Do you have your father’s permission to marry?”

            In Colorado, at that time, a young man had to be of age 21, to marry, unless he had written parental consent. With Hubert’s brother and sister-in-law engineering a solution, they drove to the next county. First, Hubert "aged" by one year during the trip. His brother called ahead, preparing the way for Hubert and Charlotte by saying, “They can’t spend the night together unmarried.” He was told "get them to the courthouse by 5:30 p.m. and they can be married."

            Upon arriving at the destination, they obtained the marriage license but had to interrupt a poker game so the justice of the peace could perform the ceremony. "Ceremony" did not accurately describe the event. The poker-playing justice looked at Hubert asking, “Do you take her as your wife?” Immediately, he turned to Charlotte, and asked “Do you take him as your husband?” Promptly, he pronounced them married.

            Fifteen-year-old Charlotte, with a voice full of disappointment, blurted out, “What about the ring?”

            “Oh! If I knew you had a ring, I’d have made a bigger deal of it!” the justice of the peace responded, as he made tracks to get back to his poker game.

So many takeaways pop to my mind from this week’s posting. Here are a few:

• ·       Marriages are commitments made to last in the eyes of God and the man and woman. The peripheral elements of today’s wedding do NOT a marriage make - only life-altering commitments will cause it to endure, not the venue, the attire, or the unique reception theme.
• ·      True friendship stands the test of time and not just in the Bend, but anywhere people work to retain those ties.
• ·      A commitment to Jesus to trust Him and Him alone for our eternal salvation and believe He will do what His Word says drives individuals, church congregations, and communities to pray. In turn, those prayers often lead to answered prayers. It is never the ones praying, but it is the all-powerful God to whom they lift their requests. He alone is worthy of praise.

Finally, Dad liked to say when interjecting humor into a conversation, "Christians Ought to Be Happy People." Maybe you chuckled a little as you read the account of Charlotte and Hubert’s marriage. Not much of a wedding by today's standards, but the knot got tied pretty tight didn't it?

A Farm Tragedy 85 Years Ago in the Bend

         I am indebted to my grandmother, Gladys Rainey Smith, for being the family archivist. I began this account in 2015 to explain the story behind the large Chinese elm tree that stands in my mother's yard, but, because of gaps in information, abandoned it. I decided to utilize the microfilm archives of The Fairfax Chief. Sure enough, with help from Howardean Rhoads and Marcy Sterling at the Fairfax Library, I discovered a wealth of information from Grandma's column and completed it in 2016.

            As I repost this account about the fatal farm accident of 85 years ago, I wondered how many flowers or trees have been planted to commemorate a family occasion or tragedy as with Mother's Chinese elm tree. Some structures have been crafted as a tribute and a therapeutic act to move forward on the journey of grief. How important that we share the important significance of those specific memorials with our younger generation!    

        When my mother began the 8th grade at the Belford Grade School on the east side of the Big Bend community, she and her parents lived in the house on Lora Betts’ place where Mike Mitchell now lives (Lora Betts was Mike’s grandmother.). In 1938, the nation, as well as the Big Bend community, was rebounding finally from the Great Depression that had begun ten years earlier with the crash of the stock market in October of 1929. People were finding jobs. Families had more money to spend. Things were at last starting to look up.
        Neighbors were important to the Big Benders since people depended on each other for help and support. In January, as the new year of 1939 commenced, my grandparents, Calvin and Gladys Smith, with my mother, Bernyce, moved to the house on Louise Butler Jefferson’s original Osage land allotment. Mother and her parents’ new neighbors to the north was the Farnsworth family. They lived on the farm now owned by my mother.
        The Farnsworth family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth and their 29-year-old son, Harlow. They had lived in the Bend for about one year before that fateful day in February of 1939.

Portrait of Asher Judson Farnsworth
from findagrave.com

       

         According to the “Belford” column written by my maternal grandmother, Gladys Rainey Smith in the February 16, 1939 issue of The Fairfax Chief, near 4 p.m. on Tuesday, February 7, Asher Judson Farnsworth died as the result of being kicked by a horse. He and his son, Harlow, were training the young horse to work when it kicked him in the lower part of his chest. Harlow and his father were training the horse near their small barn that was located where the lots are now, west of Mother's house.(My mother indicated that people were still using horses for farm work in the late 1930s.)
        Mr. Farnsworth was rushed to Ralston, but Dr. H. B. Spaulding, the local physician, pronounced him dead upon arrival. News of his death reverberated throughout the shocked community because he had been among the first to donate time to help his new community and had made many friends in the Bend.
        He was 66 years old having been born on June 2, 1874, in Kansas. Mr. Farnsworth married Linnie Alice Barnum in 1909, establishing their first home in Ponca City, Oklahoma. Besides his wife and their son, Harlow, he was survived by two daughters, Roberta Hawkins and Eleanor Farnsworth.
        My grandmother wrote that a quartet from the Big Bend sang during the funeral service held in Ponca City. The quartet was composed of Mrs. Will Kelty, soprano, Mrs. Jim Clark*, alto, Perry Wood, bass, and Walter Schubert, tenor. My grandmother accompanied them on the piano.

The memorial Chinese elm tree on the left planted by Mr.
Farnsworth's family to honor him at his untimely death.

        When I was young, even before I learned about Mr. Farnsworth's tragic death, I remember Harlow and his wife returning to visit our family in the Bend. How ironic a family tragedy made a bond with neighbors even greater! Their visits were also illustrative of the strong ties of friendship that span the years in rural areas, especially in the Big Bend. 

*Mrs. Jim Clark (Mary) moved to Ralston in her later years. Mary retained her strong alto voice even into her 90s. She was the grandmother of Gilbert Morris aka Junior. Mary Clark was a great-grandmother of Patricia Morris Chaffin, and Pam Morris Felix. To see a photo of Mary, go to: https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2019/03/armed-robbery-in-big-bend.html