Remembering Summer Jalyn Goad Novotny

On September 6, 2012, Summer died as the result of a car accident. Summer was a great-great granddaughter of William and Rosa Rainey, whereas I am a great-granddaughter. A few months after her death, her mother, Janice Funkhouser Goad and I had a time to visit. At that time, Janice shared this experience with me. Today seemed the appropriate time to post Janice's powerful account of God's faithfulness. With Janice's permission, I retell her story. It is her hope that all who read this will be sure that they have trusted Jesus to give them eternal life because of His death on the cross for all humankind.

Janice's favorite photograph of her
youngest daughter.

     (I gave permission for this story to first appear as a tribute from Summer's family in the September 1, 2015 issue of "The Pawnee Chief.")

    Janice bent over slowly to light the small candle on the end table in the living room during the late afternoon. A light fragrance drifted throughout the room lifting her mood just with a quick whiff of the pleasing aroma.

     The kitchen needed some attention. As she cleaned and tidied, her mind drifted to the recent events. The fatal car accident that took the life of her youngest daughter reopened the wound in her heart from several years earlier when her only son died. She had leaned on the Lord during that time as He reassured her of His presence and of the reality of eternity. Never did she dream she would be in this same heart-wrenching grief sequence again.

     Putting the final touches on the kitchen cleanup, she walked back into the living room with thoughts of sadness and loss lingering in her mind, only to be startled by a sinister-looking shadow on the wall. How evil and threatening it appeared  pervading and ominous in the living room!

     Suddenly she heard in a still, small voice, “It is only a shadow. A shadow cannot hurt you.” Immediately she recalled, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me.”

      It is the cold shadow of death that separates us from our loved ones. Yet it is only a shadow, because Jesus conquered death on the cross putting it under His blood. She sensed His still, small voice whispering, “It is only a shadow. A shadow can’t hurt you.”

     The reality in the room was the tiny flame of the candle. Janice meditated on Jesus’ confirmation, “I am the Light of the world.” He who is the Light also is the Resurrection and the Life. Janice could be confident that those she loved who had trusted in Jesus as Savior were experiencing the Light of Jesus in His presence in heaven.

     Deep within, she became so assured that we see through a glass darkly as we gaze at eternity from here on earth. Janice found herself saying confidently with David following his young son’s death as recorded in 2 Samuel 12: “…Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.”

      Death is only a shadow seeking to frighten, immobilize, and devastate but as John wrote of Jesus as life and “The life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.” In this same way, the tiny flickering glow illuminated the room and only in the darkness was the shadow so menacing. If we focus on the eternal light of Jesus, we can understand the temporal sting of death and look beyond to the joy of eternity with Him and our loved ones.

A photo from Gladys Rainey Smith's collection of
Sammy Jack Goad, Summer's father. Sam, as we now
refer to him, was my grandmother's great-nephew. My
grandmother, Gladys Rainey Smith, and his grandmother,
Daisy Dean Rainey Rice, were sisters.

Recollections of Grandpa Gates and His Horses

                Roger Noble, a neighbor of Grandpa and Grandma Gates, and Ron Bledsoe, my grandparents' oldest grandson, have made several positive comments over the last couple of years after reading my blog posts. The recollections they shared provided the inspiration for this week’s posting.

           Roger recalled, as a kid, being fascinated with the sight of Grandpa’s workhorses in their stalls. As he rode by Grandpa’s barn, there stood those massive horses. Roger grew up in the Big Bend on his parents’ farm. Their land was located a few miles west of my grandparents’ farm.

  A farmer during the early twentieth century relied heavily on dependable, intelligent horses for transportation, working their farm ground, and providing “horsepower” for tasks on the farm requiring enormous strength. Grandpa had the best he could afford. Work days using the team of horses were long and difficult but provided an adequate living for Grandpa, as well as his large family. My grandparents, just like their horses, were able-bodied, strong-willed, and faced each day with strength and determination.

Grandpa Edmund Gates, Sr. with one of his best teams of workhorses,
Mag and Morgan.

           Ron Bledsoe, my grandparents’oldest grandchild, retold this family story after reading one of my blog posts. Grandpa’s injury occurred about 90 years ago. 

           When Ron read the blog post entitled "No Helicopter Parenting Here" published on February 8, 2015, it brought to mind a story his mother, Ella Gates Bledsoe, had told about Grandpa Gates. Grandpa was trying to get weeds out of a sprocket on a chain-driven piece of machinery. Ron thought it was some sort of binding machine. The horses moved, and before Grandpa could react, the tips of two of his fingers were cut off. In typical “Gates fashion,” he walked to town to get them "sewed up". 
          Ron told his youngest daughter this story. She just looked at him. Children today cannot begin to comprehend the toughness of that generation. Ron stated, "I like to think all of us got some of that Gates toughness to help us deal with today's challenges."
         Ron's mom, my father's oldest sister, related the story of Grandpa's injury. What a frightening time for a little girl to see such a serious injury to her father! Then what a worry to see the man she dearly loved and depended upon the most in all the world begin the long trek to take himself into town to the doctor. How challenging it must have been for little Ella to put out of her thoughts the terrifying wound. The account of this injury impacted Ron since he vividly recalled seeing how Grandpa had the tips gone on two fingers. 
            In Grandpa’s latter years, he told my dad, Edmund Gates, Jr., that he’d like to have a team of mules. My grandmother was appalled that he would even entertain that idea, since she obviously did not recall with such fondness the "good ole days" of working from daybreak to dark. 

            New ways are hard to embrace. Grandpa wanted to keep the tried and true methods. What comfort in the familiar! Horses ensured a slower life, but limited farm production.  However, my father often said, "You've got to get up with the times." He recognized that the inability to embrace progressive methods would impede growth and success.  I recognize that also, but there are days when I can't help but be nostalgic for the lifestyle of yesteryear-yearning for a simpler, slower pace.  

Tailer and the Naked Ladies (Resurrection Lilies)

Our resurrection lilies (Some call these "naked ladies" or "surprise lilies.) are quite sparce in production this year for some reason. This caused me to remember this devotional thought inspired last summer by the orange cat with a tail!

Tailer Ignores Beauty

                The fragrance of the resurrection lilies permeated the back yard. The light pink flowers gorgeously decked out the summer evening. As I gathered the freshly dried clothes from the clothesline, I admired the lovely blossoms from a distance. Then I noticed Tailer weaving in and out of the stately lilies. He paused and glanced up briefly at one of the perfectly curled petals on one of the resurrection lilies. Within seconds, he was on his way hardly noticing the beauty of the summer-blooming lilies.

Tailer caught in the act of indifference to the beautiful resurrection lilies.(Photo taken in 2014)

                Just like Tailer, I thought to myself. The energetic cat's life consists of three primary activities. He loves to be moving. If he is not moving, he is eating vigorously or sleeping soundly. My sister says, “Tailer loves his people.” But even in that, he is in motion, either rubbing the legs of his people or wanting to be stroked. We love him to pieces, but let's face it - it’s all about him.

 Then I thought, Many humans are like Tailer. How many people briefly pause to look at something exquisite in nature, hardly noticing its beauty, and never once giving a second thought to God, the creator of it all? Many of us are not far removed from Tailer’s indifference to breath-taking beauty in nature. Several times a day we see much loveliness and uniqueness around us in nature, yet take very little notice, and definitely give God no thought or credit.

Often we experience some small blessing and instead of breathing a prayer of thankfulness, we move right on to complain about something else. What ingratitude and self-centeredness! How much more uplifting to recognize and acknowledge God’s hand of blessing outstretched to us, instead of snatching the blessing, as an ungrateful child would grab a present with no thought of even mumbling a "thank-you." If we purposefully express gratitude, our focus will shift from what we don’t have to how our lives have been enriched.

I’d love to have Tailer’s endless energy, but I hope to avoid having his indifference to beauty. Instead I would like to concentrate on the gifts of the day, appreciating and recognizing that every good gift and perfect gift comes from above as James 1:17 states.

Lord, give me eyes to see Your daily gifts to me. Then may I have a heart that readily expresses thankfulness to You.

Resurrection Lilies from another flower bed on my parents' farm in 2014.