The Cold, the Cat, and My Concern

I wrote this on Thursday night, January 5. Writing it had a focusing effect on me and encouraged me to seek my strength and direction from the right source.

Reflecting on Myself as a 21^st Century Wimp

                December had some cold temperatures with bitter wind chills. Now January presents us with frigid Arctic readings. Those of us living in this age of overload from advice, alerts, and warnings  may find ourselves inundated. My problem commences when I begin believing everything I hear instead of using my common sense.

                Cats on the farm have always slept in a huddle in the barn or chicken houses or any of 101 other cozy locations on the farm. Since Bob sleeps by himself on the unheated back porch, I began the thought process, in the summer, about providing the orange and white manx cat necessary warmth during the winter months.

                In August, I initiated the first stage of Bob’s winter sleeping accommodations. Preparing for the bone-chilling temperatures of winter, he needed a cozy compartment. Angie brought Mother two large sofa pillows in a huge cardboard box.  I repurposed the large box to house the little sleeping cube that Bob liked. The thin foam packing sheets surrounding the decorative pillows provided an additional insulation for the outside of the large box. I applied the foam sheets to the outside of the box with strong tape and staples.

Bob and Tailer sleeping in the little cube when
they were younger. Bob usually let Tailer in first,
 then got in himself, and put his back to the
 circular opening. This photo was taken in warmer
 weather in 2015. Bob still likes the little cube.

                When September rolled around, the second phase kicked in. I recycled an old long pillow to insulate the back of the box that would face the north side of the porch. A couple of discarded cattle pellet bags additionally shielded the top of the box.

                In October, when the nights began to cool, I placed the little cube inside the box. To my surprise, Bob quickly acclimated to his new “digs.” I was surprised because sometimes he is cautious and a little slow to warm up to changes.

                By November, I had draped an old bathmat on the top of the well-insulated box, so the little circular opening of the cube would be protected from the wind. Bob adjusted well to the “old bathmat” door.

                Then the frigid temperatures and record-breaking wind chills appeared on the long-range forecast. Using recycled newspapers, I bound about ten newspapers together in three bundles. One  bundle was placed on the right and the left sides of the Bob’s little sleeping cube, with the third packet of newspapers placed in front of the cube. Bob made it fine during those freezing nights, always eager to get out to his cozy bed each morning.

                Then the first week of January blew into our lives. I prepared all I could for the care of the cattle during the predicted subfreezing weather. Since it wasn’t going to be as cold as December had been, I felt that Bob would be fine.

                He always comes in to play and eat around 10 p.m. This winter he has every night, without exception, relished going out to his sleeping quarters. Except tonight.

                He had been out most of the day, “running and gunning” so I knew he had tolerated the cold fine. However, when he came in at 10 tonight, he stretched out near the kitchen central heating floor vent to groom himself. Within fifteen minutes, he was ready to drift off. This never happens.

                I coaxed him to the back door, but for the first time this winter, he balked. I carried him out – unheard of. I stood out by him while he drank his water.

                My own concern fueled his hopes to get to come back inside. I checked on him several times, only to find him stretched up on the screen door on his hind legs, as though begging to get to come back in. Finally, my sound thinking returned.

                I left my post at the back door and told Mother, “Dad had colder sleeping quarters for most of his life than Bob -  that is until Dad went to the air force!”
               She chuckled and agreed and said softly, "Bob just wants to be with you." What a crafty little cat he is!

                I reflected on the temperature of the bunk house where Dad and his brothers slept. The bunk house had no heat source in it. Few houses in the Bend had any type of insulation in the first half of the 20th century.

                A faint memory popped into my mind about Dad talking about a frozen water bucket in their house. Mother responded, “I am sure their water bucket did freeze. Even in our house, the surface of the water bucket froze. Daddy tried to put green wood in the wood stove at night so it would smolder throughout the night as the temperatures dipped dangerously low, but often the fire went out.”

Mother said Dad snapped
this photo at the Jefferson
house in the 1950s.

                Curiously, I researched low temperatures for Oklahoma during January at www.weather.gov. A quick glance revealed extremely cold temperatures in January of 1930. Dad would have been 10 years old. I recalled his tales of Arthur Wulf and him ice skating for miles on the Arkansas River. He would usually say, “But you can’t do that nowadays.”

                Then I realized what a wimp I had allowed myself to be by overreacting to all the warnings. I realize our ancestors didn't need warnings to not leave animals tethered outside with no shelter. Nevertheless, Bob had a much cozier sleeping area than my father and his brothers. Yet how strong they grew up to be!

                Mother and I reminisced how Dad never backed down from a job – no matter how cold, how dirty, how dangerous, or just down right hard and physically demanding. Yet neither did he brag about what he had accomplished. Then my mother, Bernyce Smith Gates, the woman who dated him for eight years and was married to him for 67 years, said, “I never heard him complain.”

Dad loved and used the hat from Angie and Ben
for Christmas in 1997. The coat was just too
heavy for him to work in. He politely kept it but
used it only on extremely cold occasions -
maybe when going to town. I chuckle seeing the
tag on the hat sticking straight up. He was so
comfortable in his own skin that nothing ever 
embarrassed him!

                What a reality check on endurance and not being a wimp! This applies in my spiritual life as well. Paul said to Timothy in the last letter before he was beheaded for his faith, “Endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.”

                He continued telling Timothy to endure, suffer, and keep studying the word of truth. Interestingly, Paul warned him to “avoid all empty (vain, useless, idle) talk, for it will lead people into more and more ungodliness.” (II Timothy 3:16 – AMPC). In no way, do I equate my fixation on weather warnings for pets to idle talk, but we do have to guard whose words and ideas come into our minds and how we process them.
                 In that same passage, Paul, who was imprisoned in Rome, requested a cloak - no doubt, his body ached from lying on the cold, stone floor of a dank, dark dungeon, He also asked for the parchments or copies of the Hebrew scriptures, the Old Testament. As we do, the Apostle Paul needed warmth for his physical body and his heart.
                God, may I study and know Your Word well enough to reject empty, useless words that are detrimental. Then may I be strong in You through Your Word and have the courage to do what is right. 

Note: A blog posting that I refer to as Janice's Story really helps me in staying strong in the Lord. It can be accessed at: http://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2016/08/influenced-by-experience.html

On the Path of Humility for Success in the New Year

As we transitioned from the Christmas season to the beginning of a new year, I thought about two years after the first Christmas. That era marked one of the worst times in Jewish history. Herod the Great ruled the region known as Judea from his palace in Jerusalem. A mysterious caravan of sophisticated dignitaries appeared seeking the newborn king.

Herod was stunned at the description newborn king. His frenzied anxiety, birthed in insane jealousy and fear of being ousted, fueled an exhaustive search for this tiny one that he perceived as a threat to his power. Ultimately, the scroll of  Micah's prophesy, written about 800 years prior to the birth of Jesus, revealed the ruler would be born in Bethlehem, one of the small towns in Herod’s jurisdiction. He sent the wise men to locate the infant monarch with the instruction to report back to him so he could worship Him, too.

The wicked leader of the region exploded with anger when he recognized the magi and their entourage did not respond to his demands. Unknown to him, God warned them to return to the east by a different route. His rage escalated into a horrific edict ordering the annihilation of all male babies under the age of two years of age.

As a toddler, my maternal grandmother read a Bible story book to me. It had very few pictures. However, it had a line drawing of a soldier with a sword in one hand and a baby in the other. As a preschooler, I scratched the weapon into oblivion. Ironically, my mother taught respect and care of my books, but this one drawing was defaced by a little one who realized what an evil action King Herod had taken against precious baby boys.

Matthew recorded that an angel warned Joseph to quickly and stealthily convey Mary and God’s tiny Son to the safety of Egypt. Another illustration of this Biblical account entered my life when I was seven years of age. My maternal grandma, Gladys Rainey Smith, ordered a set of classical paintings illustrating Biblical stories. In the boxes, I discovered a record in Grandma’s handwriting that listed the pictures of the Bible stories that she read to me in 1963.

The Heading of Grandma's Record

  The New Testament set included a moving depiction by Luc Oliver Merson, the French artist born in 1846, entitled Rest on the Flight into Egypt. The weary travelers found the Sphinx as a point to stop while escaping the terror of Herod the Great.  Mary can be seen between the paws of the massive structure with the endangered Christ Child on her lap, with Joseph sleeping at the base of the Sphinx. Surrounded by the darkness of the night, in the vast desert, the eeriness of safety would seem to be the foremost concern. Yet the three rest peacefully in the security of the protection of the Baby’s Heavenly Father.

A copy of the painting panel from the set Grandma
shared with me in 1963. (Just a note -  the scripture
 does not record that the three rested at the Sphinx.)
The original painting is in the collections of the
Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, Massachusetts. 
(An online search of Rest on the Flight into Egypt 
can yield the beautiful painting.)

              Even though house after house in the hillside country of Bethlehem was invaded ruthlessly and every boy infant found was destroyed viciously by the demon-inspired ruler of the area, the tiny Son of God’s mission was unthwarted. The prophesy in Micah (chapter 5, verse 2) accurately predicted the exact spot where the Savior would be born and its reading tipped Herod off to enact his dastardly infanticide. Yet as we launch into a new beginning, I reflected on another passage in Micah – one to be a beacon for 2017.

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly

And to love mercy

And to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8 -NIV

 John Tillotson, the Archbishop of Canterbury in the mid-1600s, commented that this verse identified the two important types of relationships in our existence – interacting with other humans and relating to God. When Jesus was asked about the greatest commandment, He delineated that first one must love the Lord with all one’s heart, soul, mind, and strength – that defined the relationship with God. He knew it set the stage for all the rest of life. Then Jesus said to “Love your neighbor as yourself.” This command instructed how to relate to others - whether relatives, friends, neighbors, or coworkers.

Micah said to “act justly.” I remember telling my third graders, “Just do what is right.” How easily it is to do what  “feels right” instead of actually doing what we know deep within is the right action to take! Usually doing the right thing involves thinking of others rather than ourselves.

Secondly, Micah wrote “to love mercy.” Several translations said to “love kindness.” If mercy is shown, our relative or coworker will not receive what they deserve. We will choose to show kindness. Stephen Covey in his book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change said, “Seek first to understand, then to be understood.” Parents must remember sometimes showing kindness will reveal itself as tough love. 

Finally, the Prophet Micah, in the 8^th century B.C., encouraged his hearers to walk humbly with your God. He didn’t say to soar, run, fly, or sail with the Lord. The idea of walking entailed a daily, step-by-step journey with our Creator who desired an ongoing relationship with those He made and sent His Son to redeem. In no way did the Lord intend for us to just call when we need Him in an emergency like an ungrateful, demanding child. Neither did He plan for us to live with the attitude – Thanks, but no thanks, God. I’ve got this one.

As we begin 2017, let’s not let a day pass without time in the word of God and genuine prayer. May we guard against our prayer merely being a list of wants. Every day may He hear us say, “I want to obey You and please You.” Let’s be sure to sprinkle our conversation with Him with specific thankfulness. 

It seems appropriate to close with a word of admonishment from personal experience. The vertical interactions with others - acting justly and loving mercy - can only proceed from walking humbly with your God. The adverb humbly denotes our inability to do this on our own. He is the one that enables us to successfully live with those around us. Only our relationship with Him can provide the necessary strength and motivation to do the right thing with the spirit of kindness toward those we daily encounter in 2017.

A Collage of Christmas Memories

1924

     Ninety-two years ago, my mother, Bernyce Gates, starred in the role of the Baby Jesus at the Belford School Christmas program when she was barely three months old. She and her parents lived in the home where she was born about one mile west of where she resides now. The Farrell Morris family lived in the same house during the 1950s – 1970s. I attended Vacation Bible School with Marcy, Jean, Gayle, Wayne, and Kathy Morris at the Big Bend Baptist Church situated on the hill just west of their house in the valley. Even though the house is no longer there, the place is located north across Big Bend Road from Chuck and Lisa Crabtree’s farm.
     At that time, the Big Bend community boasted two grade schools. The smaller of the two was the Belford School, located on the east side of the "peninsula" - the term some atlases use to describe what is know as "the Big Bend." Woodland, the larger school, located on the west side of the Big Bend provided education for my father, Edmund Gates, Jr., and his siblings as well as my maternal grandmother, Gladys Rainey Smith and her younger siblings. In contrast, my mother and paternal grandmother, Mamie Tripp Gates, graduated from eighth grade from Belford.

1930s

     In the 1930s and 1940s, social events called box suppers ranked as the primary fund raiser for small communities. Usually first, the children in the school presented a program. Contests followed the children's presentation. These contests allowed people to vote with their cash on various titles, such as prettiest girl and most popular girl. 
     For days in advance, each young woman in the community planned a special box with delectable treats, such as sandwiches made with "store-bought bread and lunch meat" and fruit like bananas, oranges, and apples. A large candy bar usually was a necessity, too. The young men brought their money and usually had their eye on a specific girl and her box. Each specially-decorated box was auctioned off, hoping to raise as much money as possible. Getting to share the purchased box with the girl who prepared it provided added incentive for the boys of the community to bid up the box of that certain girl. Gladys Rainey Smith, my grandma, noted that the box supper held on December 3, 1937, brought in $103.54, that included donations given, too.
     It is almost inconceivable that people during the Great Depression would contribute an amount equivalent to $1,749.27 in 2016, based on calculations according to dollartimes.com. It especially astounds me since Dad had a couple of quotes to describe the economy during the 1930s. He would say,  "A man would work for a dollar a day. That was when a dollar was a dollar, but nobody had one."
    Mrs. Mary Clark, Mrs. Ada Forrest, and my grandma took the $103.54 to Fairfax and bought Christmas treats for the Belford Community. The women purchased 160 pounds of nuts, 670 pounds of candy, 640 oranges, and 320 apples. Grandma’s records indicate they made 320 sacks to be given out the night of the Christmas Tree or the school Christmas program. Just imagine – 320 people in attendance, this included parents, their children, the couple who taught at Belford, and the neighbors.

     21^st century readers must remember that fruit, candy, and nut meats were seldom enjoyed by most Big Bend residents. These were truly treats for the people of that era. Interestingly, I recall my grandfather, Calvin Callcayah Smith, telling of a man with several children, being so ladened down with a huge pack holding the treat bags for his wife and their children that he could barely lug it out of the school house. Grandpa jokingly said of the man with the load of treats slung over his back, “He looked like Santy Claus!”. For us today, with such abundance, the delight over candy sacks is hard to envision. It was such a different day and time. What a sense of gratitude and appreciation the children in the Bend during the Great Depression had for the smallest things!

This is a sack that was given out the
morning of the Ralston Baptist
Church program this year. The treat
 bags were generously donated so the
 tradition of treats,as my father
referred to them, was carried on. Dad
thought treats were essential to
celebrating Christmas. The 21st
centruy bag included an apple, an
orange, and wrapped candy, instead
of the loose ribbon candy of years
gone by, which was in no way germfree!

Late 1940s – Early 1960s

     We always lived less than four miles from my paternal grandparents, Edmund, Sr. and Mamie Tripp Gates, so I never stayed all night with them. However, most of my other cousins spent nights on the Gates farm. Until Grandpa had a stroke, my grandparents resided in a two-room house. All Christmases prior to the mid-sixties found many aunts, uncles, and cousins squeezed into the two-room house and bunk house.

     A brief explanation of the bunk house is required. It was located just a few steps to the west of the tiny Gates home. The bunk house had no heat so it was not suitable accommodations for the faint of heart. My father, Edmund Gates, Jr., claimed his younger brothers put the lantern under the covers for warmth. Uncle Jim Gates said Grandma, Mamie Tripp Gates, was a worrier. It sounded like she had something to worry about!

     I told Dad his prospective brothers-in-law must have truly loved his sisters. Their accommodations when first meeting the family of the five Gates girls was the bunk house. Talk about an icy reception into the Gates family!

     My oldest male cousin, Ron Bledsoe, is the son of my father’s oldest sister, Ella. Ron recalled when the number of cousins spending Christmas peaked that the boy cousins slept in the granary. In a recent email, Ron reminisced about Steve Gates’ description of winter nights in the granary. As I read Ron’s remembrance, I could hear Steve’s animated voice and face as he talked about days gone by on the Gates farm on the Arkansas River.

Ronnie Bledsoe with the granary
in the background. Obviously,
this was not taken at Christmas.

When beds got scarce, some of us had to sleep in the granary. Talk about cold. Steve used to laugh about that and say we were piled in there like a bunch of skunks! He was so much like Herb when it came to telling stories.

Steve Gates on the Gates
farm with the bunk
house in the background.

     How precious the recollections of those Christmases past are! We are blessed when we recall the humorous, downright funny, or even poignant, emotional moments in previous yuletide days. What thanks we can give for the enrichment poured into our lives by those family members who have passed on!

     Cousin Ron shared in another email about those December days when Grandpa and Grandma hosted their children and grandchildren.

My thoughts drifted back to Christmas on the farm with my grandparents and our extended family. It was always so exciting to me because everyone was excited about being together. There were a few small gifts for the grandparents, but not the extravagant and soon forgotten gift swapping of today. I remember sleeping in the bunkhouse under quilts and how it was so cold at first, but as the bed warmed up it felt so good. Of course, you dreaded the next morning when you had to put on cold clothes, but the smell of the wood fire and breakfast cooking spurred you on. I know those times are long gone, but as you get older those great memories become a cherished possession.

     Seldom do we recognize the treasure surrounding us. How often, when we can no longer recreate them, do we miss the quiet moments with family – just being together. Let’s not exchange the family times that seem mundane and uneventful for the glitzy and trendy. If we fall victim to this, someday regrets will creep into our hearts.

     The inability to treasure the important causes me to wonder if anyone in Bethlehem, other than the shepherds, realized in the smelly stable lay Emmanuel  - meaning God with us. Did anyone take time to listen to the shepherds’ report of the angels in the field and the night sky illuminated with brilliant light or were they too busy with the day-to-day activities? After all, with the town inundated with out-of-towners for the taxation, business must have been booming. The demand for goods and services for the influx of outsiders provided a boon to the “bottom-line” of any industrious entrepreneur in Bethlehem. The exchange for temporal business success in the little Judean town caused most to miss one of most extraordinary happenings to occur on earth.

     May we share the joy in the shepherds’ excitement and glorify and praise God for the Savior, who is Christ the Lord. Only through Him, the Prince of Peace, can we truly experience peace on earth, peace in our families, and peace deep within our own hearts.