Substance Over Symbolism

        I heard recently that difficult seasons of our lives foster creativity. Situations such as reduced finances, limited resources, physical constraints, or perceived inadequacy have led to ingenuity. Mother frequently quoted in her parenting, Necessity is the mother of invention.

LaRene Akers, 2nd and 3rd 
Grade Teacher at Ralston
Public School

        I pinpointed activities in my early days that developed the right side of my brain or creative source. The recollection of teachers began with LaRene Akers who allowed second and third graders time to design construction paper creations. Often we depicted holiday symbols or historical items commemorating the observance of the month. What fun when scissors snipped, and glue flowed freely constructing a masterpiece that we gazed on with satisfaction!

Floris Brandenburg, close school 
chum at the Woodland School in 
the Bend in the 1920s of my aunt, 
Ella Gates Bledsoe. She taught
me in 4th-6th grader at Ralston
Public School.

        So many of Ralston upper elementary students for decades had Floris Brandenburg, affectionately called Mrs. B, who had us tackle using hacksaws to “whittle out” cutting boards in the shape of pigs. (I took a hacksaw from home for this project  - carrying it in my hand on the bus since I never owned a backpack as a kid!) Many fellow students honed with great success oil painting, sketching, and other creative expression. I loved forming the platonic solid at Christmas from circles cut from construction paper and folded into triangles. Then the triangles were glued together and sprinkled with sparkly glitter for a festive effect when the finished product dangled from the ceiling of the classroom.

        Laura Collard taught reading, spelling, language, and art during my sixth through eighth grade years. For many years, one of my art projects created during the spring of 1969 appeared in our home Easter decorations. Using a balloon, as a base, I fashioned a sturdy paper mache egg, carefully cut the top from it, reinforced the edge of the lid and its base’s edge. too. Using gold spray paint, I replicated the proverbial golden egg. In keeping with the flower power of the 1960s, I meticulously cut flowers from felt in pink, blue, hot pink and red. After gluing the black centers on the flowers, I plastered them over the golden egg. Finally,  I scavenged through Grandma’s scraps and found jumbo rickrack to adorn the edge of the lid of the golden egg.

Laura Collard taught me in 6th-
8th Grades at Ralston Public 
School.

        I was so pleased with the golden egg. It was such a perfect symbol of Easter for a 7^th grader. My sister and I anticipated coloring eggs for weeks in advance. We looked forward to Dad hiding them in the yard for us and pulled from the top shelf of the closet the same two baskets we used year after year.

        Yet Angie and I clearly had been taught the glorious Sunday in spring for egg-hunting was most importantly the observation of the resurrection of Jesus. Neither of us can remember not knowing of the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. We were taught of all humans’ sinfulness and that Jesus alone could take sin away and give purpose and a new life.

The Golden Paper Mache 
Egg on Easter 1969 in my
custom-made Easter "frock"
with the matching hair bow.
Both were designed and 
made lovingly by Grandma,
Gladys Rainey Smith.

        As we approach Easter, even though we enjoy the symbols of Easter, such as egg hunts, golden prize eggs, baskets of goodies, large family dinners, new outfits to wear, and various other things, may we always dwell in our thoughts, discussion, and devotion on the substantive truth of Easter, the resurrection of Jesus.

Easter Sunday in 1991

Girls in the Sunday School class I taught
on Easter Sunday 1991 were standing -Carrie
Wills, Misty Kimbrell, Lesley Mitchell, and
Shannon LeGrand, and Lori Mitchell kneeling.

As Easter approaches, my memories are always associated with the glorious worship of the resurrection of Jesus. These pictures archive a time when the church was in a weakened state after a pastor's resignation, but as Dad liked to say, "God always has a man." Charles and Jean Welch had such a heart for our small congregation. This Easter celebration was not marked by huge crowds but by wholeheartedly realizing apart from the Resurrection of Jesus as Paul said, "...if Christ is not risen, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins!" May this little reminiscence, add to your daily worship of the risen Savior as we approach Easter. 

Brother Charles helps Colin
West Lowe count his eggs.
Brother Charles had coached
and taught math at Marland
 and Newkirk in the early days
 of his marriage to his beloved
 wife, Jean. He loved numbers
 and any process associated
with them!

            That joyous Easter season found us without a fulltime pastor, but not without a shepherd. Charles Welch, a corporate employee of American Airlines, and his wife, Jean, faithfully guided and lovingly cared for us until we called another pastor. To this day, Jean, now a widow, continues to hold a special place in her  heart for the small Ralston Baptist Church.

         At that time, I taught the upper elementary girls’ Sunday School class. What joy to see girls grow, learn, and mature in the Lord! The week before Easter, Barbara Rice helped me host a party for both upper elementary boys and girls Sunday School classes. My father taught the boys class each Sunday but was glad Barbara readily agreed to help with the party. The students dyed eggs to place in decorated containers with specially- made cards for a few elderly people.   

            

Background -Carrie Wills putting the
finishing touches on a basket for an 
elderly friend. Samantha Kimbrell and
Barbara Rice encourage her as Tyler 
Rice prepares to attach a sticker to the
basket.

Judy Lowe watching Brendon West
Lowe spotting an egg.

            Recently, someone asked about the era when the church held fifth Sunday dinners. The photos proved March 31, 1991, one of the fifth Sundays of the year, also was Easter Sunday. So of course, a small egg hunt followed the shared fellowship dinner.

            As I perused the 1991 Easter photos, I discovered a photo from the Sunday evening service. Following a lesson plan from my March/April issue of Evangelizing Today’s Child, I created an edible tomb of Rice Krispies and marshmallows. We had the best time celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus together and then devouring the Rice Krispies treat tomb.

Back - Cortney Keil and  Destanee Robertson
Front - Michael Widener, Caleb and Tyler Rice, 
and Brendon Lowe. with the Rice Krispie Tomb. 

            It seems perfect to end this blog post with the announcement of the 125^th

Buddy Colvin and Rusty Bentley designing 
cards for the Easter basket recipients.

anniversary of the Ralston Baptist Church. It will be observed on November 13, 2022. For all who have ties to the church, save the date for a wonderful marking of God’s blessing on Ralston Baptist Church by preserving a congregation in such a small place for a century and a quarter. Also the anniversary celebration will be a perfect opportunity to see and visit with old friends from the church and community.

Tom Britt and Colin Lowe get help
from Edmund Gates with egg hunting.

Carrie Wills and Samantha Kimbrell excited about
the Easter basket as Barbara Rice looks on.

Remembering Herbert Gates

             I recall the heartbreaking sadness at the passing of Uncle Herb at only 59 years of age on March 28, 1988. Yet as I see the children and grandchildren of his son, Steve, so frequently at church, sometimes I make the comment to them, "Your grandpa (great-grandpa) would be so pleased with you." This post originally appeared to honor Herbert's memory on his birthday, but am reposting it with some editing to mark 32 years since Herbert's death.  (Access https://bernadeanjgates.blogspot.com/2022/01/remembering-james-franklin-gates.html to view the youngest photo that I have seen of Herb and Jim.)

            Herbert was born on July 14, 1928, in the Big Bend Community west of Ralston in the two-room house that belonged to Edmund, Sr. and Mamie Irene Tripp Gates. His father, a life-long supporter of the party of Lincoln, wanted to name him after the sitting president, Herbert Hoover. His mother felt that was a bit much of a name to tack onto her precious, tiny son. When Mrs. Mary Goad, a dear neighbor, suggested, “William is a nice name because he can be called either William or Bill or Billy,” then Mamie Gates chose William Herbert for their newest baby boy. Incidentally, he was never called William, Bill, or Billy but always referred to as Herbert, Herb, or Herbie.

            Just about two and a half years later, as my father would say, another boy came along. When Jim was born in January of 1931, (See the blog post of January 26, 2014, entitled James Franklin Gates and His First Trip with the Big Boys to the Arkansas River.) Edmund, Jr., my father who was eleven years old, said Herb took one look at that little baby with his mother and headed to the bunk house to begin sleeping with the big boys, Edmund, Jr., Fredrick, and Jess. Dad recalled my grandmother admonishing them, “Don’t you big boys roll over and smother little Herbert.” 

            Soon, despite their rocky beginning, Herb and Jim bonded to the point that seldom were their names spoken separately. Those two boys hunted together until Herb’s hearing and health ended those exciting late night events. The two of them doubled the fun but also doubled the orneriness that they could get involved in doing. Dad mentioned acting “dumb” when his father asked him about the family truck having very little gas indicating it had been used the night before when all the time Edmund, Sr. had the key in his possession. Grandpa was an expert at driving a team and wagon but knew little about hot-wiring a pickup!

Herbert and Jim Gates with the pickup they hot-wired.

Jim and Herb with Morgan

          Several cousins, like me, may recall Uncle Herb always had at least a half-stick of gum to the delight of his nieces and nephews.

            As with all of the Gates sons, Herb was a wonderful storyteller, but he reportedly said, “I always make it just a little bigger.” Uncle Jess’s daughters said their father said a story must be “embellished.”

            Herb told Dad if he was in the Bend around midday, he always managed to be at their home place because as he said, “If you’re there around noon, you’ll get a hot meal.” Grandma loved to oblige her dear son by feeding him. On numerous occasions, I heard Grandma speak adoringly about Herbert’s actions, “Wasn’t that dear?”

            I could mention his service in the Navy or his impeccable craftsmanship with wood or his unwavering love for his children and grandchildren, but for me, one of my greatest memories were associated with Uncle Herbert’s commitment to his faith in the Lord Jesus. He would drive each Wednesday evening to attend Bible study at the church even after he began having the burnouts connected to his brain cancer. He prayed for people, shared with them his faith, and enjoyed talking about God’s love for people and how He revealed that in His Word. His last pastor, Charles Welch, always repeated with emotion Herbert's comment about the blindness resulting from his brain tumor and his impending death, “The next face I see will be the face of Jesus.” May Herbert's commitment to the Lord serve as an impetus for each of us to affirm we have that kind of relationship with Jesus. If we are assured of our relationship with Jesus, may Uncle Herb's devotion deepened by his suffering impact our daily walk with Him.