Thursday, December 17, 2009

Memories

Memories are our cherished friends. Often even painful memories. We used to ride horses when I was young. Not fashionably, although my sister did ride 'professionally' at one point in her high school years, I never did. When I was very young 2, 3, 4? they called me 'grasshopper', because our pony (Wee Willie Snowball, a little Indian pinto pony from Canada--so someone said--) never went quite fast enough. Consequently, as I rode (bareback) I continually urged him on kicking constantly, and someone watching from the ground thought it looked like a....

I digress from the point--one day as we were being kids, my sister was riding the Morgan-Standard bred horse my Grandfather used as part of his team. During her bridle-less, saddle-less ride the horse decided to go his own way, and hopefully (for him) rid himself of his rider. Streaking under the low limbs of trees in the timber, my sister found it next to impossible to stop her mount. During his run for freedom they came to a spot where there were no trees. Taking advantage of the break (she was crouched low with her head along his neck) she shouted in his ear: STOP! Which he, thankfully did, just long enough for her to slide off before he took off running again.

I'm sure it was just as much a heart pounding experience for her as it was for those of us watching. It didn't last long, and there were only minor scrapes--except for one nasty gouge on her arm. There was no sense to tell adults--other than reprimanding us for being foolish enough to ride with a halter and a rope they would have nothing to add to the situation. She nursed the wound and it would have healed properly except...she continually picked at the spot pulling the scab off.

In the same manner, a bad memory can be a cherished memory. Rehashing harsh words, bad feelings, bad situations becomes habit forming.

Luke 11:24 The unclean spirit when he is gone out of the man, passeth through waterless places, seeking rest, and finding none, he saith, I will turn back unto my house whence I came out. 25) And when he is come, he findeth it swept and garnished. 26) Then goeth he, and taketh to him seven other spirits more evil than himself; and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man becometh worse than the first.

Christians need to fill their lives with good. Sweeping and garnishing our minds and our hearts is like spring (or fall) house cleaning where we get rid of the dirt and clutter. Just like the man above, however, who should have put something good in its place but didn't and received the seven evil spirits back-- if we don't put something good in its place the dirt and clutter will creep back in-- often worse than before.

Philippians 4:7 And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.

8) Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Photographs

I gaze at a photograph from some recent trip, and wonder."What's that picture about?"

"You can take all the pictures you want on our trip," my husband says. Immediately he squelches the moment by adding, "I won't promise to have them developed, but you can take as many..."

Well in light of the fact that I do find, when our pictures are developed that a picture taken on the impulse of the moment often turns out to be the one (or ones) I can't quite remember why I took--THAT picture.

There are the other pictures, a brilliant sunrise, or sunset, a gorgeous flower, bird, or family scene.

"Hey, this is great. We now have one picture out of every three that are our personal pictures instead of one out of eight!" my son says watching the screen saver pictures.

We have many pictures of our Jamaica or Mexico mission trips. Some are our own, and some are ones other members have sent us. We enjoy them, but the ones of family get togethers and personal times are...well personal.
It would be quicker and easier to breeze through life without personal touches...but of course it wouldn't be near as much fun.

Human beings need those relationships that reach out. No, not always the huggie feelie type things. A few words written on a paper, a small gesture, a smile, just a glance that expresses 'I understand', all of these things make differences.

When did our society become too busy? Too busy to observe the common courtesies, the duties if you will, that comfort and ease our paths through this world.

Even more important, why? Many bemoan what has happened perhaps with a sigh, but that is just as they jump up and head for the door...bye, gotta go, see ya later...and the thought is gone.

Let's start looking for ways to slow down and be neighborly. Easier said than done, I know.

Philippians 4:10 But I rejoice in the Lord greatly, that now at length ye have revived your thought for me; wherein ye did indeed take thought, but ye lacked opportunity.

Monday, December 7, 2009

S30 --Another Year Gone

Gene quietly closed his history book. "Yes, Mr. Pickerel," he replied, stood, and walked with a brisk step to the front. Turning to face the class, he inhaled a deep breath. With a composed air he began, "When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds...."

********************************

"So, how was school today?" Jed asked as they let the last cow out of her stanchion. "Go on out now Junie!" He gave her a slap on the haunch as encouragement. "Hey, I can get one of them...!" he exclaimed as Gene picked up the heavy five gallon milk cans, one in each hand.

"I know, but it's easier to carry when I have the same weight load on each arm...besides, you can grab those milk buckets... Oh, it was a good day. Any day with David as a teacher is good," his dimples punctuated his grin, and his blue eyes lit up. "He's a challenge to keep up with though."

"Ha!" Jed flipped the barn lights out, and grabbed the milk pails. "That's what he says about you..."

"What's that?"

"He says you're a challenge to keep ahead of."

Their boots crunched in the cold blue snow, and their breath hung in white clouds against the darkening sky as they puffed through the early evening along the path toward the house. Agnes was watching for them and flung the back porch door wide.

"You two look like winter scarecrows, your mittens sticking out of your stuffed coats. If it weren't for puffs of white frost coming out of those mufflers..."

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes, Agnes. And how's baby Nissa doing?" Jed brought the foamy pails of milk in to the separator.

"She's sleeping now, the little elf!" Agnes smiled. "She's the funniest little thing!"

"It seems like she's always doing something now don't it!" Jed's smile answered hers.

"For being only three months old, she sure seems to rule the house already..."Agnes switched the bucket of skimmed milk for an empty bucket.

"Here," Gene said grabbing the can of left over skim milk..."I'll take this out to the pigs. You stay in and get warmed up, Uncle."

"Good job. Don't mind if I do!" he said unwinding the scarf from around his head.

Taking off his heavy yellow mittens, he shivered and watched as Gene headed back out with his burden. "You know, Agnes, everyday I'm so thankful for that boy, and for baby Nissa."

Agnes took his hat and scarf over to the hooks as he shoved out of his coat. "I just wish there was some way we could have cleared him from those charges. We all know he didn't do it...not the shop keeper's windows, or the money at the hotel. Can't figure it at all. Who would do such a thing, and why?" her face creased into a frown. "In a way it was nice to have him home...you boys had plenty of work to do, and got in some good fishing...and old Shep..." she stopped to fork the pork steaks onto the platter. "Old Shep was in dog heaven with his boy back home."

"You let me finish here," Jed took the platter, "Go check on baby...Gene's coming in and we'll get the food on..."

"It's plenty cold tonight," Jed said after supper, as he scooted his chair closer to the wood stove. "Good to have plenty of fuel. What you studying on tonight?"

"American History," Gene handed him his book.

"I sure don't remember studying this when I was in school," he turned a few pages carefully. "There aren't many pictures in here, are there?"

"No, not many pictures...I'm not sure where David got the book. It's not one they are studying here, right now."

"Well, it looks beyond me," Jed handed it back.

"Let that baby's favorite older brother hold her, would you?" Gene teased Agnes as she came in from the parlor vigorously patting a fat pink bundle of baby blankets. He put the book on the end table, and held out his arms. "There, there!" he took over where Agnes left off.

He was soon rewarded with a healthy burp from the depths of the frilly blankets. "I bet you feel much better now, don't you!" and he began to jounce little Nissa gently as she cooed and smiled.

"Well, they say babies can't smile at this age, but if that's just gas pains, she seems pretty happy about it!" Jed said with a smirk.

"You Wades were always precocious," Agnes said.

"Pre- what? I can't even say it let alone be it!" Jed scowled at his wife.

"Means we're ahead of our times," Gene replied with a laugh and made faces at the baby who cooed back at him.

"Well, let me have that little tyke. Stop hogging all the attention."

"You two! You're going to have that baby spoiled the way you fight over her! She already wants me to hold her all the time..."

"I guess I need to get to bed anyways. I have to be at school early in the morning. It's my month to help get the fire wood in, and have things around for David," Gene stood up and gently handed the baby to Jed.

"How's David been doing this year?" Agnes looked up from a sock she was darning.

"The cold weather and snow has been hard on him...he's not used to dealing with limitations. And I think he's been rather frustrated."

"Oh, that's too bad," Agnes said with a sympathetic note. "Little Eric has been colicky, but he seems to be getting better, and Bessie is doing....well, we'll both be so glad when spring comes. This being house-bound gets old."

"It's not so bad as the old days--with the telephone you can call, and with the automobile at least it isn't as cold on the little tykes when you can get out," Jed said. "I think the little punkin's asleep. You better take her on up and get to bed yourself. I'll bank the stove for the night and be on up."

"Good night then," Gene said. He opened the stair door, "Boo!" he involuntarily sucked in his breath as a blast of freezing air hit him. "It sure is cold! Here, Aunt, let me take baby on up. You just bring yourself..." he took the sleeping little bundle from her.

"Thank you, Gene...Hoo!" Her teeth began to chatter. "You're right--it is cold..."

Metal scraped against metal, and Jed smiled as he prepared the fire for the night. It gave him a warm contented feeling to hear his family jabbering on their way upstairs. It was a complete feeling. Baby Nissa had only been with them for a few months, but Jed could not imagine life without the little darling, or without Gene either...
*******************

"Thank you, Gene," David said as he shivered deeper into his coat. "Don't know what I'd do with out your help."

"Oh, you'd manage somehow...should be getting warm in here soon," Gene rubbed his hands together warming himself in front of the school house stove. The flames sent heat radiating close around the stove. He reached up and adjusted the damper to allow more draft into the fire box. "Yes, more heat, but not too fast."

"Well, I appreciate the help. The rest of the students should be arriving soon..." David said and crisp voices punctuated his words, ringing through the frozen air from outside the school house. "I would like you to come over for a little while after school this afternoon. If you have some time to spare, that is?"

"I can do that...for a little while. What is it?"

"I've got some things I need to discuss with you, but it will wait until then. Nothing too important. Bessie would like the company too. She needs a diversion, she's been housebound too long."

"Aunt was just saying the same thing the other evening. Do you think this snow and cold weather indicates the drought and dust have passed?" Gene stood by the stove in the middle of the school house as David walked to the door to ring the school bell.

"We can surely hope..." David stood on the front stoop and the bell began to clang. "Now, now," he reprimanded occasionally as students filed passed him into the foyer to hang their coats on the pegs, and put their lunch pails on the shelf.

The classes winged their way through the morning, and after the prayer for the lunch time meal the students hurried through their cold sandwiches, hot soups, and some finished with cake, apples or canned fruit from the family larder.

"My sled's bettern' yours!" Sammy Summers hollered at Larry Hill as they threw their lunch pails on the shelf and made a dash for the cloak room.

"Boys!" David's voice commanded.

"Yes, Mr. Pickerell," they both stopped immediately.

"When you are hasty in that manner, what often happens?"

They looked at one another, then back at their teacher. "We are forgetful of others around us..."

"Yes, and then what?" he prompted.

"Someone gets hurt, or...we're sorry, Mr. Pickerell." They bent to help five year old Ruth Goodnite pick up her mittens. "We're sorry, Ruth," they said.

"S'awright," she wiped a tear off her cheek.

"You boys, may go, but you will each need to give Ruth a turn on your sleds," David decreed.

"Yes, Mr. Pickerell," they said.

"Whew," Sammy whispered to Larry. "I'm glad we didn't have to stay in and clean the blackboards..."

"Yeah, me too," Larry whispered back as they pulled on their boots and mittens and scooted out the door. "Come on Ruthie...when you come out we'll give you rides..." they said as the door shut.

Gene stopped winding his scarf around his head and face, "Here, let me help," he held Ruth's mitten up for her as she poked her right hand in, then did the same for the left hand.

"Can you help me with my scarf too, please?"

"Why, sure I can," Gene smiled down at the pixie faced little girl. "Where's Wanda?" he asked about her older sister.

"She's had a cold, and her'n Maude are getting ready for the spelling bee."

"Oh, I see," he wrapped the scarf around her face and tucked the end in so it would not come loose. "That should do it. How's that feel?"

"That is just right," she said pulling the scarf down just enough to speak. "Gene Wade, I don't care what anybody says...I know you didn't break them windows, and when I grow up you can be my beau!" her scarf slid back into place and she stumped to the school house door.

"Out of the mouth of babes," David smiled down at Gene who was still kneeling at the five year old's level.

"I think that was supposed to be a compliment," Gene said standing up. He finished winding his scarf around his head and face, not looking at David.

"Gene?" David touched his sleeve.

"Yes?"

"It was meant as a compliment. She doesn't know anything of the grown up world. Ruthie only looks at the truth in action and knows it for what it is."

"I suppose it's part of knowing something's true--in spite of what might be said."

"Just take it for what it is--a compliment. Don't forget, our appointment after school."

Gene slipped out the door, and found a spot to sit in the sunshine out of the wind. He had a warm peaceful feeling as he listened to the shrieking and laughter of thte children sledding. There was a good amount of snow and the sledding hill was just right. He remembered the camaraderie he had enjoyed for the past three years, and pondered on how it had evolved and changed as he became one of the older kids. Soon, he would be leaving maybe for high school in town, or maybe just leaving for a job somewhere...

"Hey! Wade!" the voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What is it, Howard?"

"Come on and try my new sled."

"Sure. When did you get a new sled?" he stood up.

"Pa, Randy, and Kenny made it for me...birthday last week," Howard flashed a grin at Gene. "Pretty hard ta keep it a secret. You know how Kenny is about spillin' the beans, but he didn't say a word..."

David found school days full and interesting, but he still tired more easily than before the attack. It had been a full day of school, and he sighed as he looked over the blackboards. "You've done an excellent job. You may go now," he dismissed Doris and Don Avery.

"You have enough books here to carry home!" Gene helped David collect his books. "I'll just pile them on my sled...So, how's the new house working out?" they walked towards David and Bessie's, Gene pulling the load of books along behind.

After a silence "It will be planting time again soon," Gene said.

"What was it you said?" David asked.

It was not like David, Gene puzzled. David's thoughts were somewhere else. Gene's eyes scanned the azure blue sky as their footsteps squeaked along the road and up the drive. Something was missing... The field beside the road was barren and white with the glittering thousand tiny jewels shimmering in the late afternoon light. Blue shadows that highlighted the meringue peaked snow were dotted across the landscape. The salt box shaped farm house sat at the end of the drive surrounded by trees. On the north side an acre of twisted and gnarled fruit trees poked at the bitter cold blue winter sky, on the south was the standard large red barn. The view promised that in a few months there would be green leaves, fruit blossoms, and flowers, but...?

"How's the new house..."

"Well, it's like this...I need to be able to check on Bessie and little Eric during the day. I can't leave the school room for lunch time. What I'm wondering is if I could pay you to run over at lunch time to check the fire, and make sure every thing is alright... Bessie's mother comes over as often as she can, but she lives too far away, and..."

"I can do that, you don't need to pay me... Is everyone alright? No colds, or...anything?" Gene could see a little trickle of smoke wisping from the chimney, but not enough for as cold as it was.

"I think if we could keep the house a more regular warmth it would help, but with me away all day...and Bessie isn't able to keep up. If you are willing, then I'll show you what you need to do..."

"All right, that will be fine...." Gene shivered when they stepped into the cold house.
************************************************

"Jed's going to take me to visit Bessie this morning," Agnes said. "I'm so glad that you've been able to help David and Bessie out. Bessie called me today. She says you're a regular good cook... She and the baby are getting on so much better! She's thinking in another week they should both be back on the mend. Now, there's your lunch pail all ready, and don't you worry about taking off on your lunch time."

"It hasn't been a problem, and David has done so much for me," Gene paused to take a forkful of his biscuit, sausage and gravy. "It seemed the least I could do."

"Finding those special school books for you--why, he went the extra mile-- "Agnes said.

"We should be starting spring plantin', you goin' to be able to help?" Jed asked as he ladled gravy onto his sausage and biscuit.

"Jed, you've just smothered your biscuit and sausage...how can you even find them?" Agnes said and laughed.

"Well, darlin'," he said cutting a bite of sausage, "Just watch and I'll show you how..." he winked at her as he scooped the whole thing into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed, "Very good!" he closed his eyes as if in satisfaction.

"Oh, Jed!" she exclaimed, "...is that the baby?" she said and jumped up, "Now, Gene, remember what I said..." and she scurried out of the kitchen.

"Yes, we're about at spring break, and I'm ahead in my school work," Gene said with a frown.

"Ahead in your school work?" Jed exclaimed his eyes growing large with amazement. When David mentioned what a challenge it was to keep ahead of Gene, Jed had not realized what he meant. Jed chewed his food in silence and thought about the stack of books that sat beside the door. "So, what you plannin' on doin' after this school year...goin' to the high school in town?"

"I don't really know, Uncle. Maybe, or maybe I'll just stay at home here and work. Maybe I could get a job with the WPA...or something."

"An education isn't something to throw away, boy. You've come so far..." Jed knew as long as Gene had the charges hanging over him he would not feel free to go on in high school. What a shame. What a down right shame! "I wished I could help ya, Gene. How's David coming with Spike...has he made any progress at getting him to come around?"

"No," Gene stirred his hot coffee and sat staring into the dark brown liquid. "No, he hasn't, and sometimes I think last summer was just a...a dream, a mirage that never really happened."

"Life kinda sneaks up on a body like that sometimes...I sure wished I could help ya, but I just believe we have to be patient. Like David's lesson there awhile back. 'Wait on the Lord. He'll make everything plain'."

"Not soon enough for me," Gene muttered into his coffee. "Guess I'd better get going. I've about a week and a half of school before spring break. Will that fit into your schedule?" he spoke over his shoulder as he carried his breakfast dishes over to the dish pan. "That snow melt sure made things muddy!" he said as he turned toward the door.

"Should be fine. I've got the 'quipment pretty near ready to go...Barney and Sal's ready too. Been a long winter for them, and now all this mud! See ya this after noon..." he called after Gene's good bye.

"I don't know Agnes," he spoke as she brought the baby into the kitchen. "I'm kind of concerned 'bout him. He's still Gene, but this here trouble in town's eatin' at him. I'm praying it doesn't make him bitter. Don't want..." he rubbed a hand over his face, "Aw, I don't know, it kind of gripes me too, but there's nothing to be done 'bout it." He said and held out his hands and smiled at the baby.

Agnes handed baby Nissa to Jed. "More coffee?" she brought the pot and filled both their cups. She sat down and began to pick at her remaining sausage and biscuit. "No, that's what bothers. It's never proved or disproved," she stabbed the sausage absent mindlessly.

Jed jiggled Nissa and smiled at her as she cooed up at him. "I was in ta Robinson's the other day for a can of axle grease," he took a drink of coffee, "I got the real feeling I wasn't welcome in there, and I walked into Gordies'...same feelin'."

"Gordies'? Why, their place isn't even on the square!"

"No, but that's just the way it is. People's kind of divided up, I guess. I went in the dry goods store right beside Robinson's the same day. They lost a window same as Merle Robinson did...they were just as friendly as ever, there wasn't a problem," he said with a shrug.

"Do you think David can help?"

"He's been a strugglin' trying to recover. I dislike asking him, but maybe with spring break coming on and all..."

"I'll be so glad to get out of the house this morning...it's been so long since I've been to see Bessie! Maybe I can ask what she thinks..."
*************************************************


How much different this room looked to David. The first time he sat in the back row watching a young woman with golden hair respond to irate parents and a school board. So many things had happened, so much wind under the wings. The children were familiar now, their lives, their families. A prayer for divine blessing and protection rose in his heart...what would this day hold? How would it end?

As David rapped with his ruler on the desk, "Class, it is time to begin. Turn to the front, fold your hands on the desk in front of you, and I will begin with Psalm eight this morning..." the leaves of his Bible whispered as he turned to the Psalm. "Psalm 8:1" he announced in his deep controlled voice. As he began reading the words swelled out on the quiet morning air like the swell of Jordan River over it's banks, "To the chief Musician upon Gittith, A Psalm of David... O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.
Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.
When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honor.
Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:
All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field;
The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.
O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!

He looked out over the room, "Amen!" he said with emphasis. "This is our last day for the spring quarter. Every one here has done a good job, and I feel has put forth great effort to make this a memorable school year. We will now break into small groups to put some last minute practice into our assigned projects. At nine o'clock parents will be arriving for the morning program. The picnic will follow, and a kitten ball game after that..."

There was the scurry of feet and excited tones as the youngsters broke into their groups. In one corner several students began practicing on their recitation pieces. Across the room in the other corner there was a small play in progress, and in each of the back corners there was the nervous flutter of activity as well. David went from group to group correcting, critiquing, and encouraging as needed.

The time flew quickly, while the room buzzed with the students' commitment to their task. As the first of the parents began to arrive, the older students had just draped the back ground curtain across the clothes line borrowed for the program.
*************************************************************************************

"There!" Agnes said as she put the last plate into the hamper.

"Whoa! What did you put in here? Feels like the stove and the sink!" Jed teased as he picked it up and stumped out to the automobile with it. He arranged the hamper and the other few things then with a quiet 'whump' slammed the trunk lid shut.

"Did you leave enough room for Bessie's things too?" Agnes worried as he came back to the house.

"Of course!" he chided her. "Agnes, you do beat all!" he laughed at her concern. "Here, you get your hand bag, I'll get baby, and we'll be off."

"I don't know, Jed. Maybe the air will be too much...for Nissa?" Baby Nissa sat on Agnes' lap and patted the open window with her plump little hand and smiled as they bumped down the road and turned up the lane toward the Pickerell's farm house.

Bessie stood waiting on the porch and they had no sooner pulled to a stop when the porch door popped open and Karena Lewiston began carrying hampers of food toward the car.

"Jed!" Agnes exclaimed as he jumped out and hurried to help.

"You just wait there a moment! I'll help. I'm a comin'..." he scolded. With a quick step he met Karena and took the baskets from her.

"Now all we need are the quilts..." Mrs. Lewiston turned back toward the house and loaded the baskets into the trunk in the place he had prepared.

"How pleasant the day promises to be," Bessie heaved a sigh of contentment. They turned and drove up the soft dirt lane to the school house.

"After the bitter cold and snow of this last winter!" her mother clucked thinking of how the snow had left the roads wet with deep ruts. "Now they are dry and most of the ruts are smoothed out."

"Yes, it is so good to get out of the house after the long winter," Agnes said. "So good to see our neighbors," the automobile glided up the lane. It flowed along the dry path that was accustomed only to the bare feet of the students.

"The Trevor's new Buick is nice looking, don't you think?" Agnes watched as the Trevor family pulled up and parked beside them in the shade of the row of trees.

"Look at that team of Morgans! They aren't as massive as the Avery's Percherons, but they sure can pull...and look at 'em dance in that harness!"

The trace chains jingled as the chestnut colored horses fairly shimmered in the morning sunlight, and the wagon rolled smoothly along the path. The pair of horses, full of spring time sap lifted their feet in a prance as their silky flaxen manes and tails crowned with red and blue ribbons waved with the gentle breeze. Bandit, the Goodnite's trusty border collie, trotted in his usual place beside the wagon.

"Jed, you've always been a gonner for a good horse!" Agnes chided with her characteristic warm smile.

"Can't help it, it's in the blood," he said and watched as the Goodnite family wagon rolled to a stop under the tree closest to the front of the building. Jed's gaze followed Augustus Goodnite as he jumped from the drivers seat to the ground. The well trained team stood still as if tethered, the border collie dog, with one white streaked eye and one black streaked eye, dropped just under the middle of the wagon where he was accustomed to wait for his family.

"Good morning!" Jed called to Augustus as they walked to the school house steps.

"G'd mornin', neighbr!" Augustus called back with a wave. Augustus, dressed in his starched white shirt and bib overalls, his handlebar mustache-- waxed and perfectly twirled-- strode around to where missus Goodnight waited until her husband came to help her down from the seat.

"Morning...Angus, Fred," Jed nodded at the Averys and Summers as they stood in a group at the bottom of the school house steps.

"Mornin', they all nodded in return and the ladies smiled their reply.

Jed stood back to allow Agnes, Bessie, and Mrs. Lewiston to enter first. The other neighbors soon funneled into the school house behind them.


"Dolly, what a lovely dress!" Agnes found a seat behind Augustus and his wife. "I've been looking for some material like that...where did you find yours?" she said as she admired Dolly's dusty rose mohair. "and how did you find that matching cloche? Is that the new style in hats this spring?"

The anticipation hummed in the air, it showed on their faces and in their manners as they took their seats in the school room. The school programs were an outlet for fun and entertainment...and they were important for the families as a gauge on the progress of their children in their studies.

At exactly nine fifteen, David walked to the front, and signaled with his hands for quiet, "Good morning, friends and neighbors. The announcer for our Eagle School District program this morning will be Howard Trevor, and to him I will now turn over the program." David walked to the back to watch out the windows and door. He greeted Mr. Benton, Mr. Hill, Mr. Randall, and Mr. Lewiston, the four members of the school board as they entered quietly. Mr. Randall chose to sit at the back, the others chose seats that looked out into the surrounding countryside.

Howard, dressed in his father's Sunday suit and tie, adopted a solemn attitude fitting his preeminence in the program.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbors," he stopped to adjust a fallen suspender. Howard a growing boy of fifteen, had begun on a growth spurt last summer, but the suit was tailored for a much taller grown man.

"We will now have the opening recitations by our two youngest class members." Howard had also borrowed his father's reading glasses thinking they would add an air of importance to his demeanor. He stopped to push them further up on his nose.

"Ruthie Goodnite and Sharon Summers will recite together several selections...." Standing in one spot he did have a certain distinguished air, however walking was a different matter. He made his way to the sidelines placing his steps one foot at a time--with a definite sway.

There were a few chortles from the audience, but--with some difficulty-- they retained their composure and merely smiled benignly as the first pair made their entrance.

Ruthie and Sharon, as primly as a pair of ballerinas in hard brown shoes, clomped across the board floor, and stationed themselves in the front. They stopped and stared at the audience for a full minute. They were almost a cameo pair, Sharon being a light blond, her wisps of hair escaping from her French braids, and Ruthie, her heavy black hair pulled into crisp French braids.

Sharon elbowed Ruthie. "Jack-in..." she began in a loud whisper.

"I know--I know! Let me!" Ruthie whispered back, cleared her throat, and her tiny voice began, "Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Preaches today," she enunciated each word.

"Under the green trees, Just over the way," Sharon answered.

After a pause Ruthie began another selection, "Can you count the stars that brightly, Twinkle in the midnight sky;"

"Can you count the clouds so lightly, O'er the meadows floating by?" again Sharon said her piece.

Another pause, and this time Sharon led, "If you should frown and I should frown, While walking out together..."

"The happy folk about the town would say, "The clouds are settling down in spite of pleasant weather."

Ruthie and Sharon smiled and curtsied, and the audience clapped enthusiastically. The performance would not have pleased them any more if they had just listened to the great singer, Jenny Lind. The two little girls scooted to their seats along the front and side of the room, all pretense of dignity cast aside.

Howard again came to the front. He had polished his father's glasses believing that would help him see better. It did not. He again swayed forward, walking more askew than before. "Next we will have a Science report from Annie and Sammy Summers, and Kenny Trevor," and with as much dignity as he could muster he backed off the stage.

Annie, Kenny, and Sammy were veterans from a number of these programs and their pieces went smooth as butter without flies.

"And now," Howard announced, "we have come to a highlight in our program."

The audience leaned forward in their seats. So far they enjoyed pieces of recitation, explanations of science projects, grammar demonstrations, even math competitions, the program was almost at the end, and what could be better than what they had seen?

"Our older students will perform a play. The play, called-- "Clever Manka"--has a clever moral. I challenge you to see if you can identify what it is... The main characters are: Gene Wade as 'the Judge', Larry Hill as 'Josef--Manka's father', Lila Avery as 'Manka', and..." here he took a deep bow and almost lost his glasses, "myself-- Howard Trevor-- as 'rich Farmer Holtz'. Don Avery as the announcer/narrator...Oh, and my brother, Bill, as 'billy goat'."

There was a titter of laughter at the announced last character. How clever...Bill and Billy; and everyone knew how stubborn--even at five years old--little Billy Trevor could be!

"And so Manka and the Judge went back to their own home...and he was always careful to never speak in riddles to..." the announcer, Don Avery brought the play to a close. The audience clapped enthusiastically as the Judge, Rich Farmer Holtz, the Poor shepherd (Manka's father) and the clever Manka herself, as well as the announcer...and the billy goat, took their well deserved bows.

Well, David thought as each class with nervous anticipation rose to the challenge, at last I can breathe a sigh of relief, for the program at least. Only Maude and Wanda have their song and this school year will be history. If only Howard would put those glasses away... David continued to keep one eye on the outside.

"Friends and neighbors," Howard, slightly ruffled from his change back to his previous finery, the glasses sitting at a crooked angle. "Our last piece for the morning will be..." Howard stopped in confusion, and blushed a rosy pink as the glasses slipped further down his nose. Maude and Wanda waited behind the curtain for their ques. Wanda smiled coquettishly around her grandmother's rose pink parasol. Her black hair loosed from its usual tight french braids fell in soft waves around her shoulders and down past her waist. The matching rose pink dress raided from her grandmother's closet along with the parasol may have been outdated, but Howard was not a fashion expert.

"Ah...Wanda...and ah Wanda will be singing... "Where oh where has my little dog gone?..." he finished his speech and stepped carefully to the back.

"Gene!" Howard whispered urgently, as he snatched the glasses off his nose, but found no where to put them.

"Shhh! Quiet, Howard..." Gene said, his harmonica poised to play for Wanda and Maude.

Howard shoved the glasses at Gene, "Take these things will ya!"

"Sure, now shhh!" Gene shoved the glasses in his coat pocket. He took a deep breath then began to play the introduction to the song on his harmonica...

The men of the school board were stationed by the open windows. The windows allowed the peaceful outside bird song to blend with the inside music. The mid May morning began to warm up. People sat engrossed in the program, and their quiet fans moved with a gentle rhythm. Mr. Randall had opened the schoolhouse door about the middle of the program, and a slight breeze moved fresh air into the school room. What an enjoyable program...what clever children...the parents congratulated themselves...

--David sighed--the program would soon be over...only the picnic to get through...

Wanda Goodnite and Maude Summers began to sing as the harmonica played from behind the curtain, "Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone? Oh where, oh where can he be?" The two young ladies twirled their parasols as they sang, first Maude sang, "With his ears cut short... then Wanda, "and his tail cut long..."

Outside under the wagon Bandit's head jerked up with the singing. He cocked his ears first one way then the next. It had been a lazy morning spent resting under the wagon. Was that his girl calling him? He trotted hesitantly up the steps to the door and peered in. Yes! There she was, calling him! He joyfully trotted through the open door, and click, click, click went his toe nails down the aisle.

David, keeping an eye on the outside as well as the inside, made a dive, but not quick enough to catch the furry intruder. The little dog moved quickly all the way to the front of the school house. There he plunked down, his haunches parked firmly on the hem of Maude's lovely blue gown. He cocked his head to the side, one ear up and one ear down happily panting.

With only a slight hesitation, Wanda and Maude began again,

"Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone..." Bandit yawned, yapped at them and his tail thumped. Maude tugged gently on her hem and tried to move Bandit with the toe of her shoe. He whined and yapped again.

"Pssst, Bandit! Bandit!" Ruthie's little voice whispered from behind the curtain. "Psst! Bandit! she called a little louder. The dog turned and cocked his head in her direction, then trotted toward her, taking the curtain with him....



"Howard!" Gene elbowed his fellow student, as David frantically motioned to Howard. "Howard--come on...get everybody out front with Maude and Wanda..."

"Little kids out front," Howard steered the little classes, and the older ones followed. The boys bowed and the girls curtsied as they had practiced and Bandit trotted out and sat in front.

"Well, folks," David said as the students took their seats, and the applause ended, "I hope you have enjoyed our program. I believe the young students have progressed well this year, and I trust you all agree. Thank you for your attendance...we will break now so the ladies can assemble the lunch and soon have our picnic in place. I'm wishful that you all will stay and enjoy the afternoon activities as well."

Green leaves waved in a soft warm breeze, almost too warm. Spring would soon be over. The tables groaned under their load of food. There may not have been much money, but farm families, and especially farm wives were frugal...and they could cook. The quilts spread around on the grass like so many huge flowers, and people scattered across the lawn made a festive, light-hearted appearance.

"Jedidiah James!"

"Yes, Agnes Sophia?" he gave her an innocent look.

"You have cake crumbs on your clean shirt," Agnes tried to look severe.

"My bib must have had a hole in it."

"And baby Nissa has similar looking crumbs on her pink little cheeks...and dress!" Agnes was shocked.

"Chocolate goes well with pink, and oh, look...I think they're getting up a game, Agnes!"

"You're going to spoil Nissa...oh! There he goes," she sputtered to Bessie as Jed joined some of the other men.

"I don't know which is more like a child...the child or the--man!" Bessie agreed with a laugh. "I think David's afraid Eric will miss out on something."

"Trevor!" Gene called to Howard. "Here's your glasses," he took them out of his pocket and handed them over. "You going to play kitten ball?"

"I think the men're talking it over. Maybe we'll play a few innings..." Howard told Gene as the boys walked off to put their plates back in their hampers. "Say," Howard whispered as he peered cautiously over the top of the hamper lid, "why is Mr. Avery and Mr. Summers glaring at me?"

"Aw, I don't know. He's been glaring at me too..." Gene glared back as the older men stared at the two young boys.

"Angus Avery reminds me of our old bull, short and stout ya know," Howard sniggered behind the cover of the hamper lid.

Gene turned away as he choked on laughter. "Howard, that's kind of disrespectful," he chided, "--even if it is true."

"And Fred Summers is a tall bald bean pole with an Adams ap..."

"Howard Allen Trevor the Third!" his mother's shocked voice spoke from beside her son.

He stopped speaking suddenly and cleared his throat, and straightened up taller, "Yes, ma'am? I didn't hear you coming, Ma..."

"I'm sure you didn't, son...now get on with you! And mind your manners!" she swatted him with a dish towel.

The boys walked over behind an elm tree. Mrs. Trevor could not see them, but from the way they were hooting with laughter...She sighed and shook her head.

"I say it's a shame. That thief and vandal ought not be socializing with decent children!" Mr. Summers scoffed. "Here he is as big as life...just like nothin' ever happened."

"I s'pose I got to agree," Mr. Avery hesitated then nodded his head.

"Say," Fred Summers called out to Orville Hill, "what ya think about that Wade boy associatin' with our children?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Hill asked confused.

"Well, we all know he stole that money from the hotel, and broke those shop windows..."

"Wait a minute...what do you mean we know...what?" Orville asked.

"He was caught stealin' money, and breakin' those windows..." Fred's Adams apple worked up and down as spoke.

"What do you say, Mr. Avery?" Orville turned his focus to the other man.

"Well...I guess, I got to agree...don't I?" Mr. Avery asked.

"Jerrold...Mr. Lewiston--," Orville called out to his fellow member of the school board.

"Yah?" Jerrold said as he joined the group

"What do you say to Mr. Summers charge..." Mr. Hill asked, "against the young Wade boy? He says the boy was caught stealing money, and breaking windows..."

"I say he is a fourteen year young lad, who was in da wrong place at da wrong time. An dis is da picnic for da last day of school dis spring...an we all ought to have a goot time. I say Mr. Avery, you forget who it was dat saved your Don from getting da daylights knocked out of him-- an him being so sick dat year. Some thanks you got! If you, Mr. Summers have complaint, bring it to the board meeting next time. Now, go have another helping of apple strudel, and we all will have a goot time...and no more of this!" Mr. Lewiston spoke with good humor, but there was an icy glint to his blue eyes.

Mr. Avery hung his head, "Now that I think on it, the children--all of them--have nothing but good to say about the Wade boy..." he said as he walked off with his hands in his overall pockets.

Mr. Summers' Adams apple worked up and down, but no one dared cross Jerrold Lewiston. Of course, Summers thought, Mr. Lewiston and Mr. Hill were--in a round about way related. David Pickerell was Mr. Hill's nephew, and Bessie was a Lewiston...his eyes narrowed...and they were real close company with the Wades... I just don't like it, his thoughts flew around in his mind like a hive of angry bees...I just don't like it!

"It's good for them to have a day of fun," Mrs. Trevor sat on an improvised plank seat.

"Strike three! You're out!" David shouted.

"It's good for us too," Bessie agreed as baby Eric lay sleeping on a quilt in the shade.

"It was a long cold winter," Mrs. Avery said with a sigh.

If a greater pair of opposites could exist, Agnes thought as she flicked a fly off of sleeping baby Nissa, she didn't know how. She watched as Mr. Avery took his turn at bat. He was a short beefy man with black hair and a heavy black mustache, the picture of good health. Mrs. Avery was a thin sallow looking woman with scraggly blond hair.

"Good time for a break for refreshments..."

"Your husband seems to be a might better with the return of spring," Mrs. Trevor, a middle-aged woman of thirty-five spoke kindly to Bessie.

"Yes. Yes, I think we are all improving," Bessie returned her smile. "Eric is over his colic spell, and I'm feeling better too."

"I just haven't never got back on my feet after that trouble I had with the last child birth--the baby we lost, you know," Mrs. Avery said with out emotion. "I just can't seem to get much better...just feel poorly much of the time..."

"Jed, don't you wake up that baby!" Agnes scolded.

"What a game!" he wiped his face with his handkerchief, and dipped his cup full from the water bucket. "Thanks, Randy! Good cold water!" Jed exclaimed.

"You're welcome, Mr. Wade," Randy Trevor set the bucket on the end of the picnic table before running out to join the other boys.

"I think we old men can still play purty goot!" Mr. Lewiston and Mr. Benson dipped some water into their cups also.

"You have an advantage," Jed screwed up his face into a frown.

"Ya, sure, and what is dat?"

"You're Norwegian?"

"Correction...were Norwegian. Now we are American!"

"Ha, ha! That's right! Say...who's that?" Jed watched a flashy red Oldsmobile crept up the lane. "Did some major league team hear about how good we play ball and come to offer us contracts?"

Mr. Benson and Mr. Lewiston exchanged glances. "I think we will wait to see..."

David had seen the dust cloud rolling down the road, and now leaning against an elm tree, he watched the automobile and turn into the school lane. He had hoped his information was wrong, but apparently...

A familiar figure dressed in snazzy suit stepped out of the driver's side, "Afternoon!" he leaned against the open door. "Just came to visit my old school house...and chums," he said with a sly look at the people scattered about, some on their quilts, some on the make shift benches.

The younger boys were gearing up for the ball game. Howard and Gene looked at each other then back at the auto as five more young toughs stepped out and slammed the car doors shut. They lounged up against the auto as Reece spoke again.

"What? No warm welcome? I brought some friends and we wanted to play some ball... who wants to play ball with me and my guys?"

"Ya, we'll play a game with ya, Reece..." Jerrold Lewiston agreed and stepped forward. "Come on out to da ball diamond..."

"Greg!" Reece snapped his fingers.

A dark haired older kid sauntered around to the back of the Oldsmobile and opened the trunk.

"Hey!" Gene whispered at Howard. Howard swallowed as if he had a whole egg in his throat. "Let me have the bat..."

"No," Howard hissed back, "I'm goin' down swinging! There's one behind you..." he motioned to the extra bat laying on the ground.

"What's the matter, Wade?" Reece's face was twisted into a sneer. "Don't ya want to play my game?" the exchange had caught his eye.

In one smooth motion Gene picked up the bat from behind him. He had spent the last five years working outside in the cold and heat, lifting heavy loads, pitching hay, mucking stalls, all the things a farm boy did every day, year in and year out. There was not an ounce of fat on his body, he was wiry and muscular.

"No, we're ready Reece. This seems to be your style...six of you against two. You always were a coward," Gene countered.

"Well, at least I'm not a thief--and one that goes around breaking store windows..."

"In da game of Kitten ball, we only need one, maybe two bats," Mr. Lewiston spoke in a mild voice. "Reece...you an' your pals can put your bats over here."

"Whaa?" Reece scowled in Mr. Lewiston's direction. What was that --chink--chink--? Reece's countenance changed slowly as he looked down the barrel of one after another farmer's rifles or shot guns.

The dark haired young man, Greg dropped several of the bats he carried in his arms. With a clatter they landed at his feet, and the other four young men scrambled to pick them up.

"We have no official rules, of course," Jerrold continued, "but I think we play by our rules, not yours...put your bats in a pile here..." he pointed to a spot by his feet.

The bats again clattered to the ground at the end of the picnic table while the group waited. "Now, you boys come down to da diamond, like I said...an da game we will play," Mr. Lewiston said with a good humored smile, the silver tooth gleamed as he nodded his head agreeably.

"But Mr. Lewiston, we only have six players..." Reece pointed out.

"Not to be concerned...we will choose up teams. You know how we do."

Reece scowled, but eyed the weapons that still stood guard. "But we aren't dressed to play ball..."

Willie and Sam Potter wished they had stayed in town, like their younger brother, Spike had warned them...Greg, Sandy, and Maurice wondered when the next train to Chicago ran.

"You came to play ball," Lewiston shrugged. Our teams are divided up. You three--you are on that team...you other three...there on that team. And we're ready to play ball.

So, this is what country bumpkins were like...Greg, Sandy, and Maurice were confused. Every one from the big city knew these country farmers would be easy prey...what had happened? Play ball? This wasn't the game they had come to play, but...play they would.

The teams took a few practice throws to warm up before Jerrold Lewiston called from out on the playing field, "Let's play ball!"


"Why do you suppose we are so popular today?" Mr. Benson pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his face as two more automobiles turned up the lane.

The first vehicle barely pulled to a stop before the door popped open. A man in a grey suit hurried forward, revolver drawn, then stopped short.
He surveyed the country-fied ball field, teams in place and a game just getting started.

"Who's in charge here?" he demanded.

"We were having a last game of ball here, an these young men were anxious to join our game..." Mr. Benson explained. "The game just got started...Why don't you have yourself a plate," Mr. Benson nodded at his wife, Elsie, "and settle back for the game?"

"We had some information that there was trouble here..." the sheriff dropped his gun back into its holster, and pushed his fedora back on his head. He gazed with a puzzled frown at the game proceeding in a peaceful manner. The teams were an odd mix of farm boys dressed in their overalls and either barefoot, or lace up boots, farm caps kept the sun out of their eyes--then there was the other guys...they had removed their jackets, but still wore white shirts, good slacks, and dress shoes.

"Thank you, ma'am, but..." he began to refuse the plate heaped with food that Elsie Benson offered him, when his eyes rested on the rifle leaning against the picnic table. "What is going on here!" his eyes narrowed and he observed several such items close to the hands of their owners.

"Like I said, these fellows were real anxious to join our game, Sheriff."

"Why, thank you, Mrs. Benson," Sheriff Roy had a change of mind. "I do think I'll enjoy this game..."

Of all the school exercises there was only one that Reece really enjoyed...and missed...since he had left this stupid country school...and that was playing ball. He was not good at those other things. Things like arithmetic, spelling, grammar, physiology, Latin--not Reece King. But ball? He did miss playing ball, even with these country bumpkins.

Reece's eyes narrowed against the blazing sun, he wiped the dirt and sweat off his forehead with what had been a nice white sleeve. His shirt wore sweat and dirt stains, that slide into first base had left its mark on his dignified suit, thankfully someone had lent him their lace up boots...loafers were no good for playing ball, and he had never liked the feel of walking barefoot...

Reece stared intently as Gene wound up the ball for the pitch. He had let two pitches go by already--a ball and a strike--he should have swung at the second, the first one was outside, what would this one be? Wade was a good pitcher, you never knew what he had up his sleeve. There was a runner on second, Reece's team was behind two points, and they had two outs. The ball left the pitcher's hand coming at him fast, this was it...Reece swung with every ounce of strength he had, he put everything behind that swing...

Every eye followed the ball as it flew up, and up, and seemed to go forever. It was the last play of the day, and what a way to end! No one seemed to mind that it was Reece King, they did not seem to mind that he could not spell, work Geometry, speak Latin...

"Here's your boots, Trevor..." Reece unlaced the boots and threw them to Howard. "Thanks," he grunted. He slid his feet back into his own loafers.

"S'allright. You weren't going to do anything in those things," Howard motioned toward the 'city' shoes Reece had been wearing. "And I've lived barefoot most of my life," Howard said pulling on his socks and boots. "That was some home run!"

"Yeah...it was a good game...good pitching, Wade," Reece darted a glance up at Gene.

"Yeah, it was a good game, and your pals didn't do too bad either, Reece," Gene said shaking his head.

"They used to play where they were from...guess we're ready Sheriff..." Reece stood up.

"I should lock 'em up on some charges, but what?" Sheriff Roy puzzled. "You know, that last hit was sure something! Even them boys from Chicago didn't do bad!" The sheriff hesitated as his eyes wandered back over the empty playing field. "All right boys, into the vehicles. Reece, my man Lyle there," he pointed to one of his deputies, "he'll drive your automobile back to the station. You boys," he pointed at Reece and his group, "ought to be thankful..."

"Yeah? What for?" Greg from Chicago said rubbing his feet and limping toward the automobile.

"The last ruffians from your Chicago area that visited here..." Sheriff Roy stopped to finish his thought. "Them ruffians stole Mr. Ferrel's team--I think their automobile ran out of gas...anyway, they broke into someone's pantry and stole some food, then they stole ole farmer Ferrel's horses as he was shaving at the pantry mirror that morning...why the whole community was in a hullabaloo! They trailed them folks over to that stand of woods over there," the sheriff pointed to a stand of trees in a hollow about half a mile away, "and shot 'em."

All six young men turned a slight pale color. Sandy, Greg, and Maurice thought the big city sounded a little more safe as they hurried into the waiting autos.

"Thank you, folks for the food...and entertainment, the sheriff said with a wave as the automobile doors chunked shut. "Should do this again...sometime soon, he called out of the open window."

"A tie!" David swirled the coffee in his cup and grinned at Gene. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"Could have went either way...the way I figured we all need a break some time. Reece has a rotten personality, but he's a good ball player," Gene stuck the last chunk of apple pie in his mouth and polished off his milk.

"Speaking of a break, Alistair is taking Mother and the girls on a cruise to Europe. He asked special if you would like to go with us?" the light in David's eyes danced as Gene stopped chewing and choked on his pie.

"Gene Wade!" Agnes scolded and she handed him a napkin. "Next time don't take so big a bite!"

"Not the bite..." he sputtered.

"Don't try to get out of it. I know boys your age!"

"David..."

"He already asked us first. Do you think you'd like to go?"

"Would I like to go?!"

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Going Home

It's Sunday morning, we are driving toward our destination--the church building which is in a town about fifteen to twenty miles from our home. It is a lovely morning, and we are not late--yet--but there is no time to dawdle.

In our neck of the woods one car is a traffic jam, and lo and behold we find ourselves trailing behind another vehicle headed in the same general direction. We are thinking of passing, but the driver in the other car is noticeably weaving. First he is over the yellow line, next he is back in the middle, then over the center, or bouncing along the shoulder.

The first inclination is the person has been tipping a bottle or some such thing, and I think, 'How awful!' But I'm then reminded of the times we have found ourselves so tired, yet so close to home...and we are sure we can --with just a little more perseverance-- make it to our home...

John 14:2 In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. 3) And if I go and prepare a place for you, I come again, and will receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

We traveled along behind for about seven miles watching the vehicle weaving from side to side. When we got to town, he turned at main street just like we did then drove down past the business district, and on out past where our church building sat. That was where we parted company, he going on north and we pulled into a parking spot.

I've wondered a number of times if the person made it on home. I believe he did, but many things flit through my mind during the thought process. You see, we are all travelers, travelers on the highway of life. This blog is about Christians and going home. Some Christians, like the fellow in the vehicle, are weaving all over trying to stay on the road. They are tired. Perhaps they have worked all night and just want to make it home. Perhaps they have wandered off track completely and need a change in directions...whatever the case, this blog is to let others know that someone wants to see them make it home.

Some posts are funny, some sad, and yet others are just thought provoking. They are still here with the intention of helping others on their pilgrim journey to find their way home.

2Timothy 4:8 henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give to me at that day; and not to me only, but also to all them that have loved his appearing.

Home....

Hallelujah. What a Saviour!

Friday, November 20, 2009

Making the Connection

"Our first child was so perfect. She was smart and talented. When she went to school, she did everything just like she was supposed to. Things went well. Then our second daughter was born...well, she was different than the first. She had a learning problem. Her teacher told us, 'if you had had only one child, you would have thought you were the best parents in the world'."

The speaker says, "You are kind of like that--only backwards. If you had had only two children you would have thought you were the worst parents in the world."

Raising children. Hmm, that's a very difficult topic.

In the preface of the book the author writes--When I was right out of college I had ten rules for raising children...but no children. Now I have children, and ...not one of my rules is left.-- Sound familiar?

Rule number one: Never think you 'know it all'. 1Corinthians 10:12 Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.

My friend Lin says in embarrassment, "I used to take my two perfect daughters to church and they sat and were just as good! And I never quite understood why those 'other kids' were noisy, and...they just weren't as well behaved as my two. Then Charity was born. I have repented of my previous attitude, I don't know how many times!"

I don't know how many times, as I watched some childish misbehavior, I have at least thought "I would just die, if my children ever did that!' and turned around to find that, yes indeed, there they were--doing the same thing...or something worse! And no, I didn't die, but I was looking for the proverbial 'hole in the ground'.

"I have never met any 'perfect parents'," my son says as he waves his fork in the air.

"No, there are no perfect parents, that's true," someone says agreeing. "But I know several people who BELIEVE they are the perfect parents."

What is the measure of a 'good parent'? Is it that all of your children are perfect?

"I just look and see how people's children have turned out...then I follow what they have done."

Really? The problem with that is all things are never quite equal. What may look like the 'perfect' plan with one child or in one family, may not be right with another child, or in another family. We can (and often do) listen to the experts tell us how and what to do, but honestly most experts aren't--experts. One book I have found helpful (after, of course, almost all of my children were raised) is 'Train Up a Child' by Gwendolyn Webb. There were common sense answers to common problems.

"Spanking children teaches them violence," my acquaintance states knowledgeably.

"If that is so, why is it MY generation (and most previous ones as well) that were disciplined by spanking were not as violent per se, and the Spock and forward generations that are undisciplined are much more violent?" I question. She has no answer.

Luke 7:35 And wisdom is justified of all her children.

"Well, they may not have been perfect parents, but they were the best ones I had!"

One thing we all need to keep in mind are the teachings of God. God's answers are right, and He is the Perfect Parent.

The parent/child cycle will continue. The child today will be the parent of tomorrow. What seems unfair to the child today, may make perfect sense to the parent of tomorrow.

And God's ways are the key to having happy successful homes and families.

It is most always easier to raise children...when you are a child. Children often can tell Dad and Mom how to raise children. Or it is often easy to raise children...when you have no children....

Proverbs 16:2 All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes; But Jehovah weigheth the spirits. 3) Commit thy works unto Jehovah, And thy purposes shall be established.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

More...

"Well, that's just your opinion," someone answers crossly when you point out the need for...well, just about anything they don't want to do.

At what point does failure to do what God commands become something that will cost a person their soul?

Acts 2:38 And Peter said unto them, Repent ye, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ unto the remission of your sins; and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Two older women sit reading and studying their Bibles together. One of the ladies turns to Acts 2:38 and says to her companion, "See, right here, we are commanded to be baptized. It says plainly--repent and be baptized--."

"It doesn't say that in my Bible," the other woman says.

The first woman can't believe her friend is so blind, "Well, just turn to Acts 2:38 and you can read it yourself!" she insists.

"It isn't in my Bible," the other woman says testily. "I cut it out."

How many of us would be so bold, yet, how many do that very thing if not in fact at least in their own mind.

"I just don't think God will judge me in this..."

We know there are sins of omission, and sins of commission. The ones are sins of things we fail to do for whatever reason, and the other are sins we commit...for whatever reason.

Luke 12:47 And that servant, who knew his lord's will, and made not ready, nor did according to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes; 48) but he that knew not, and did things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes. And to whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required: and to whom they commit much, of him will they ask the more.

What a quandary, to be beaten by the Lord, or to be beaten by the people.

Ezekiel 33:6 But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned, and the sword come, and take any person from among them; he is taken away in his iniquity, but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand.

Some things seem so simple that people don't see the sense of it and therefore decide they don't need to do it. However, just because you don't see the need...

"Well," the speaker gives the illustration, "the young man's father is going on a trip. And he tells the son, "Son while I'm gone I want you to fix the fence over here, plant a tree in this spot here by the fence, and paint the barn red."

The father leaves, and the son looks things over. Indeed, the fence needs repair, and the tree will go nicely where his father wants it planted, so he follows those instructions. After all that is finished he goes down to the barn and inspects that project, but decides that his father is wrong, that barn doesn't really need painted....

"In what has the son followed his father's instructions?" the speaker asks. "In nothing." He decided what he would do, and as long as it agreed with what he WANTED to do--that's what he did. He did what he wanted to do."

So, the question comes to each of us...what are we doing? What are you doing? What am I doing? Let us do the will of the Father.

Matthew 17:5 While he was yet speaking, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them: and behold, a voice out of the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him.

Luke 20:13 And the lord of the vineyard said, What shall I do? I will send my beloved son; it may be they will reverence him. 14) But when the husbandmen saw him, they reasoned one with another, saying, This is the heir; let us kill him, that the inheritance may be ours. 15) And they cast him forth out of the vineyard, and killed him. What therefore will the lord of the vineyard do unto them? 16) He will come and destroy these husbandmen, and will give the vineyard unto others. And when they heard it, they said, God forbid.

What can we learn? First thing: Jesus is the beloved Son. Second thing: we are commanded to hear (follow and obey) Him. And third, if we don't reverence him--The obvious conclusion is we will be destroyed. Only two choices, only two paths.

Hallelujah! What a Saviour!

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

From Grandma's Button Box

"Mom, I need a couple-a-buttons sewed on my coveralls."

"Oh, you do? Why's that?" I ask.

"They have gotten baggy, and they would be more...snug this way," he demonstrates--showing me where he wants the extra buttons placed. "Will you do that for me?"

Time, you know, is always short these days, but later in the evening I do indeed have him pull out my 'button box'--actually an 'antique' can with a screw on lid.

"Ho, buddy, what about this one?" I hold up a gold filigree button. His look of disdain and a short, "hmp" is his answer. I chuckle and continue to sort through the pretty buttons scattered on my table.

We do find two buttons, I mark where he wants them placed, and I begin sewing them on. I pause to look at the button box buttons still scattered where I left them. My mind wanders back to my Grandma's button box as I look at the many pretty buttons.

"There is a story of a young girl who made a necklace from pretty buttons from her mother's button box. There are stories of important people using their buttons as special signs to other people who have befriended them....

Matthew 13:47 Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a net, that was cast into the sea, and gathered of every kind: 48) which, when it was filled, they drew up on the beach; and they sat down, and gathered the good into vessels, but the bad they cast away. 49) So shall it be in the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the righteous, 50) and shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be the weeping and the gnashing of teeth.

I am reminded of the 'net' that was cast into the sea and gathered of every kind. I can look through the button box, and indeed, there are every kind of button. From the intricate lacy gold button to the plain functional plastic button. There are many different colors, shapes, and sizes. I have every kind of button imaginable, but buttons, no matter whether fancy or plain, have a purpose.

"Oh, look--the shank is broken off this button. It is rather pretty, but it isn't any good!"

I have pondered over this parable of Jesus for many years. It wasn't until I was teaching a young girls class that I began to comprehend the message. If the kingdom--the church--is like unto a net that gathered of every kind, then when they sat down and began to 'sort through' the contents of the kingdom...

Many people believe that once they obey the gospel their ticket is punched for heaven. They are part of the kingdom and they are on their way!

Ephesians 2:10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God afore prepared that we should walk in them.

There seems to be two schools of thought: one--that we are saved THROUGH our own good works, or two--that we can't do anything to gain salvation. Well, yes and no. We can't EARN our salvation, but just like a broken button that is pretty, if we don't fulfill our purpose we are useless. As Ephesians says we are: "created in Christ Jesus FOR good works".

I want to be 'gathered into the vessels with the good', not like 'the bad they cast away'. Therefore, getting one's ticket punched is a good start. It is a necessary part, but it is only part.

Philippians 3:12 Not that I have already obtained, or am already made perfect: but I press on, if so be that I may lay hold on that for which also I was laid hold on by Christ Jesus. 13) Brethren, I count not myself yet to have laid hold: but one thing I do, forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching forward to the things which are before, 14) I press on toward the goal unto the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.

Let us continue to press on, lay hold, stretch forward--unto the prize, unto the high calling of God...in Christ Jesus!

Monday, November 16, 2009

Past...and Present

I listened to the speaker as she briefly related the highlights of her life. Her actions carried to my ears and eyes a slightly different message than what she was saying with her mouth. "My mother was a single mom, and life was hard for her..."

What I felt she was saying was: "I know it was hard for her...my brain accepts that...it was hard for me, and in my heart I still hurt."

Anger, resolved or unresolved, sometimes it is hard to let go. We often seek to understand things, wrestling with emotional demons that continually throw us to the ground. These feelings can make us feel unworthy, unloved, and often as not unloving.

Colossians 3:12 Put on therefore, as God's elect, holy and beloved, a heart of compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, longsuffering; 13) forbearing one another, and forgiving each other, if any man have a complaint against any; even as the Lord forgave you, so also do ye:

It is at times hard to forgive the slights that happen on a day to day basis, but time often dulls the antagonistic feeling from people's unkind or thoughtless words or actions.

The baggage we carry from childhood appears to be that which wounds the deepest.

"That woman doesn't deserve your love or compassion!" My cousin has just found out that my mother is dying of cancer.

As a Christian we are commanded to forgive...from the heart.

Have you ever seen children playing and the one play fellow does something...takes the others turn or toy, or perhaps pushes or shoves--most of us have witnessed the scene. Then the offender is brought to justice: "Say you're sorry...right now!"

Little tyke mumbles into his/her shirt something that sounds much like the words, "I'm sorry". But are they? And if they are what are they sorry for? If they are sorry for anything it is usually that they have been caught.

"She really wasn't a very good mother, was she?" Another cousin states.

"No, she wasn't," I answer with a sigh. But my mind goes back. I'm not thirty any more...matter-of-fact in a year and a half I'll be the same age she was when she passed away. I think back to the time when I was twenty, twenty-five, thirty--could I have navigated those years any better--or even as well--without God?

I remember the difficulties we went through raising our children. It was not easy--not even for two--let alone a single person. I am not excusing nor accusing. She made her decisions, and good or bad we all partook of the fruit of those decisions.

Ephesians 4:32 and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, even as God also in Christ forgave you.

Emotions are tough things to get around. I am still ashamed at my attitude as a young person. My mother married and divorced four times--twice to the last man--wending her way through life--as many would say today--doing things HER way. I remember my mother at one point when life looked pretty bleak, crying, "I just want to be loved."

I was not old enough to love beyond the hurt, and I was honest enough I could not reach out and say to her, "I love you," or even express in a hopeful mode, "I will love you, someday".

No, she wasn't a very good mother, but how many of us would stand up to our own scrutiny? She wasn't a bad person, just a lost and lonely person. Not being able to change the past, there is no reason to dwell on, or agonize over it.

Human nature being what it is, why do most people--instead of learning and changing from painful childhoods--follow in those same paths?

"Oh, that person had a traumatic childhood. That is why they..."

Excuse me? Exactly--that is an excuse, but not a reason. When people follow in those paths it is because they CHOOSE to follow in them. The paths of least resistance, you see.

Lamentations 3:22 It is of Jehovah's lovingkindnesses that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. 23) They are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness. 24) Jehovah is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.

1Corinthians 15:10 But by the grace of God I am what I am:....

Hallelujah! What a Saviour!

Friday, March 27, 2009

The Year Turns 21

There was not any air moving as Gene sat in the porch swing. He held up the piece of cherry wood, closed one eye and squinted at his creation. Blowing the dust and some of the shavings off, he started carving on the other wing of the figure.

"I thought you were going to get your shoes resoled," Agnes and Jed took a break at the kitchen table close to the open window.

"Well, Reggie had those shoes made for a customer, and the fellow backed out of buying them. Reggie gave me a good deal on the shoes, same price it would have cost to get these resoled, so I took the shoes. I can always keep the papers in my shoes...till I can get 'em reworked, that is."

"You did get a good deal on the shoes. They fit well, and Gene sure likes them. But you're going to have to get something done with those pretty soon, Jed..."

Gene stopped whittling, and wiped his brow with his sleeve. So, that's why his Uncle hadn't gotten his shoes resoled like he threatened to do all spring. Gene began methodically working on his wood again pondering while he cut the curlicues.

"All in time. It's been so hot and dry...sure a good thing I didn't sell any of my surplus last year," Jed exclaimed measuring paper from the old catalog.

"It's that bad isn't it," Agnes agreed thinking on her stunted garden. "There wasn't anything but dust when I planted my garden, and what did find moisture enough to come up," she grimaced and shook her head. Well, with no rain...nothing. Grasshoppers...and...some kind of worms keep eating off anything that's growing above the ground..."

"Yeah, the oats came up and started, but they're pretty well cooked. Nothing to 'em. If this hot weather keeps up it'll cook the corn in the field too," Jed said as he finished placing the paper in his shoes.

"I'm so thankful we have the spring down on the east forty. Don't know what we'd do for watering the stock otherwise. Bessie said their well has dried up, and a number of other farmers around have the same problem. Wells have dried up and they don't have any water-"

"The ones that're really hurting are the ones that went out and bought that big machinery, and bought the land...now they can't pay up. And the livestock--they don't have feed for 'em, but what's worse in this drought they can't even water 'em. I saw it acomin'! Seems like folks just don't watch." Jed spoke up.

"I just don't know, Jed." Agnes paused thoughtfully. "You don't suppose David's on to something--do you?"

"I just can't figure that God, being so high and all, I just can't figure that he really cares about us puny folks down here."

"God doesn't always answer us exactly how we think he should," she thought of the number of prayers she had sent heavenward for a baby, a child of their own, "but I kind of feel like he cares...I've been reading my Bible more, and it says that God cares. We still have a few eggs and cream to trade at least."

"I plan on going in on Friday morning if you need some time to get things together. Right now I'm just going to go work on some wood working in the shop. Guess I could oil the harness too--while I'm at it..."

"Uncle Jed, why do you still do most of your farming with the horses? Couldn't you do more work, and faster with a tractor?" Gene asked as they drove along the dusty road into town on Friday morning.

"I figure it this way, Gene," he waved to a neighbor walking down the street. "Why go into debt when a good horse can do more'n one thing? They're versatile, and a good horse is cheaper. Besides, when I talk to my horse he understands. I can walk along side a horse an' wagon, when I want Ol' Ras to move ahead, I says to him, Git up there Ras! He moves ahead some an' I say, Whoa! Boy! And he stops. A tractor? Folks get ta thinkin' something's wrong with a feller that talks to his tractor," he said with a grin. "After we unload the cream and eggs here at Hockstedt's Creamery I've got some business at the dry goods store. Help me unload--then I'll meet you at the Doolittle's," Jed turned off the engine and they went to the trunk for the produce.

"Meet me at Doolittle's," Jed reminded Gene with a wave as the boy started out at a brisk pace toward up town. He passed the Opera house on the corner of the square, walked past the G. A. Undertakers and Furniture shop and Mr. Glen's Barber shop, with its red and white barber's pole outside.

Neil King drove into town and parked in front of the First National Bank. "I'll be down to the Barber shop after I finish here." He flipped Reece a shiny quarter, "...here's a quarter, you can meet me at Mr. Glen's in about forty-five minutes," he told Reece as he turned toward the large brick bank building.

Reece eyed the candy section at Miller's Dry Goods Emporium. A quarter sure didn't buy much, he frowned thinking of the days at his father's store when he would just help himself to the wares.

"Hey!"

He glanced up as a familiar voice spoke close beside him. "What ya doin' Spike?" he asked.

"Aw, you know the usual. Not much. Pa's here to get a hair cut and some groceries for Ma." The big kid shrugged. "Haven't seen you around much lately. What're you doin'?"

"Bout the same as you," he made his selection and headed up to the counter to pay. The two boys walked outside and started down the sidewalk. Reece took a piece of his candy. "Where's Willie and Sam?"

"There they are, coming up the side walk," Spike pulled something out of his pocket. "Here," he said handing goodies to the others as they stood beside him.

"You didn't get me none of those WhizBangThings," Sam complained as he stuck some candy in his mouth.

"Aw, shut up! Ole Lady Miller was watchin' me too close...if it hadn't a been for Reece here you wouldn't a got what ya did..."

Reece scowled, "I don't like it when you steal when I'm around."

"Aw, lighten up. I'm not stealin' from you, besides my Pa can't afford stuff like your Pa can," he said with a shrug.

Reece popped another piece of candy into his mouth and watched as Gene Wade came out of Reggie's Shoe Repair across the street from where he stood outside Mr. Glen's Barber Shop...

Gene had an idea and as he went from Reggie's Shoe Repair, to the Littleton Star Laundry, the Hotel Exchange, and several other businesses along the square it seemed to fall into place. Now all he needed was Uncle Jed's permission. After stopping at the Littleton Hotel on the other side of the street, he headed toward Doolittle's.

"Mornin'! Where ya goin' in such a hurry..." as Gene came around the corner Spike Nelson and two of his pals barred his path.

"I'm going to meet my Uncle over at Doolittle's," Gene started around Spike, only to have one of the other fellows grab his arm.

"Not so fast. We want to have a little chat with you--" with a leer the second boy grabbed his other arm.

"Yeah," Gene spoke quickly. "You guys think you're pretty big stuff, don't you? Easy enough for three of you big dopes to beat up one guy. Too bad it takes all three of you to whip one of me..."

"Whaa..." Spike had wound up a punch, but he stopped in mid air.

"You heard what I said," Gene taunted him. "You're cowards. You couldn't fight me one at a time. It takes all three--you're scared to try a fair fight!"

"Who you callin' a coward?" Spike's face darkened into a heavy scowl. "I'm no coward! Let 'im go Willie--Sam. Yeah, I'll fight ya one on one!" he started to square off for a fight, his fists pummeling the air.

"Just a second," Gene said unlacing his boots. He tied them together. Spying David walking down the sidewalk, "David!" he called out, "here, hold my boots will ya?"

"Sure," David came over and took the boots. "What's going on?"

"Just hold the boots, please." Gene turned back to face his opponent.

The pair circled each other for a time. Gene just biding his time not getting in a hurry. He knew Spike's kind wouldn't wait long. Shortly, Spike threw a punch, but Gene ducked and wheeled out of range. Flustered, Spike moved back in and threw another punch. This maneuver went on for a short time, and each time Spike threw a punch and missed he became more angry.

Gene's wiry body was deceptively thin. In the last two years it had filled out and had become hard and muscular from the rigors of farm work. He danced and moved about easily, not throwing any punches, just staying out of reach. Spike, continuing to waste energy throwing punches, was beginning to wear down and tire from the unaccustomed exercise.

Gene moved in quickly and with a short jab to the jaw, caught Spike off guard. Spike swung a fist back at Gene, but he was wide and wild. Gene ducked back out of range, then moved in again. A quick jab with his left, caught Spike on the other jaw.

How--and why--am I in this fight? Spike wondered. Who is this crazy kid? That Reece King! He had said this kid would be easy--as thin and light as he was--called him a country bumpkin. Reece had promised him fifty cents... Spike's head began to reel as Gene continued to jab and feint. He'd never seen him before today, and he wasn't sure he wanted to ever see him again.

"Hey! Hey!" David poured water on Spike's head as he lay in the dusty side street. "Hey, come on, big guy," he repeated.

"He's alright isn't he?" Gene worried. "I didn't mean to harm him none. It's just they were going to whip me up, and I figured..."

"No, he's alright. He's coming around," David helped Spike sit up. "Come on big guy."

Between David and Gene they got him over to the curb and helped him sit down. "I--I'm sorry, fella. Didn't mean you any harm," Gene apologized.

"Here," a voice above them spoke and a hand shoved something at Gene. "You deserve this. Go have an ice cream. You and that kid there."

Gene looked at the money in his hand, and stood up to watch Neil King marching his son toward their car. "What?" surprise was written on Gene's face as he turned to David. "What was that?"

Glen, the barber, stood at the entrance to the side street, chuckling. "Reece didn't realize when he made a deal with Spike there...his Pa was standing in the doorway... overheard the whole conversation...I think Reece will have a new understanding of life real soon... Come on over to Green's Soda Fountain--it's on the house. Haven't seen a better fight in a long time, boy!"

"Holy..." Spike gaped in wonder at the inside of Green's Ice Cream Shoppe .

"That's enough swearing," David frowned and reprimanded Spike.

"This is some place!" Spike exclaimed, his mouth hung open. "I never been in here before...they always run me out--before," he sat gingerly on the round stool in front of the counter.

Gene sat on a stool beside Uncle Jed. "Look at that mirror!" he leaned over and whispered. "and the marble counter! "Everything's so fancy,"

"Well, I don't know, son. Agnes and I have come in here before, but I almost don't feel dressed right..." he said taking his hat off, and straightening his shirt collar.

"You look fine," David assured him. "Besides, it's early yet. Not many folks are around. What would you like?"

"I'd kinda like..." Jed hesitated, "What would you suggest?"

"How about a double chocolate malt?" David asked.

"Sounds fine," Jed answered.

"What about you two boys?"

"I heard them Banana Frosted's pretty good," Spike said, his mouth watering.

"I really don't know," Gene thought hard. "I guess I'd like--I'd like the same thing that fellow there has," he answered as a clerk handed the guy next to him an order.

"What we want here," David told the clerk, "A double chocolate milk malt, for Mr. Wade here, a Banana Frosted for our young acquaintance, and Mr. Gene wants the same as what Mr. Slater there has," he nodded at the man as he sat eating a chocolate milk shake."

"What about yourself, sir?" the clerk inquired.

"I'll have a chocolate peppermint smoothie, thank you."

"Let's sit over there at the table," David led the way to a dainty round pink-marble table. He sat down carefully on the wire sweetheart chair.

"This here's real good," Spike said as he carefully took a spoonful of his treat. "You know that's real good of you...I mean, you winnin' the fight an' all..."

"Sure...well, I..." Gene broke off embarrassed.

"Who are those boys?" Jed spoke as he watched an employee from Green's Ice Cream Shoppe walk out and shake a broom at two bedraggled boys who stared in the window.

David glanced up just as the two ruffians made their escape down a side street, "Oh, just a pair of local urchins," he continued to enjoy his ice cream. "Boys like those need something good to occupy their time. You know Spike," David paused, "umm, that's good! You know, Spike, I'm looking for someone about your size to help me do some work. What do you think, can you help me?"

"Yeah, I guess," Spike had an uncomfortable moment and he dared not look at Gene as he stared after the two escapees. "I mean, as long as I have time, I guess I could," he stammered.

"That was sure good. Thank you," Jed cleaned up his malt. "Yep, that was sure good."

"I guess I'll see you two tomorrow..." David said as they walked to the door, "Bessie and I will be over for supper. You have the dominoes ready!" he challenged Jed with a chuckle.

"Alright, we'll see you tomorrow," Jed nodded as he and Gene turned toward their car. "That was sure fine ice cream, I sure wish Agnes was here. So, how was it you met up with that Spike fellow?" he turned on the ignition.

"I'm kinda confused about the whole thing myself, Uncle. I was on my way over to meet you at Doolittle's. I turned the corner right close there to Mr. Glen's, and when I did--why there were these three boys there--Spike was one of them. They were going to whup me..."

"All three of 'em? They were fixin' to commence to..."

"Yeah, beat the tar out of me. Well, I called 'em cowards, and told them it was funny it took three of them to whip one of me," Gene shrugged. "I guess Spike isn't as good a fighter as he thought he was."

"I don't take much ta fightin'," Jed said. After they rode along in silence he asked, "Where'd ya learn to fight like you do?"

"You know Pa used to do some fighting. Almost professional, but not quite. Ma never liked the fights. I don't either, but I was around them some--that and there always seems to be people like...well, like Reece--and Spike. They just don't feel right unless they can push someone around. Usually someone skinny...someone littler than they are."

"I guess I've known folks like that too," he spoke quietly with a sideways glance at his companion, as a vision flashed through Jed's mind of a skinny pathetic boy. A boy with large blue eyes. "I still don't like to fight, but your Aunt Agnes is right, I guess. Sometimes a person has to do what they have to do...."

Agnes stopped folding the laundry and listened, careful not to miss any details, her face creased in a thoughtful frown. "Tell me again, now. You want to do what?"

"I've talked to several businesses in town. They could use a runner, a messenger, a..." Gene's brow puckered as he tried to think of the title. "For instance, Littleton Hotel needs someone to run messages, pick up laundry, just general errands for themselves, and sometimes for their customers...and the laundry needs someone to deliver laundry...and things like that. I'm going to--if it's alright with you and Uncle of course--run their errands, for a wage of course--four days a week."

"How ya gonna get into town and home again? And what about school comin' up?" Jed asked.

"I haven't got all the cricks worked out. I thought maybe I could get a wheel--you know one of those bicycles cheap. For school, instead of working during the morning, I'd work a couple evenings and maybe on Saturday," Gene explained.

"We don't have a lot of field work right now..." Jed reasoned. "It's been so dry even the cows aren't giving much milk. I think maybe you have a good idea. I wish I could help with the bicycle..." he frowned and rubbed his chin.

"When did you think to begin?" Agnes asked.

"Thought I'd go back and let them know tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Jed and Agnes chorused together.

"If I wait too long--"

"Well, that's right. What time tomorrow?" Jed took a sip of his coffee.

"I can walk in right after morning chores. The businesses I talked to thought I could probably start any time."