Platform...

"You {children} have the world by the tail, on a down hill slide!" My grandmother used to tease us. I have never quite figured out what she meant--exactly. It seemed at the time to mean, 'you children have life just pretty well near perfect--it couldn't get much better'. 'Down hill slide', of course would mean it was going like a sled on a good sledding hill. Sometimes though, it also means 'going down hill fast' as in things are getting much worse--fast!

Two years ago I attended a 'writers' conference', and I first heard/read that as a writer I needed a 'platform'. I will admit that I'm still scratching my head, attempting to understand the concept. I thought as a writer I sat down and began putting words on an empty sheet (or computer screen) and voila'! I'm now a...

Luke 2:49 And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?

As a Christian, and as a Christian writer--what should be my platform? What is my 'Father's business'?

For the moment--because when we stop to think on it we have different nuances to that question--let's consider the Old Testament:

Now these things were our examples, to the intent we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted. 1Corinthians 10:6

Now all these things happened unto them for ensamples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come. 1Corinthians 10:11

I enjoy reading and teaching about the Old Testament. There is much to learn from here. In the beginning it tells how the earth was created, how humans came to be sinful. Judges, Ruth, all the way through Esther shows how God deals with his children, all the way through the Old Testament scriptures it points to the Savior. And it does bring us to the New Testament:

Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith. Galatians 3:24

History--we should realize that history is full of people, and full of their stories. We break the word 'history' into 'His story'--and it tells us how God deals with us, and what our relationship is to God.

But does that bring me to a platform? Sigh...unfortunately, no. I gather that a platform is supposed to be like a 'soap box'. Something that you stand on, in like manner as a 'bully pulpit', and tell people something they need to know.

From the perspective of 'my Father's business' there are many things this generation needs to know.

Number one thing this generation needs to know? God~ The society that we live in has swallowed the myth of evolution to the extent that it denies there is a true God. The concept of 'god' therefore was something that history-- ie. ancient people-- made up to explain our existence. Wake up world! Evolution is not a fact. It has not been proven, and not only that there isn't even a shred of evidence that supports it. It was invented by people who did not want to believe in God, and since they needed an explanation as to how the world came to be--besides the one of Genesis chapter one...they invented something. That something just happened to be evolution.

Number two thing this generation needs to know? Jesus~ 'As it is written, "Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame." Romans 9:33

There have been enemies of the cross; enemies of Jesus all the way back in history. Satan attempted to snuff out truth, and salvation all the way back to the garden. Cain killed Abel the righteous son; the world was destroyed for wickedness, but there was still Noah...still--we are given Jesus the 'righteous one'. If Satan can discredit Jesus...and so it goes.

But where oh where is my 'platform'!?

So, I get a short conference with an agent. Knowing that I need a platform--a type of voice that says something to my audience, I want to catch the agent's interest. "My message needs to be heard..." I begin an introduction...

"Oh," he says, "publishers really aren't interested in platforms/messages. They are interested in what will sell, and what will make money..."

Sigh...I think I'll go back to John the Baptizer and his message--Matthew 3:2 "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

And the message of Jesus; Matthew 4:17 From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

It may not be a popular platform, but it is scriptural...

No Matter What...

Many Christian Hymns are lovely and inspiring. I enjoy the ones by S.E. Samonte on you tube, the ones recorded by the Mennonite choirs. Sometimes I take time to watch the pictures and read the words, and as I do I wonder...

Most songs, especially the more modern they are, have the element of encouragement, some call for introspection--looking within before looking above. The 'martyr' hymns are different. The hymn, "Faith of Our Fathers", speaks of 'dungeon, fire, and sword', it speaks of 'chained in prison dark', and like them 'die for thee'. We often sing songs without much thought of what we are singing. In watching some of the pictures that go with other Martyr hymns I wonder...

Quite honestly, I don't really think I would choose to be chained in a dungeon, burned at the stake, or any of the various means of torture devised by wicked and evil people. And you may wonder...

Would the numbers change, or would they remain the same? The numbers of the faithful and the unfaithful...

You may wonder what do I mean by that? Well, I use the term 'I don't think I would choose..." but Satan is a master at what he does. He tempts humans to deny God. He tempts them to turn away from the Heavenly Father. I pray that if I had to 'choose' between God or something less, I would --no matter what-- I would choose to do right. Satan may 'choose' the torture--dungeon, fire, sword; or darkness dressed in modern licentiousness, fire posed in pornography, sword sheathed in lies and dishonesty...

We bemoan the sad reality of people leaving the church, or people in general turning away from religion, but no matter how sad the reality, only the 'tried and true'-- those who have been through one fire or another-- will be found faithful. And that leads me to the wonder--no matter which test we undergo, would the faithful be faithful --no matter what?

To Walk With...

I think on the poem by Dylan Thomas, 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night'. When I was young I felt like I was fighting everything. As if I could never 'Go Gentle...into anything. The adults in my life did not have answers to many questions...at least not very good answers. They apparently were still fighting through their own set of problems. I sought for answers, and observing the problems the adults were having, I thought, there just has to be a better way.

When I found Christ and His Way, it was still a fight. There were some right things I had been taught as a young person, but now I had to try to sift through those things in light of what my Saviour taught through the scriptures. And now, I was the adult...according to the world's standards. And according to even my own ideas, I was supposed to have the answers and raise my own children, and yet it was still a fight.

As I draw nearer to the end of life my perspective changes with time. I do have the answers as it says in 2Peter 1:3 According as his divine power hath given unto us...'all things that pertain unto life and godliness'...through the knowledge of him that hath called us to glory and virtue:

The irony is that it is still a sifting. It is still a fight. There is so much dross in our lives today that there is a constant barrage of things that MUST be thrown away.

2Peter 1:4 Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust.

It SHOULD come easier as we grow older to throw away those things and escape the 'corruption that is in the world...', but alas, and I say this with a sigh, the 'lust' may change, but there is still the fight to distinguish the dross from the gold.

Yes, even growing older is still a 'growing' and 2Peter 1:5-8 exhorts us: And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; 6) And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; 7) And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. 8) For if these things be in you, and abound, they make you that ye shall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Well, I have spent a life time trying to grow in this manner, yet it still is a fight, because like a little girl playing dress up in her mother's dress, trying to hold up the skirt seems like an un-do-able task. I get one thing where I want it, and something else slips to the floor.

However, even as I think on the past, present, and future I sense a change. Maybe even a hope. 1Timothy 6:12 says: Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life...,

What I want--as I near the end--is to be able to say with the Apostle Paul in 2Timothy 4:6&7: For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. 7) I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith...

2Peter 1:2 Grace and peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord,

-- I want to be able to say, yes, I can go gentle. I want to be able to walk with a peaceful heart...into that good night-

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Who's It All About?

What matters in life? How do we know what matters in life? If you are a young person certain things seem to matter that people older would no longer understand. For instance if you ask a soldier just returned from a tour overseas, 'what about the pimple on my nose?' They would think maybe there were other things more important, but to a young person the pimple is a real problem.

Perspective...it matters who you are and where you are in life.

Matthew 19:23 And Jesus said unto his disciples, Verily I say unto you, It is hard for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven. 24) And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. 25) And when the disciples heard it, they were astonished exceedingly, saying, Who then can be saved?

Looking at things from different perspectives can be like viewing a precious stone in the light.

An older friend of mine tells me, "When I was first a member of the church I was so envious of some of the other members. I just thought they had perfect lives," but she goes on to explain, "Then I got to know them, and I saw some of their problems, some of their struggles..." she shakes her head. "You know, I decided then and there I would not trade my few paltry problems for theirs. I'll just keep my life, and what I have."

From the outside vantage point other people may appear to have perfect lives. However, we need to be thankful for the lives that we have. Some people have the opposite situation. Their lives come across as a constant soap opera with problems oozing out of every corner.

'The buck stops here.' I do not know where the phrase originated from, but I do know what is meant by it. It means 'I have the authority to do what must be done, and I AM GOING TO USE IT!'

After reading an article about a child that survived an attempted abortion that sentiment was used. The child had been adopted by an --apparently-- loving family, and had been raised to be a responsible adult. She was now married, and now was expecting her first child. When as a teenager she had discovered the facts about her adoption as well as the attempted abortion, she had a mighty struggle in her emotions. Many questions, much anguish, but she overcame those feelings because, 'the buck stopped here' attitude.

In the same vein, I know of several cases that after coming from 'bad' situations, children grow up and decide on their own--this is not going to be repeated in my life, with my family...it stops here.

In the gospel of Matthew Jesus had just spoken to the 'rich young ruler'. He had just told him 'one thing thou lack'. (I wish I only lacked one thing to be perfect--sigh...but I digress...) The disciples are astonished...how hard is it for the rich to enter heaven? Who then can be saved? Their perspective was that when someone was 'rich' God was blessing them for the good things they were doing.

"If you give her the gospel, that will do more to bring her life up than anything else."

This is the point. Wealth does not get you to heaven. Jesus did not tell the ruler that his wealth had bought him a ticket to eternal life. The man was not a 'bad' person. In Mark 10:21 the text reads: 'And Jesus, looking at him, loved him', but he did have something standing between him and the eternal life he sought--his unhealthy love of his wealth.

Another point--poverty doesn't get you to heaven either. While it is true that the gospel can change or upgrade a person's life, it only works to the degree that it is applied. It is like medicinal ointment. If it is only left in the jar, no matter how lovingly it is looked at or fawned over--it will do no good unless it is applied.

Pride can be a problem whether one is rich or poor. Some have suggested that the term, "needle's eye', refers to a small door in the side of the wall surrounding Jerusalem. It was such a small door that you could only enter with the clothes on your back, and a person had to bow down to squeeze through.

Matthew 23:2 "The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses' seat, 3) so practice and observe whatever they tell you--but not what they do. For they preach, but do not practice.

If you want to upgrade in life, begin by taking responsibility for your failures. Apply the gospel, like medicinal ointment let it work in your life. Some times it may be painful, or it may cause a struggle in our lives.

Life will have problems, just don't let the problems in life be self-inflicted. When we are obedient to God, we must let God lead our life. Not in miraculous ways, but in honesty and truth. When Jesus tells us, 'Seek ye first the kingdom of God,' that is what he wants us to do...seek first the kingdom of God...

Who Am I!

On a dark night, a night that has very little moonlight--how much bigger and brighter the stars in the nighttime sky appear! You can almost see the objects in the sky pulse and rotate around each other like beautiful dancers. How small and insignificant one human life gazing up at the creation of God seems!

Hebrews 2:6 But one hath somewhere testified, saying, What is man, that thou art mindful of him? Or the son of man, that thou visitest him?
7) Thou madest him a little lower than the angels; Thou crownedst him with glory and honor, And didst set him over the works of thy hands:

'What is man'?--this has been asked many times, and even though there are many variations on the question--who am I? What am I here for? Where am I going? Usually the person asking is looking for answers that will clear up their clouded mind.

Yet for all of this and in spite of our smallness, our wonder, and our confusion it would be comical if it were not for the audacity--many people still try to tell God what he wants and needs.

John 4:23 But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth: for such doth the Father seek to be his worshippers.
24) God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship in spirit and truth.

From the worship of God to living and keeping the will of God, people have their own ideas--and God ought to agree.

Just how do I know that 'God ought to agree'? I can't even begin to tell how many times when talking to another person about what the Bible says I hear the phrase, "It's my opinion".

And if the scriptures tell them plainly something other than what they believe, 'but it's my opinion, that'--and suddenly that scripture doesn't count.

When I was young, the movie "Wizard of Oz" was scary. That old witch seemed real to me. I remember the scene in the City of Oz when Dorothy and her companions went before the Great Oz. The old man behind the curtain was pulling levers-creating booming sounds, smoke, and what was supposed to be his image--out front. Dorothy, Tin Man, Lion, and Scarecrow were all frightened--shaking in their shoes so to speak. Then Toto pulls the curtain back and reveals the originator of the smoke and mirrors known as the Wizard. Dorothy is incensed...how dare he perpetrate this fraud on the unsuspecting victims!

Look around us. How many today are using the same tactics? How many let themselves out to be 'intellectuals', either of learning or doctors, scientists, financial instructors? The list could go on of the intelligentsia that are qualified to 'tell us something'. For example the ones that can tell us how to raise our children--though they have none of their own, or at best have only begun to raise theirs. How to be healthy? No problem, just plug in the right formula, and voila! You're good to go...How about scientist telling us how life began? No God involved of course, just a big bang...

Job 38:2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel By words without knowledge? 3) Gird up now thy loins like a man; For I will demand of thee, and declare thou unto me. 4) Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding.

Where were these chief scientists when God laid the foundations of the earth?

I'm reminded of Dorothy and the Wizard, except...Dorothy was scared by the smoke and mirrors, until she learned the truth. I can not imagine how this would play out if you flip the scene.

What would happen if the 'All powerful' appeared in humble clothing, but in the end turned out to be--'All powerful'? Instead of attempting to frighten us with his smoke and mirrors what if he appeared as...

Matthew 11:28 Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29) Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. 30) For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

What if he was easily approached; as it were someone gentle and loving?

It is easy to be confident when boasting to your friends, family, or even to just lowly fellow human beings. However, what happens when a person is boasting about something, and then they realize someone in authority, or someone bigger than they are is right behind them ready to call their boast or bluff?

Would they find themselves in the predicament as Job did when he was confronted by God? Job 40:4 Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer thee? I lay my hand upon my mouth. 5) Once have I spoken, and I will not answer; Yea, twice, but I will proceed no further.

Here in lies the problem. We may think we know the answers, but quite often we don't even know the questions. Who do we think we are to give God advice? It seems fashionable that religion--Christ's religion--is out of style. Eastern mysticism? that's fashionable. Islam? yeah, that's fashionable. Some call these things 'ancient' religions. Under the humanist manifesto, however, Christianity--a much older religion--is a 'dead, decaying corpse'.

I have seen the 'O look', trick on old cowboy shows used to deceive the person holding the weapon. In an attempt get them to look away from the victim, or to look 'behind' them self they say 'watch out behind you!'. That trick is used to take the attention somewhere else. We also see it with the kingdom of Satan.

1Peter 5:8 Be sober, be watchful: your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour,

Satan knows that if he can convince people that religion is irrelevant, or convince us that we can 'choose' our way to heaven (or better yet convince people there is no heaven, or hell), those people are no longer a threat to him.

Ephesians 3:10 to the intent that now unto the principalities and the powers in the heavenly places might be made known through the church the manifold wisdom of God,

We must wipe away the smoke and mirrors to see the wisdom of God. Wipe away the smoke and mirrors that Satan uses. Come back to the Bible, the scriptures, and find what was originally intended. We must stop trying to tell God what he wants. We must stop it--and begin to listen to what He wants.

Gilbert K. Chesterton said it well: "Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried."

Genesis 3:14 And Jehovah God said unto the serpent,...cursed art thou above all cattle, and above every beast of the field;... 15) and I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed: he shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel.

Jesus has dealt Satan a death blow. Satan, the prince of darkness, knows this, but is determined to take as many with him as he can. God has sent/left/given us the Truth, but the world chooses to ignore it, and thus seals it's own doom.

Ephesians 5:8 For ye were once darkness, but are now light in the Lord: walk as children of light 9) (for the fruit of the light is in all goodness and righteousness and truth), 10) proving what is well-pleasing unto the Lord;

Christians were once part of Satan's kingdom, part of the darkness. But, thanks be to God who through Jesus sacrifice allows us an avenue of escape from that kingdom of darkness into the heavenly kingdom of light:

Ephesians 6:12 For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.

And the refrain of the song, and the question runs in my thoughts: Who Am I that a king should come and die for? Who Am I that He would pray 'not my will, (but)thine for?

Isaiah 53:1 Who hath believed our message? and to whom hath the arm of Jehovah been revealed?
2) For he grew up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.
3) He was despised, and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and as one from whom men hide their face he was despised; and we esteemed him not.
4) Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
5) But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
6) All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and Jehovah hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.
7) He was oppressed, yet when he was afflicted he opened not his mouth; as a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.
8) By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who among them considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living for the transgression of my people to whom the stroke was due?
9) And they made his grave with the wicked, and with a rich man in his death; although he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.
10) Yet it pleased Jehovah to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of Jehovah shall prosper in his hand.
11) He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by the knowledge of himself shall my righteous servant justify many; and he shall bear their iniquities.
12) Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he poured out his soul unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors: yet he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

Indeed, who am I? Hallelujah--what a Savior!

Questions/answers

Proverbs 16:1 The plans of the heart belong to man; But the answer of the tongue is from Jehovah.

Beauty...what is beauty?

When we look through the pages of magazines we will often find what the world sees as beauty. It glitters, it sparkles, it shines and shimmers. As Christians what should we see as beauty? From ancient times until now, in all societies beauty is a thing to be desired.

Proverbs 31:30 Grace is deceitful, and beauty is vain; But a woman that feareth Jehovah, she shall be praised.

This chapter in Proverbs has been almost beaten to death, yet for all of that beating it has just been barely touched for its lessons.

I have seen women who are 'graceful' in their lives. They do so many things with just the right touch, say the right things, at the right times...

I have seen extremely beautiful women. At least to look upon...

I have seen women who are a combination of the two qualities; both beautiful and graceful. The question comes, however, as the Proverb says grace is deceitful, and beauty is vain...what is true beauty?

The Quakers, for example, believed any frivolous ornamentation (jewelry, lace, fancy additions of those types)was wrong...was frivolous and as such vain.

I believe the Amish have similar beliefs and are very careful as to patterns in clothing, style, and the such like.

In most modern congregations you can find almost any teaching that will tickle your fancy. We, of course, are often told that there is 'no such custom' for any of these things. Most teaching is very vague on the subject as to what is 'proper' these days. (We don't want to be 'old fashioned' we might turn someone 'seeking' Christianity off/turn them away from seeking--as it were, but...

As a Christian who is attempting to please God first, what is right?

These are some of what I have come to observe, and it may be helpful for others who are looking for some guide lines along the path.

I hadn't been converted long when the question about make up came to me, and true to my nature I wrestled with the question. I asked the preacher at our congregation about this question, and he took me to the scriptures. We went to I Timothy 2:9-10; I Peter 3:1-5.

1Timothy 2:9 In like manner, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefastness and sobriety; not with braided hair, and gold or pearls or costly raiment;
10) but (which becometh women professing godliness) through good works.

1Peter 3:1 In like manner, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands; that, even if any obey not the word, they may without the word be gained by the behavior of their wives; 2) beholding your chaste behavior coupled with fear. 3) Whose adorning let it not be the outward adorning of braiding the hair, and of wearing jewels of gold, or of putting on apparel; 4) but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in the incorruptible apparel of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. 5) For after this manner aforetime the holy women also, who hoped in God, adorned themselves, being in subjection to their own husbands:

My fist reaction was that make up and jewelry would be wrong. Then we began to look through the items. I Timothy begins with the goal of modest apparel, shamefastness, and sobriety, and then contrasts it with braided hair, and gold or pearls or costly raiment.

So, are these opposites? Are modest apparel, shamefastness, and sobriety, an opposite to braided hair, and gold or pearls or costly raiment?

It depends. Some to whom this writing is addressed to will remember my mother-in-law. Marie had some very nice jewelry, but none of it would have been considered 'gaudy', or showy. I would describe it more as 'elegant'. It wasn't worn to draw undue attention to her person, but rather to compliment the 'modest apparel' that she wore. Marie didn't wear 'make up', but she did spend time taking care of her complexion so that she appeared pleasant.

In I Peter we can focus on verses 3 and 4.-- 3) Whose adorning let it not be the outward adorning of braiding the hair, and of wearing jewels of gold, or of putting on apparel; 4) but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in the incorruptible apparel of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.

Here is the outward adorning ie. braiding hair, wearing jewels, and putting on apparel. These are contrasted to the hidden man of the heart: incorruptible apparel ie. meek and quiet spirit.

The apostle here is speaking to a culture, not much unlike ours of today, in which women based their worth on the outward physical beauty. Women would spend hours braiding their long hair (or having their hair braided). Having pearls, ornaments, ribbons, and etc., braided into their tresses, as well as wearing gold and jewels, and 'costly' garments--in order to be noticed, to be thought highly of. The braiding of hair in order to keep it contained and neat in itself isn't what is being spoken about. The apostles both are drawing contrasts between the extra ordinary care of the worldly--those things which will pass away. The dead, dying, decaying things of the flesh (body), and the things of heaven (spiritual) which are eternal.

God enjoys beautiful things. We see those things all around us in His creation...the beauty of the sunrise/sunset, light shimmering on the water, moon rise, stars twinkling, flowers...and more. So, here is the rub, where does a Christian draw the line?

A Victorian woman accepted that she had a duty to look and conduct herself as a lady. She took care of her body, but it wasn't supposed to be her focus. I believe if we look back to the Victorians we could see grace and beauty combined in such a fashion. Men attempting to be gentlemen, and women striving to be ladies.

Contrast that to a walk in the mall today. Things that should not be seen in Christian females ( or Christian men either for that matter)? Punk hair sticking out all over (or outlandish hair style/colors)or too much make up done in an outlandish manner. The women may not have spent hours to achieve the 'look', but their objective is to shout to the world 'look at me, ain't I something!'. There is no 'meek and quiet spirit' there. Tattoos are the same, again seeking to draw attention to the person, and ditto with outlandish body piercings. Women (and men as well) seeking personal recognition through vanity.

Clothing should not be gaudy, even though we are encouraged to want dazzling. We want to be the 'fairy princess' in the shimmering gown no matter what age--it's just sometimes the shimmering gown may look like a pair of 'cool' blue jeans, or whatever the 'in' thing is. (Mothers, here is a caution. Is it right to encourage your young girls in these choices ie. wanting to be the 'fairy princess'? My caution is that it gives them a false goal. It encourages them to set their heart on frivolous/vain things of this world, wanting to be the 'center' of attention. Help them first and foremost to make wise choices. To understand heavenly as contrasted to earthly.)

Clothing doesn't necessarily need to be plain and ugly. There is a difference between much of what is worn today and true 'style'. The french call it 'je ne c'est quoi'...that little something (but I don't know exactly what it is)that sets something/someone apart from others. You can see it in the quality of the material used, the tailoring on the garment (mostly lacking in off the rack clothing of today)--it's called 'style'.

Buying expensive name brands for the sake of impressing others...not a good idea either. Now, for certain items the name that you buy denotes 'quality'. I love percale sheets. The higher the thread count, generally the better the sheets. But I don't buy the brand to impress others. My mother used to tell us girls, 'buy the best you can afford'. Meaning buy 'quality', because it is quality for a reason. It was not that she intended to impress her neighbors, it was because it wore or lasted, or had some value above that of lower quality.

Another caution for Christian women. Listen to your men folk. God did put the husband to be the head of the household for more than one good reason. How many times I have heard women say things like, "My husband doesn't want me/our daughter to wear such and such item, but I think...". Warning bells should go off when our guys say things like 'That's not something you/our daughter should wear. As a married woman, let me tell you, men don't think like women. That could be funny, but it is true. Women may wear an item thinking they look 'good', but looking 'hot' to a guy, doesn't necessarily mean you need a fan.

True, some fellows have an over active mind, but are those the kind of men you want following after you, or someone you love? And why would a Christian woman want to put those kinds of thoughts into someone's mind (other than their mate)and/or tempt someone who is trying to live godly? In the current world that we live in it is growing increasingly important for women to listen when their men caution them about their clothing, or demeanor.

It is important as well that we protect our men by not wearing ungodly clothing. We see it quite often, even among the 'elect'. Clothing that is: short, tight, clingy, low cut. Even things that could be modest that are too tight. I've watched 'Gone With the Wind' a number of times, and I remember what happened when Scarlet was told not to drive through shanty-town, but did anyway. Her husband ended up getting killed... We live in an increasingly hostile and dangerous world.

It is said that hostile acts committed against women is not based necessarily on what 'the' women are wearing. Honestly? It may not be based on what the woman attacked was wearing, but by what the man/men were viewing before the attack. Think about that one. The society we live in is very lax, lazy, and immoral. Since Christians are to be the salt and the light, have we been showing the preserving 'gospel'? Or are we just showing a reflection of the world around us?

Look around you...back to the magazines with the dolled up beauties and the warped sense of beauty. A Christian woman needs to keep in mind this world is not our home, we have a treasure and a citizenship beyond this world.

---But a woman that feareth Jehovah, she shall be praised.--- Proverbs 31:30

Some Wonderful Day...

Odd how a song can get stuck in my mind and just repeat itself. Events are often the same with me. Something can upset me and I'll worry at it all day like a puppy with a chew toy. What should I have done? What could I have done...all sorts of questions run helter skelter in my thoughts, and at the end of it all most of the time I still don't have a good answer.

Ecclesiastes 7:13 Consider the work of God: for who can make that straight, which he hath made crooked?

Consider the work of God...

Do we stop to think on the things that God has done, is doing, and will do?

This morning was beautiful--the autumn leaves beginning to turn and fall. The smell of wet leaves permeates the air along with the other smells of farm crops waiting for the harvest, gardens waiting for their fruit to be taken care of and the garden space to be put to rest for the winter. The squirrels scamper about to find and tuck away walnuts for their pantries, and a number of other duties clamor that winter is coming.

God set in motion (and upholds) the seasons. Each season has its beauties, but

Who can make that straight which he hath made crooked...

"You may not believe this, but I don't always drive fast, Mom..." my son says to me.

"I don't either, Buddy, I've found that getting there quicker isn't always all it's cracked up to be..."

We both laugh. Some times things don't always make sense. They just flat don't. Some days it is our limited knowledge, sometimes things just are what they are. That's alright, God knows. We are all His work in progress, and how much better we would all be if only we would let Him do the polishing, and just co-operate. Too often we turn our lives over to God--for a little while, but then we want it back! (We want to do what WE want to do.)

So, the song by Tom Holland continues to run in my mind: Some wonderful day, when my Lord shall call--

Too many people live as if there is no God, there will be no final giving answer to God's judgement, as if this life here were the only thing there has been or ever will be.

Revelation 20:12 And I saw the dead, the great and the small, standing before the throne; and books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of the things which were written in the books, according to their works.

Some wonderful day when my Lord shall call! Hallelujah, what a Savior!

chapter 45

"You look like you've had a nasty shock. Is something amiss?" Mr. Armwel noted the ashen look on his companion's face.

"My money was in my inside coat pocket...but it's not there now."

"How could that be?! Let me get your breakfast..."

"No, no--" Gene pulled a coin purse from his pocket and snapped it open. I've got the thirty-five cents here, a tip, and even ten cents besides. ...I don't know how it happened. Must have been--well, I just don't know." He snapped his coin purse shut and stuck it back into his pants pocket.

"It's going to be a long trip. Do you have anything to tide you over?"

"My Aunt sent me a package of sandwiches to 'fill in the gaps' as she calls it, and I only had my traveling money in my coat pocket," he said with a dark frown. It will make things short though," he left a nickel by his coffee cup. "It could be worse."

"Well, back to the station," Mr. Armwel turned toward the station as they walked out the restaurant door into the street.

"Unrest in Europe! Read all about it!" a thin ten year old boy wearing what looked like his brother's coat wrapped around him, stood at the street corner peddling his wares. He waved the morning paper in the air, "Get your paper now! Read all about it--trouble brewing overseas!"

"I'll take one of those..." Mr. Armwel raised a hand toward the boy.

"Thank you, mister!" the boy pocketed the nickel and handed him the paper.

"Why aren't you in school?" the man spoke disapprovingly.

"I'm here for my Pa. He's sick."

Mr. Armwel made a clucking noise, shook his head and the pair continued with their progress toward the station...

"You go ahead. I'll catch up," Gene turned back.

Gene came back a few seconds later to find the older gentleman watching him with a quizzical air.

"I've been there--" Gene said with a shrug.

"But?"

"That's alright--mine's only temporary..."

"Oh, the confidence of youth..." he sighed with a slight smile. "Might as well find a seat in here. The express won't be coming in for about forty-five minutes yet..."

Charles Armwel read through the paper pointing out several articles and expanding on what the paper had written. He was quite knowledgeable about the problems in Europe.

"This is our ride coming in," Gene stood and watched as the huge black engine roared into the station. He didn't mind train rides, but he would be glad to get to his destination!

"By this time tomorrow morning we should be drawing near Broad street Station in Richmond. Just a little over twenty-four hours," Mr. Armwel stood up, watching the approaching train.

"I'll still be in the middle. Not home, but not sure where," Gene remarked.

"At your age--it should be an adventure. At one time I enjoyed adventures."

"It won't be so bad," Gene said following Mr. Armwel down the aisle between the seats. "It's just the uncertainty."

"That's what makes it an adventure, Laddie! Would you like to peruse the newspaper when I'm finished?"

"Yes, yes, I would..." Gene sat down in the seat in front of his companion. Turning sideways in his seat, he leaned against the window in order to look behind. "What do you think of this article here?" He pointed at the bold headline: "France Blames U.S. For It's..."

"Well now, read it to me. A lot of young men your age wouldn't really care," he leaned back slightly in his seat. "But they ought to--"

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

Gene sighed as he looked over the letter he was writing. The large many paned window overlooking the rugged back of the estate drew his gaze. His eyes restlessly flitted over the expansive back yard as he sat at the desk in his bedroom. This room was almost as large as the whole downstairs back home.

It had been a long two weeks since he had arrived in Richmond, Virginia. What to tell his aunt and uncle? Would it worry them to know the flighty nature of the young people in his current society? Every evening there were opportunities to attend parties. The people in this society seemed bent on running themselves into early graves. Gene did not notice that he sighed again as he pondered on what message to send.

There was a soft tap at his door. "Who is it?" he answered.

He could not quite hear the soft reply. He slid his chair back from the desk, went to the door and opened it a slight space. A vision of soft blue and gold, stood in the hall.

"It's me," Angela said. "I wanted to talk to you...privately." Her blue eyes had a troubled look.

"Sure..." Gene said stepping out into the hall beside her. "Let's go...," he hesitated looking both ways up and down the wide hallway. "There's a library this way...we should have space for a private conversation," he took her by the elbow and guided her down the hall and through a door.

"This is sure a warm winter," he said as he shut the door behind them and they crossed the room toward the window seat.

"It would be back where you're from, but it's normal for here...Oh Gene! I'm so glad you've come," she turned toward him.

"So, what's the problem?" Gene came to a sudden stop to avoid running into her.

"I...I'm not sure." she sat down on the pillowed seat carefully as the light of the large lattice window filtered softly into the library. Her long silken hair was like spun gold, her eyes sky blue. Sighing and looking out over the front lawn, where a slight skiff of snow lay melting, she played with the fringe on a pillow.

"Not sure?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Go ahead, sit down," she motioned. "I don't think it would cause a scandal if you did..."

Gene looked around at the neat orderly room full of books, a large desk, a settee with a few small tables... Close to the fireplace there were a few scattered chairs. "I'll just--," he walked over and picked up a light graceful Queen Anne style chair. Carrying it without effort, he placed it by the window. "Put this here...So, what do you need to talk about?" he sat down and leaned slightly forward in the chair and waited.

Angela thought how wonderfully strong and capable Gene was. Much more than most of the young men she had lately been exposed to. Memories of Gene sitting astride powerful, beautiful horses--even dressed in a farmer's clothing he had style--or dressed in his tuxedo for the dinner party, or just a regular suit leading singing or prayer in church services. Cherished memories of their times together before...

"I guess I am sure. This whole situation is so confusing to me! Back home I knew who I was. Now I don't know. I feel like I've been cut loose from everything, and everyone I know. I need someone I can talk to. Until you came there wasn't anyone."

"This certainly isn't like home, is it?"

"No, no, it isn't! I miss Father and Mother. I miss our home, our way of life..." her lips trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry...I didn't intend to blubber," she pulled a snow white handkerchief from a pocket in her gown and dabbed at the unbidden tears. She looked quietly out the elegant window framed by the elegant lace Austrian blinds.

"Tonight we are to attend the theater," she heaved another sigh. "Don't be concerned, I'm not going to carry on again..." she sniffled and tried to control the sob that rose into her throat.

"We all have to have time to grieve. Time to adjust to loss."

"Oh, Gene, I needed that! That is...I needed to hear that. Even if..." Angela paused slightly, "Even if William and Edna Dorking weren't my real parents, they were my real family for all of the life I remember," she quietly sobbed into the pillow.

"Go ahead--have a good cry. You'll feel better, and think clearer afterwards," he handed her his clean ample hanky.

After a bit the tears and sobs came less and less. She wiped her eyes, "You're right, I did need that. How do men do it? They don't ever cry, but they still go on strong as ever! I don't believe I'll think any clearer though. There isn't anything to think."

"That's not true."

"What?"

"I've seen several men cry. Men do cry."

"I thought they always have to be strong."

"Men can laugh, why couldn't they cry? Tears don't show weakness. Men just cry about different things--and in different ways."

"Oh--I see. You never cry--"

"Of course I have...my father used to say he thought I'd never stop wanting my midnight feeding when I was a baby!"

"You--!"

He laughed as he reached out and grabbed the pillow she threw at him. "Now, now! Be careful--we don't want to break that graceful vase of flowers!" he tilted his head up and mimicked some of his English speaking friends.

"You know what I mean. You are always so invincible."

"No one, Angela, is ever invincible. Everyone has at least one weakness."

"I don't believe you. What is your weakness?" she sat back studying him.

"Well, really, I am pretty close to perfect," he laughed again and tossed the pillow back at her.

"No, really, what is your weakness?"

"Ah, ha! Delilah, for what purpose do you ask?"

"Oh, Gene! You are so perplexing!"

"We came here to talk about your problem, remember? Not about me--or even men in general," he said.

"That is so."

"A few weeks ago I had an unusual visitor at the farm. I was just finished with chores, and just before I finished preparing breakfast there was a knock on the door."

"Oh, were your Aunt and Uncle not there?"

"No, they had gone on a visit to Uncle Jed's step-mother. Just a short visit--and I was taking care of the farm...."

"That's so impressive. The young men here--many of them have quite an allowance--but they aren't trained in any area of life. None of them could do what you have done--but I'm sorry--who was your visitor?"

"It was Mr. Dorking. I'm not at liberty to disclose our conversation, but...have you had any word from them? Do you know how they are doing?"

"No, I have heard nothing," she sighed again and shook her head.

They both looked out the lattice window. The sunshine was playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. It was a peaceful scene that did not solace either party as they watched the shadows flit across the lawn.

"I will speak to Mr. Henrey..." Gene could not betray the message he had passed on, yet he was torn between loyalty to all three people. "If I hear any more from the Dorkings, I will pass it on through him. You may have to wait until you turn eighteen...I think legal age is eighteen," his thoughts wandered in all directions. "David and Bessie have moved as well."

"They have?! I feel like all are abandoning me!"

"Well, I'm here for a short time at least, and I'll keep you in touch as much as I can. I have their address, and I can see no reason why you wouldn't be allowed to correspond...maybe even visit them. They are living in Tennessee, so they aren't as far away as they were."

Angela's features went from drained, ashen white to rosy and full of hope. "Oh, do see if it will be possible! "I think I've missed them almost as much as Father and Mother! Are you going to the theater tonight?"

"No, I have a job interview in the morning, and I have other plans for tomorrow. I need to get a good night's sleep."

"I wish I didn't have to go either," she began to pull at the tassels on the fringe.

"Then why go?"

"I'm expected to go."

"Are you so sure? Walter doesn't enjoy attending these things either. At least so he says."

"So, he's going because...?"

"So he says."

"How queer! Both of us going because we think the other wants to go!" her laughter rang out. "Thank you," she said with a glimmer of her old playfulness. "Gene, I need prayers. No one around here is very religious. They only go to church because it's a status symbol."

"Many folks are like that. Maybe not the status symbol, but people go for different reasons--but going to church even for the wrong reason, is better than not going at all."

"Aren't they being hypocritical? That doesn't do any one any good...does it?"

"I asked David's step father that question once. His answer was that just like a little bit of salt will help flavor a piece of food, as long as they are hearing the word of God...God's principles will flavor their life, and in turn flavor our society. Once they totally turn from listening to God's principles...we're in for a bad time. That's what Alistair said...and I see what he's saying."

"I can see that," Angela hugged the pillow to herself as she contemplated on the thought. "I'll have to think on it, but it makes sense."

"We could have Bible study here on Sunday afternoons. I don't know that anyone except you and I would be interested, but that would be alright I guess," he said with a shrug.

"I think I would enjoy that."

"We'll plan on it then. I think I'll put this chair back now. Do you need to talk to Walter?" he lifted the chair again and easily put it back in its original spot.

"About Sunday?" she stood up and put the pillow in its place.

"No, about the theater."

"Yes, it's time to change streams, I think."

****************************************************
"Oh, Franklin, you are so-so clever!" Cathy snickered.

"Of course I am," he smiled agreeably.

"I think it's mean..."

"Oh, Trudy, lighten up! It's just a joke!" her twin sister chided.

"I still think it's mean. I don't think it will come to anything good! I warn you," Trudy pointed at her sister, Judy, "I warn you, nothing good will come of it."

"You can count me in," Cathy volunteered.

"Me too," Judy said.

"What about you, Jim? Jerry?" Franklin DeFoe asked.

"No, I have other things to do--" Jim declined the offer.

"I'm not interested. Sounds dry as dead leaves to me..." Jerry said.

"Besides," Jim waggled the ice in his glass..."We all know that Cathy is just miffed."

"Miffed?!" Cathy's green eyes blazed open wide. "What on earth do you mean?"

"You've been trying to get this new fellow to fall for your charms, and he's not taking the bait." Jim Wiggins laughed and took a drink.

"That greenie? I should say not! Why I could have had him wrapped around my finger..." her face flamed as the group laughed. "I could have!" she insisted.

"How about a wager?" Jerry Shore asked with a cunning look.

"Ladies don't wager," Cathy answered coolly.

"Okay...challenge then," he said smooth as velvet.

"I may be interested," she smiled.

"Cathy, you remind me of mother's Persian cat...except you're much prettier," Jim said as he admired her soft flawless features.

"Prettier, but more dangerous," Franklin added under his breath. "So, I'll let Walter know that I'll be there, as well as Judy and Cathy."

chapter 44 Mr. Barlow and Beyond

"Gene Wade," Gene shook the man's extended hand, but with out much emphasis. "Yes, it was some send off..."

"Where you off to? I thought you were older...looked older back at the station. I'd say you couldn't be much over twenty...so, where you off to?" he repeated himself.

"Well, I'm heading to Chicago..."

"I see. I get off before that. A little stop just over the river...I bet you're glad to be out on your own. Kick up your heels a little bit now that you're away from home..." he said with a wink.

"I guess you could say that," Gene wished he could turn this guy off. He had some thoughts running in his mind, but he could not think because this fellow was like a non-stop gusher.

The man pulled out a gold cigarette case, "You want a cigarette?" he flipped it open.

"No, thank you, I don't smoke."

"Well, who's to know...you sure? I've heard it's good for your health..."

"No, I'm sure," he held up a hand in protest as visions of his Aunt venting her opinion of 'those stinking, dirty things!' ran through his mind.

"You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" he chose a cigarette, and not waiting for a reply tapped it on his case, stuck it between his lips and lit it with the matching gold lighter. He took a drag on the cigarette, then exhaled the smoke. "We've got a couple of hours before I get off...you play poker?"

"No, I've never played cards."

"Never played cards! Say, I can teach you. Let's start with..." he reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out a deck of cards.

"That's alright. I don't want to learn."

"What? You know if you want to get on in the world you're going to need to..."

"Sir, would you please extinguish your cigarette...this is not a smoking car," the conductor punched Gene's ticket, and frowned as he waited for Mr. Barlow to squash out his cigarette. "Your ticket, please," he held out his hand for the ticket.

"It's right here!" Mr. Barlow handed it to him then stuck it back in his pocket when the conductor returned it. He glared after the man as he moved down the line of seats.

Gene winced at the curse words that came out of the man's mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll change seats," he tried to appear genial. The sour look on Mr. Barlow's face spoke of ill will as Gene picked up his satchel and moved up two seats and across the aisle. Someone had left a newspaper on the seat...he picked it up and began to scan the columns.

Mr. Barlow's eyes roved over the few passengers then he moved up the aisle to sit beside a lone man. Soon the two were occupied in a game of cards. After a bit Mr. Barlow pulled out a flask and offered his new acquaintance a drink from it.

They were situated so that it was impossible for Gene to avoid overhearing the occasional outbursts. At first the single man seemed to be doing well in the game. With each nip at the flask he became over confident and rude. As his luck changed, his face grew flushed, and some of his words were angry...

With the continual motion of the train, and the fact that his aunt had tried to prepare every one of his favorite dishes for his send off celebration, he was feeling like a well-fed child being rocked to sleep. He folded the paper, and leaned his head against the window...clack, clack, clack, before he knew it he was napping.

Gene woke with a start. He looked at his pocket watch...he had slept soundly for a couple of hours. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, and stretched. Both of the card players were gone. The car was quiet. He reached for the newspaper beside him on the seat. He frowned as he picked up his ticket, and put it back in his inner coat pocket. He read for a time then headed for the latrine. With each stop along the way the train picked up more passengers.

"Is this seat taken?" An older man paused beside Gene.

"No, go right ahead..." Gene moved slightly in recognition.

"Thank you," the man lowered himself onto the seat.

Gene observed the man's well tailored, faded black suit. His quiet demeanor spoke of cultivated manners: he was the exact opposite of Mr. Barlow.

"Are you traveling far?" he asked.

"I'm heading to Chicago, then on to Richmond. How about yourself?"

"It's a small world! I also am going to Virginia," a smile tugged at his weathered face.

"Charles Armwel," he introduced himself. "I'm actually from Virginia, but was employed at Rock Island, Illinois. Now, I'm on my way back home..."

After they exchanged a few pleasantries, Gene went back to reading his newspaper and Mr. Armwel began reading on a pamphlet he retrieved from his inside pocket.

Gene yawned and pulled out his watch. "We still have six hours until we reach the La Salle Street exit...I think I'll finish my nap."

"Yes, the next few days will be long. I have a pullman reserved for the last evening, but not tonight. Too expensive after being out of work for a year."

"I had some money saved up, but not an unlimited amount...my Uncle told me, 'You're young...you can sleep on the train!' I'll be staying with a friend of mine while I work on getting my pilot's license, but I'm hoping to find a job and earn some money while I'm there...to defray the cost..."

"That should be lucrative employment. Flying is the wave of the future."

"You think so? I rather enjoy it anyway. Well, I'm going to catch a few winks at any rate..."

"I probably will as well in a bit...do you mind if I borrow your paper?" Mr. Armwel asked.

"You are quite welcome to it--it was here on the seat when I got here," Gene handed the paper to him.

"Thank you," Mr. Armwel opened the paper and began reading.

Gene rolled up his already folded coat to use as a pillow and leaned up against the window.

The sky was beginning to lighten outside his window when he next opened his eyes. His seat companion was nowhere to be seen in the car, but Mr. Armwel's belongings still remained in the seat.

Gene sat up and gazed out the window at the houses rushing by. He stood and began making his way toward the back of the car as Mr. Armel came out of the toilet room. "Good morning," they exchanged greetings. After using the restroom and briefly combing his hair he closed the door behind him and in spite of the lurching and swaying made his way back to the seat.

"We're almost to the station," Mr. Armwel smiled at him as they picked up their belongings. "I see you brought a satchel with you...good idea!"

"I didn't think I would ever say it again after the meal my aunt cooked before I left, but I'm hungry!" Gene laughed. Should be able to catch something for breakfast somewhere around the station..."

"We can get our luggage tagged, and moved, to the next train. Then we have about two hours till old number 10 comes in," Mr. Armwel smiled his warm smile.

"Looks like we'll have to wait for a porter..." Mr. Armwel said as they stood on the platform waiting as the handlers unloaded their belongings. "Doesn't look as if you've brought much with you."

"No, I don't need but one trunk, not like some people I've traveled with."

"Porter!" Mr. Armwel hailed a black man wearing a sharp red and gray uniform.

"Yes, sir! Where you off to?" he asked with a tip of his hat.

"We need these bags over to the B&O Chicago New York Express number ten heading for Washington, D.C."

"Sure nuff, sir...You need anything else just call on me," he finished stacking Mr. Armwel and Gene's luggage.

The uniformed man led the way to the correct platform pushing his cart at a fast clip through the terminal.

"You take care of these for us, now," Mr. Armwel dropped a tip in the man's hand. "Is there a good place to eat you can recommend?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, and I certainly will!" the porter slipped the money into a pocket. "Most folks go to the Harvey House. Reasonable prices, good food, and lots of it!"

"Are you ready for breakfast now?" he turned to Gene.

"I sure am! My day is all out of kilter...I've overslept, now I'm underfed," he grinned. "Let's find that Harvey House so we can be ready when the next train arrives."

"Harvey Houses are known for their good service. There shouldn't be a problem, but we want to get our breakfast out of the way, just to be sure..."

"Ham and eggs for your sir...and sausage and eggs for you," the pretty young waitress, in her starched black uniform and white apron, wrote their order down and bustled off to the kitchen.

"Thank you, miss," Charles said as his cup of hot black coffee appeared. He spooned two teaspoons of sugar into his cup and poured cream in as well till the coffee was a warm brown color. "Cream? Sugar?" he offered to Gene.

"Thank you, don't mind if I do," Gene stirred about half as much sugar and cream into his coffee as Mr. Armwel had put into his. "Sure good coffee. Good to wake up to! My uncle makes coffee so strong you can chip the cup away and it will stand by itself..."

"You're pretty fond of your Aunt and Uncle aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, I sure am! I don't much care for traveling. I like the farm."

"Here comes our breakfast. I had heard they had good service!" he moved back as the waitress placed the plates of ham and eggs with hot buttered toast in front of him.

"And here is your sausage and eggs, sir," she placed Gene's in front of him.

"Miss, would you have a bit of jelly somewhere for this toast?" the older man's eyes twinkled up at the young woman.

"I will see what I can do, sir," she smiled back at him.

"That would be appreciated. Now, before we dig in, we need to remember our manners..." He bowed his head not waiting to see if Gene did as well, and began reciting, "Our Father in heaven, for what we are about to receive, we truly thank thee...In Jesus name, Amen."

They both lifted their heads as the waitress brought the jelly for their toast.

"Here you go!" she said placing it between them. "And are you ready for more coffee? More cream? I see you found the sugar," she said as she refilled the two cups.

"What sort of employment will you be looking for while in Richmond--while you try to obtain your pilot license?" Mr. Armwel leaned back slightly after the last of his food was finished. He brushed the few crumbs from his lapel, stirred the light brown coffee in his cup, and placed the spoon on his saucer.

"I have experience in several areas. I've worked for a number of businesses at home. Errand boy, bell boy at the hotel, I even helped at the newspaper office...but it will only be for a short spell...while I get my license. My aunt and uncle need me to help with the farm, and I'm not sure how I'll be able to work things out..."

"You look like an entrepreneur--an up and coming young man. Let me give you my name and address," he took a book of blank paper out of his vest pocket and began writing. "If you're really interested in work...I may be able to help."

"Thank you, sir," Gene spoke gratefully. He took the paper the man handed across to him and read over the name and address noticing the neat precise handwriting.

"So many young boys--well they believe themselves to be men..." Charles Armwel frowned in thought. "I digress, many young lads of today are mindless nincompoops! If you've half as much brain as you appear to have...I suppose it is time to be finishing up here," he pulled his wallet out of his inside suit coat pocket.

Gene also reached into his inside pocket for his traveling money. He pulled out his train ticket, but where was his money? Something in the back of his mind clicked as he remembered picking up his train ticket off the seat...

If I Should Die Before I Wake...

How did I get here? I have many times wondered how things come about. I may be looking through pictures and wonder, 'what happened to that dish that I had, that dress that I was wearing (in the picture), and sometimes I wonder--what happened to that person that I used to be?

'Life makes cowards of us all.' One of my unfamous quotes. I question why...why didn't I speak up, shut up, or stand up? There are many times when one of those things would have been appropriate, but I did something different to my shame, and --at times--to my horror.

The questionnaire asked, "What are your goals in life?" Answer? I want to follow God and be the 'best' Christian I can be... I look backward and realize I have failed. I have failed in many cases to finish the things I wanted, and in some cases, needed to do. I have dropped my cross many times. It became heavy and I just dropped it. Maybe I took on too much (didn't Jesus say my burden is light?), or I lacked faith (Jesus did say 'if ye have faith the size of a mustard seed'). I do not know what the cause, I'm sure Jesus knows, but I've failed.

Doing the right thing...If I had the money I would--give to missionaries, help struggling family members to make ends meet, start a good work, in short do good things, but...doing the right thing isn't about money.

Doing the right thing is, well, about doing the right thing. It's about being alive to those around you. About being alive to those to whom you have a duty to. But foremost, it's about doing what the will of God is.

There are many 'needy' in the world today. However, I can't meet everyone's needs. I can not wave my magic wand (yes, I've tried that too) and have everything 'come out right'. I must discern who--and how--God wants me to help.

God first. I must put God and spiritual things first. I must pray and study and order my life around God and his will. After God, I have a duty to my family, to my friends, and to my neighbors...in that order. That is why in my article "Busyness", I wrote about the necessity of doing our own 'job' and not what someone else should be doing. It is not my duty to clean your house, raise your children, or even teach your children the Bible. And if I take over someone's job/duty that is not mine, I fail to let you succeed in your task--and ultimately--I will fail in my task. I will not be there for those whom it is my duty to be there for--because I will, erroneously, be trying to do your task.

When I was growing up we always seemed to be ahead of our time. For instance, it was rumored that my aunt had a beauticians license. Whether she did or not...she was deemed to be qualified to 'give us permanents'. For those who don't know, she would buy one of the boxed home permanents, and proceed to 'curl' our hair. And curl she did...smile. I remember getting my hair permed--usually in the fall. In May when the weather turned hot during the last days of school--my head would sweat--and stink just like the permanent I had received seven or eight months earlier. I had an 'afro' long before it became popular in the '70's! There was having a 'single' mother and being a 'latch key kid' before the term was ever coined...before it became popular. And working summers to earn money for school...not having a father, and having an alcoholic mother...
Looking around at my children's generation, the generation of the ones with metal protruding from their faces and bodies. Many of which are on alcohol and drugs...I wonder what ever happened to morals? But even more frightening, because our family was so far ahead of our generation--that's where my children would have been. My sister and I should have had metal protruding from our faces and bodies, and tattoos, and...my children would have been the abused children. However, Jesus and God made a difference in My life--and my children's lives, but...
Why only for a short while? Some people point and say it's because of a lack in something we the parents did, or did not do. We failed to teach, we failed, some say and in some way it's the whole, 'generation that knoweth not God,' syndrome. However, God made a difference in my life, and has meant so much for my children's lives, why has it not been passed on to and through them. He will mean even less to their children. The difference between choosing heaven or hell. A good life with good choices or something much less.

Relative religion. "You're okay, I'm okay. We're all going to heaven only taking different routes." It is sad to see people we love pass into eternity unprepared, but --should we fail to teach our own? fail to guide our own? even fail to prepare our self-- because others we love are unprepared? We aren't 'okay' just because we want to believe we are...don't you believe it!

Too many times I thought I knew what needed to be done--it looked so obvious! But, I have failed--because I have failed to pray, and failed to pray, and failed to pray...
I allowed myself to get caught up in busyness and did not discern the real need. The real need was--and still is--to stop allowing Satan to dictate what we should, and need, to be doing. Stop allowing him to dictate what our 'task' is. We need to turn to God, and follow Him.

What is the purpose here? The purpose is to call on others to realize what they are doing, and change. The purpose is also to share a few insights. Insights such as:

Reject cliche's. (Not everyone is doing it. Not all children will rebel. Letting children be children only goes so far...[note here,parents should still dictate the rules]...these are only a few cliche's) Pushing children into the gutter so they can be a 'good example' to their peers/society is not a good idea. Give them what they need. Too many times I have heard-- I didn't have anything when we were growing up and I don't want that for my children! However, giving children too much causes them to be lazy and unthankful. Give them the right things...give them love, discipline, commitment, and work. Teach them thankfulness. Point out the numerous blessings they, and you have each day. Teach them to take responsibility. When things go wrong-- what is their part in it?...sometimes it isn't their fault, but if it is, don't sluff it off on someone else. I did it; I made a mistake...almost as hard to say as I'm sorry, I was wrong!

Who are you? how did you get where you are? More important, where are you going? Take a stand, change your course, and make a difference for Christ.

chapter 43

"Well, I'd better be getting out to help with chores...he'll have them cows all milked otherwise," Jed picked up his cup and drained its contents. "I wish I had more answers, Peaches...or at least better answers," he carried the cup over to the sink.

"So do I," Agnes sighed and began sorting and stacking dishes. Frowning, she took the kettle over and pumped water from the cistern into it then set it on the stove to heat.
"We had such a late tea--I think I'll just heat up some vegetable soup from the jars, and we can have the left over sandwiches with that...along with the cake. That be all right, Jed?"

"That'll be just fine," he said sticking his head back into the kitchen. "I think we should invite the Pickerells over Friday night. We haven't had a night together for awhile."

"That would be so nice!" Agnes' face brightened. "Jed," she walked over to where he stood half in and half out of the door.

"Yes, darlin'?" he smiled down at her.

"Have I told you in the last...oh, let's say half a minute...how wonderful you are?" she buttoned his old patched chore coat for him and smiled up into his handsome face. "You know, I was right all along."

"Oh? And just what were you right all along about?"

"You are the most handsome man I have ever known...or could ever know."

"Peaches, you are plumb hoodwinked...but that's alright by me!"

"No, that's the truth! I'll call Bessy right away, and find out if they have plans. Now, get out there and get busy on those chores, you handsome man!"

"Yes, ma'am!" smiling, he stepped back out the door.
*********************

"What do you think is going on then?" Jed pushed back a ways from the table as Agnes began clearing the food and dishes away.

"Some folks are saying it's the end of the world, but then people have been claiming that almost every year," David also sat back. "To tell you the truth--I don't know what to think," he handed Bessy his plate.

"You know what folks said when Earhart disappeared. Now there are rumors, and rumblings coming from Europe... We have a new game..." Jed walked over to the closet where the games were kept and opened the door. "Gene," he called. "Gene, I think it's time to get out that new game...you want to come help us learn this game?"

Gene thumped down the stairs, a book tucked under his arm. "What is it?"

"Are you going to come help us with this game?" Jed repeated.

"I don't want to be an odd man out..." he hesitated. "What's the game?"

"You don't play partners in this one...it's--Monoplier--" Jed winked at Gene.

"Jed! You know it's Monopoly!"

"Well, yes it is, Peaches! Just giving your Aunt a ribbing..." he whispered.

"Some things don't change, do they Gene?" David helped arrange the chairs as Bessy patted the table dry. "I've played Monopoly a couple of times since it's come out."

"Good--we've never played, and it looks complicated--" Jed began laying the board out.

"Not really hard, just long. Probably a good idea to set a time limit...we don't want to stay all night..."

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

David looked at the clock, "I think this will be a good time to end...it's nine o'clock. By the time we get the game put away..."

"And have another cup of coffee and a little piece of dessert!" Agnes insisted. "Your babies certainly are good," she said picking up the dice.

"We don't usually go visiting, and the baby isn't always this quiet. Must be a start of something good," Bessy said with a hopeful glance toward the parlor where the baby slept peacefully.

"Ha! Ha! who would have thought! Bessie, you won the game...look--you have the most property and the most money!" Jed pointed to Bessie's stash.

"Well, I just bought what I landed on," she answered indignantly.

"That's that," Jed finished putting the pieces into the box and replaced the lid. "Agnes, do you have the pie ready?"

"She sure does!" Gene brought in a tray with warm cinnamony, apple smells wafting from its contents. He set off the plates of pie, while Bessie brought in the coffee pot and cups. Agnes brought in a pitcher of cream and the crystal sugar bowl.

"What I think is this--Chamberlain and Petain have played footsie with this guy, Hitler. He doesn't think they'll call him on what he's doing..."

"Will they? What do you think? And what will that mean for us?"

"I think they'll have to...I don't think he'll stop. He's a bully. Just look at how he got where he is. Those 'brown shirts', as they call them."

"Yeah, kind of reminds me of back in the twenties when we were hearing about the gangsters in Chicago," Jed said.

"Oh, Jed! That's terrible!"

"We hear worse than that..." David toyed with his fork.

"I'd just as soon not!" Bessie's mouth was set in a tight line.

"I know, I know," he held up his hand. "I don't think it will involve us. Our policy since the last end all war is we want to stay out of it."

"I don't think it should involve us--why should our young men have to...!" Agnes stopped as the color rose to her cheeks.

"If we man the factories and help supply their armies with food...I think that should be enough. Shouldn't it, David?" Bessie asked.

"After England and France have dallied and dawdled around...France is counting on their defenses holding. All they have to do is pull back behind the Maginot line and be ready."

Gene held out his plate, and, with a smile, his Aunt scooped another large serving onto it.

"Thank you...you make the very best pie!" he said as she handed him the cream pitcher.

Agnes only half listened to Jed and David discuss local news and the happenings in Europe. Out of the corner of her vision she watched as Gene ate a sugary bite of apple covered with flaky crust. She watched as he savored that bite while he scooped up the next one. How many times she had marveled that he never took things for granted. Such a thoughtful, thankful person for one so young. She wondered if he realized how much this conversation had to do with him, and she shuddered. Agnes took a bite of her pie to keep her mouth from crying out: "He's too young! He's only sixteen!" As she chewed slowly she remembered the scrawny ten year old, scared and scarred from his difficult childhood. She reflected on the years since the death of both of his parents, his coming to live here in this quiet Midwest town, and the many changes life had wrought in his...and her...life.

Oh, my God, she prayed, please take care of him...we love him so! Her thoughts continued as the loved ones from her past marched through her mind. The ones who had left for the last war and never came back. Most were so young when they left; the ones who had come home were old, with a haunted look in their eyes.

"I don't know why if there is so much hunger...why has the government come in and killed them pigs..." she heard Jed exclaim then went back to her reverie.

Here was her beloved son. Adopted, yes, but he couldn't be more her own son if he had been part of her body. Agnes remembered the day a few months ago when Jed explained the process of shaving. Their boy was growing up...and now these horrible rumors. Suddenly her attention was yanked back to the adult conversation.

"And ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars; see that ye be not troubled: for these things must needs come to pass; but the end is not yet..." she heard David say.

"What are you saying?" she turned to their guest.

"I'm saying that just as our Lord predicted these so called 'signs' have been happening since shortly after his ascension into heaven."

"So are you saying that the second coming will come soon?"

"No," he shook his head. "No, what I'm saying is this, 'Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is. It is as when a man, sojourning in another country, having left his house, and given authority to his servants, to each one his work, commanded also the porter to watch. Watch therefore: for ye know not when the lord of the house cometh, whether at even, or at midnight, or at cockcrowing, or in the morning; lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. And what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch.' We find this in Mark 13:33-37--it says 'No man knows the time', and it also warns us to 'watch and pray'."

"I don't know," Jed pulled at his lower lip. "There's so much trouble in the world. So much..." he hesitated searching for the right word.

"Wickedness," Bessie supplied.

"Travail?" Agnes added.

"It's like the creation is being pulled--maybe torn--in so many directions."

"Like taffy at a taffy pull," David said.

"Yes. It's as if evil is pulling our lives--all of us--in every such direction," Jed agreed slowly. "We aren't really being pulled by--good--in any direction."

"I think that God IS our Rock. God IS our anchor that keeps us from being torn to pieces. If we hold to him, and keep him as our pole star that is our only hope as Satan pummels this world," David agreed. "Otherwise, all is lost."
********************************

Changes, changes! Gene thought a few weeks later as he went about the morning chores. The weather had turned cold. There was snow on the ground, but not like there had been a year ago. He opened the gate and the cows filed out into the lot, then he waded through the half frozen mud, to push open the north pasture gate.

Gene shivered as the cold wind blew over the winter landscape. It was not a day for lingering outside. He quickened his step to the next stop--the farrowing house. Uncle Jed had not kept many hogs. He had a few sows, and fattened a few pigs on slop, skimmed milk and home raised grain. Hog prices were so low, his uncle had only a few for himself, and for bartering. He checked the sows and their piglets then stopped only long enough to wipe his nose across his cotton chore glove before opening the door. The wind stung his eyes when he stepped out and closed the door behind him. He pulled his cap down firmly, and pushed his way against the wind toward the back porch.

It was demanding work with Uncle Jed gone, but there was a satisfaction that came with working the land and caring for the animals. There was a natural rhythm to it. On the back porch, he slipped his boots off and hung his hat and old chore coat on the hooks. Reaching up and lifting a ham from the hook, he carried it through the pantry and wash room, into the kitchen.

Gene sliced several cold boiled potatoes into a skillet of grease to fry, cut several slices from the ham and threw them into the same hot skillet. Now all he had to do was slide his pan of biscuits into the hot oven. He opened the keeper and took the butter and jam out. He frowned as a knock sounded at the front door. Just who could that be? He muttered as the knock came again.

"Coming!" he called out and placed the jam and butter on the table.

"Come in...Come in!" Gene held the door wide as the wind swirled around the well-wrapped figure at the door.

"Thank you, thank you. It's rather blustery out there today!" The man exclaimed as he pulled the scarf from around his face and stepped inside.

"What brings you out here, Mr. Dorking...I haven't seen you for quite sometime!" Gene was astonished. "My Uncle isn't home right now--I persuaded him to take Aunt Agnes and baby Nissa on a trip to visit his step-mother--"

"It wasn't your Uncle Jed that I came to speak to--"

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee? I was just fixing up some breakfast...how about a bite of something?"

"Don't let me interrupt your breakfast," Mr. Dorking held up his hands in protest.

"It's no problem...let me take your hat and coat...just wipe your shoes on the rug there, and follow me.

"Some coffee will be fine," he said as he followed Gene's directions. "I've never been out this far into the country...You have a very nice place here."

"Thank you. Aunt and Uncle have been here about sixteen years, I think. If you don't mind we can sit here in the kitchen...that's where I usually eat when I'm bachelor-ing," Gene led the way to the kitchen.

"That will be fine. So, do they rent here, or are they buying this farm?" Mr. Dorking sat down on the sturdy wooden chair that his host indicated for him. "This is quite a pleasant house," he said looking around the kitchen. A black wrought iron plant stand containing flourishing red geraniums sat in a place of honor to one side of a large, many paned window which was adorned by lacy white curtains. The sturdy wooden kitchen table sat next to the geraniums, looking out on the porch and further out to the farm lane. There were floor to ceiling cherry wood cabinets all along the north side of the kitchen, a deep double sink was positioned in front of a window. The door at the far end of the kitchen exited to the pantry which contained the sink, cistern pump, and wash basin. A large well polished cook stove dominated the south wall next to the door to the upstairs, and the remainder of the south wall was covered with necessary items for cooking; pots, pans, colanders, large spoons and spatulas. Back toward the kitchen and living room door hung a large calendar, and a rack covered in colorful, clean, starched aprons.

Gene poured his guest a cup of coffee and set it in front of him on the kitchen table. "Help yourself there to the sugar...I'll get the cream--" he went off in search of the cream pitcher. "Uncle Jed bought it...he owned it before he got married. He's added some land to it since, but the original eighty he owned before," he said as he brought the pitcher of cream to the table. "I have enough ham and potatoes fried up...the biscuits are baked, and there's some strawberry jam."

"No, no, I don't usually eat much for mornings, but I wouldn't mind a biscuit--it has been quite some time since I've had homemade strawberry jam. Your Uncle is quite lucky then to own...and not to have lost...his farm..." he looked at the enticing biscuits steaming and hot, nestled in the bread basket.

Mr. Dorking waited quietly as Gene offered a brief prayer.

"Uncle Jed doesn't believe much in what most folks call 'luck'," Gene passed the butter dish and the jam. "His father passed away and left his boys with an inheritance--some of them used their portion wisely, and some didn't. And Uncle Jed has never been one to waste anything. When some of the other farmers were buying bigger machinery, trying to expand, Uncle continued to use what he had, and weigh carefully what he bought. He's never been one to go into debt. He says that's based on scriptures."

"That's so, it is scriptural..." Mr. Dorking set to stirring his coffee. "How long will your Aunt and Uncle be away?"

"They start home a week from Friday," Gene squinted at the dates on the calendar sporting picture of the large Rhode Island Red Rooster.

"They'll be home just before the Pickerells leave...it will be different without them here, won't it?"

"Yes, it will. We will miss them." Gene munched on his biscuit as he wondered what this was leading to. No doubt about it, Mr. Dorking had aged over the summer before the news that Angela was not the Dorkings' natural daughter had exploded like a bomb in Littleton. Now, since becoming the center of gossip his hair had turned completely white.

"What I have to speak to you about won't take long...Mrs. Dorking and I," here the man paused.

Gene waited, also stirring his coffee. "Would you like a refill?" he offered.

"Certainly...yes, I..." Mr. Dorking said self-consciously.

Gene warmed up both cups of coffee and put the pot back on the stove. It struck him as odd to be sitting down in his Uncle and Aunt's kitchen across from his former teacher and coach. Mr. Dorking had often left the impression he was slightly above his Littleton acquaintances in society, and indeed, he still carried himself with an air of style. His polished shoes, his dress slacks, white shirt, tie, and tweed suit coat gave him a casual elegance, but there was a difference in some way.

"My sister and I grew up in--modest circumstances. We came from the poor side of a well off New England family. Not well off like the Henrey family of course. They came from the upper crust on both sides of the pond. Edna and I both went to school and bettered ourselves--moved up in society, and..." he sat in thought for awhile.

Gene ran the information through his mind. So this was what the adults only whispered about.

"Edna was the one who found the poor mother. She had become a casual acquaintance with the mother only the day before. About ten o'clock in the morning Walter knocked on the door to our apartment--which was right next to theirs--his baby sister was crying, and he couldn't 'awake his mummy', he said. The judge assumed we, Edna and I, were husband and wife. We would have taken both the children--never did figure out why the court split them up. Edna has never longed to marry, she had the little girl she wanted, the money and prestige...that was enough for her. We lived well enough for a time, and things went smoothly--until I met someone. Then our charade fell apart piece by piece. I married my someone, but...it didn't work well as you may imagine," he sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling all of this to you...by rights I shouldn't be burdening a young kid with this. It's only that I will be moving. After all of these years I'm going to have my own home, my own wife, and make a life of my own."

"But?"

"Yes, that is the question. What about Edna. I know it may not have appeared that Edna loved Angela...I think even Edna lost sight. She played the part so well that she became Angela's mother in her own mind. And now what will become of her? I know you are still in contact with Walter and Angela. I guess I was hoping you could speak to Mr. Henrey. I have two letters," he drew them from an inside pocket. "One is for Mr. Henrey, and the other for Angela. Both are from me--Edna doesn't know. My sister is a broken woman. She has no one to turn to. I will of course help her, but...?" he shrugged and let the question dangle.

"In a few weeks...at the first of the year I am to go for a visit...Walter has asked me to join him...I will take your letters along with me. I can't guarantee anything. I will give them both to Mr. Henrey, he will be in charge of anything else. If that is acceptable to you--?"

"Yes. I am not asking you to sneak, or do anything dishonest. Just deliver them for me," he handed two thin envelopes across the table to Gene. "Thank you so much..." he stood up and offered his hand. "Young man, I want you to know that I've admired your pluck and courage."

Gene stood and grasped the offered hand. "Thank you, sir. I'm not sure what you mean by pluck and courage, but I appreciate the thought."

"You and Lonnie were my best players on the team. Even in tough situations neither of you backed down, but Gene--in some way--you stood for something. Angela was an excellent judge of character, and she thought you were the best."

"That means a lot to me."

Gene watched out the kitchen window as Mr. Dorking drove down the lane. "How do I top that!" he spoke out loud. "I guess I'd better put these upstairs in my desk then try to finish my breakfast..."

"Changes! Changes!" Agnes exclaimed a few weeks later as she helped wrap and pack away Bessy's good dishes. "I am going to miss you so much!" she stopped and dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.

"There, there now! Don't start that. We'll both be crying if you do...You'll come to see us...and soon! Maybe in April..."

"I don't know. Gene has kept the farm while we went visiting, but since he's leaving...probably won't be back for six months...or more..." Agnes began to sob.

Bessy reached over and patted Agnes' arm. "That's the way things happen--but, God willing, he'll be back," Bessy dabbed at her own eyes as the tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Beyond this land of parting...I'm going to miss you and this is going to make it so much harder!" Agnes blew her nose.

"There is a new man coming to fill in the preaching. I know it doesn't take our place--quite--but the changing scenery should keep you busy."

"Yes, the scenery is changing. Your mother is coming to help after lunch?"

"Father has been a little puny this last winter. That makes it difficult to leave at this time..."

"Your youngest brother and his new wife will be taking over the farm?"

"Jim will be moving out to the farm Father and Mother bought two years ago, Avil will be moving onto the homestead, and we aren't sure where Father and Mother will be. They have talked of moving into town, but they are such farm fixtures."

"It all comes out in the wash," Agnes tried to smile through her tears.

"Yes, we will leave it in God's hands."

"I'm finished here...are you going to come see Gene off on the train tomorrow?" Agnes sighed as she finished wrapping the sugar bowl and stood up.

"Yes. We wouldn't miss it for anything! Good friends are so dear. Thank you for helping."

Agnes felt jumpy and the snow pelting on the station roof did not help her mood as she sat nervously waiting.

"Richmond, Virginia, please," Gene said as he pushed his money toward the station master, and the man slid his ticket back at him. He checked his baggage and watched as the porter stowed his trunks.

"You have everything you need?" Jed asked.

"Seem to. Here's my schedule. I should get into Chicago about 7:15 in the morning...there should be enough time between trains for me to find someplace for breakfast. Train number ten leaves Chicago-- supposed to any way...here at 10:15," he pointed. "I arrive in Washington the following morning, and Richmond that same evening."

Nissa's black patent leather shoes tapped on the board floor as she ran to Gene and threw her arms around his knees.

"I wuv oo! I miss oo!"

He stooped and picked her up, "But, Nissa, honey...I'm not even gone yet!"

"Still do!" she insisted.

"How can you be so calm. I'm a nervous wreck!" Agnes followed close behind Nissa. "I miss you too...and I know you're not gone yet!"

"Don't fret now, Aunt!" he enveloped her in a warm hug. "Don't fret. I'll be back soon enough."

"I know. We have to trust God, but like Shakespeare wrote--Good night, good night, till it be morrow; parting is such sweet sorrow. Except you can toss out the sweet part!"

"Now, Agnes, don't burden the boy," Jed admonished.

"I'm not burdening him. Just letting him know he's loved and we'll miss him," she dabbed at her tears. "You do have money for your food don't you? Will you be warm enough?"

"Yes, everything's in order. I'll have to say good bye to you double," he turned to David and grasped his hand. "You folks will be gone by the time I get back, but I have your mother's address. I'll try to drop you a line when I arrive at Walter's. You do have the Henrey's address too, don't you?"

"We'll wait for your communication before we send anything," David returned Gene's firm hand shake momentarily. "You know...these last six years, you've been closer to me than...you've been just like a brother! I love you too, and I'll miss your...your friendship, your companionship...I'll just miss you!" he threw his arms around the young man.

"While you're at it I'll take one of those!" Bessie smiled up at the two brothers in the faith.

"When did you suddenly grow so small?" Gene said looking down at her realizing his former teacher had shrunk.

"Let us bow for a prayer," David said as the group of well wishers gathered closer.

"and brother Frank if you would lead us in a hymn or two..."

The train whistle blew as the last notes of the song, "God Be With You," died away.

"Good bye! Come home soon! Take care..." they all waved and called out.

"Good bye! I will!" Gene gave last minute hugs, waved and mounted the steps. "Good bye!"

He opened the compartment door, found a seat, and slid in close to the window to wave one final time as the train began to move slowly at first then gained speed.

The compartment door opened and a rotund man in a neat suit carrying a suit case sat down in front of Gene.

"Whew!" he exclaimed. "Just barely made it in time! That was some send off. Where you off to? The name's Jerry Barlow," he turned and extended his hand.

42 Into the Frying Pan--

The autumn sunshine peeked through almost bare branches. Something of the place and the atmosphere reminded Eunice Henrey of a time long past. "What lovely table linens!" she examined the intricate lace pattern on the monogrammed napkin through her eyeglass. "Your table settings are so rare! She settled back in the comfortable parlor chair.

"Thank you. Jed's Grandmother and I worked on them together...it's a pattern handed down in his family." As she sat across from the stylish Mrs. Henrey, Agnes said a prayer of thankfulness. Her mother, Maureen Chadbrooke, had drilled etiquette into her five daughters until it was second nature.

"This has been a very pleasant day. Mr. Henrey is so happy when he can tour farms, yards, gardens, and orchards," Mrs. Henrey picked up her delicate tea cup and sipped the last of her tea. "You make excellent tea. It's a lost art in this country," she said with a wistful sigh.

"The tea service was my mother's--the china is from my father's family. Would you care for another cookie? A piece of cake?" Agnes offered and held the plate for her company.

"Well," the woman hesitated, "the tea biscuits are delicious. I am watching my figure, but...I believe I will, thank you."

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about your figure, and that dress is a striking hue. It goes well with your coloring," Agnes said as she served the confections and poured tea for her guest. "You have such pretty hands!" Agnes took note of the soft hands with several jeweled rings, and manicured nails. "Help your self to the sugar and lemon--and there is cream if you would care for some?"

"Thank you, my dear. You are so kind," Eunice said as she spooned a healthy helping of sugar into her tea. "Delicious!" she said as she took a bite of cake. "Perfectly delicious!" she closed her eyes relishing the tangy lemon flavor.

"We have enjoyed your son's visit, he has acted the perfect guest, and Gene has enjoyed his company." Agnes stopped to take a bite of the sugared cookie. "From here where will you be off to?"

"Walter and Mr. Henrey like to go on fishing trips, and live out under the stars." she said with a nod. "They enjoy living in different circumstances...we didn't want to spoil Walter. Some people do that to their children. It isn't good for them. "Walter, you know is our adopted son," she took a sip of tea.

Agnes gasped, her eyes growing large. "I'm sorry," she covered her mouth with her napkin, "but it came as a surprise to me. No, Walter never mentioned anything..." she put her cookie down on her plate and took a sip of tea. "Gene is our adopted son. He was Jed's brother's son, but both of his parents passed away."

"That's what I understood. In our case the mother was found dead from -what was deemed- natural causes, but there was no name, nothing to identify her family, nothing. She was not a poor woman--there was a small fortune, and some fine jewelry that she left her two children. The judge awarded us the boy, but the other child was given to another family. My husband has taken care of the children's fortune for them."

"How sad they would split up the children! Do you know where the other child is? I suppose--"

"We have searched for any clue for the children's family for all of these years."

"And never found anything?"

"Not a thing. That is--nothing, until just a few months ago when we were at the world's fair in Paris. We were at an informal luncheon given by, Nellie, Lord Hughes' sister, one afternoon. Walter happened to wear the cuff links left to him in his mother's jewelry collection on that occasion. Count Bouchette became quite animated when Lord Hughes introduced us to him. My French isn't as respectable as my husband's, it was hard for me to follow exactly..."

"How very exciting! You had found a clue at last?"

"Not just a clue, but a perfect match. The young woman was Count Philip's sister. You see, the links had their family crest on them. They were unmistakable."

"I suppose now you will need to find the other child...and what does this mean to Walter? This has to be a bitter-sweet happening for you and your husband?"

Mrs. Henrey began to cry quietly. "Forgive me, but yes, bitter-- yet sweet. That is quite the description. I don't know what the future holds now," she blew her nose softly. "We had plans for Walter to take over certain aspects of our business...but now?" She dabbed at her eyes. "We have two other children," she hesitated then confided, "the one son lives in Europe. He has made his fortune, and has little time for anyone but his close friends. Our daughter lives in the United States. Not far from where we live, but she- she has taken religious vows. We haven't seen her for several years now."

"How very sad!" there was only air in Agnes' mind, words seemed to escape her.

The older woman held a locket toward Agnes, "Here. This is a picture of the children's mother..."

Agnes opened the locket and gasped, "Oh!" her hands trembled. "What a lovely, lovely woman! She looks so much like...!"

"Yes, she looks so much like an angel...it is as you've said, a bitter-sweet moment. At last the mystery has come to an end. The children can know who their mother was, and who their family is. For the two families that have loved and raised them, we now must part with them. I don't know how?" She shrugged her elegantly dressed shoulders, and dabbed at her eyes with a dainty pocket kerchief.

"Yes," Agnes said with a nostalgic sigh. "Yes, saying good bye comes to all of us who love. It is so much part of life, but it isn't ever easy. I'm sure that Walter will always honor you and your husband."

"Yes, we have been quite close to Walter. He has been an easy child to love and have around."

"Gene has also. How different our life was before...and I don't know what we would have done without him."

"I'm comfortable--here with you, Agnes," Mrs. Henrey reached her velvet soft hand toward Agnes and caressed her hand. "Some people wouldn't understand, but I feel welcome here. It's as if I've come home. I feel like you do understand."

"I do. First, we buried Gene's father, and a few weeks later we had to lay his mother to rest," Agnes covered her guest's soft hand with her own. "Gene was just a scrawny youngster. He reminded me of a stray kitten, all eyes, hungry, scared...we've come to love him as our own child..."

The two women sat absorbed with drinking their tea and thinking their private thoughts for a time.

"Many people I know are so busy trying to be what they aren't...you strike me as a jewel set in rough surroundings."

"Thank you. --Oh! I hear the men coming in--I had better replenish the tray...if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back."

"Why certainly! You just do what you need to do--" Mrs. Henrey settled back in her comfortable chair, perusing the room. It was a cozy, comfortable parlor that doubled as a library. There were several stuffed chairs scattered about the room, an ornate love seat in a deep rose color with mahogany finish, and matching end tables. The crackle of a small fire burning in the parlor stove--just enough to take the autumn chill out of the room--added a quaint charm.

Ever the curious person, always interested in the lives of others, the library of books stood in rows on the shelves beckoning to Eunice. The small portraits and nick knacks teased at her as well.

"Do you mind if I wander around your parlor, my dear?" She asked as Agnes came bustling back with another tray of goodies. "I have always loved books and reading, and there are so many inviting avenues here. And after all the sitting I have been doing today..."

"Oh, no. I don't mind at all," Agnes placed the tray on the table by the french windows. "I'll just replenish the hot water in the tea service, and all will be ready. If you would hostess the men as they come in I would appreciate it?" Agnes said at the sound of the pump at the sink working up and down, as well as water being poured from the hot tea kettle into the washbasin. The men's voices wafted in as they washed at the basin after the tour.

"Certainly, that will be no problem," the older woman rose, regally, walking slowly around the room.

The gay floral wall paper was a graceful background to several family portraits that were arranged on the wall.

"Your pictures are very interesting!" She glided back to help serve the tea as Jed and her husband came in and were seated.

"Thank you," Jed took his cup and chose several pastries from the plate.

"When you have the time, would you tell me about them?" Mrs. Henrey asked. "I enjoy genealogy, and family history. It's a hobby of mine," she explained with a smile.

"If you are interested--" Jed left his cup and tea cakes..."this is my Grandmother and Grandfather, Ruth and Joseph Wade," he pointed to a picture of a young bride in a high necked lace gown, her dark hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, covered with a lace cap, and a few tendrils at the sides of her childlike face. At her side stood a much taller handsome man in his dark suit and tie.

"She looks so young! And he is very good looking!"

"She was seventeen--but many girls were married at sixteen...Grandfather was twenty-five. This picture," he pointed to one on the right side of the first picture, "is Agnes' mother and father."

"How elegant they are!" Mrs. Henrey scrutinized each picture with her eyeglass. "She looks just like a Gibson girl--what a lavish gown...and how dashing her husband is!"

"This is my father and mother," he continued.

"Oh, how dainty your mother is!" She said generously, looking minutely at the rather plain woman in the picture.

"After my Grandfather passed away, father became the head of the family. He took care of his mother and two brothers. He was thirty years old before he felt free to marry."

"That is as it should be."

"These last two frames, one is of my brothers and I, and this one is of Agnes and her sisters."

"Very nice, very nice!" Mrs. Henrey exclaimed. "And who is in this small portrait over here?" she moved to a few small portraits in frames in front of the shelves of books.

"My mother passed away leaving father with us small boys. He remarried--this is he and our step-mother...then this is we boys and our step-sister."

"Did I over hear Lord Hughes telling Gene that his Aunt...would that be your step-sister? was visiting the Queen this summer?"

"Yes, that was my step-sister, Bertha Louise. Ever since my step-sister's wedding my step-mother has wanted Agnes and I to come back for a visit. We've been so busy, but Gene is going to take care of things for us for two weeks after the fall work is done."

"That will be so nice."

"Now, Eunice...Mr. Wade's tea will be completely cold. You must let him come back and finish!" Mr. Henrey winked at Agnes as she and Nissa joined the company.

"I didn't mean to keep you so long," Eunice apologized to Jed. "Mr. Henrey, we haven't left you--he's just lonely," she whispered to Jed. "And there are the boys coming back from their saying goodbye--" she glanced out the windows just in time to see the boys jogging their horses down the drive toward the barns.

"What fine animals!" Mr. Henrey jumped up, his cane tapping across the floor to the window. "I say, those are fine looking animals...if we weren't so comfortable in here I'd have to go examine those horses. There's nothing quite like a well made horse!"

"Too bad you don't have time to go look over Mr. Goodnite's horses. Gene's been helping train our neighbor's horses. They sell pretty quick, I can tell you."

"No time for a side visit-- Walter, Eunice, and I are on our way back to the east coast. We'll be there for awhile. The Count will come to make arrangements.

The older man stood quiet, looking out the window, but not seeing the scenery before him. He had grown so close to this boy. It was going to be difficult to say good bye. "No, Walter isn't with us always," he spoke out loud forgetting where he was.

"What he means," Eunice explained self consciously, "is that Walter comes and goes. He's old enough to be his own person, but our home has always been his home, and," her words trailed off.

"We understand," Agnes said in her gentle voice. "It will be hard."

"Our other children are older, and have gone their ways. We've grown accustomed to Walter being there."

"It is good to have someone to depend on," Jed's thoughts were jumbled. He heard the boys come on to the back porch, heard the cistern pump and water gushing into the wash basin as Gene poured hot water in from the kettle. He heard their voices muffled by the distance. Jed could imagine them combing their hair at the mirror, and now their footsteps echoed slightly as they approached the parlor.

"Hello, Father," Walter stopped and greeted his father, then going to his mother gave her a kiss on the cheek, "Hello, Mother," he said with a fond smile.

Only Jed and Agnes could guess at the self-control it must have required for the two older people to carry on as if this were just another day...Just another day.

"Help yourselves to the trays, boys...and there is tea," Jed waved his hand at the table full of food.

"You have out done yourself, Aunt!" Gene flashed Agnes a heart warming grin.

"Mother, I don't know how this woman does it, but she is the best cook--and baker!" Walter praised. "Just look at those sandwiches, and the pastries!" Walter heaped his plate with an assortment of food that underscored his words.

"We wait until you boys are starved--after the outside fresh air, and exercise as well. Grandmother Wade always said, 'Hunger makes a good sauce,' Agnes said with a smile.

"When I went to my first birthday party," Walter began a story, "I was told to--well, you see I have always been what mother calls a 'hearty' eater. So, as I said, when I went to my first birthday party..." For the next hour Walter kept the company laughing as he told stories.

"Father, there is a little red and black airplane, we've been working on," Agnes cringed as he began the story about the airplane.

What would Mr. and Mrs. Henrey think? Their shocked expressions hovered in Agnes' mind like spectors as she imagined their reaction.

"Excuse me a moment," she made an escape to the kitchen. She stood breathless, waiting for their reaction. Straining her ears,

"Walter!" she heard Eunice say.

"Hanging over nothing, I just felt committed."

She heard as she tip-toed back to the room.

"Well, I should say so!" Mr. Henrey exclaimed.

Their faces did not look angry...

"The next thing I knew, someone or something seemed to heave me into the seat...but I was kind of upside down and sideways--"

"Of course, those of us still on the ground..." Gene put his part in the story.

"I thought Albert was going to kiss the barn floor when he got out of the plane!
And you should have seen the automobile driver's face! Go ahead, Walter..."

"That is too funny! Walter, you need to be more careful!" Eunice said wiping the laughter tears off her face. "Are you teasing me that you ended up with tree leaves in your wheels?"

"No, I'm not teasing...but better in the wheels than in the prop! And the Stroll's cows refused to go out of the barn for a week."

"Remember the fellow that Walter had a fight with?"

"Yes, I remember it," Mr. Henrey nodded. "You remembered your instructor's teaching very well, Walter."

"That guy was the fellow that caused poor Albert to get left in the dust by his horse last summer...and he was the fellow in the automobile," Gene said.

"Father, you will not believe this, but Albert's father tried to get a judgement against this guy--Albert had a broken rib from the horse incident."

"Now, why wouldn't I believe that? If he caused an accident..."

"Well, this boy passed out from fright when we skimmed over his head, ran off the road and hit a tree..."

"Served him right!" Mr. Henrey tapped his walking stick on the floor emphatically.

"We flew around-- got landed, Mr. Pickerell and the boys pushed the plane back into the barn where it was stored. --when Mr. Pickerell went down to check on the automobile...this fellow was just coming to. He told the sheriff when he got back to town he was almost run over by an airplane! The sheriff arrested him for public intoxication! His father finally took the automobile away from him, and his allowance was cut! We haven't seen hide nor fender of him since."

"That's it! That's it! He got his comeuppance! For sure..." Mr. Henrey laughed heartily. "Good, that's good!"

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

"What a good visit! I'm so glad they came," Agnes said as she the Henrey's automobile glided silently down the lane through the lengthening shadows.

"Yes, what an interesting life they have. They travel quite often now. Mr. Henrey was employed by the government before retiring," Jed put his arm around Agnes.

"Nissa, come help brother clean up," Gene smiled down at the little girl, and took her hand. "You can take this empty plate for me, okay?"

"Nissa hep..." with measured steps she carried the lone plate to the kitchen while Gene followed behind bringing a tray of cake and cookies.

Jed smiled at Agnes, "I guess we'd better be at the work also."

"I guess so!" Agnes smiled her answer.

"It's almost chore time," Gene put the last plate on the counter, "I guess I'll go on out and get started."

"Nissa come?" her little round face pleaded.

"I don't know..." Gene looked down his nose, and gave her a one-eyed look, "better ask first."

Her little feet tapped across the kitchen floor. She tugged on Jed's overall leg, "Nissa go?"

"I suppose so. You keep an eye on her though-" he cautioned Gene.

"She's pretty good. Nissa will sit on the feed barrels for me won't she?" Gene smiled down at her. Her pigtails waggled as she shook her head yes. "Let's go get your jacket and boots on then..."

Nissa chattered to Gene in her nonsense, no nonsense way as she stumped along beside him to the back porch, and all the time as they wrestled into their outside clothes.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Agnes asked as she headed for the coffee pot.

"Sure, pour me a cup, before I head out," he sat at the table. "Thank you," he accepted the mug. "So much happening all of a sudden," he blew on the hot coffee.

Agnes sighed and brought her cup around to sit down.

"Why the long face all of a sudden?" Jed asked.

"So many things are changing. So many changes that..." her brow creased and a her face wore a frown.

"Many things don't make sense?"

"Yes, I think that's it. Things were--simple. Now decisions are difficult. I feel like even simple choices carry consequences. Consequences that I don't understand...maybe even consequences I don't want."

"I thought maybe I should tell you," Jed blew on his coffee again, but this time it wasn't from necessity, "David is thinking of moving back to his family home."

"What! It can't be! David wouldn't take Bessie away from her friends--her family? And this has been David's home for the last five years! Many more thoughts whirled through her mind that did not make it to her tongue.

"Whoa! I didn't mean to drop the shoe too sudden."

"Eggs are in," Gene called as he opened the back porch door and set a bucket down.

"I'll be out shortly. After I finish my coffee here," Jed called in answer.

"Alright," Gene said as he closed the door.

"Well, I could see it coming, I guess, to be right honest," Jed put his cup on his knee waiting for it to cool.

"How's that?" Agnes said still dumbfounded. "I don't understand--why?"

"David can earn a better living. There's not enough here for him--but there's more than that--" Jed weighed his words.

"More than making a better living?"

"Well, Agnes, he's working as a preacher. You know that's a work of love, because he doesn't make much there. Especially for the knowledge he's got. Ever since back in '34, he's had big name congregations trying to entice him away. He works as a lawyer on occasion, and that pays better than anything."

"What about teaching? He's such a good teacher. What will the school do with out him?"

"All that is true, but schools are changing Agnes."

"Life is changing, Jed. Look around us. I'm frightened sometimes at the way things are moving, but what is it you are saying?"

"I'm saying that David teaches in the old style. The way it was in the old days, but new methods are coming along. He doesn't agree with the new methods."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. He says he's uncomfortable with them." Jed took a sip of coffee.
"He says that all children are made in the image of God. All children deserve a chance in life."

"So if he leaves, where does that leave our school? Who will do a better job of teaching than David? What does the school board think of his leaving?"

"Hey, hey!" he held up a hand, "Too many questions...I don't know, and I don't know...I don't know that he's made it official yet for one thing, and he hasn't set a time line on it either."

"But he's past the just thinking stage?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I will miss Bessie so!" Agnes said sorrow in her features as well as her voice.

"As you say, things are changing. I have thought on what you said the other evening. I know it's true. We can't hold Gene here. He's so intelligent--look how much he's done and learned! I feel it. Do you think he'll come back?"

"If he's smart he will."