"Father Abraham had many sons, many sons had Father Abraham. And I am one of them and so are you, so let's just praise the Lord!" I can just see Joshua as a little boy singing this children's song and doing the motions. "Right hand, left hand, turn around, sit down!" as he collapsed in a heap on the ground.
We were in the yard on this glorious autumn day for a family Thanksgiving in the south, and all the grandchildren were playing outside after the big meal. The video captured the memories. When the other kids dropped out of the singspiration for other pursuits, Joshua was the last man standing as his uncle plunked out the tune on the guitar.
The years flew swiftly, and as his brothers and sisters left home to establish families of their own, our grandson was left to be his father's helper and right hand man. Joshua especially liked feeding the chickens and gathering eggs. He had a special affinity for the animals he fed and cared for. The impressions they made on him were reflected in the artistic sculptures that flowed from the clay in his gifted hands.
Some people have the gift for noticing things. Josh was one of them. When I think about it, I realize that this is one of the great joys in life: to appreciate nature and its marvelous complexities. The elm tree that holds approximately six million leaves. The wonder of the intelligence and personality of animals. The miracle of food that pops out of the ground from a tiny seed.
All of God's creation is amazing. David says in Psalm 8:3, "When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man that thou art mindful of him? and in Psalm 19:1-3, "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handywork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard."
Romans 1:20, "For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse."
Since Joshua couldn't go to his younger brother's wedding, he took Zachariah aside and prayed an eloquent prayer over him, asking for the Lord's blessing over his marriage, safety for his journey and health for his body. He quoted scripture over him and blessed him.
Now that Joshua is gone, we all realize what a blessing he was. Was he perfect? No. But he was endowed with special qualities and gifts given to him by his Creator. And he, himself, was a gift we were privileged to have for almost 29 years. We miss him.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Thursday, July 2, 2015
This Little Light of Mine
In the twinkling of an eye.. "How long does it take you to twinkle your eye?" my husband is fond of asking a congregation. A twinkle is not a blink. Eyes light up when they twinkle. "The light of the body is the eye," so says Matthew 6:22. When someone dies, we say their light has gone out.
Our grandson died in an instant, of natural causes, according to medical reports. He had gone inside to fetch something for his father, and when he didn't return, Steve went in to see what was taking so long. He found 28-year-old Joshua sitting in his chair, eyes open, but not breathing and without a pulse. There was no light in his eyes. He was gone! It happened so fast, he didn't even have time to blink his eyes!
In life, no doubt Joshua's eyes twinkled in merriment quite often. He loved to tell jokes, and I can just see his eyes light up when he came to the punch line! I'm sure his eyes twinkled and crinkled with laughter as he played with his four little nephews he loved so much. And nothing can make a hungry young man's eyes brighten like being called to supper by his mom.
What a spark must have lit up his eyes and lit up the room when a shining, heavenly being entered to take him to glory! His mother said his face looked angelic! He had even dressed for the occasion. Our daughter remarked at how nice he looked, dressed up for their homecoming after their trip to his brother's wedding, not knowing it would be his homecoming as well!
Joshua didn't like to ride in cars, after some anxiety attacks of late. But his journey to heaven would not be by automobile, but by the finest flight, with royal flight attendants! He may not have gone to his brother's wedding, but he would be present when the marriage supper of the Lamb (Revelation 19:7) takes place!
"Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed," I Corinthians 15:51-52.
"So when this corruptible shall shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" I Corinthians 15:54, 55.
Our grandson died in an instant, of natural causes, according to medical reports. He had gone inside to fetch something for his father, and when he didn't return, Steve went in to see what was taking so long. He found 28-year-old Joshua sitting in his chair, eyes open, but not breathing and without a pulse. There was no light in his eyes. He was gone! It happened so fast, he didn't even have time to blink his eyes!
In life, no doubt Joshua's eyes twinkled in merriment quite often. He loved to tell jokes, and I can just see his eyes light up when he came to the punch line! I'm sure his eyes twinkled and crinkled with laughter as he played with his four little nephews he loved so much. And nothing can make a hungry young man's eyes brighten like being called to supper by his mom.
What a spark must have lit up his eyes and lit up the room when a shining, heavenly being entered to take him to glory! His mother said his face looked angelic! He had even dressed for the occasion. Our daughter remarked at how nice he looked, dressed up for their homecoming after their trip to his brother's wedding, not knowing it would be his homecoming as well!
Joshua didn't like to ride in cars, after some anxiety attacks of late. But his journey to heaven would not be by automobile, but by the finest flight, with royal flight attendants! He may not have gone to his brother's wedding, but he would be present when the marriage supper of the Lamb (Revelation 19:7) takes place!
"Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed," I Corinthians 15:51-52.
"So when this corruptible shall shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" I Corinthians 15:54, 55.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Homegoing
How can one go from the euphoria of a wedding one day to the trauma and grief of a loved one's death the next day? We had headed home from the wedding in Mississippi of our 22-year-old grandson. First, though, we had stopped at the church we used to pastor in Gulfport, Mississippi. Howard had been asked to preach there. Another wonderful reunion with old friends!
After stopping for the night somewhere in Arkansas, we had resumed our journey and were about halfway home when my cell phone rang. Our granddaughter in Tennessee was crying and hysterically asking us to pray urgently for her older brother. Our 28-year-old grandson was found unresponsive and not breathing. Earnest, beseeching prayers went up in our car. It wasn't long until another granddaughter called and gave us the bad news. Joshua was gone!
It was so unbelievable! After the initial shock subsided, my thoughts went back to this, our first grandchild, and his early years in Mississippi where we lived. I remembered taking him into the yard one hot summer day and letting the baby play with the hose. He was fascinated with the gurgling water coming out as he held it upright. "Wa-wa," he chortled. Then he found out he could aim the hose. He had power in his control!
As he grew older, Joshua developed a love for chickens. His father often hatched some in the spring. Joshua called the soft, yellow balls of fluff "biddies." "Mimi," he would say, "Don't you want some chickens?" When I declined, he would say, "Not even some biddies?" He couldn't imagine someone not in love with them as he was. All he wanted for Christmas one year was a Big Bird. He loved the plush, long-legged Sesame Street character I bought him and dragged it everywhere.
Joshua was a special-needs child. It soon became apparent he was autistic. Many years of struggle ensued for his parents as they tried to help him achieve developmental goals. He graduated from high school. He learned the computer. Really, he was brilliant. He had a rapier-sharp wit, wisecracking and giving quick comebacks, then laughing when I didn't catch on immediately.
Joshua loved movies. His goal was to become a screen writer. Since I dabble in writing, he quizzed me and questioned me for tips on publishing and how to achieve his goal.
Living far away in Oklahoma, I lacked the opportunity to interact with Josh in recent years. He lived at home with his parents who kept a small farming operation with a garden for Joshua's benefit. Our grandson loved animals and dutifully cared for them. Filling out data for his funeral today, the director asked what he did. "Shall we say he was a farmer?" our daughter asked her husband, to which he said, "No. He was a writer."
As a young boy Joshua used to come to our house where we had lived all his life, and ask, "Mimi, aren't you ever going to move?" Actually, I did, after 20 years. Now Joshua has moved, too. To a big house of his own, with all the animals he would ever want to love and tend, perfect and complete. When his parents found him, our daughter said he looked angelic. The angels had been in the room to take him home.
After stopping for the night somewhere in Arkansas, we had resumed our journey and were about halfway home when my cell phone rang. Our granddaughter in Tennessee was crying and hysterically asking us to pray urgently for her older brother. Our 28-year-old grandson was found unresponsive and not breathing. Earnest, beseeching prayers went up in our car. It wasn't long until another granddaughter called and gave us the bad news. Joshua was gone!
It was so unbelievable! After the initial shock subsided, my thoughts went back to this, our first grandchild, and his early years in Mississippi where we lived. I remembered taking him into the yard one hot summer day and letting the baby play with the hose. He was fascinated with the gurgling water coming out as he held it upright. "Wa-wa," he chortled. Then he found out he could aim the hose. He had power in his control!
As he grew older, Joshua developed a love for chickens. His father often hatched some in the spring. Joshua called the soft, yellow balls of fluff "biddies." "Mimi," he would say, "Don't you want some chickens?" When I declined, he would say, "Not even some biddies?" He couldn't imagine someone not in love with them as he was. All he wanted for Christmas one year was a Big Bird. He loved the plush, long-legged Sesame Street character I bought him and dragged it everywhere.
Joshua was a special-needs child. It soon became apparent he was autistic. Many years of struggle ensued for his parents as they tried to help him achieve developmental goals. He graduated from high school. He learned the computer. Really, he was brilliant. He had a rapier-sharp wit, wisecracking and giving quick comebacks, then laughing when I didn't catch on immediately.
Joshua loved movies. His goal was to become a screen writer. Since I dabble in writing, he quizzed me and questioned me for tips on publishing and how to achieve his goal.
Living far away in Oklahoma, I lacked the opportunity to interact with Josh in recent years. He lived at home with his parents who kept a small farming operation with a garden for Joshua's benefit. Our grandson loved animals and dutifully cared for them. Filling out data for his funeral today, the director asked what he did. "Shall we say he was a farmer?" our daughter asked her husband, to which he said, "No. He was a writer."
As a young boy Joshua used to come to our house where we had lived all his life, and ask, "Mimi, aren't you ever going to move?" Actually, I did, after 20 years. Now Joshua has moved, too. To a big house of his own, with all the animals he would ever want to love and tend, perfect and complete. When his parents found him, our daughter said he looked angelic. The angels had been in the room to take him home.
Friday, June 26, 2015
Homesick
Seeing our old house was at the top of my to-do list on our visit to our former home town, the place where we had raised our family. Countless times during lonely hours of sentimental reminiscing my thoughts were filled with memories of those days. How would I react if I got to walk through those dear, familiar rooms again? I got teary just thinking about it.
I had been unable to contact the present owners with the possibility that we might drop by while we were in town for the wedding of our grandson. After repeated attempts to reach them, my husband and I decided we would just drive by the place. But he was pulling in the driveway! He boldly got out, walked to the door and rang the bell. This felt so intrusive!
In a moment Howard beckoned me to join him after chatting with the friendly man who answered the door. I walked upon the porch, noticing they had painted the floor the same shade of gray porch paint we had used several times over our 20-year residence there. We were warmly welcomed and invited in. My eyes hungrily took in the space. The golden heart-of-pine floors that I had loved so much glowed beneath my feet as I stepped in.
I was taken aback at the beauty! Tasteful furnishings were placed in comfortable arrangements around "our" living room that opened onto a deck. The one we had built so many years ago had been replaced sometime back. The view that met my eyes was amazing!
This was a magazine-worthy, cozy garden enclosed in rustic board fences and filled with thoughtful touches in every surprising nook. An antique, porcelain sink stood in a far corner looking perfectly at home. Opulent rows of lavishly drooping tomato plants had delivered over 600 ripe, luscious ruby-red gems to the home gardener, who had a pot of them on the stove sending their aromatic, steamy fragrance throughout the house.
There was even an outdoor working kitchen, complete with an evenly-laid wood floor and an adjoining bricked space. Gourmet chef cooking tools hung from a shelf lined with old soda bottles and bric-a-brac. Back inside, we were invited to peek in any and all rooms, company ready, as if they were expecting us!
Across a breezeway, which had always been my decorating nemesis, I noticed slight indentations on the facing of the door to the "man cave." Though the door frame had been repainted, I knew the marks were from our then-teenage son who in a fit of energy? aggravation? whatever, had carved into it a list of chores he had done: 1. Swept breezeway. 2. Mowed grass. 3. Fed dog. 4. Blew off driveway. All followed by date of completion!
The rest of the house was filled with organized collections, book-filled shelves, and comfy furniture. There was even an antique juke-box filled with 45-vinyl discs! The majestic, antique range we remembered presided over a second kitchen. More patios and gardens were glimpsed through the windows.
The house was everything I had ever wanted it to be, and more. It reminded me of something I heard in a teaching by Beth Moore. She said that when the saints return with Jesus at the second coming, we will be everything we were meant to be. No personality flaws, no age-lined faces, no broken-down bodies--just happy and complete.
The comparison somehow seems appropriate, for this house was born in a church, you might say. It was built from cypress beams and lumber from the predecessor of the church next door to it. And many of God's people were born-again in church. Hebrews 12:23 calls us "the church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, ...the spirits of just men made perfect." The house was not my home anymore, but I have a perfect home, my real home waiting in heaven!
I had been unable to contact the present owners with the possibility that we might drop by while we were in town for the wedding of our grandson. After repeated attempts to reach them, my husband and I decided we would just drive by the place. But he was pulling in the driveway! He boldly got out, walked to the door and rang the bell. This felt so intrusive!
In a moment Howard beckoned me to join him after chatting with the friendly man who answered the door. I walked upon the porch, noticing they had painted the floor the same shade of gray porch paint we had used several times over our 20-year residence there. We were warmly welcomed and invited in. My eyes hungrily took in the space. The golden heart-of-pine floors that I had loved so much glowed beneath my feet as I stepped in.
I was taken aback at the beauty! Tasteful furnishings were placed in comfortable arrangements around "our" living room that opened onto a deck. The one we had built so many years ago had been replaced sometime back. The view that met my eyes was amazing!
This was a magazine-worthy, cozy garden enclosed in rustic board fences and filled with thoughtful touches in every surprising nook. An antique, porcelain sink stood in a far corner looking perfectly at home. Opulent rows of lavishly drooping tomato plants had delivered over 600 ripe, luscious ruby-red gems to the home gardener, who had a pot of them on the stove sending their aromatic, steamy fragrance throughout the house.
There was even an outdoor working kitchen, complete with an evenly-laid wood floor and an adjoining bricked space. Gourmet chef cooking tools hung from a shelf lined with old soda bottles and bric-a-brac. Back inside, we were invited to peek in any and all rooms, company ready, as if they were expecting us!
Across a breezeway, which had always been my decorating nemesis, I noticed slight indentations on the facing of the door to the "man cave." Though the door frame had been repainted, I knew the marks were from our then-teenage son who in a fit of energy? aggravation? whatever, had carved into it a list of chores he had done: 1. Swept breezeway. 2. Mowed grass. 3. Fed dog. 4. Blew off driveway. All followed by date of completion!
The rest of the house was filled with organized collections, book-filled shelves, and comfy furniture. There was even an antique juke-box filled with 45-vinyl discs! The majestic, antique range we remembered presided over a second kitchen. More patios and gardens were glimpsed through the windows.
The house was everything I had ever wanted it to be, and more. It reminded me of something I heard in a teaching by Beth Moore. She said that when the saints return with Jesus at the second coming, we will be everything we were meant to be. No personality flaws, no age-lined faces, no broken-down bodies--just happy and complete.
The comparison somehow seems appropriate, for this house was born in a church, you might say. It was built from cypress beams and lumber from the predecessor of the church next door to it. And many of God's people were born-again in church. Hebrews 12:23 calls us "the church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, ...the spirits of just men made perfect." The house was not my home anymore, but I have a perfect home, my real home waiting in heaven!
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Her Father's Eyes
The best Father's Day gift I can think of is one experienced by our son last Sunday. Jamie got to baptize his eight-year-old daughter, Anne-Marie. I knew she had been requesting it for some time, and the time allotted fell on Father's Day! As one of the pastors of his church, it was his privilege to baptize this oldest child, the serious one.
When I was asking about the grandchildren the other day, Jamie told me, "Anne-Marie is such a thinker!" He further explained that she told him she had had three dreams, and that she had the interpretation for all of them. She also said she knew the name of the baby her mother had lost a few years ago in an early miscarriage, and it was "Luke Jake." (It was so early the gender was not determined.)
I told Jamie that her insistence on being baptized reminded me of my 8-or-9-year-old self when I wanted my own Bible in the worst way. I had been wheedling for my mother to buy me one, but times were hard and money was tight with her houseful of kids to raise. Then one Saturday evening we were in a Kress store, when I got a glimpse of my Sunday School teacher. She seemed to be shielding something from me, and the next morning in class she surprised me with a New Testament--my own Bible! My joy knew no bounds.
Anne-Marie's water baptism made me think of her father when he was eight. Our pastor had announced that particular Sunday morning that there would be a baptismal service that afternoon at Little Black Creek, a well-known, popular fishing and swimming site. On the way out of the church after the service, I glanced at the list on a foyer table of baptismal candidates. There in his childish penmanship I saw Jamie's name! He had signed himself up to be baptized!
He was an original thinker, too, such as the time he decided at age 7 to brew his dad a cup of coffee so that the aroma would wake him from a nap. Balancing the cup of hot coffee, Jamie splashed some on his hand, causing him to jerk and spill the coffee into his father's ear as he lay sleeping on the floor. Or the time he took it upon himself to secretly take a hostess gift consisting of a bottle of booze to a home prayer meeting. (A misguided customer at the store had given it to Howard as a Christmas present and it stood unopened on a high shelf.)
I have read that an early interest in spiritual things is one sign of a gifted child. I believe it, although they may not be so gifted in gift-giving! Oh yes, after the baptismal, Anne-Marie was presented with her own Bible.
When I was asking about the grandchildren the other day, Jamie told me, "Anne-Marie is such a thinker!" He further explained that she told him she had had three dreams, and that she had the interpretation for all of them. She also said she knew the name of the baby her mother had lost a few years ago in an early miscarriage, and it was "Luke Jake." (It was so early the gender was not determined.)
I told Jamie that her insistence on being baptized reminded me of my 8-or-9-year-old self when I wanted my own Bible in the worst way. I had been wheedling for my mother to buy me one, but times were hard and money was tight with her houseful of kids to raise. Then one Saturday evening we were in a Kress store, when I got a glimpse of my Sunday School teacher. She seemed to be shielding something from me, and the next morning in class she surprised me with a New Testament--my own Bible! My joy knew no bounds.
Anne-Marie's water baptism made me think of her father when he was eight. Our pastor had announced that particular Sunday morning that there would be a baptismal service that afternoon at Little Black Creek, a well-known, popular fishing and swimming site. On the way out of the church after the service, I glanced at the list on a foyer table of baptismal candidates. There in his childish penmanship I saw Jamie's name! He had signed himself up to be baptized!
He was an original thinker, too, such as the time he decided at age 7 to brew his dad a cup of coffee so that the aroma would wake him from a nap. Balancing the cup of hot coffee, Jamie splashed some on his hand, causing him to jerk and spill the coffee into his father's ear as he lay sleeping on the floor. Or the time he took it upon himself to secretly take a hostess gift consisting of a bottle of booze to a home prayer meeting. (A misguided customer at the store had given it to Howard as a Christmas present and it stood unopened on a high shelf.)
I have read that an early interest in spiritual things is one sign of a gifted child. I believe it, although they may not be so gifted in gift-giving! Oh yes, after the baptismal, Anne-Marie was presented with her own Bible.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
A Day to Remember
Howard had a momentous birthday, for more reasons than one. A little great-grandson was born on his birthday! (Two years ago, his parents got married on my husband's birthday!) We had been anxiously awaiting news of the baby's safe arrival, since he was two months early. Due to complications, he was delivered prematurely by C-section.
My cell phone rang just as we were leaving for our Monday night Bible study. I saw it was our daughter, who told me the happy news: 2 lbs, 4 oz. and doing well! Howard was buckling his seat belt (he always does it halfway down the driveway) and listening intently to my conversation about the baby. Just then we heard a scrape, crunch and shattering of glass! He had distractedly backed into a car in the street!
Thankfully, the mishap was nothing serious, just a scraped driver's-side door of the other car, and a broken tail-light for us. Insurance info was shared, the police came and took notes, and shortly we were on our way. I had called to tell the host we would be late. They were near the end of a time of praise and worship when we walked in, and at the conclusion, burst into a rousing round of "Happy Birthday to you!" to Howard's surprise.
As we prepared to leave after the Bible study, everyone gathered around to pray over and bless the birthday boy. Words were spoken to the effect that God would bless him with a new beginning and new opportunities in the Lord's service. Later I quipped that getting a new great-grand-baby for your birthday was a quite a new beginning!
Today after his getting a birthday card from a friend in Kansas, our ten-year-old granddaughter (adopted into the family three years ago) asked, "How did you know her?" to which I replied "Pa-Pa has preached in their church."
"What? He's a preacher?" she exclaimed. It's been a few years since Howard was a pastor, but he still preaches occasionally. Kids forget, so I filled our granddaughter in on our pastoring a church in Mississippi and other fields of service. He may be retired now, but once a preacher, always a preacher, and my spouse keeps busy studying the Bible, sharing scripture cards with people daily, teaching Sunday school or just thanking God that all our large family serves the Lord. Now that's a momentous birthday!
My cell phone rang just as we were leaving for our Monday night Bible study. I saw it was our daughter, who told me the happy news: 2 lbs, 4 oz. and doing well! Howard was buckling his seat belt (he always does it halfway down the driveway) and listening intently to my conversation about the baby. Just then we heard a scrape, crunch and shattering of glass! He had distractedly backed into a car in the street!
Thankfully, the mishap was nothing serious, just a scraped driver's-side door of the other car, and a broken tail-light for us. Insurance info was shared, the police came and took notes, and shortly we were on our way. I had called to tell the host we would be late. They were near the end of a time of praise and worship when we walked in, and at the conclusion, burst into a rousing round of "Happy Birthday to you!" to Howard's surprise.
As we prepared to leave after the Bible study, everyone gathered around to pray over and bless the birthday boy. Words were spoken to the effect that God would bless him with a new beginning and new opportunities in the Lord's service. Later I quipped that getting a new great-grand-baby for your birthday was a quite a new beginning!
Today after his getting a birthday card from a friend in Kansas, our ten-year-old granddaughter (adopted into the family three years ago) asked, "How did you know her?" to which I replied "Pa-Pa has preached in their church."
"What? He's a preacher?" she exclaimed. It's been a few years since Howard was a pastor, but he still preaches occasionally. Kids forget, so I filled our granddaughter in on our pastoring a church in Mississippi and other fields of service. He may be retired now, but once a preacher, always a preacher, and my spouse keeps busy studying the Bible, sharing scripture cards with people daily, teaching Sunday school or just thanking God that all our large family serves the Lord. Now that's a momentous birthday!
Monday, June 15, 2015
The Notebook
"Have you seen my little booklet where I write down things I want to remember?" my husband asked first thing this morning. "See, it looks like one of these," he said, showing me tiny books he had bought at the stationery store with names like Penny for your Thoughts, Bright Ideas, and Stuff to Do.
I told him I hadn't seen it, and he said he had looked for it yesterday to use in the lesson he was teaching in Sunday School. He gave up resignedly and in a few minutes came in wearing his denim farm shirt. "It was in this pocket," he said, "I prayed I would find it, and there it was!" The title was Stuff I'm Likely to Forget.
My spouse has a memory like an elephant, and he doesn't forget much, especially about things that happened a long time ago. He had called me to come and look at a calf that was lying in the grass just outside the corral on our son's farm yesterday. "I think it's a newborn," Howard said. Pretty soon, though, it got up and ambled to another spot and lay down in the tall grass. I could see it wasn't a newborn.
Howard called the owner of the cows that pasture on the property and asked him about it. "Did it have a tag in its ear?" the man asked. It didn't, then he said, "That calf has a very mean mother. She wouldn't even let us get near it to tag it. She is very good at hiding out her calf." It's a good thing my wanna-be farmer didn't try to "rescue" it, as he had thought about.
My husband was telling this story to our son-in-law on the phone, when I heard him say about a mutual friend of theirs from the past, "I remember when Buck Martin told me a cow knocked him down, then pinned him to the grass. He looked up to see her standing over him with those long horns and called out to God that she wouldn't hurt him. Just then she moved away!"
I must admit I was a little relieved Howard hadn't found the booklet, for it contained reminders of stories he liked to tell. (He related enough of them in class yesterday.) Today is his birthday, and he's had an overwhelming number of Happy Birthday wishes on Facebook, as well as a text message, a voice-mail, and a telephone call. Everybody loves him, and he's worth it, stories and all! Something I'm not likely to forget!
I told him I hadn't seen it, and he said he had looked for it yesterday to use in the lesson he was teaching in Sunday School. He gave up resignedly and in a few minutes came in wearing his denim farm shirt. "It was in this pocket," he said, "I prayed I would find it, and there it was!" The title was Stuff I'm Likely to Forget.
My spouse has a memory like an elephant, and he doesn't forget much, especially about things that happened a long time ago. He had called me to come and look at a calf that was lying in the grass just outside the corral on our son's farm yesterday. "I think it's a newborn," Howard said. Pretty soon, though, it got up and ambled to another spot and lay down in the tall grass. I could see it wasn't a newborn.
Howard called the owner of the cows that pasture on the property and asked him about it. "Did it have a tag in its ear?" the man asked. It didn't, then he said, "That calf has a very mean mother. She wouldn't even let us get near it to tag it. She is very good at hiding out her calf." It's a good thing my wanna-be farmer didn't try to "rescue" it, as he had thought about.
My husband was telling this story to our son-in-law on the phone, when I heard him say about a mutual friend of theirs from the past, "I remember when Buck Martin told me a cow knocked him down, then pinned him to the grass. He looked up to see her standing over him with those long horns and called out to God that she wouldn't hurt him. Just then she moved away!"
I must admit I was a little relieved Howard hadn't found the booklet, for it contained reminders of stories he liked to tell. (He related enough of them in class yesterday.) Today is his birthday, and he's had an overwhelming number of Happy Birthday wishes on Facebook, as well as a text message, a voice-mail, and a telephone call. Everybody loves him, and he's worth it, stories and all! Something I'm not likely to forget!
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