My husband's mood of nostalgia was still prevailing a few days ago when he said, "I'm going to Winfield to see my cousin!" Then he continued, "And I'm also going to try to find Sandra while I'm up there." I knew who he meant. We had looked up his cousin a few years ago and found him changed from the strikingly handsome man with the Summers' looks that I remembered to an emaciated old man on a breathing machine.
Sandra was a valued former employee from the store in New Orleans. He heard that she had moved to Winfield, Kansas, where she was from, since then. It had been a good 30 years, but he has been curious about her, especially since someone at church living in that area said there were a lot of families there with her last name.
So yesterday Howard and our son Greg took the 40-mile trip down memory lane. I asked him about their excursion when he got home. "I couldn't get anyone to come to the door at Martin's house," he explained, "then a neighbor came out and said he had passed away five months ago." I was afraid of something like that.
I knew how he felt, since I had cousins living about two hours away in the town where I was born and had always intended to look them up. But sadly, during a genealogy search my niece was doing, she found they had both passed away, one in 2010 and the other last year.
I had asked him before they left how he expected to find Sandra, his old secretary. He said you ask around, talk to people--at McDonald's, the police department, etc. The police called a number that was listed, but the answer was that she didn't live there anymore. Howard had just gotten home after dropping Greg at his house when the phone rang with the news that Sandra had called. She had moved to Topeka. Howard returned the call and they had a nice chat. When he told her he was 75, she couldn't believe it, but then again, she was 62!
He didn't say much about the trip to me, but I figured it was because his findings were saddening and disappointing. Then at breakfast today he dropped the tidbit that he and our son had visited a music store in Arkansas City. To hear him tell it, it was a store to end all music stores! He described the guitars, fairly salivating over a Taylor guitar he had tried, and related stories the proprietor shared about former hippie customers who spent thousands there. Apparently a huge bluegrass festival is held at the fairgrounds there about this time every year, and he said there were already many trailers gathering.
"This guitar store was better than the ones they have in Houston!" he went on. Here I was hoping that he had gotten digging up the past out of his system, but being the eternal optimist that he his, he always looks on the bright side, and this trip was no exception! Who knows what the next venture will bring?
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Surprises
One day last week we had occasion to be in Blackwell, our home town, and Howard had the urge to look up a classmate that he heard ran a resale shop there. His intent was to ask her about her brother, his old pal and childhood playmate. Since we had had scarcely any contact with any of his class in 57 years, living away during most of that time, I was surprised he wanted to renew acquaintances at this point in our lives.
Nevertheless, we wandered around the well-kept store until a clerk came to wait on us. Howard explained our situation and was told by the friendly, curious woman that the proprietor had the day off. She told us her name, which sounded familiar, and it turned out she was a member of his class, although we didn't remember her. After recalling many classmates they both knew, I realized my husband hadn't told her his name. "Tell her who you are!" I said.
"Howard Summers!" she gasped at hearing his name. "Do you remember what we did?" I was all ears, but he looked puzzled. "We stood up at Hugh and Nancy's wedding!" Hugh Evans? Howard had been trying to get in touch with him forever! She then explained she was the bride's cousin, which we had forgotten if we ever knew that. Then we asked if she were related to a another girl by the same last name that we remembered. "My cousin!" she exclaimed.
She began rambling on, bringing up familiar names and said, "Carolyn (still best friend of the subject of our inquiry) is in the back. She would love to see you!" We went back to see a group of white-haired little volunteer ladies (some we remembered as being high school cheerleaders) folding clothes around a table.
Before we knew it, it was like old home week. Threads of memory were being pulled, each one leading to a another acquaintance and being woven into a tapestry taking shape of a community we had all but forgotten. By the time we left, we had exchanged phone numbers and had been eagerly invited to some upcoming get-togethers! "We had only nine last time," someone lamented.
How unexpected was this mini-reunion! Something else unexpected happened today. I had resolved yesterday to go back to the doctor, since my knee pain wasn't any better. I felt it was an exercise in futility, though, since he had let me know last month that he was not interested in giving me a cortisone shot (which I wanted) at that point, citing dangers and precautions. Still, I was suffering and the medicine wasn't helping much. We prayed before we got there that I would get satisfaction.
The doctor wasn't in, but had left a PA in charge. After examining me, he suggested a steroid joint injection without my even asking! Praise God! I came out of there feeling like a load of depression had been lifted and am now looking forward to a pain-free life again! I might even feel like attending that get-together!
Nevertheless, we wandered around the well-kept store until a clerk came to wait on us. Howard explained our situation and was told by the friendly, curious woman that the proprietor had the day off. She told us her name, which sounded familiar, and it turned out she was a member of his class, although we didn't remember her. After recalling many classmates they both knew, I realized my husband hadn't told her his name. "Tell her who you are!" I said.
"Howard Summers!" she gasped at hearing his name. "Do you remember what we did?" I was all ears, but he looked puzzled. "We stood up at Hugh and Nancy's wedding!" Hugh Evans? Howard had been trying to get in touch with him forever! She then explained she was the bride's cousin, which we had forgotten if we ever knew that. Then we asked if she were related to a another girl by the same last name that we remembered. "My cousin!" she exclaimed.
She began rambling on, bringing up familiar names and said, "Carolyn (still best friend of the subject of our inquiry) is in the back. She would love to see you!" We went back to see a group of white-haired little volunteer ladies (some we remembered as being high school cheerleaders) folding clothes around a table.
Before we knew it, it was like old home week. Threads of memory were being pulled, each one leading to a another acquaintance and being woven into a tapestry taking shape of a community we had all but forgotten. By the time we left, we had exchanged phone numbers and had been eagerly invited to some upcoming get-togethers! "We had only nine last time," someone lamented.
How unexpected was this mini-reunion! Something else unexpected happened today. I had resolved yesterday to go back to the doctor, since my knee pain wasn't any better. I felt it was an exercise in futility, though, since he had let me know last month that he was not interested in giving me a cortisone shot (which I wanted) at that point, citing dangers and precautions. Still, I was suffering and the medicine wasn't helping much. We prayed before we got there that I would get satisfaction.
The doctor wasn't in, but had left a PA in charge. After examining me, he suggested a steroid joint injection without my even asking! Praise God! I came out of there feeling like a load of depression had been lifted and am now looking forward to a pain-free life again! I might even feel like attending that get-together!
To Each His Own
"Those boys are worse than the Katzenjammer Kids!" the talkative senior citizen lamented after telling of her 6-and 7-year old (great?)grandsons' behavior. We were sitting in the out-patient surgery waiting room while our son was having knee surgery, and her grandchild was having a tosilectomy.
She had directed her comments to a middle-aged woman across from her, but on seeing the blank look on the woman's face, I commented, "She probably doesn't know who The Katzenjammer Kids are." When she shook her head in confusion, I told her it was a comic-strip from a long time ago. I remember reading it at about age 8, wondering at the antics of the twin-boy characters, as well as puzzling out the strange words and accents, recalling the stock verdict when he boys got into mischief, "Comes der hairbrush!"
A little later, the voluble talker said across the room to me, "I like your shoes." I had worn these sandals to pamper my painful knee, since they were the flattest ones I have. I responded with a "Thank you," saying they were comfortable. "And they look good on your feet," she went on. My summer pedicure must still be holding on, I thought thankfully.
Anyway, I liked this frank, open woman who was completely unselfconscious and commented entertainingly on whatever occurred to her in the crowded waiting room. I wish I could be more like that, I reflected. But I was reminded of the lead story I read in Guideposts that morning about a man who had wanted to be just like his adored and admired grandpa. Grandpa could do anything, from plumbing to building to putting things together without reading the instructions. He was the boy's hero.
Alas, the grandson despaired of his own inabilities until his grandfather told him, "God has given us both a toolbox. Not the same toolbox, though," encouraging the young boy that he would find his gift someday. And it turned out that he did, which he managed to use in honoring his grandparent in the end.
My husband has the gift of instant rapport with people he has just met. Today at a vegetable stand I had to give up waiting on him to go sit in the car while he visited with the proprietor. God gave him these gifts which he has used in ministry and meeting the public in business.
In Paul's day, many people started preferring a different teacher. Acts 18:24 says, "And a certain Jew named Apollos, born at Alexandria, an eloquent man, and mighty in the scriptures, came to Ephesus." Paul addressed this in I Corinthians 1:11 when he hears of the contention over some favoring Apollos and some himself. He sums up the situation and challenges the people to maturity when he says, "I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase, I Corinthians 3:6.
We all have different gifts as Christians. The important thing is that we use them for the Lord and honoring our Father!
She had directed her comments to a middle-aged woman across from her, but on seeing the blank look on the woman's face, I commented, "She probably doesn't know who The Katzenjammer Kids are." When she shook her head in confusion, I told her it was a comic-strip from a long time ago. I remember reading it at about age 8, wondering at the antics of the twin-boy characters, as well as puzzling out the strange words and accents, recalling the stock verdict when he boys got into mischief, "Comes der hairbrush!"
A little later, the voluble talker said across the room to me, "I like your shoes." I had worn these sandals to pamper my painful knee, since they were the flattest ones I have. I responded with a "Thank you," saying they were comfortable. "And they look good on your feet," she went on. My summer pedicure must still be holding on, I thought thankfully.
Anyway, I liked this frank, open woman who was completely unselfconscious and commented entertainingly on whatever occurred to her in the crowded waiting room. I wish I could be more like that, I reflected. But I was reminded of the lead story I read in Guideposts that morning about a man who had wanted to be just like his adored and admired grandpa. Grandpa could do anything, from plumbing to building to putting things together without reading the instructions. He was the boy's hero.
Alas, the grandson despaired of his own inabilities until his grandfather told him, "God has given us both a toolbox. Not the same toolbox, though," encouraging the young boy that he would find his gift someday. And it turned out that he did, which he managed to use in honoring his grandparent in the end.
My husband has the gift of instant rapport with people he has just met. Today at a vegetable stand I had to give up waiting on him to go sit in the car while he visited with the proprietor. God gave him these gifts which he has used in ministry and meeting the public in business.
In Paul's day, many people started preferring a different teacher. Acts 18:24 says, "And a certain Jew named Apollos, born at Alexandria, an eloquent man, and mighty in the scriptures, came to Ephesus." Paul addressed this in I Corinthians 1:11 when he hears of the contention over some favoring Apollos and some himself. He sums up the situation and challenges the people to maturity when he says, "I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase, I Corinthians 3:6.
We all have different gifts as Christians. The important thing is that we use them for the Lord and honoring our Father!
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Heartthoughts: Awesome and Amazing!
"Look, Howard," I said as I glimpsed a display in Walmart, "Maddie would like these!" It was a rack of a novelty item by Nestle's Quik--eyeglass frames made from flexible drinking straws that looped around the ears before ending in the glass of chocolate milk.
We walked on, and their Pa Pa said, "Why don't you get it, then?" I went back and got one for Maddie and her big sister. We had just come from their house last week, and I was missing my granddaughters. After a couple of days I got them mailed, and today I see a message on Facebook from our son that was a video of the girls unwrapping the package!
6-year-old Anne-Marie tentatively attempts to open the mailing envelope, and Maddie,4, appears with some blunt scissors to facilitate the job. Soon they are puzzling at the contents, then smiling as they figure out what the gadgets are. "Tell Mimi 'Thank You,'" their father prompts them. They do, then Maddie holds her palm up to the camera and says, "Wait! Don't turn it off yet! I want to say something!" Then she says, "These are awesome and amazing!"
I laughed when I realized what she said, and I laughed harder when I saw the next video of them drinking from the straws. Maddie looked like the little red-haired, bespectacled girl from Dennis the Menace, and one side of Anne-Marie's glasses slipped comically down as the liquid climbed and circulated around their eyes and over their ears. It was funny! It was almost as good as being there. Such a little gesture that gave me (and them) so much pleasure.
Our son Greg had knee surgery yesterday, and our daughter-in-law asked me if I would come over and make a sandwich for his lunch today. Of course I would! I decided to make some soup, though, from a chicken I had baked. With celery, onions, carrots and rice, the scanty chicken turned into a delicious soup, plenty for his lunch with a sandwich and a piece of cake. Howard had a bowl of it, too, then seconds. I was not hungry then, and after our visit I took the pot home to wash it.
Hungry by this time, I decided to warm the tiny bit of soup in the bottom of the pot that was mostly dry and bare. It made almost a small bowlful for me, to which I added a PBJ sandwich. At one point I looked at my bowl and laughed. Howard came in and asked what I was laughing about. "I think God has multiplied this soup!" I said. I had eaten and was full, and there was still plenty of soup in the bowl! I really couldn't have eaten the rest of it, but it was so good, I did! Was God blessing me for looking after my son?
I had more opportunity to serve family when the local grandchildren came over after school. I fixed their requested Ramen noodles, made popcorn and gave them cookies. Later, I nudged them away from TV cartoons and sat with them on the porch while they played restaurant with my
decorative fruit baskets and school with Pa Pa's yellow legal pad and markers. Being a mom and a Mimi is awesome and amazing!
We walked on, and their Pa Pa said, "Why don't you get it, then?" I went back and got one for Maddie and her big sister. We had just come from their house last week, and I was missing my granddaughters. After a couple of days I got them mailed, and today I see a message on Facebook from our son that was a video of the girls unwrapping the package!
6-year-old Anne-Marie tentatively attempts to open the mailing envelope, and Maddie,4, appears with some blunt scissors to facilitate the job. Soon they are puzzling at the contents, then smiling as they figure out what the gadgets are. "Tell Mimi 'Thank You,'" their father prompts them. They do, then Maddie holds her palm up to the camera and says, "Wait! Don't turn it off yet! I want to say something!" Then she says, "These are awesome and amazing!"
I laughed when I realized what she said, and I laughed harder when I saw the next video of them drinking from the straws. Maddie looked like the little red-haired, bespectacled girl from Dennis the Menace, and one side of Anne-Marie's glasses slipped comically down as the liquid climbed and circulated around their eyes and over their ears. It was funny! It was almost as good as being there. Such a little gesture that gave me (and them) so much pleasure.
Our son Greg had knee surgery yesterday, and our daughter-in-law asked me if I would come over and make a sandwich for his lunch today. Of course I would! I decided to make some soup, though, from a chicken I had baked. With celery, onions, carrots and rice, the scanty chicken turned into a delicious soup, plenty for his lunch with a sandwich and a piece of cake. Howard had a bowl of it, too, then seconds. I was not hungry then, and after our visit I took the pot home to wash it.
Hungry by this time, I decided to warm the tiny bit of soup in the bottom of the pot that was mostly dry and bare. It made almost a small bowlful for me, to which I added a PBJ sandwich. At one point I looked at my bowl and laughed. Howard came in and asked what I was laughing about. "I think God has multiplied this soup!" I said. I had eaten and was full, and there was still plenty of soup in the bowl! I really couldn't have eaten the rest of it, but it was so good, I did! Was God blessing me for looking after my son?
I had more opportunity to serve family when the local grandchildren came over after school. I fixed their requested Ramen noodles, made popcorn and gave them cookies. Later, I nudged them away from TV cartoons and sat with them on the porch while they played restaurant with my
decorative fruit baskets and school with Pa Pa's yellow legal pad and markers. Being a mom and a Mimi is awesome and amazing!
A Love Story
We didn't want to miss the funeral of one of the figures of our past when we heard about his passing. Actually, he wasn't a close friend, but as the adult son of our long-ago pastors, we felt like we knew him. As a young man, he had presented a visitation seminar at our church when we were young marrieds. Living away in the south for a lifetime, we had heard snippets of his rise to prominence in his career, but it seems his overwhelming attribute was his love for his fellow man.
Well, I should say, first was his love of God, as testified to by several speakers at his services yesterday. One even drew an analogy to Abraham, establishing altars wherever he went, as this individual was active in church work, as well as community service, wherever his career for the oil company took him.
A particularly telling incident shared yesterday was this gentleman's response to the passing of a sad legend in our community. Lydie Marland, girl-wife of an Oklahoma governor and oil magnate who had lived briefly in the Marland mansion erected for her here by her husband, had returned in her last years after living anonymously in hiding, unable to face the disgrace of lost fortune. She had come back to the only security she had, Lydie's cottage, the one piece of real estate left for her on the mansion grounds that she had paid taxes on over the years from different mailing addresses around the country.
Old and tattered, her youth and beauty gone along with her most of her teeth, she wandered waif-like around the grounds, occasionally spotted as a fleeting shadow. This friend, a vice-president by then of the company her husband founded, directed his wife to see that the flowers and arrangements at her funeral were befitting of the First Lady of Conoco and a First Lady of Oklahoma.
Included in the modest funeral program handed to us was a folded sheet of paper with a poem written years ago by the deceased to his wife. It was a beautiful tribute of devotion and appreciation on their 30th anniversary. His love for her was a theme repeated often in the
service. In one of the eulogies, a former pastor of the departed related a story of when they were invited to a picnic by the older couple.
"At last, some home cooking!" the young pastor exclaimed on seeing the elaborate feast being taken from the picnic basket. Our friend took him aside and instructed him that his wife was his dearest friend and greatest blessing on earth, and he should treat her as such and be careful of her feelings.
One of the loves of his life was mentoring young couples and and conducting marriage seminars. Evidently, his own worked out well, as attested to by adoring grandchildren whose voices broke in giving fond memories of a grandpa-built tree house, his encouragement of
their youthful dreams, and prayers and example he set over the years. "When I woke up at their house, Grandma would be in the kitchen making a huge breakfast, and I would find Grandpa in his study reading the Bible," one spoke.
A victim of Alzheimer's in his last years and resident of a nursing home, he was still communicating his love for his wife on her visits. She had been trying unsuccessfully for some time to sell their substantial home, keeping him abreast of the progress. It seemed fitting that when at last she was able to give him the news that it had sold and that the transaction was completed, the brilliant financier, his earthly house in order, in a few minutes departed to his heavenly home, moving to the place prepared for him, not made by human hands.
Well, I should say, first was his love of God, as testified to by several speakers at his services yesterday. One even drew an analogy to Abraham, establishing altars wherever he went, as this individual was active in church work, as well as community service, wherever his career for the oil company took him.
A particularly telling incident shared yesterday was this gentleman's response to the passing of a sad legend in our community. Lydie Marland, girl-wife of an Oklahoma governor and oil magnate who had lived briefly in the Marland mansion erected for her here by her husband, had returned in her last years after living anonymously in hiding, unable to face the disgrace of lost fortune. She had come back to the only security she had, Lydie's cottage, the one piece of real estate left for her on the mansion grounds that she had paid taxes on over the years from different mailing addresses around the country.
Old and tattered, her youth and beauty gone along with her most of her teeth, she wandered waif-like around the grounds, occasionally spotted as a fleeting shadow. This friend, a vice-president by then of the company her husband founded, directed his wife to see that the flowers and arrangements at her funeral were befitting of the First Lady of Conoco and a First Lady of Oklahoma.
Included in the modest funeral program handed to us was a folded sheet of paper with a poem written years ago by the deceased to his wife. It was a beautiful tribute of devotion and appreciation on their 30th anniversary. His love for her was a theme repeated often in the
service. In one of the eulogies, a former pastor of the departed related a story of when they were invited to a picnic by the older couple.
"At last, some home cooking!" the young pastor exclaimed on seeing the elaborate feast being taken from the picnic basket. Our friend took him aside and instructed him that his wife was his dearest friend and greatest blessing on earth, and he should treat her as such and be careful of her feelings.
One of the loves of his life was mentoring young couples and and conducting marriage seminars. Evidently, his own worked out well, as attested to by adoring grandchildren whose voices broke in giving fond memories of a grandpa-built tree house, his encouragement of
their youthful dreams, and prayers and example he set over the years. "When I woke up at their house, Grandma would be in the kitchen making a huge breakfast, and I would find Grandpa in his study reading the Bible," one spoke.
A victim of Alzheimer's in his last years and resident of a nursing home, he was still communicating his love for his wife on her visits. She had been trying unsuccessfully for some time to sell their substantial home, keeping him abreast of the progress. It seemed fitting that when at last she was able to give him the news that it had sold and that the transaction was completed, the brilliant financier, his earthly house in order, in a few minutes departed to his heavenly home, moving to the place prepared for him, not made by human hands.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Home Grown
"Is that someone knocking at the door?" I said Friday afternoon as I detected a slight sound outside. Howard went out, and soon I heard him talking to someone. I looked out and was surprised to see a minister friend we hadn't seen in ages. He had brought us some produce from their garden! It was sitting just inside the door on our screened porch where he had placed it when he thought we were not home. I went out to join them, while our friend stood on the steps, saying he should get back to his wife in the car.
I went to say hi to her, not having seen her for a long time. "I read your book every day," the older lady said. "I keep it in the bathroom." (Someone else told me that, too!) I told her I had three more books now, and asked her husband to wait a minute. They were so nice to bring us those beautiful tomatoes and fresh green beans that I got copies of the other three books and gave them to her. She seemed so thrilled.
We sliced into a tomato as soon as they left. Talk about delicious! We ate two then and two for supper, relishing their sunshine-fresh flavor. I can't wait to cook the green beans! I would have had them last night, but we were invited for a pizza/game night at the home of our granddaughter. Pizza is not normally our cup of tea, but who could refuse an invitation like that?
Family games of Taboo, Uno, and Scrabble followed (I brought my king-size edition), interspersed by the passing of soft drinks and fresh-baked brownies. Our granddaughter and her room mate cousin were hosting their first event since moving into the house recently.
We got to see everyone again at church this morning. It was a blessed service with our son, Greg, helping lead the music. My eyes welled up in praise and gratitude at hearing the level of his skill and talent, all used for the Lord. Later, I remarked to his father that all four of our sons could get together and hold a revival! Two of them are preachers, and all are musicians and/or on worship teams! One of our daughters is a preacher's wife, and the other one sings beautifully!
We may not be much as gardeners, but with the Lord's help we did raise a good crop of kids!
I went to say hi to her, not having seen her for a long time. "I read your book every day," the older lady said. "I keep it in the bathroom." (Someone else told me that, too!) I told her I had three more books now, and asked her husband to wait a minute. They were so nice to bring us those beautiful tomatoes and fresh green beans that I got copies of the other three books and gave them to her. She seemed so thrilled.
We sliced into a tomato as soon as they left. Talk about delicious! We ate two then and two for supper, relishing their sunshine-fresh flavor. I can't wait to cook the green beans! I would have had them last night, but we were invited for a pizza/game night at the home of our granddaughter. Pizza is not normally our cup of tea, but who could refuse an invitation like that?
Family games of Taboo, Uno, and Scrabble followed (I brought my king-size edition), interspersed by the passing of soft drinks and fresh-baked brownies. Our granddaughter and her room mate cousin were hosting their first event since moving into the house recently.
We got to see everyone again at church this morning. It was a blessed service with our son, Greg, helping lead the music. My eyes welled up in praise and gratitude at hearing the level of his skill and talent, all used for the Lord. Later, I remarked to his father that all four of our sons could get together and hold a revival! Two of them are preachers, and all are musicians and/or on worship teams! One of our daughters is a preacher's wife, and the other one sings beautifully!
We may not be much as gardeners, but with the Lord's help we did raise a good crop of kids!
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Growing in God
When my son found his four-year-old daughter watching a kids' cartoon he discourages because he considers it too old for her, Maddie said, "I tried not to look." Reading this on his Facebook post, I had to smile at her sweet innocence. She is obviously developing a conscience.
Visiting at their house last week, I heard her say a couple of times of some small mishap, "That was my fault." Wow! What a serious little girl, I thought. I mentioned this to Jamie, and he said, "Yeah, she and Anne-Marie are all about 'fault.' They're constantly arguing to each other, 'That was your fault!'"
The other night at Bible study, we were discussing Hebrews 13:7:"Remember them which have the rule over you, who have spoken unto you the word of God: whose faith follow, considering the end of their conversation." One person said sometimes leaders can be legalistic in their beliefs, teaching against certain styles of dress, etc. The pastor asked for reasons why this might be, and I said one reason might be the wrong interpretation of scripture.
For instance, our grandchildren had a high school pastor who said he wasn't allowed to play marbles as a child. His parents told him Jesus said, "Marble (marvel) not (that I said unto you...etc.") Cheryl Prewitt, one-time Miss America, said that as children they were not allowed to play with dolls, because her grandpa said "doll" came from the word, "idol." Perhaps, but it is innate that little girls like to play with dolls.
In thinking of the rules that come with legalism, I thought of something I heard on a teaching tape of a speaker at Jamie's church who was referencing Matthew 22:36, "Master, which is the great commandment in the law?" The Pharisees had over 600 laws, and they believed they were all equally important, so this was a trick question for Jesus. He answered that the greatest was to "Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind."
Then, by putting "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," in second place, He showed that some commandments were more important than others and silenced his questioners. Then he said, "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets," inferring that by keeping these two commands, which summarize the Ten Commandments and other Old Testament moral laws, a person would naturally fulfill all the commands.
Thankfully, we don't have to keep a bunch of rules! Sorting out the Bible meanings can be confusing for adults, let alone children, evidenced by this conversation Jamie related the other day. Anne-Marie, 6, was reading her Children's Bible, and her dad remarked that Jesus and his family were Jews. Anne-Marie said, "We are Jews," to which he said, "No, we are Gentiles." His little daughter replied, "We are reptiles, too!" "No," he responded, "We are mammals!" We all have a lot to learn!
Visiting at their house last week, I heard her say a couple of times of some small mishap, "That was my fault." Wow! What a serious little girl, I thought. I mentioned this to Jamie, and he said, "Yeah, she and Anne-Marie are all about 'fault.' They're constantly arguing to each other, 'That was your fault!'"
The other night at Bible study, we were discussing Hebrews 13:7:"Remember them which have the rule over you, who have spoken unto you the word of God: whose faith follow, considering the end of their conversation." One person said sometimes leaders can be legalistic in their beliefs, teaching against certain styles of dress, etc. The pastor asked for reasons why this might be, and I said one reason might be the wrong interpretation of scripture.
For instance, our grandchildren had a high school pastor who said he wasn't allowed to play marbles as a child. His parents told him Jesus said, "Marble (marvel) not (that I said unto you...etc.") Cheryl Prewitt, one-time Miss America, said that as children they were not allowed to play with dolls, because her grandpa said "doll" came from the word, "idol." Perhaps, but it is innate that little girls like to play with dolls.
In thinking of the rules that come with legalism, I thought of something I heard on a teaching tape of a speaker at Jamie's church who was referencing Matthew 22:36, "Master, which is the great commandment in the law?" The Pharisees had over 600 laws, and they believed they were all equally important, so this was a trick question for Jesus. He answered that the greatest was to "Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind."
Then, by putting "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," in second place, He showed that some commandments were more important than others and silenced his questioners. Then he said, "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets," inferring that by keeping these two commands, which summarize the Ten Commandments and other Old Testament moral laws, a person would naturally fulfill all the commands.
Thankfully, we don't have to keep a bunch of rules! Sorting out the Bible meanings can be confusing for adults, let alone children, evidenced by this conversation Jamie related the other day. Anne-Marie, 6, was reading her Children's Bible, and her dad remarked that Jesus and his family were Jews. Anne-Marie said, "We are Jews," to which he said, "No, we are Gentiles." His little daughter replied, "We are reptiles, too!" "No," he responded, "We are mammals!" We all have a lot to learn!
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