Update on Ben

The other day I wrote about Ben. His dad wrote that he is alert andate a little of both his lunch and dinner yesterday. He doesn't open his eyes much but responds to everything he is asked. He also has retained his sense of humor.

He has lost a lot of weight and is fortunate that he is going into this with a little extra weight on his frame.

RSP had mentioned that Indiana U. has the expert on this kind of cancer, and Ben's oncologist is consulting with him on Ben's case. The survival rate for patients with this type of cancer at the advanced stage foloiwng the chemotherapy is 48%.

His dad said they are very grateful for the outpouring ofprayers and concern on Ben's behalf. "Our trust is in the Lord Who gave Himself for us." Please continue to remember Ben.

Just dropping by to say hi

My son called tonight. I mentioned in another post that he and his wife are expecting their first child, making me a grandmother for the first time. He called and said, "Mom, we're having a baby."

"Yes," I said. "The baby is healthy," he said. "Yes," I said. He made me ask what the sex is. It's a GIRL. Everyone in the family had been thinking boy. We are rejoicing that this is a healthy baby girl...and then there are my friends who were told by the doctor that their baby was a girl. They went home and told their son that he was getting a brother, and when they went home from the hospital, they took Amy home,''

Some sad news in our family of friends here. A pastor's 29 year old son is in the hospital in North Carolina with stage three testicular cancer. He was at work two weeks ago and started having bad headaches and his speech became garbled. His coworker took him to the hospital, they did a scan and found swelling in the brain, kept him a few days on medication, and sent him home to finish the course of medicine.

On Sunday his side began to hurt and he went back to the hospital. They did surgery on Monday to remove a tumor from the brain. They were not able to remove all of it. He has tumors in his lungs and his liver.

A course of chemotherapy was begun today. Pray for Ben when you think of him, and for his family. His father just buried his own mother a month ago, and his mom's father is not doing well. Ben's parents were missionaries with Wycliffe for many years, and they buried a baby over there.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain

It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

Refrain



My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

Refrain

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

Refrain

But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of my soul!

Refrain

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Refrain

Hymnals don't have all these verses in the books. I found this at cyberhymnal.org.

McKechnie Field

This picture is especially for the "hermit" who lives in Tennessee. She has mentioned how she loves baseball and that her mother had lived here in Bradenton. The field is in the same location that it has always been. I remember as a little girl when the Boston Braves had their spring training here, then they were the Milwaukee Braves.

My mother worked in a drugstore in downtown Bradenton and served Eddie Matthews and Warren Spahn. Warren Spahn lived here for many years.

The Pittsburgh Pirates came here after the Braves. They had some good years when they had the Killer B's...Barry Bonds, Bobby Bonilla, Sid Bream, Jay Bell...there was one more, but I can't remember his name. He played third base...and then there was Andy VanSlyke in center field. Jimmy Leyland was the coach. After a while, things went south. Jimmy Leyland left. He said he felt like he was simply providing players for the teams that paid the players more.

Now he's back coaching the Tigers. I hope he does well.

Right now, Florida is leading Georgetown in the Sweet 16. Will they make it to the Elite 8? Another 11 minutes will tell the tale.

Nine lives?

No, this post is not about a cat. This past year I've been the chair of the local Christian Women's Club here in Bradenton. It is my responsibility to find speakers for our meeting. In February, we had a lady come speak to us. Her topic was "Struck by Lightning, Then by Love." She shared with us how, early in her marriage in Minnesota, she and her family went camping. She told us that was not her idea of a vacation...sleeping in a tent and cooking over a fire.

On this one particular trip, she and her husband were struck by lightning. She described the horrors of it all. They found themselves in a hospital room, lying beside each other, wondering when it would all end. They both survived, and she tells her story of how God became very real to her. She did not become a Christian just then, but later on, God's love won her heart.

This lady is now 82 years old. A designer of fashion jewelry, she enjoys being a special feature person at Christian Women's Club, and so we thought we would ask her to come back in December to talk to us about her jewelry.

I called her home Sunday afternoon and left a message for her. The next day her granddaughter called me and said that she had fallen out of bed and broken her neck, and that she probably would not be able to speak to us in December. The fall, surely by a miracle, did not paralyze her.

This morning my phone rang, and Wilma was on the phone. "Don't count me out for December," she said. I hope to be better by August. I didn't ask her how she happened to fall out of bed, but she shared with me how she ended up face down on the floor. She lives alone with her Maltese, and she said that she reached for the phone in the dark to dial her daughter. Her daughter came along with the ambulance.

As she entered Wilma's room, Wilma thought to herself, "What gown do I have on?" I guess she was wondering if she was presentable enough for the ambulance guys. Her daughter assured her that the dog had made sure she was covered up.

She went to the hospital where they x-rayed her, read them while they were wet, and told her she was o.k. She went home with her daughter. No sooner had she gotten home than they called her to come back in an ambulance. She had what is described as a "hangman's break." She should have been dead, or paralyzed. She is neither.

She's planning now to go to a rehab facility to recover. I was telling my daughter about her. She's a true example of how one's outlook and attitude help in one's recovery. If you're a praying person, pray for her. She has a tremendous speaking ministry, and I don't think she's done yet.

Two down, seven to go?

Happy Spring

I have so enjoyed visiting different blogs today and the last few days and seeing all the lovely pictures of spring flowers. I can only imagine how it must be to see new life again after a winter of dreariness and no leaves on the trees. Living in Florida, we do have spring, but it's much more subtle than having the tulips and daffodils and all the other pretty flowers.

The oak trees shed their leaves in mid-winter without ever having changed colors. The new growth comes out quickly. Everyone this year has suffered terribly from allergies because of the blossoms. I, who never have reacted to them, thought I was dying this year. I was sure that the cough was going to carry me off. Thankfully, it only lasted a little while.

We get spoiled here having flowers year round. I don't think our green is ever as pretty as the spring green I've seen elsewhere, that is unless you use lots of water and fertilizer. My grass isn't green because I won't pay the city for the water to water it, and the well that we had I think has long since gone dry.

I remember visiting my daughter for the 21st birthday in North Carolina in January. The kids from Florida always said that winters were so dreary in the north...North Carolina qualifies for north in this instance. Dreary is not the word. When I flew into Raleigh, I remember looking out at the beautiful subdivisions with all the dead trees. The next day as were driving around, I realized that the trees were supposed to look that way.

When I flew back home, got into my car, and drove across the Sunshine skyway with the sun gleaming on the water, I realized once again why all the snowbirds leave their homes in the north for the winter and come south.

Our March here has been incredible...just another day in paradise. I don't think any baseball games have been rained out.

In another week or so, the snowbirds will be returning to their homes in the north, and then in the summer, many Floridians will head for the hills in North Carolina and Georgia to escape the heat of summer...it isn't exactly paradise then.

Grasshoppers, anyone?

 

I love this picture. I have some friends who are missionaries in Cameroon, Africa. When they first went to the field, I asked Ellen if she would like some Pampered Chef products to take along. One of the items selected was the batter bowl, which comes with a lid. At our shows we tout all the benefits of this bowl...it truly is very useful and versatile. However, this is one use that I don't think anyone in the home office thought of.

When Thom and Ellen came to visit, they told me how much Gladys, the lady who works in their home, enjoyed all the products. In a later letter, there were several photos.

It started out with the young Cameroonians out in the field gathering grasshoppers, the next picture is this one of Gladys, holding the catch in the batter bowl...then the grasshoppers frying in the pan...finally being eaten by Thom.

It reminds me of the old song, "Where He leads me, I will follow, What He feeds me, I will swallow." 

My Mother

 

Have you ever read the book, Strawberry Girl? It was written by the author Lois Lenski, who wrote books about children from different regions of the country. I asked my children for a copy of it for a Christmas present this year. When they started looking, the looked for an original copy, but it was out of reach, and so they gave me a paperback edition, which happens to be a sixtieth anniversary edition. I just began reading it last night. I'm sure that I read it as a girl.

The setting is Florida. The characters are families who are making a living, or trying to, off the sandy soil. I remember my mother speaking of having to pick strawberries as a girl to help the family make a living. In her later years, she would still go to the fields to pick them after the farmers opened them up to the public. One day she said how much she disliked the task...it isn't easy, you know, with the strawberries growing on the low plants.

My mother was raised in north Florida. She told me that her father's family came from South Carolina, as did the characters in this book. Mother was the second of six children. At one time in her life, she told me that her daddy worked in a logging camp in Scanlon, and they actually lived in a box car. She never did describe to me how it was, and I have a hard time imagining it. Was it literally a box, with no windows? Was it somehow made to be livable? It was when she was twelve that she said she contracted malaria. I can only imagine how hard that might have been.

I remember her teling me how her mother washed the kids' hair with kerosene to get rid of the lice that they had gotten from those "dirty children" who lived not too far away.

I don't know when they moved to town, but Mother graduated from high school in 1930 from the high school in Starke. Some of you know Starke as that town on 301 that you have to drive through when you're going from I-10 to I-75. Although she was next to the oldest of her siblings, she was the only one to graduate from high school.

At some point, she moved from Starke to Lacoochee to live with her older sister, and that is where she met my daddy, who lived in Trilby. He worked at the Cummer Cypress Lumber Mill. They met and married in 1933, right during the depression. Mother didn't have wedding rings until she had been married ten years. In one of my first posts, I shared how they left Lacoochee and moved to Bradenton.

Mother was a very hard worker. She worked in a drug store in Bradenton from 1947 to 1964 when my father died from a heart attack. Montgomery Ward opened a big, new store, and she managed their coffee shop for a while.

She was 50 when my daddy died. I had graduated from college and had gone to Cincinnati to work, and I did not realize what a hard time my mother was having. Both of her parents died and my father died all within a thirteen month period. She continued at her work in order to keep going, but as I said, I didn't know just how hard it was for her.

She was always there for me, whenever I needed anything. I guess that's what mothers are for, isn't it. When Don and I built our house, she gave us money for all the window treatments. When Sarah was born, she took care of her for her first two years of life. We paid her Social Security so that we could claim the child care on our income tax, and when she had finished taking care of her, she gave us the money back that we had given to her.

She's been gone for twelve years. She had a hard life, but a good life, and she never complained... not that I remember anyway. Time has a way of erasing anything unpleasant, doesn't it, and that's a good thing.


"Look in those eyes. Listen to tht dear voice. Notice the feeling of even a single touch that is bestowed upon you by that gentle hand! Make much of it while yet you have that most precious of all gifts. Read the unfathomable love of those eyes, the anxiety of that tone and look, however slight is your pain. In after life you may have friends, fonds, dears, but never you will have again the inexpressible love and gentleness lavished upon you which mone but a mother bestows." - Macaulay 

Pensive

 

Someone commented that they liked the name Color. When she was a kitten, her colors were so vibrant and so many, that seemed a logical name for her. After her experience with the paint and her venture into the outside world, we didn't have to worry too much about her straying very far again.

It's amazing how an animal becomes so much a part of one's life. Ourdaughter graduated and went off to college, and whenever she came home, Color was glad to see her. The same with David. He wasn't as permissive with her as the rest of us. However, Color loved to rub her face against his big feet. On occasion, she would take a sniff of his sneakers and walk away with her mouth open, as if to say, "Boy, those shoes stink."

After I retired from the school board and was home during the day, she said, "Now I've got you where I want you." My lap became her resting place. I loved the excuse of not being able to get up.

On April 30, 2002, the day that my husband went off to work and never came home again was, if you've read my other blogs, the most difficult day of my life. When you open the paper and read of the accident that took your husband's life, it is surreal. So often we read articles like that and think, "Oh, those poor people."
And then it's you.

Our house was filled with people that afternoon and evening. Color didn't know what to think. She had never been fond of a lot of people. Family was o.k., but other than that, she'd rather not.

After everyone had left that evening, I went upstairs to do some e-mailing, and Color was lying at the to of the stairs. I finished and went to my room, and she came down and lay near the door. A mournful cry began. I got up to see what was wrong, and she was lying there twitching, her eyes crossed, her tongue hanging out. I thought for sure that she was dying, and I think I said out loud, "Go ahead and die tonight. At least it won't hurt so bad after everything that has happened today." I checked on her throughout the night, touched her, and each time she looked up at me. About five in the morning, I got up and took a shower. I hadn't slept anyway. When I looked for her, she wasn't there. She had gone downstairs.

She got better, and then six months to the day later, she had another spell like the one on April 30. The vet said she felt sure that she had hepatic encephalopathy. A couple of years previous, we had done an ultrasound, and found that her liver was filled with cysts. The ultrasound is another story in itself.

The vet gave me some medicine for her, she got better and had no other spells, until finally last fall, she breathed her last.

After everyone else had gone, she had remained, and now she's gone...a wonderful friend and companion. 

Lady in Red

Color came to live at our house when she was about seven weeks old in 1987. We had ventured into the pet business earlier in the year with a white kitten, who unfortunately had feline leukemia. The vet had immunized her, but we decided later that her mother must have been infected, because her owner said she had gone off and never came home.

After what the vet said would be a safe amount of time to introduce another cat into our home, we looked in the newspaper for a kitten needing a home. As a result, Color came to live with us and be a part of our family. She fell in love with my husband. Every day when she heard him come in through the garage, she would sit at the door and wait for him to come in and make over her.

Often at the dinner table, she would jump up on a chair and sit with her nose sniffing around to see if there might be something that she would like.

One evening when she was three or four, I left the house to go for parent conferences at our kids' school. When I went out the front door, she scooted out in front of me. We looked for her; I went on to the school, This was on a Tuesday night. We looked everywhere, called the SPCA and Humane Society, but she didn't turn up.

Every morning when my husband was praying with the children before taking them to school, he would pray for Color and could hardly talk. On Friday morning, I had come down stairs before Don, and I heard a cat in the back yard by the pool. I went out, and there she was...ready to come in. There was pink paint on her back...no telling where that came from.

The children had the day off from school, and so they cared for her. When I called them to see how she was doing, they said that her fur was coming out when she licked it. After I got home from school, we took her to the vet, and he shaved off the painted fur and gave her a shot against infection.

After that episode, I didn't worry about her too much if she got out. She knew the way home. However, we made very sure that she was nowhere near us when we opened the door.

More to follow....

Mourning

Sometime ago, I came across the blog of a young pastor in Norwood, Ohio. My eyes lit up because when I graduated from college, I went to Norwood and taught for two years in the Norwood Baptist Christian School. Even though it has been almost forty years since I was there, I still felt a closeness to the friends that I made there.

Chad was living there, seeking to make a difference in the city. He was also a great Steelers fan, and when Pittsburgh was playing Cincinnati in football this year, he caught all kinds of grief from his friends. On of his entries, he had a picture of the Terrible Towel, and the link to the store where they could be bought. I ordered a couple for friends here in Florida.

Not long after the Super Bowl (Yea! Steelers!) he posted that he didn't feel too well and that he probably needed to go to the doctor. Much to my shock, two days ago, I visited his blog, and in the comment section, someone had posted that Chad was in critical condition in ICU with bleeding in his lungs. He then developed a blood clot in his leg.

This morning at 7:00 he passed into the presence of the Lord at the age of 34. What a wonderful promise, "Absent from the body, present with the Lord." But what a hole left for his wife and children. Pray for his wife, Renee, and his two children Colon and Aiden.

A better view

 

I'm learning how to do this stuff...fun...and I should be doing other things right now. Oh well... 

My grandfather and great-grandmother

I was browsing blogs the other day and found one whose author was scanning old photos and sharing some of them on her posts. That has been my intention for some time...to preserve some of those old photos that continue to age.

When my son, David, was in junior high and high school, he wanted to play the guitar, and I never encouraged that. I apologized to him later. He finally bought a guitar and basically taught himself to play, and he is used that gift in his campus ministry and church.

Once while he was home, I showed him this picture of his great-grandfather. He's the one with the banjo. I don't know when the picture was taken, but I imagine it was in Georgia becasue that's where my daddy was born. I think that David was pleased to know that he perhaps shared some of the talent from his grandfather's side of the family.

The woman in the black dress is my great-grandmother. I know that because I recognize the black dress from another photo. I don't know about the others. I wish I knew the date also that the picture was made. 

Buy Me Some Peanuts and Crackerjacks

March is the month of spring training in Florida (and Arizona.) Here in Florida it's known as the Grapefruit League. In February, pitchers and catchers come to the state and start their practice, and then during March, the teams practice playing. All of the hopefuls who are invited have high numbers on their uniforms.

Today at the Pirates/Twins game, I only recognized three or four names. The Pirates won, by the way. I believe they've only lost one game so far, but then they've only played since March 1. The Tampa Bay Devil Rays are on a roll. They've even won four games (I think.) As I'm writing this and looking for some stats, I see that Kirby Puckett has died after suffering a stroke yesterday.

Spring training games are very relaxed. You don't have an announcer trying to be smart and making comments...they just announce the player, and we watch. Last week, or the last week in February, was a picture of one of the pitcher's dogs doing his business on the infield. You don't see that every day. You do see the players running sprints near the outfield wall, and you can hear the crack of the bat as men work on their batting skills.

Today was my day to eat a foot-long hot dog. I shall eat no more during the season, since I just signed up with Weight Watchers online. I relished every bite. No salted, roasted peanuts though. The salt is a no-no.

I have a friend from church who goes with me to the games. This is her last rite of spring before she returns to Indiana for the summer.

In a month, they're gone. The young ones are hoping to make the roster of the team, as are some of the experienced players. The field becomes quiet until another spring.

More about David

As I said earlier, David went to Penn State and majored in engineering. As he continued in his studies and worked alongside men who had done engineering all their lives, he asked them about their work. To most of them, their job was a paycheck. Now a paycheck is an important thing, but with David's involvement with a group called Christians in Action on campus, he began to realize that God had a different calling on his life.

He continued his engineering, but after he graduated, he became a campus minister with the Coalition for Christian Outreach, based in Pittsburgh. He worked for three years in Indiana PA at the university there. As his contract ran out, he realized that he indeed did want to be involved in education and applied for graduate school at the University of Virginia.

During his time as campus minister, he got married to a wonderful woman named Sabrina. They headed off last fall to Waynesboro VA, not far from Charlottesville, and as they counted the cost of starting graduate work as an out-of-state student, they realized the cost would put them deep in debt. So for this year, they have been working to establish residency, with the hope of starting next year.

A lot has happened...the main thing is that a baby is on the way, and that has changed things again. David's substitute teaching, and he hopes to get a permanent position for fall, and hopefully, to start taking a course.

Things have not gone as he had planned, and I know that there has been some discouragement, but I remind him that God is never late in His plans...just some detours sometimes...and besides that, I'm going to be a GRANDMOTHER!

My Grandkittens

I love to go to the blogs that have pictures of cats. My, how many cat lovers there are in the blogosphere. I lost my feline friend of 18 years last fall. She was with us through thick and thin. My daughter, Sarah, however, has two cats named Tucker and Samson. Whenever I need a kitty fix, I go to her house.

Tucker came to live with her when he was about six weeks old. She had held him from the day he was born, and my they have such a wonderful bond. He is all black, except for a little bit of white here and there. He had his fourth birthday in May.

One day Sarah said, "Mom, I think I'm going to get another cat." She had been going to Petsmart, and a cat there chose her to be his mom. The Humane Society places cats there in hopes of adopting them out. Every time she would go, Samson would reach out his paw to her. He chose her insteach of her choosing him.

The boys get along famously. Samson has never been declawed, and when Sarah brought him home, Tucker showed him the scratching post, and he began using that, and his claws don't come out at all unless he's chasing one of his many mice around the house.

Tucker is long and lean; Samson is short and stocky. They keep each other company while Mom is at work. Such great friends!!

David

My last post was about my daughter, Sarah. Today I’d like to post about my son, David. This is one of my favorite photos of him. The picture was taken at DisneyWorld on Tom Sawyer’s Island when David was about three.

David was born on Easter Sunday, 1979. That day also happened to be April 15 that year. My dear friend, Sara, for whom my daughter is named, happened to be at work that day. She was an accountant and was doing last minute taxes for other people and perhaps her own. David was born just before 11 that morning, and after I got back to the room, I called her at work to tell her that he had been born. Her response, “We’ll call him the Easter bunny this year, but after that, he’ll just be ‘Form 1040.’” What a day for a birthday! At least, we’re patriotic. Sarah’s birthday was Inauguration Day, and David’s income tax day…What a reminder! (

When David was 10 months old, he became very ill with HFlu. After his recovery, I was in my dermatologist’s office, and when I told him about David’s illness, his comment was, “I would have like to have seen that. We lose babies with that.” I knew that he was ill, but I didn’t realize just how ill.

David is very tall, and even in kindergarten, he towered over his friends. He became a very good student in school, and as he got into junior high and high school, he began to play basketball. He had played baseball in Little League. David was not the most athletic on the basketball team, but in his senior year, he was named a scholar-athlete above the other young men.

When it came time for university, he said to his father and me, “I want to go to a big school when I graduate, and I don’t want to go to school in Florida.” There were 55 in his graduating class. Because my children were my mother’s only two grandchildren, she provided for their college education with her gifts and investments over the years.

So off to Penn State David went. He went with the idea of majoring in engineering, which he did, but about halfway through his college career, he really became convicted that his work should be more people oriented. After graduating, he spent three years in Indiana, Pennsylvania at IUP, doing campus ministry.

He now is in Waynesboro, Virginia, establishing residency before entering UVA’s graduate school of education. More about David in another post….

Sarah

This is one of my favorite pictures of my daughter, Sarah. She was about four at the time. Sarah's my firstborn, born when I was 35. I tell everyone that I started the trend of ladies having babies at a later age.

I was 31 when I married, and Don and I waited a while before deciding to have a baby.I had a very dear friend named Sara who lived and worked in Bradenton. She was quite a few years older than I, but we had a great relationship, and when I became pregnant, I told my husband that if this was a girl, she had to be Sarah. Two other couples at our church were pregnant at the same time, and they had both chosen the name Sarah Elizabeth for their babies, that is, if they had girls. I prayed really hard that they would have boys, because the name Sarah Elizabeth was the only name that I had for a girl!Lo and behold, they both delivered before I did, and they both had boys. What a relief!

And then, on January 20, we delivered our daughter. We didn't know that we were having a girl. Sonograms were not quite as prevalent as they are now. A dear Jamaican friend, who was still working in Haiti where I had been, told the ladies there that if the baby's heartbeat was on the right, it was a girl, and if it was on the left, it was a boy. Several missionary women were pregnant; their babies' heartbeats were on the left. And guess what, they gave birth to boys. Sarah's heartbeat was always on the right, and yes! We had a baby girl. My obstetrician said that he had heard lots of ways of predicting the sex of a baby, but never that one.

Today Sarah lives and works in Bradenton. She is my rock. When her daddy died, it was one of the worst days of her life. They had such a bond; they are so much alike. When she laughs and throws her head back or turns her head, I see her dad. I'll never forget what he looks like when I look at her.After I had surgery a year and a half ago, she was right there to see to my needs. I can say today that she is my best friend.

I love you, Sarah.

A cup of coffee?

Would you like a cup of coffee? Whenever we went visiting in Haiti, the lady of the house felt that it was her duty to offer a cup of coffee. It was wonderful to share a cup of coffee with these very gracious people, but, oh my, the work that went into preparing it.

Kitchens in a Haitian home are away from the regular dwelling. Before the coffee can be made, a fire has to be built to heat the water. Madame did not go down to the corner grocery for the flavor of the day. She bought the beans, roasted them, and then ground them. In Haiti you pile them. There needs to be an accent aigu over that e, but I don’t know how to do it. ( The coffee goes into the sack that she has there, and then she pours the hot water over the beans to make the beverage.

Then madame graciously served the coffee in demitasses on a tray. The coffee is very strong, and it needs lots of sugar. Good to the last drop!

There’s nothing like sharing a good cup of coffee with a friend.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Saturday my friend Peggy and I took a trip down memory lane.  We drove over to Polk City, Florida to visit Camp Gilead.  We both went there to camp when we were young girls.  At our church in Bradenton, we had enrolled in Bible Memory Association.  If we learned 250 verses, we would earn a free week at Bible camp.  Five of us enrolled, and we did learn those verses…all over a twelve week period.  We learned entire passages and had to recite them to a listener at the end of the week.

The nearest camp to us was in Alabama, and that was not a possibility for us to go.  This was 1951, fifty-five years ago.  We heard about this camp in central Florida that had a Bible memory program, except you had to learn 300 verses to go to their camp.  A gentleman who worked with them knew about the five of us, and he wrote to Children’s Bible Mission (CBM) to see if we could attend their camp if we learned an additional 50 verses.  They agree, we did, and that began our experience in Bible camp.

Upon arrival at camp, we registered and went to our cabins.  The camp was fairly new.  The camp director was a lady.  Peggy and I said that those ladies seemed awfully old to us.  They were barely 30, but when you’re nine, anyone seems old.  We slept in cabins that had bunks.  The cabins were frame construction, with big wooden flaps that you propped up for ventilation.  When it rained and they had to be closed, they were really hotboxes.

We went to chapel every day.  The chapel was in the center of the campground.  It had the same wooden flaps for windows, and the floor was sawdust.  We had Bible lessons in the morning, a missionary speaker in the afternoon, and chapel again at night.  In between those times, we spent time swimming in the lake and enjoying handcrafts.

At the end of the week we enjoyed a banquet where awards were given out for the week.  Miss Hazel was the head cook, and could she cook!  We never went hungry.  The dining hall (that’s what it’s called now) was called the mess hall then.  Peggy reminded me of the songs that we sang from table to table after the meal…”What did Delaware, boys?”  She wore a “New Jersey.”  “What did Mississipp, boys?”  “She sipped a Minnesota.”

After the first year of camp, we could do correspondence courses to earn our next two weeks of camp, and we five did do that.  After that, some of us worked in the kitchen, became junior counselors, then senior counselors.  I worked there a couple of summers during college, and then had the opportunity to be missionary speaker one summer.

We hold many good memories from those days.  That camp director who was not even 30 when we when we first, went just had her 83rd birthday.  Peggy and I stopped and picked her up in Lakeland and took her with us for the afternoon at camp.  More about all this on another day…

Happy Valentines Day

Happy Valentine’s Day! My friend over at Melange asked people to write about someone in their lives who loves you unconditionally. My husband, Don, was one of those people. We had a whirlwind romance…I had been teaching missionary kids in Haiti. He had been in Vietnam, and when he got discharged from the Air Force, went to work for a small airline in New York. That airline went belly-up, and some of his parents’ friends said to him, “Why don’t you go to Florida? You can live in our mobile home and look for work there.

He came to Florida in 1970, went to work for Tropicana in the feed mill and eventually learned the electrical trade. He became a member of the church that I was from, and when I came home during the summers to visit my mother, I noticed this tall man who had become active in the church. I can home from Haiti in 1972 to visit churches and friends who had supported me and to go to Europe to study French for three months.

Just before I left for Europe on the day after Christmas 1972, we talked a little bit. We both had sung in the Christmas cantata. I sent him a postcard from England, and then we began corresponding during the three months that I was in Europe. To make a long story short, I came home from Europe April 12, and we got married May 12. Yes, you can put a wedding together in less than a month.

We missed celebrating our 29th anniversary by two weeks. On April 30, 2002, my valentine was killed in an accident. He was in his big work truck. (I had often prayed that he would not become preoccupied with his next job and hurt someone else.) On his way to a job, an elderly driver made a left turn in front of him. He did his best to avoid hitting her, his truck overturned, and he was in the presence of the Lord.

Four years later, it still hurts. It is easy to say with the mouth that God makes no mistakes…God is good all the time. And I know that is true…He is the great I AM, and He knows my hurts.

For you who have that dear one, hold them close and don’t fail to tell them that you love them and appreciate them. I never dreamed that morning when he left for work that I’d never see him again. Thanks for listening to my heart.