Do you remember when you started thinking about what really mattered in life? I can’t say that I really do. I do remember being puzzled from pretty early in life about why some people seemed to fret over so many things that seemed to be insignificant even then. When you grow up where you grew just about everything that you ate and your existence depended on how well the garden did, how the crops were and what could be canned and put back for the winter season, your values arrive in a different way. Looking back it makes all kinds of sense why it was urgent to get the garden plot ready and planted as soon as possible each year. It even makes sense now why all the planting, thinning, chopping and getting rid of the weeds, Johnson grass and cockle burrs had to be done and done right. But then it was just a matter of doing what I was told and trying to make certain it passed Dad’s inspection. I even get it now why hog killing time was such a big deal now. Then it was just smelly.
I can remember at some point in elementary school, likely around the fifth or sixth grade when I had moved on from Bedford Elementary to the huge school at Vernon. It was so big that there were actually two different 5th grade classes instead of like at Bedford where first through third was in one room with one teacher and fifth through sixth were in another room with a different teacher. While at Bedford I always felt that I was doing as well as anyone else and never thought that I might not be dressed as well or have the right kind of shoes as someone else. But when I made that transition I saw lots of others that were dressed better, at least to my young mind and came home one day to ask Mother about some kind of jeans and shoes that I had seen others in the class wearing that seemed to be very different and more what the others were wearing. Mother was never one to say a whole lot about things. Truthfully, I don’t remember at all what she said that day. Somehow for the moment she soothed my young mind. What I remember is that when she started to turn and walk away there were tears in her eyes. Then I certainly didn’t understand what I had done or why it would have caused her to shed tears. All I really knew was that I would never come home again to ask or say anything like that to her.
Mother was very tender hearted. What I instinctively picked up then that really affected my attitude in so many ways in the future was that I never wanted to make her unhappy or certainly not to cause her to cry. Oddly, it was different with my dad. I surely loved him and respected him. But my fear with him was more about getting caught than about it bothering him or hurting him in some way. It took at long time for me to even comprehend that what I did was often painful to him. In growing up I just never saw him in that way. It would be on into adulthood before I would really sit down with my dad and have any kind of heart to heart conversations and the fact they both died when I was still in my thirties made that option one that was quite short lived.
Looking back now as one not far from the age they were when they died, I think of the values that still drive me that I picked up from mother and dad that they probably never knew that they passed on.
I learned that what you wear or what you have is no indication of what you are as a person, from them. Their greatest earthly valuables was eight children and the multitudes of grandchildren they brought into the world. They loved God and tried in the very best way they knew to serve Him every day. I never heard either of them complain about their lot in life nor plead with God for a better situation. Character, dependability and faith were driving forces for them day and night. They were deeply bothered if they made a commitment to someone and were not able to fulfill it. It mattered that they made a promise and it meant the world to do what you said.
I learned from them that work is good word. The year mother and dad both died within two months of each other, I was back in Vernon to preach in a revival somewhere in the area and stayed at home with them. It was in the Spring and time to be getting the garden out. Mother was very concerned that she get it planted and ready for the year. While I really never cared much for gardening, I’ve always been glad that in that week, I spent time with her in the garden doing different things while there. They didn’t live long enough to get much out of it that year, but it mattered that it was planted and ready.
I learned especially from my mother that faith in God and living for him doesn’t always mean something out front. She was devoted to God, but in a very quiet way. Her faith was shown in her care for others, her feeding any and everyone that dad brought home with him. She seemed to feel the presence of God when she was in the garden or doing something to help a child. Too often we get out values mixed and think faith is about some huge thing in life. She lived her faith every day and it showed in her face.
Certainly there are hundreds more things I learned then, but these are the ones that I wanted to talk about today.
LIFE NOTES 