Thursday, December 22, 2011

Glen's 1st Race


   This was written by my dad several years ago. It's a delightful story. Enjoy! 

    It was a cold winter day in Iowa; snow was abundant, bobsleds and cutters (all horse drawn) were everywhere. One such vehicle was gliding recklessly over the icy trail—called by the citizens, of all things, the turnpike—that led from the village to the farm home of Andrew and Rose Williamson.
    Rose, at that moment the mother of six, was waiting most impatiently, for the doctor to arrive, and incidentally, Glen too! You see, the doctor and Glen were racing; Glen’s first race, not the doctor’s. But practice isn’t everything—Glen beat him! It isn’t everyone that wins his first race, is it? Poor Rose! At that moment, the mother of seven!
    December 22, 1909, Glen Edgar was born to Andrew and Rose Williamson, their seventh and last child.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Sisters?

    Lorraine and I are only two and a half years apart in age. We've always been as different as night and day! We didn't look anything alike as children. I had dark hair and she had light hair. We have many memories of our childhood. I've written about some of them in another story here on this blog. Lorraine was going to be a teacher and I was going to be a mother! Lorraine was ambitious and accomplished both goals.
     It seems that as we've grown older we've also grown alike! Our hair is now close to the same. We've had folks get us mixed up when we've gone somewhere. We've been asked if we're twins if we're at the same place at the same time! It's really quite comical!
     Here's a funny experience we had a few years ago.
     We were together on a train going from Portland to Seattle. There we rented a car and drove up to Stanwood where our parents lived in a lovely senior community.
     We were both dressed for travel. Lorraine had on black slacks and a black sweater with a white shirt underneath, the white collar on the outside. I had on a dark brown pant suit with a white shirt. 
     We noticed the women across the aisle looking at us often and smiling. We'd smile back. Then we decided to go get some coffee and a bite to eat. As we stood up the women smiled even bigger smiles and nodded!
     We thought this was strange but let it go.
     When we went back to our seats one of the women said, "Hello, are you sisters?" 
     "Yes, we are sisters." I replied rather surprised.
     "We thought so!" She said enthusiastically! "What diocese are you from?" 
     "What? Oh, no, we're not Sisters, we're sisters...blood sisters. We're not even Catholic! Oh dear."
     The women apologized over and over, but we assured them it was fine. 
     We've laughed over this episode so many times. We knew we were perfect (!) but we didn't know other folks thought we were! When we told our dad about this experience he laughed and laughed. Being a Protestant minister, to picture his two daughters as Catholic nuns, was quite a funny sight.
     I have deep respect for the Catholic Church as well as my own Evangelical Church. Living according to God's Word, believing that Jesus is the Son of God and accepting Jesus as personal Savior is what matters.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

You Want Me To Do What? or A Seed Planted

 There were a few years, when my children were young, that I took care of other children in my home. One sweet little girl was Laura. Her mother, Shellie, was a single mom, a school teacher and guardian of her own teenage brother, Roger.
  Shellie brought Laura to my house every morning and picked her up in the afternoon after school. We became good friends, and visited often.
  After about a year and a half Shellie said they would be moving to Arizona as soon as school was over for the year. I felt bad because I would miss them but knew it was her decision.
  One day as I went about my housework I realized that in all our visiting and talking we had never talked about God or Jesus or church, none of the things that really matter in life. I began to feel like God was speaking to me about this. I didn’t know what I could do about it at this point because she’d soon be leaving.
  One evening I left all my family at home while I went to buy groceries. As I drove I heard a still small voice telling me to go and visit Shellie before I went home. That was ridiculous and I couldn’t imagine why I felt so strongly that I should go to her apartment. Then the thought came that this was a time when I could talk to Shellie about God and my beliefs!
  What? Lord, you want me to do what??? I couldn’t do that. She hadn’t asked me what I believe. We had never gotten that personal in our conversations.
  The feeling became so strong that I began to argue with God! It was evening, she was probably watching TV. No, the TV is off. Laura would be up demanding our attention so we couldn’t talk seriously. Laura is already in bed asleep.  Roger would be there too so we couldn’t have a conversation with just the two of us. Roger is studying in his bedroom.
  I had to drive past their apartment house on my way home from the supermarket. I was driving slowly, still arguing with God. When I came to her driveway...my car turned in! I prayed as I slowly walked up to the door, “Lord, I can’t believe I’m doing this. You’d better be with me! Please tell me what to say.”
  I knocked lightly on the door. Shellie answered it with a surprised look on her face. “May I come in?” I asked nervously.
  As I looked around she invited me to sit down. The TV was off. Laura was already asleep for the night. Roger was in his bedroom studying! There we were, Shellie and me, sitting together in the quietness of her living room.
  I began to explain why I was there. She said very earnestly, “I’ve always wondered what your beliefs are! Please tell me.”
  For the next few minutes I told her about my relationship with Jesus. He is alive and is a living reality within me! He is my very own personal Savior. She thanked me for sharing with her. She didn’t make any move to ask Jesus into her life. But I feel I did what God asked me to do and perhaps, I planted a seed.
  Thank You, Lord, for going with me that evening, for giving me courage, for helping me to obey and most of all, for speaking through me. Please help her, in Your Timing, to invite You into her life as her own personal Savior.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

What More Could Any Little Girl Want? (Repost)

     Through most of my elementary school days it seemed that Daddy was gone away more than he was home. During those years he traveled as an evangelist.
       As I look back, I remember the warm, secure feeling I experienced when he was home for a few days, after having been gone for two or three months---a feeling all warm and cozy as I went to bed at night. After all my Daddy was home! What more could any little girl want?
       Always, on the day of his arrival home, excitement ran high. And always, after things settled down to a fairly normal pitch, he would open his big, black suitcase and take out a present for each of us. He never forgot!
       It's a natural thing to want to share all the days events with the ones we love. I used to store up in my mind all the wonderful, exciting things Molly, my best friend, and I discovered as we played. But, somehow, I never seemed to have a chance to tell Daddy all the things that are so important to a little girl of seven. I still remember the day when it all came to a head.
       Daddy had come home again. My little brother, Billy, was sitting on his lap; my older brother, Richard, and sister, Lorraine, were competing for his attention. I waited for my turn as long and as patiently as I could, but suddenly I could wait no longer. I stomped my foot and shouted, "It's my turn to talk to Daddy!"
       Everyone stopped talking and looked straight at me in complete surprise. I'm still not sure whether I or the rest of the family was more startled. There was complete silence for a few seconds, then Mother came to the rescue.
       "OK," she said. "Everyone be quiet now and let Anita talk."
       But in that very moment, all those big, important, wonderful things I had stored up in my mind to share with Daddy, suddenly became small, and I found I had nothing to say at all. Everyone was waiting to hear what I had to tell, but all I could do was stand there. Two big tears began to trickle down my cheeks. Then Daddy's long arms reached out and folded around me. I began to sob. Tears flowed freely. Then, as he held me close, I stopped crying, and that warm, secure feeling spread through me again. After all, my Daddy was home! What more could any little girl want?

Sunday, May 22, 2011

My Own Personal Swami

     This goes back to the 80's. I had a friend from India named Chandana. I loved her name and I loved her. I've lost track of her over the years and I'm so sorry. 
     She invited me to her house one day to meet with a man who was visiting her family. The man was a Swami from India. She told me he was interested in helping the people who were less fortunate. His interest, of course, was mainly India. Chandana thought it would be good for him to hear of what some Americans were doing to help poor folks in other countries. She knew our church had an interest in Haiti and that many, myself included, had gone there to work.
     So I went to visit the Swami. I didn't know what to expect and found him dressed in orange cotton pants with an orange matching cotton long shirt, which hung over his pants. He was barefoot, sitting on the floor, with his legs folded, Indian style. Chandana pulled a chair up for me. Then she introduced us and explained to the Swami why I was there. His English was quite good.
     First of all he told me all about the wonderful work he was involved in, in India. Chandana reminded him why I was there.      
     He asked me questions about Haiti and our  involvement. I tried to answer his questions but they were so cut and dried, I found myself telling him all about Ebenezer Glenn Orphanage in Dessalines, Haiti. It's the most wonderful Orphanage and God is there!
     He made a critical comment to me about Christianity. I explained to him that Christianity is one of the religions in the world but that while I am Christian, I'm Evangelical Christian. There's a big difference, I said. I went on to explain that I have asked Jesus for forgiveness of my sins and invited Him to live in my heart.
      I then told the story in the third chapter of John about Nicodemus going to Jesus at night and asking how to receive eternal life. I boldly said, "Jesus is alive and is a living reality within me!" 
     He told me he had talked to many Christian leaders all over the world and he had never heard anything like that before! He took a paper and pen from his shirt pocket and said he wanted to write down what I had said! 
     He was writing in his own language so I have no idea what he wrote. Our visit ended and I never saw the Swami again. Driving home I knew I had just experienced something very special. The Holy Spirit had done the talking, I was just the instrument! What a privilege. 
     I have prayed for him over the years. Only God knows the result of our visit that day. For a while I felt guilty because perhaps I didn't say enough. But, I've left this Swami in God's Hands. I'm hoping and praying that he studied Christianity in a whole different light and that I'll see him in heaven some day!
     
       

Friday, May 6, 2011

Homesick

     One of my first students as an ESL tutor was a little Japanese boy about six years old, Susumu. He was a delightful boy. We became good friends and he worked hard for me. Children learn to speak a new language so quickly. I worked with him for one hour five days a week, three days at home and two days at school. 
     A friend gave me a map of Japan,  so one day I took it to school with me. It happened to be all written in Japanese! I couldn't read it. I took it out of my bag and before I could even open it out, Susumu grabbed it! He had noticed the Japanese writing. He ran to center of the room, opened the map out full size, spread it out on the floor and laid on it! 
     Then I knew...sometimes he looked so sad, sometimes he looked unhappy. He was homesick! This was as close as he could get to Japan! There he laid on the floor, on the map. I let him lay there. Finally he looked up at me. I smiled. He slowly got up. We folded the map together. We talked about Japan and had a slow relaxed hour. I think he liked that. We bonded that day. 
     The family returned to Japan after their five years with the company here. I've lost contact with them. I pray for their well being and safety. 
     I wish I knew how they are now.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

My Best Mother's Day Gift

Mother's Day is almost here. I'm writing this story a little early just because I thought of it the other day. 
     Our church used to honor a mother for Mother's Day by making her Mother of the Year! Everyone loved it and looked forward to the surprise of whom ever would be honored each year. 
     One year I was on the committee to choose the person for that year. We had folks write their candidate on a paper along with why that person was worthy to be honored.
     When we read the sheets one name stood out. It was my job, to find out all the information about her past and present, write a paragraph or two to be read on Sunday morning as they bestowed upon her the honor of being Mother of the Year. I took my job seriously and wrote down all the facts her daughter gave to me, in an interesting way. It was an important job and I loved this worthy lady.
     Sunday morning arrived and I was so excited. We arrived early so I could make sure everything was ready. We had a sash to drape over her shoulder and across her dress and a bouquet of red roses. We had a gold plaque made up with her name printed on it. It was already up on the pulpit. 
     Finally, it was time to start. I was sitting where I could see her face. The Sunday School Superintendent got up to make the presentation...
     Wait a minute... My heart stopped! He was reading the wrong name! Oh no! What had happened? All my work and something was very wrong. 
     Everyone was looking at me and smiling! Why were they smiling? Everything was going wrong. Then Jerry said, "Come on, they're waiting for you!" 
     "What? No, it's not me, it's ... " Oh no, what's happened? I can't be the one...I was on the committee! I'd never been so confused.
     Jerry was pulling me along and we were walking up to the front of the sanctuary! Our children were following. That is, all except my baby who was in the nursery. Oh man! What was I supposed to do: cry, smile, run the other way? (I wanted to run out of there) But I obediently walked forward, with my head down and Jerry holding my hand. (I think he knew I wanted to run.) 
     The superintendent was explaining to the congregation why I was so bewildered. To me he explained I had received the most nominations and he had taken them out before I saw them. (Oh, that was not nice.)

     Would you like to know the best part of that mixed up Mother's Day? That afternoon, our children were playing outside in the yard. I went to check on them and what to my wondering eyes...?! My children reenacting the Mother of the Year presentation! I almost cried. To my children I was Mother of the Year! That was the best gift I ever received!

Saturday, April 16, 2011

My Friend, Mariko

     I'm having a hard time writing the continuing story of my friend, Mariko, because of the recent tragedy in Japan. I have so many friends in Japan and don't know how to make contact with them.
I'm, of course, praying for them.


     The story continues after Mariko and her family moved back to Japan. We corresponded occasionally. She was growing spiritually. 
     The phone rang one day, Hedeki's voice was unmistakable! He was in town on business! Could we get together for a visit? He didn't have to ask twice! 
     I went to a shop to buy gifts for the family. I knew he'd have gifts for me! We met in the foyer of my church! He had attended the International Bible study class before they moved so he was comfortable meeting there.
     Sure enough, he had gifts for me so we had fun exchanging with each other. We had a good visit and he told me about each one in the family. It was so good to be with him! Then he said, "I must tell you that Mariko is a very good Christian!" I was thrilled. "She wanted me to tell you." I thanked him for sharing such good news with me. Then I said, "But, Hedeki, what about you? Are you a Christian?" 
     "Oh, no," he said, "not yet. Someday I will be, but I'm not ready to yet."
     I became very bold at that moment and said, "But, Hedeki, what if something happens to you, like an accident or sickness, and you were to die. Do you know where you'd go? I'll be praying for you that you'll believe in Jesus." He thanked me.
     A few years after that wonderful day with Hedeki I went to Thailand and had an over night stopover in Japan! I wrote to Mariko and another friend telling them I would be there on a certain day, staying in a certain hotel. I'd love to see them if possible. 
     I bought gifts to take with me and at the last minute bought three instead of two...just in case!
     After a long flight, I arrived in Japan and finally at the hotel. I was greeted by three entire families! I was so glad I bought that extra gift! One friend called another friend, that I had no address for, but I had tutored their children. It was so good to see them too! Even the husbands were there! I've never felt so welcomed in my life!
     What a great visit we had over a meal together! My students had all grown so much! 
     When it was time to say good-bye I took Mariko's hand and said softly, "I'm praying for you."
     She smiled, "Thank you."
     A few years later, I received a note in the mail: "Hedeki and our son are both being baptized!"
     What a thrill to receive that message! I'm still rejoicing! 
     

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

A Love Story

          I watched as he began playing his guitar and singing. She was staring straight ahead. Then slowly, a smile formed on her lips. She looked at him and he at her. I felt it was a private moment but I couldn't help but watch. Her smile was so sweet. He sang song after song.
     Finally the private concert ended and she was taken back to her room. He put his guitar away. I mustered up some courage as I walked slowly to him. "She really loved your singing. Her smile was so sweet!"
     "Yes, she used to be a professional singer!" he said proudly. We also used to sing together at weddings, at funerals, at churches! We were always singing!"
     She's your wife?" I asked.
     "Yes, she's my girl! When our children came home for weekends we'd spend all Saturday evening singing together as a family! It's a wonderful memory."
     "What happened?" I boldly blurted out.
     "Alzheimer's," he said sadly. "About nine years ago. She's only sixty-three."


     I was visiting my mother in the nursing home when this episode took place. I'll never forget the love I saw in his eyes as he looked at her while singing to her. They were fun songs and she was brought back to recognition as she watched him and listened to him. Some of her smiles were almost sweet laughter!
     I thanked him for sharing with me. I put my hand on his arm, "God bless you."

Monday, February 21, 2011

Do I Have To Cry?

     I was helping teach adult ESL classes evenings. I worked with the beginners. In the middle of the evening both beginners and advanced classes always stopped for a break. 
     One evening during the break I was visiting with a man from Japan who was in the advanced class. We each shared about our families and then I asked if he is Christian. This is an easy question to ask of International people because there are so many religions in the world. His answer was "I am nothing." I replied, "Oh." He quickly added, "Oh, but my wife is Christian!" 
     I smiled and asked what church she was attending.
     He told me the name of a fellowship that is very humanistic. My heart dropped down to my toes and I immediately began praying for her that she would hear the gospel.
     The next week at class this same man asked if I could tutor his little girl in English. She was struggling in kindergarten. 
     I was soon tutoring Sawako an hour a day, five days a week, in their home. I became well acquainted with the family and continued praying for them. 
     One day Mariko asked me if I ever teach Bible! I told her, I sometimes lead Bible studies. This led to a Bible study in their home once a week, with all different nationalities attending. It was very exciting to me.
     During one class Mariko said she wasn't going back to her church any more. When asked why, she told us this experience.
     A long, straight line was drawn on the floor with chalk. Everyone was told to stand at one end, Jesus was at the other end. Then they were instructed to move up the line according to how much they believed in Jesus. 
     Mariko said sadly, "I didn't know what to do! I believe in Jesus! But no one else moved. I walked half way up the line with everyone looking at me. I'm going to find a different church." We had special prayer for her, that she would find the right church where she would learn about God and Jesus.
     The Bible study continued but I was so busy with my family and tutoring I felt I had to change something. 
     A class was started for Internationals on Sunday mornings during the Sunday School hour at my church. It was held in the school building next to our church. It was well attended by several nationalities and was very exciting for me to hear questions and answers from the students, both men and women. 
     One Sunday, surprisingly, only one person came to class, Mariko. We were very good friends so this gave us a time to just talk. I said to her, "Mariko, you talk like a Christian, you act like a Christian, but you've never told me of how or when you became a born again Christian."
     "Oh," she said, "I'm not...I want to be a Christian but I don't know how."
     I was very surprised and then suggested we pray together, I would pray a phrase and she could repeat it, then another phrase and another. 
     She said , "Okay, but do I have to cry?"
     I assured her she didn't have to cry and we began praying a simple prayer of repentance and thanks to God for His Son, Jesus. When we finished and said, "Amen," we looked up and smiled at each other. Then she suddenly burst out in tears! We had a wonderful time of crying together with the Lord!
                                                      More to come!

Monday, February 14, 2011

Climbing Mt Sinai

     Jerry and I were in Egypt. It was a dream come true. We were adventuresome and decided to climb Mt. Sinai! We were with a group of folks, which turned out to be so important and fortunate.
     It wasn't an easy, leisurely trip. We went by bus from our resort, at 1:00 AM! That was hard in itself. When we arrived at the base of the mountain, some went on camels, but Jerry and I enjoyed hiking, so we opted to walk. 
     An unexpected blessing was a full moon! We didn't even need flash lights...
     I'd better add here that neither Jerry nor I were in physical shape for climbing a mountain. But we were determined! A young boy, with a camel, was following us at a close distance. Every few minutes we'd hear him say, "Ride my camel?" We'd smile and say, "No thanks, we want to walk!" 
     Then the mountain began to get steeper. I was getting out of breath. I had to stop and rest every little while. Jerry patiently waited with me. We were at the back of our group...way at the back. 
     The boy with the camel came up every time I stopped to rest. "Lady, you ride my camel?"
     Then he began to get persistent. "Lady, you must ride my camel."
     Finally, he said, "Lady, you can not climb this mountain! You must ride my camel! It is too steep and too far. You can not climb this mountain! You must ride my camel!" I wonder where he learned English!
     Anyway, I knew he was right. I could not climb this mountain. I was exhausted, out of breath, ready to quit. Jerry told me to go ahead and get on the camel. 
     But Jerry still insisted on walking. He wanted to be able to say he walked up Mt. Sinai. The camel passed him and I felt so helpless. He insisted he was okay and not to worry about him. 
     A friend we met on this trip was also alone and she stayed behind to walk with him! I will ever be grateful to her. Just knowing he wasn't alone was very comforting to me. 
     It was the best thing I did on our trip up the mountain! The ride was so smooth, not bumpy like it might seem! It was very scary when the camel stood up, I felt like I was going to fall forward, right over his head! But the camel's boy helped me and once he was standing I was fine. To sit on the camel and be able to look out over the mountains, in the moonlight, is a memory I will never forget.
     Then when we got about two thirds of the way up the boy and his camel stopped. I was informed this was the end of the ride. There would soon be steps to climb and camels can't climb steps! I paid the boy and waited for Jerry and our friend to catch up.
     Then we began the last of the climb. A monk, years earlier, had made stone steps up the last part of the mountain! I became so exhausted again, I had to climb some of the steps on my hands and knees! I couldn't believe it. We finally made it! 
     Jerry has the distinction of saying he walked up Mt. Sinai and I say I rode a camel up Mt. Sinai!
     It was still dark, only the full moon giving us light. At the top of the mountain was a crude shelter where we could buy a hot drink. We didn't. We were allowed inside out of the wind. 
     Finally daylight began to dawn... We watched the sun rise over the mountains! It was beautiful! A sight we will never see again. 
     A group of folks from Germany, had also climbed the mountain and began singing The Doxology, in German. It was so beautiful! I stood in awe! 
     As we watched the sun rise in the east, I turned around and there was the full moon setting in the west. What a beautiful sight to see both sun and moon from the top of Mt Sinai! God is The Creator. How I praised Him. 
                

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The most dreaded Disease - Polio

      "Parents: don't allow your children to blow bubbles when chewing bubble gum. Let's do all we can to stop the spread of polio germs." I remember hearing an announcement something like this over the radio in the late 40's. I was in 3rd grade. I still remember it today.
      Folks were getting desperate to do whatever it took to stop this most dreaded disease. 
     In 1949 one of my cousins, Jerry, became very ill. Five days later he died - polio. He was 13 years old. The whole family was devastated. His parents and two brothers, Larry and Jimmy, moved to Wisconsin. I remember his mother, my aunt, saying they would never return to Waterloo, Iowa. 
      I wrote a story about my friend, Eddie, The Most Dreaded Disease. He was an outstanding boy who died of polio.
     There were many other cases that affected our family. There were many more that affected many other families. 
     Today we still hear of folks who were afflicted back in their childhood. There are folks still living in iron lungs today, from the 40's and 50's suffering from polio.
     I have my own story to tell. But luckily my story has a happy ending. Toward evening one day my neck began to feel stiff. Mother gave me an aspirin and I went to bed. In the morning my neck was so stiff I couldn't move my head. 
     I was admitted in the hospital and put immediately in isolation. That meant a private room, nurses and doctors wearing a mask when they came in my room. My food was brought on paper plates with plastic fork and spoon and cup, so they could be thrown away when I finished. No visitors were allowed except my parents. They had to wear a white coat over their clothes and a mask over their noses and mouths. It was a very scary time for my family...and for me! 
     Then a spinal tap was ordered for me. This would tell the doctor if I had polio. I remember this as a very hurtful procedure, plus I was scared. In my mind I could see a big butcher knife. I'm sure it wasn't...
     The results came back and I was no longer in isolation and was released the next day! I had a viral infection and in another few days, I was back to normal.
     I found out how scared my neighbors were when the father of my friend, Becky, told me, "go home and stay on your own sand hill!"
     Being a sensitive child I went home and stayed home for several days. I don't remember ever going to Becky's house again. 
     When my children were small the new vaccine for polio came out. I was so grateful and could hardly wait for it to be available in our town. We stood in line at Cook School, the older children were given sugar lumps with the vaccine in them and the babies received a squirt of the vaccine from an eye dropper. What a miracle! Younger folks today have no idea what it was like having the fear of polio hanging over us. 
     

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Swimming in the Creek

     Writing about my cousin, Leroy, has put so many memories in my mind, so I'll just keep writing. 
     On very hot summer days in Iowa we, kids, loved to walk down the road, across the railroad tracks, under the fence, through a farmer's pasture, to a nice cool creek! It was worth the hop, skip and jump, even in the hot sunshine. 
     I loved to dip into the cool water. It appeared to be so clean. But I doubt that it was since it went through a pasture with cows in it! 
     This was back in the early 50's and we, girls, at least among my friends, didn't wear swimsuits! The boys wore old cut off pants. Some of my girlfriends wore shorts, but I didn't have any. I went swimming in an old dress! 
     Swimming in a dress didn't stop me! I learned to dive down and swim under water. I learned how to float. I loved it, even in a dress.
     One night there was a bad storm, trees were blown down and branches and twigs were everywhere. When we went back down to the creek to go swimming, our swimming hole was gone...  A tree was stretching across our clean hole and it was now a muddy pit. We were so disappointed and sad, but we didn't give up. We followed the creek down to the railroad bridge and found another place where we could play and get cooled off.  
     Life is always changing too, just like our old swimming hole. Circumstances change, but we don't give up...we keep going and adjust to new and better ideas. 

Sunday, January 30, 2011

My Most Favorite Cousin in the Whole Wide World

     When I was girl living in Elk Run Heights, a suburb of Waterloo, Iowa, we lived in an apartment house behind my cousins, Roy and Beulah, and their family, who lived in a big farmhouse. They had six children. Roy's mother also lived with them, we called her Grandma. Part of the time she lived in one of the apartments. We all loved Grandma.
     The apartment house we lived in was actually a new, long, converted, chicken house! No chickens had ever lived in it! It was now made into three apartments. My parents did not like it when one of us made a remark about living in a chicken house! We were in transition and only lived there while Dad and my older brother, Richard, built a new house for our family. It was  just on the other side of a woods. My siblings, our 2nd cousins and I had a lot of fun playing in the woods, hiding out, climbing trees, etc. There was a path going from our apartment, through the woods, to our house.
     Dad had bought the land, for our new house, from cousin, Roy. It was a part of the farm land that went with the farmhouse his family lived in. 
     On this farm was a very large round barn. We had so much fun playing in that barn. Hay was stored in it and we made hideouts in the bales of hay. Then we made tunnels going from one hideout to another hideout! A bale of hay is heavy but when they had to be moved to make a room or  tunnel, it was no problem! I moved many a bale back in those fun years! As I look back I wonder how we managed, to never be hurt, moving those bales around...
     I was in 2nd semester of 5th through 7th grades living there. I attended Elk Run Heights School. My  cousin, actually 2nd cousin, Leroy, was in the same grade and room as I was. We became best friends. We also attended the same church so we were in the same Sunday School class. We respected each other and had a lot of fun together.
     Leroy and his siblings had a pony. One day we were double riding. (The poor pony!) One of Leroy's brothers, Lavonne (now called Chuck), began chasing the pony with a long stick! The pony started running, Leroy couldn't stop him or slow him down! Finally, we came to the fence...the pony stopped!!! Leroy and I went flying! We weren't hurt, except for our pride, but we were really mad. 
     In seventh grade, one day, walking home from school together, Leroy told me he wanted a certain girlfriend. We were at that age... I asked him why he didn't ask the girl to be his girlfriend. He looked at me and said, "Because she's my best friend!" I suddenly knew... We were best friends and neither of us wanted to spoil our friendship by making it more than that. I loved him even more after that day. Best friends.
     Well, my family eventually moved away. We, of course, were still cousins and best friends, but we lost contact with each other.
     Many, many years later...I had my third baby, a boy and named him Timothy Lee. Lee was after my husband's middle name: Leroy. When we decided on Lee I asked Jerry if it could also be after a favorite cousin, Leroy because we had been such good friends as kids. "In fact," I said, "He was my most favorite cousin in the whole wide world!" Jerry said, "Of course we can!"
     One day I was talking to my mother and telling her about Tim's middle name being after Jerry and Leroy. 
     She asked if I knew about Leroy's baby girl? No, I hadn't heard from him in years. Then she told me he had named his second daughter, Anita! 
     Oh! I knew we were best friends! What a thrill! 
     I met her once after she was all grown up. What a beautiful young woman! Leroy also met my son, Timothy Lee, once when Tim was a young boy. 
     Second cousins and best friends...a wonderful combination. A wonderful relationship.
      

Thursday, January 20, 2011

When I was a girl...

       My sister, Lorraine, and I love to reminisce. You see, we're only two years, three and a half months apart in age and we always played together as children.
     So? Well, back in the 40's we played...dolls or house, school (Lorraine was always the teacher), jacks (we became pros), jump rope (we knew all the jingles to jump to), clamping skates onto our shoes and roller skating down the sidewalk, paper dolls... Oh yes, paper dolls. We would cut clothes from the old Sears catalog, making sure we cut tabs on the shoulders so they would stay on. Sections of toilet paper made wonderful sheets and blankets for their match box beds. Evenings and Saturday mornings we'd listen to favorite radio programs. We had a wonderful childhood. We shared a double bed and were best friends.
     We had a ritual we repeated to each other every night. We both still remember it word for word.
     "Good night, Anita." 
     "Good night, Lorraine."
     "Don't forget to say your prayers."
     "Okay, I won't, don't you either."
     "Okay, I won't. Good night."
     "Good night."
     But we didn't stay children forever... Lorraine became a teenager first. I remember one day asking if she'd like to play house with me. I'll never forget the look on her face. It was one of not wanting to hurt me but yet not wanting to play...or maybe wanting to play but thinking she was too old... 
     Anyway, that was a defining day in my life. She made new friends and went away to a Christian high school. 
     I was also growing up and changing. Dolls and toys were put away. Friends (including boys), cars (even though I didn't drive until after I was married), music, all became my focus. 
     Then college, marriage, children, etc. took all my time and Lorraine's too. She lived on the west coast, and still does, I live in Michigan. I'm ashamed to say we seldom ever communicated. Oh, once in a while we did.
     Now, we're both getting older, and we love to talk on the phone reminiscing about our childhood, sharing with each other about our daily lives, our mistakes in life, our successes, our hopes and dreams, to brag about our grandchildren, etc. 
     When I was a girl life was simple. We didn't have a lot, money was scarce, but we loved what we had. To go back and share our memories is a favorite pastime today. Thanks for the memories, Lorraine...I love you. 

Monday, January 17, 2011

Oh Oh, Someone Is Going To Get It!

     I was on my way to have a cup of coffee with a friend, near Clio, Michigan, when I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a police car with the red light flashing. Oh oh, someone is going to get it! I thought and kept driving. I slowed down a little. I soon looked in the mirror again and saw the same police car, red light still flashing! Why doesn't he go around me, I wondered?
     Then...the thought came through my brain, in slow motion, that just maybe the car he was going after was mine! Oh, I slowed down and pulled over. So did the police car! 
     Oh no, it was me. I wondered what I had done wrong?! I put my window down as the officer came walking over. "Was I doing something wrong," I asked?
     "Do you know how fast you were driving?"
     "Well, no." I said. "Was I speeding?"
     "Yes, you were going 55 mph in a 35 mph zone."
     "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it." I said apologetically. 
     After checking over my license and registration the officer asked, "Are you taking your dog to the vet?" 


     Our little Chihuahua, Pinto, had been lost in our woods for five days and had just found her way back home that morning. Not wanting to leave her home along I had put a little blanket on the seat beside me and she was lying there.


     "Well, no, I'm not taking her now but I may later," I said. Then I picked Pinto up and showed her little feet, cracked and bloody, from running through the woods trying to find her way home. I explained to the officer about her being lost. 
     "Oh, well, I'm not going to give you a ticket this time, only a warning. But please keep your mind on your driving and watch the speed limit." The officer even smiled at me!
     I was so relieved and said thank you, I'm not sure how many times. 
     I went on to my friend's house. I relayed this story to her over coffee and her immediate reply was, "It's a good thing it wasn't a black woman police officer! They are really tough!"
     "Oh, but it was! The officer was a black woman!" I blurted out! We both sat there in silence, mulling this over. 
     I wanted to write a letter thanking her, but I wasn't given a ticket so I had no record of her name. Because it was outside the city limits it would have been a sheriff's deputy. I ended up not doing anything to thank her. I have told the story many times so I hope I've somehow helped the reputation of the black women officers in the State of Michigan. 
     Today is Martin Luther King, Jr day. He is a man I admire so much, before his death and after. I thought it fitting to write this story today. 
     

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Big Bird

     "What's this big bird in the tree?" Jerry asked. I'm a bird watcher so I quickly went into the sun room before the 'big bird' flew away! 
     Just as I got there the 'big bird' flew down to the ground. It was no more than 10 feet away from the window! "Well," I said excitedly, "It's an owl! I wish it was facing us so I could know for sure..." 
     Just as I said that it turned it's head around 180 degrees! It was an owl! A Great Horned Owl! Oh, I was so excited!
     Then he turned his head back around. His wings spread out and he flew up into our large White Pine Tree! 
     I shuddered. Dangling from his feet was a  long snake! The owl sat in the tree eating his lunch. It was probably just a Gardner snake but still, I hate snakes...
     But even the snake couldn't dampen my excitement of seeing the owl in my own back yard!

Friday, January 7, 2011

The most dreaded Disease

     The phone rang one day and I heard my daddy say, "No, oh no. When? How long was he sick?" 
     I was in fourth grade, we were living in East Peoria, Illinois. The phone call was from Des Moines, Iowa, where we had lived for several years and my daddy was pastor of a church.
     In that church was a family with just one son, Eddie. They had lost a daughter shortly after she was born. 
     We waited until Daddy hung up the phone for him to tell us the bad news. Eddie had died of polio, the most dreaded disease.
     NO! Not Eddie! Why? Why, God? Why Eddie? 
     Eddie was about a year older then I was. He was an outstanding boy. Eddie loved school and had many friends. He loved Jesus and wasn't afraid to tell anyone. In fact he loved telling folks, of all ages, about Jesus! 
     I have so many memories of Eddie. One day, playing in a park with friends, a rabid dog began chasing the boys. Eddie ran home, with his arms in the air, praying loudly, "Help me, Jesus, Help me, Jesus!"
God did help him run into the house and slam the door shut just as the dog ran up the porch steps. A dog catcher came and retrieved the dog a few minutes later.
     Eddie raised money for a children's home, by going door to door, asking for donations. He felt so badly for the children with no parents he often cried as he told of their plight. He raised more money for the Woodstock Children's Home than any other child. (Back in the late 40's and early 50's it was possible to go door to door to raise money.) A prize of a new bicycle was awarded to him, but a better prize for Eddie was in knowing he had helped the unfortunate children who had abusive parents or no parents at all.
     We were told Eddie's mother sat beside his hospital bed, crying softly. Eddie reached over and put his hand on her arm, "Don't cry, Mama," he said, "I'm going to live with Jesus."
     The next day Eddie did go to be with Jesus. A very sad day on earth...but a day of rejoicing in heaven.
     Someday I'm going to see Eddie again...


     

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Being Rejected

     I was hungry and our picnic lunch wasn't ready yet. So I was looking through a box of snacks when I saw a note with my name on it! I picked it up to read...  It was signed by one of the girls in the youth group. 
     I was attending school in South Dakota. My parents moved from Des Moines, Iowa to Winona Lake, Indiana, so I went to Winona Lake for summers and Christmas breaks. I didn't know the kids real well in the youth group but I had been invited to go to the state park with them. I was looking forward to a fun day and making new friends. 
     Then I read the note... "I'll ride to the  state park in any car and with anyone but not with Anita Williamson!!!" I was shocked and I panicked. I didn't know I wasn't liked... What should I do? I could walk off and never return. Yes, that's what I'd better do. Just walk off and keep walking. We were miles from home but that didn't matter, I couldn't ride home with this bunch of kids anyway. Why was I invited? Why had I said yes, I'll go? 
     The worst part was I did end up riding to the state park with the girl who had written the note! I thought it was strange they had me sit in the front seat...they were keeping us separated! I barely knew her. Oh, what should I do? Why didn't she like me? We didn't even know each other.
     I began walking but as I walked I thought about the commotion I would make by walking off and not returning; about the youth workers and the kids looking through the woods; about my parents and the worry I would cause them; about the state police being called and a search for me
     I couldn't stand these thoughts. I finally turned around and walked slowly back. Lunch was now ready, everyone was eating. No one asked where I'd been. I knew no one cared. 
     This park had horses and trails for riding. In the afternoon some decided to go riding. Well, I love riding and would never turn down an opportunity. 
     As they were choosing horses and riders there was one horse that was not picked. He was a beautiful horse but rather frisky. 
     I was the last one so I was given that horse. I wish I could remember his name. 
     We suited each other. I felt unwanted and knew this horse was unwanted. We had a really good ride and I had someone to talk to. I told the horse all about my day, my feelings, my disappointment. My need for a friend. I thanked him for being my friend. 

Saturday, January 1, 2011

God Had a Better Plan

     Abigail raised her hand and said, "Ms Anita, we don't want lessons!" 
     I was in Thailand for my first time. I was quite excited. I was there to minister to field worker's kids (Missionary kids). These were field workers who work in creative access countries and who come out to a week long retreat to refresh, requip, and recommit themselves to work in such, often primitive, countries.
     By having someone to work with the children gave these deserving field workers a time to attend seminars together as a couple rather than one having to stay behind with their children. I felt privileged to have this responsibility of being a care giver to their beautiful children. I arrived excited and well prepared. 
     There were about twenty kids from age five years to thirteen years; quite an age range. There were only three of us kids workers. Two were college students and myself, in my 6o's! One of the college girls was to care for the babies and preschool children. The other was in charge of handicraft for my kids. I had no helpers, except the Lord.
     The first morning we were all together in the little house that was ours to use. By all together, I mean, babies, toddlers, school kids, and parents who wanted to see who was going to be with their kids that week, and just what I planned to do with them!
     It was total mayhem! Everyone was talking, babies were crying, toddlers running all over. I was ready to scream!!! I finally asked the college student, over the babies, to please take them to their nursery so I could get started. She looked hurt but did as I asked. Parents slowly began walking out to go to their own meetings.
     Finally, it was just the kids and me... We began to get acquainted, giving names and telling favorite things to do. I, very excitedly, began to tell them of the plans I had for the week. I said I had lessons all prepared for them and we were going to be learning some really interesting lessons.
     Abigail raised her hand and said, "Ms Anita, we don't want lessons!" 
     Josiah nodded in agreement and raised his hand. "We're home schooled and have lessons every day. This is our vacation week, we don't want lessons!" 
     "Oh, I see," I exclaimed. "Well, I'll have to think about that." 
     I don't remember the rest of that first day. It's sort of a blur! 
     I do remember the first night...! I laid in bed and cried out to the Lord, "Oh, what am I doing here? I thought I was following Your will! I'm the wrong person to work with these kids. They don't want lessons, they don't want me! What am I going to do?  Lord, help me!" 
     I became very ill. I was so dizzy and felt like if I moved even one hand I would throw up. I just laid there and wanted to die.
     Somehow, some time, I fell asleep. I woke up in the morning feeling fine. As I prayed that morning, I again told the Lord of my predicament, but not in the desperate way I had in the night. Somehow, I felt the Lord would be helping me. I knew He would be helping me.
     After breakfast the kids and I met in our house. They were all eager to tell me details of their lives. I listened intently and also told them some things about myself. In our sharing, because of the age range, I had to make sure the younger ones had time to talk too. 
     As we were sharing, the door opened and in walked a teenage boy about 14 or 15. Before I could even ask what he wanted, he asked me if I could use some help! 
     Oh, thank You, Lord! I truly believe the Lord sent him!
     One of the activities I had taken with me was a set of batons to use in a relay race. The Lord seemed to be telling me this was more than just a game. This was a lesson for them to learn. 
     We began talking about their lives as mk's (missionary kids). They mainly felt it was their parents work. 
     Here is where the Lord had me introduce the relay race. We divided the kids in two groups. The buddy system was established here and continued all week. Each younger child had an older kid as a partner. 
     Then Randy and I explained how a relay race worked. It takes cooperation, alertness, steadiness and loyalty of each player to make it to the finish line. 
     As we talked about their lives in another country and their parents work, their own friendships with kids of another culture, the concept of the relay race fit in perfectly. What a lesson for me as well! 
     The first day the race didn't go so well. But we worked at it all week, and by the end, they were all good relay racers! ...and they understood their purpose in living in another country and how they were a help to their parents work. Each one is important, no matter what their age.
     So no lessons, as such. But we were all learning lessons all week! When we finished one activity I would send up a prayer... "Okay, Lord, what's next?" Ideas would come to my mind that I knew came from God! My lesson plans remained in my suitcase.
     We had a wonderful week together. I will never forget those kids, their honesty with me; Randy, whom we both felt was led by the Lord to come and be my helper.
     I can do all things through Christ, who gives me strength. Philippines 4:13