Storm of 1948

     We were living in Covington, Oklahoma in the middle 40's. It's a small town near Enid. 
    In the spring of 1948 we were having a normal day of playing. Mother had walked to the grocery store, several blocks away on Main Street. She had given us, children, instructions to stay at home until she returned. 
     It was a very hot day, the air was still and sultry. Suddenly the wind began to blow strong gusts. There was an eerie feeling in the air. 
     Our neighbor, Mrs. Powell, came rushing in asking where Mother was. We explained she had gone to the store so she instructed us to stay in the center bedroom because a storm was coming. Then she ran home to care for her own family, as the wind picked up speed.
     It became very dark from the storm clouds. Lightning was flashing and thunder booming and roaring. It was very scary.
     We kids, Richard 12 years, Lorraine 10 years, Anita seven and Billy four, all hid under the bed in Mother's and Daddy's bedroom.  Daddy was off holding a revival somewhere far away in another state. But, oh, where was Mother? Shouldn't she be home from the store by now? 
     Suddenly she came bursting in the door with her bag of groceries. She had run all the way home, so frightened for her children and for herself.
     We were so glad to have her home with us. She immediately said, "Come kids, we've got to pray." We all knelt beside the bed and prayed for God's protection in this very bad storm. Suddenly we heard the living room window blown from the inside out! But we were safe. 
     Finally the storm was over. We, along with all the neighbors, went outside to see the damage. Trees were blown down all over. Glass and debris was scattered everywhere. Siding and roofing were ripped off houses, our included. But all the people were okay.
     We heard a report of a town, Woodward, that was completely flattened except for a couple buildings. We had experienced the tail end of a tornado. 
     To this day, I am petrified of storms. Wind and lightning have a bad effect on me. I'm sure it all comes from the fear of the storm in 1948.
     When Daddy came home it was decided we needed to move back to Iowa. We moved that summer but not to Iowa. We lived in Illinois for a year and then back home to Iowa.
     


        

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?

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!

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. 
     

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.
      

Christmas Memories #3

     One by one the kids were growing up and leaving home. Pam, our oldest, was married in 1983 and living in another state. Christmas morning wasn't quite the same any more but the kids, still at home, got up at 6:00 AM to sing to us to wake us up! It was tradition.

     Six o'clock on December 25, 1984, things went a little crazy! The kids were singing, Grandma was waiting for the door to be unlocked, and the phone started ringing! 

     Jerry got up as I reached over to answer the phone. "Merry Christmas," I said groggily. Pam began singing "We wish you a merry Christmas!" 

     Then she said she had a special message to tell us. "Gene and I are going to have a baby!" 

     "What?" Yes, she had to tell me twice!
     Our first grandchild! What a wonderful, exciting gift! The following August our first grandson, Andrew, was born. 
     That's a Christmas memory forever in my heart. 

     

Christmas Memories #2

     Christmas is the season for memories...among my favorites is Grandma coming every Christmas morning in time for the gift opening. 
     She was an early riser every morning so for her to be at our house by 6:00 AM was no problem. In fact some years she was there before we were up! When the kids woke us up at 6:00 with their singing, we'd find her sitting in her car in the driveway waiting for lights to be turned on and the door unlocked! 
     Yes, that was Grandma. We all loved her and were thrilled that she wanted to come for the opening of our gifts. Before we opened any presents Jerry would read the Christmas story from the Bible. 
     We always made sure we had gifts for Grandma to open, too. She'd be so surprised when a gift was handed to her. 
     After breakfast she would drive to Betty's house (daughter) for Christmas dinner.
     The last few years of her life Jerry drove into town to get her. One or two years Jerry picked her up on Christmas Eve and she stayed all night with us so morning would be a little easier.
     Then the very last year, she was in a nursing home. Opening gifts just wasn't the same without Grandma. But we all have the most wonderful memories of her being with us on the best day of the year: Christmas!
     Grandma's birthday was also on December 25! 
We had a double celebration. A lot of years the family got together with her, earlier in the month, to celebrate her birthday.
     But I wanted to have a party for her right on the day! So one year I invited everyone to our house on Christmas afternoon for a birthday party for Grandma. 
     Our next door neighbor had a Santa Claus suit so I asked him if he'd help me out at our family birthday party for Grandma. Of course, he'd love to!
     I did some extra shopping that year and bought a Christmas present for each of our nieces and nephews and our own kids, under teenage. I wrapped each one and delivered them to our neighbor. He put them into a big bag to be delivered by Santa at the party! 
     Everyone arrived and it was a house full, but we had lots of food. Things were kind of winding down, when the door bell rang! I went to answer it and there stood Santa Claus with his big bag of gifts! 
     What a surprise to everyone!!! He read off the name of each child as he handed out the presents! No child was left out. Such excitement! 
     The last gift was for Grandma...a kiss from Santa Claus!
     

I Love You...

       I was talking, on the phone to my parents. We were ending our conversation when my mother suddenly said, "I love you, Anita."
     Dad quickly added, "Yes, we love you."
     I was silent for a moment...what did they say? "Oh, okay, I'll talk to you soon." We hung up and I just stood there. Did they say I love you? Yes, I think they did! It was the first time I'd ever heard them say that to me! 
     Oh, I knew they loved me, but they had never told me before! 


     Even as a child I knew Mother loved me. She had a way of showing me, I guess she thought she didn't need to tell me. I'm guessing that was the way she was raised.
     She worked so hard as a young wife and mother to provide clothing and food for her family, a husband who traveled and four young children.
     Money was so scarce. She sewed pretty dresses for Lorraine and me. We'd go to the seed store and pick out the feed sacks with the prettiest patterns. She always added lace around the sleeves and collars, making our dresses so special. She loved us.
     Sometimes she was allowed to go through the missionary box of used clothing, because Daddy was an evangelist and traveled most of the time. One time she found an adult coat that still had some good wear in it. She took it all apart and made, for me, the prettiest and warmest coat I'd ever had! I loved it and can still see it today! My mother loved me.
     She raised chickens and rabbits so we'd have meat to eat. 
     There was a children's evangelist who came to town and we loved going to hear him. He told us his life story. He had been left on a door step in a basket, when he was a tiny baby! He had no idea who his real parents were. One thing he told us, children, was to always give our parents a hug at night before we went to sleep. I took him seriously and tried to always give Mother a hug every night. She hugged me back. I knew she loved me.
     
     Now, I was in my 60's, they were in their 80's, and they both said, "Anita, I love you." I thought about it all day and all night. Could I say I love you back? I love them. Why shouldn't I say, "I love you."
     I told my children, "I love you," every day as they were growing up and now when we talk on the phone we always end our conversation with I love you. Why couldn't I tell my parents? 
     A few days later we were talking on the phone again. We loved talking and sharing with each other. It was time to hang up and Mother said, "I love you, Anita." Dad added, "I love you, too."
I swallowed hard and said, "I love you, too. Both of you." 
     After that it became the thing to say. "I love you." I'm so glad we can say it now, after all these years. I don't know what happened to make them realize they needed to say it, to tell me. 
     Dad is gone to heaven now. Mother and I talk on the phone about once a week. We always end our conversations with "I love you." 
     I love you!
    

What More Could Any Little Girl Want?

       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?

My Mission Field

       In 1971 Jerry and I had the privilege of going to Haiti with a work team from Dearborn, Michigan. It was an amazing three weeks. Friends kept our four children, I missed them soooo much.
       I had always had a deep interest in missions, but my knowledge and interest was always across the ocean. I had no idea a country, with such a backward culture, was so close to the U.S.A.
       Therefore, I went through culture shock, big time, for several days. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, hearing, smelling, etc.
       I loved the people! Jerry named it: The Land of Smiles! Everyone smiled, yet we knew they were hungry, sick, poor, and more.
       I made some very special friends. A young teenage girl and I worked together around the mission, hanging out laundry, sweeping floors, preparing food for the working men, etc. I missed doing these chores with my oldest daughter, Pam.  Laroche, a young boy, never left my side except to go home at night. His bright smile brought a smile to my face, even though I was missing my own sons, Ted and Tim.  One day I wasn't feeling well; a young mother and her children came to the mission house to sing and pray for me! One was the age of my youngest daughter, Christy.
       A young mother, who lived next door to the new church Jerry was helping construct, let me hold her baby. We discovered we both had the same name: Anita!
       There are so many stories I could tell you about this trip. I felt the needs of the people and my heart ached for them. I couldn't wait to see my children again and hug them and love them. But at the same time I wanted to stay right where we were in Haiti. I wanted to bring my children down with me.
       When we arrived back home in Michigan I went through another culture shock! We had so much...food, clothing, big house, luxuries, money. Why?
       I missed my new Haitian friends and prayed for them every day.
       I wanted to take our family and go back to Haiti. Life had meaning there...
       I began to pray for God to send us back as missionaries. Oh I knew we weren't prepared and educated for ministry or medical work, but that wouldn't be a problem to God. He knew all about us and our weaknesses...and  our strengths. He could use us. It didn't matter that we had four children. He just needed willing hearts and I was willing.
       As the days went by, and the family was busy with work and school, life was soon back to normal. But I still had an ache in my heart for my friends in Haiti. I still prayed every day for God to work out a plan for Jerry and me and our four children to go to Haiti as missionaries.
       One morning as I was going about my routine I didn't feel quite right. I hoped I wasn't getting the flu. As the day went on I felt better but still something wasn't right. This went on for some time and we finally decided I'd better go to the doctor. Well, you've probably guessed it. I was pregnant with our fifth child. I took this as God's answer to my prayer. No, we were not to go as missionaries to Haiti.
       Finally the day came when we brought our new baby home from the hospital. I was sitting on the sofa with my new son, Robby, in my arms. Pam, Ted, Tim, and Christy were all looking at him with wonder and awe. At that very moment God spoke to me, "Here is your mission field:  your beautiful children."