Merry Christmas Ricky Gene

After we opened the last present on Christmas Day, with Graham, Monnie and Jeffrey, we had some special notes to read we will treasure for a lifetime. In a note to her mother, Monnie wrote, “Mamas are the ones that keep families together.” I certainly have thought a lot about those words, and of course as I did remembered Mom. More and more I have been able to reach back and lay hold of precious things from our past and remember them savoring the sweetness of those memories. Some of those memories are so far back, that I am not sure whether I really remember the event itself, or if I heard it told so many times that I think I remember it.
The picture above may be from a little later on, but Mom had dressed her three boys alike again, and it definitely comes from somewhere near your toddler years.

This memory is also one of those that may fall in that category that has more to do with what has been repeated through the years than what I actually remember. We lived in an apartment above Aunt Janie, and again even though you are younger, you may remember this better than I.

Mom was making gravy in some kind of hot plate skillet on the kitchen counter. You may not have had a full set of teeth yet, but you wanted your tooth brush out of the cabinet and was trying your toddler best to retrieve it when it happened. Somehow you managed to jar that hot skillet of gravy off the counter and on to your face and neck. Mother ran and grabbed her baby, but as she tried to wipe the hot sticky gravy off, burnt skin came off with the gravy. What a scene. You were badly burned and screaming, and Mom did what any sane mother of three little boys would do under the circumstances, she grabbed you up in her arms and ran, or flew, down the stairs. I remember her sharing that she came to herself on her knees at the foot of the stairs, with you in her arms, saying, “My baby, My baby." Being the very sane older brother that I was, I responded,

Mommy, Mommy are we going to throw Ricky in the hole?

Oops, sorry, I seem to have confused my stories. That was Johnny. Now where was I? Yes, the ambulance came, and I guess Aunt Janie watched Johnny and I, because I don’t remember much of anything else except when they brought you home wrapped up like a mummy.

I recall how Mom took such diligent care of you, physically, by sleeping with you, with her arm across your arms and your little body, so you wouldn’t scratch at your burns. She also took such diligent spiritual care by asking everyone to pray for you. What an amazing miracle of God’s grace to answer the prayers of a young mother, and heal my baby brother. Her love for us and her diligent care have always been a reflection of God’s diligent care and love for us. We are so blessed.

This Christmas I want to thank you for all you are doing to keep the sweetness of our memories alive. I love you little brother, and thank God for the awesome revelation of his love through you.

Merry Christmas, from your big brother, Danny Ray

Merry Christmas Johnny Dean

After we opened the last present on Christmas Day, with Graham, Monnie and Jeffrey, we had some special notes to read we will treasure for a lifetime. In a note to her mother, Monnie wrote, “Mamas are the ones that keep families together.” I certainly have thought a lot about those words, and of course as I did remembered Mom. More and more I have been able to reach back and lay hold of precious things from our past and remember them savoring the sweetness of those memories. Some of those memories are so far back, that I am not sure whether I really remember the event itself, or if I heard it told so many times that I think I remember it. This comes from a time when we had Mom and Dad to ourselves. We were so young that in terms of memory, it probably falls in the latter category above. The picture above come from near that time in our lives.

We lived in house on the Hyatt farm, and we would walk to Granma Hyatt’s house across the pasture. Even though you are so much younger, you may remember this better than I.

There was only one bathroom at Grandma’s house, and my later remembrances recall that it was often occupied whenever I needed it. We would often take the path behind the house to the old “outhouse” that sat over a really big hole in the ground. Well, not only was “the hole” the site for Grandma’s outhouse, it was also a place where we threw away broken or useless things because it was so big.

Well, back to my story. Mom was peeling potatoes and doing her best to watch the two of us, when your interest in what she was doing brought you much to close to her work with the paring knife. Her knife poked you in the corner of your eye. There was blood coming from her baby’s eye, so she did what any other sane, young mother of two boys like the two of us would do. She grabbed you up in her arms, and ran (or maybe just walked really fast since I had to somehow keep up with my short little legs) toward help at Grandmother Hyatt’s. Along the way It is reported ‘til this day that I uttered the infamous words of that serious question,

Mommy, Mommy, are you going to throw “Bubby” in the hole?

We are grateful today that the knife missed your eye. Otherwise you might you might have a bionic eye to go with your bionic hip. I certainly am glad that Mommy didn’t throw you in the hole.

We shared so much growing up so close in age, from playing together as toddlers, to sharing a room together at College. I count it a blessing that God allowed us to grow up together, and be so close. You were often the peacemaker after Ricky Gene came along. In fact, in my young mind you were so good and so godly. I was convinced when we lived in Midvale, Ohio and the three of us shared the one bed upstairs, that if Jesus came at night, all I needed to do was to catch hold of your ankle and ride out the rapture of the church. Well, although I know now that my young idea wasn’t theologically sound, the thought speak volumes about what I thought of you.

Through the years, you have made so much effort to get our family together, a task that has become more complicated as our families have grown. Through those efforts you help to keep Mom’s spirit very much alive. This Christmas I want to say thank you, John. I love you so much.

Merry Christmas from your big brother, Danny Ray

What a Blessed Christmas!

Christmas morning began here very much like so many others through the years. Crystal and I were asleep in the living room, when the kids came down the stairs. With our oldest three married, that left Graham, 20, Monnie, 18, and Jeffrey 12 (until next month, when he becomes a teenager). We always let the kids get into their stockings, that are hung on the mantel, right away. My biggest job is to run the camcorder and take pictures. After checking the contents of the stockings, I open the Bible and read the Christmas story form Luke, chapter 2. Next we all kneel and pray together, giving thanks to God for the Savior and for the hope we have as we put our faith in Him.

If you read my last posting, "Christmas on a Shoestring," you will remember that I commented on how difficult these times are with wo many struggling this year, unable to buy Christmas presents because they are out of work. Many have lost their homes in foreclosure and are just trying to survive. In times like these, much of what we often associate with Christmas seems so materialistic.

Well, Christmas giving was certainly interesting at our house this year. Our oldest at home, Graham, bought a couple of big gifts for Monnie and Jeffrey. However, the other two were certainly not short on creativity. Jeffrey, gave his mother a gift with a homemade, folded note that read on the outside, To: Mother, Don't read until after present is opened.
Opening the package she found a box of Godiva chocolate inside. Then she read the inside of his note:

Mother, Sorry! I didn't know where to find Godiva, so I gave you mine. I gave you something of mine this Christmas that was special (that you would like) because of God's gift to us. P.S. Sorry 'bout the pieces missing.

Wasn't that grand?

Then after all the presents were opened our daughter, Monnie, had some notes she had written. There was one for each of her brothers, her mother, and me. She really touched our hearts with her words. She wrote these encouraging words to Jeffrey, our youngest:

You are no longer the little boy I helped take care of but a young
man who has become one of my closest confidants. Who would
have thought? Jeffrey, your kindness and thoughtfulness towards
others astounds me at times. I am so very proud of you.

Then to Graham she penned these words,

You've been my comrade so long, it's crazy seeing you step into the
older brother role....Thank you for being there for me Graham and
listening to all my woes. You are a great big brother to Jeff and I.

Then her letters to her mother and I brought tears to both our eyes. With words like these to her mother:

Thank you for showing us Christ's love through your own. I feel like that one song "Trying to write a classic but I can't, these words are my own, from my heart flow I love you."

Then these words addressed to me:

Father Dear, Have I ever told you how proud I am that you are my "Daddyo?" Thank you for being one who encourages us to be the best we can. ...I want you to know how very much I do love you.

What a blessed Christmas!

Celebrating Christmas on a Shoestring

The way the economy is these days there are lots of folks suffering. Unemployment is at an all time high. Rumor has it that Santa ‘s Work Shop may have to file bankruptcy! In times like these we need to remember what Christmas is really all about, and share some practical ways to have a wonderful Christmas on a shoestring budget (or maybe even less). Let me share some ways to make Christmas special that will cost you little to nothing, except maybe a little time and effort.

It certainly doesn’t cost much to say, “Thank you.” Why not take time on Christmas morning to say thanks to those you love. You’ll need to take a little time a day or two before. You might write a note, expressing your love and appreciation. Those are things that everyone needs and are too often lacking. Maybe you could write a poem, or a song. It can be loads of fun to make your loved one the theme of a parody on a Christmas Carol, or ’Twas the Night Before Christmas. I can imagine how it might begin:

‘Twas the night before Christmas and up in my room,

I was trying to figure what I could do.

Santa was broke and so was I,

And Christmas morning was drawing nigh.

If you’re the artsy type you might do a craft, a drawing, or a painting. Use materials you have laying around your house or in your garage. Add a little imagination, and invest a little time. Maybe you’re handy in the kitchen and have the ingredients to make a special treat. It may seem a little old-fashioned, but you’ll find it very rewarding.

You might search through your things, looking for some items that are meaningful to you that may have some deep sentiment attached. Use the opportunity on Christmas morning to pass them on to a son or daughter as an expression of your love and confidence in them. Give your daughter a favorite scarf, or item of jewelry that will mean something special to her, just because it was yours, or your mother’s, or your grandmother’s. Pass on a favorite pocket knife to your son, or something that belonged to your dad or grandfather. Share the awesome blessing of being together with your family, and discover the priceless things that will bring depth and true riches to your Christmas celebration.

Finally why not take time to worship with your family on Christmas morning. Share a prayer, and sing praise to God. Remember this is the real meaning of Christmas. Thank God for sending Jesus to save us and give us hope in this world so full of hopelessness. Experience His presence as you celebrate the birth of your Savior. May you have the merriest Christmas ever!

Remembering My Friend

Last night at 6:50 p.m. my friend Randal L. Dills finished his struggle with cancer and peacefully went home. Randy spent his last days surrounded by those who loved him. His sisters, his brother, and his children were there, taking turns during the night watches. Early one evening his sister, Margie, suggested they should try to close there eyes and get some rest. He had scarcely closed his eyes and another friend came to visit. The next time it was suggested that he should close his eyes to rest, he responded in his witty way that he had better not, because it draws visitors. I don't know how many friends came through his room there in the oncology ward, but on one of my later visits after he was put on the "Bi-Pak" (a mask that covered his mouth and nose and forced breaths of concentrated oxygen), he wrote, albeit in very shaky hand, "I've got a room full of people. He, He!" Randy was certainly a people person, and people loved him.

He had gift for making people laugh. In fact, he could just be telling about things that had happened to him. He didn't have to make things up because the truth was just funny the way he told it. For instance, back when Randy was working on our delivery team at the furniture store, when the truck pulled up to a house with dog, he would say to his partner, "hey, it's your turn to be dog biscuit."

Oh, yes, there were tears last night. I saw a daughter's tears as she sat by his bedside, and a brother's tears as he shared the news on his cell phone. I saw a son's tears, in his mother's embrace, and witnessed tears wiped from a sister's face. No one there had to shed their tears alone, for I know I felt the warmth of tears that were my own.

Still, if you could measure the laughter and the tears, you would discover that the joy of remembering outweighed our tears many times over. Sure life is full of ups and downs, but somehow my friend found the secret of finding the humor in everything. So, when I remember Randy, it won't with an image of suffering, nor with thoughts of the devastation of disease, but with joy and laughter, I'll be remembering my friend.

Finally, Randy was ready. He made preparation for everything, even though it seemed he had so little time. He made the funeral arrangements, choosing his pall bearers asking me to do the eulogy. He contacted his friend, Hubert, and had his Will notarized. He talked with God, and made his salvation sure. Randy was Ready. Yes, I certainly have good reason for joy as I remember my friend. This is not the end. It's the beginning because we have the hope of seeing him again.