Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Random thoughts of a mad man

I was thinking the other night of some of my firsts and it felt like I should post them because they provided grounding for me as I was growing up.

First death: A man named Red Rector. He was the grandfather of the kids I grew up with. I was so young and I did not know how he was suddenly gone. I could not understand what others were talking about when they said he had died and there was a funeral. I later learned. His grandsons were my best friends. We had names for each other, Terry was Birdog, Steve was Duck. Larry was little Larry. Our other friend Joey was called Toy, We had another neighbor and he was I was called Goat.....not sure how we came up with these names but they stuck with us for years.

First person with special needs: Mr Andrews was a man who went to my church on Fifth Street. I was not aware of who he was until a tragic fall from the roof a house made him a parapalegic for the rest of his life. I remember him sitting at the right side of our church every Sunday. Ready to testify to God's goodness. He never once complained of his plight. That was so long ago it was before the new laws about building structures for the handicapped but it cause our church to modify and install ramps and other things to help Mr. Andrews. I do remember he was steadfast in the matters of Church business. If he believed something was going wrong he spoke his mind. I will always remember Mr. Andrews.

First person I ever admired for how they prayed: A kindly old man in my first church named Mr. Parton. He was a man of impoverishment. He and his family lived behind the giant screen of the Monte Vista Drive in. (this is now the site of the gigantic and breath taking First Assembly of God) Mr. Parton was so gentle. He never complained about the poor conditions he lived in. When called up to pray he always ended his prayer with the saying of the Lord's Prayer. Always and when I realized what he was doing, I then realized what the Lord's Prayer meant and how it asked for everything we need on a daily basis from God. Mr. Parton, gentle, kindly, softspoken, never much of a conversationalist, shy, humble.

First Preacher to really help me understand what he did: Billy Allen. A small framed man whose raspy voice spoke boldly and made good sense of what he was trying to get across. I remember the day he preached his last sermon in my church. I was so emotional I just could not imagine life without him but he went on to another church and did well and I went on to enjoy the next preacher that came in.

First time I saw a corpse. It was a girl about my age. Her name was Cheryl Lee. She has ashma and was sickly all her life. I remember seeing her in a cofin at her home (back then, visitation was not at a funeral home but in THE home. I wondered how she breathed and how she slept and Mrs. Lee explained to me that she was peaceful now and not gasping for air and happy but I would never see her again in this life.

First Time I was truly disgusted with myself: Fathers Day when I was 13. This one still hurts but I told my dad before he died I regretted not doing it. The preacher preached on fathers and at the end of the sermon he called up all the kids to hug their dads. At 13 I was in that semi-adult world and hugging a parent was just not something that was do-able. I elected not to hug my dad, he never said a word about it, but I knew it hurt. Since that day, I have never failed to greet my sons with a hug, no matter where, when or how. I kiss them squarely on the neck and hug them.

First Time I felt the sting of failure: It was the 8th grade and I went out for basketball and got cut it hurt to see my name on the list, but not to be deterred Iwent out for baseball and got cut again. I knew I was not good enough to make those teams but I wanted a uniform so badly. I decided from then on when I did something I would study, train, and be determined to be the best. Later as a senior in high school, I made the wrestling team, lettered, and helped our team to a conference championship. I felt so good about that.

First Trophy: I had wanted some kind of recognition for a long time and believed that being awarded a trophy made me that successful person. I played Church softball in my senior season in high school and in one of the tournaments I played, I was possessed to make the all tournament team and get that darn trophy.......turns out I did make the all tourney team and was the MVP of the tournament to boot,,,,,,,imagine that,,,,the guy who was cut from two teams just a few years earlier now an MVP. I never coveted a trophy in that way since.

enough rambling God Bless you



Anonymous Your little sister! said...

Holy Cow-- Stop being morbid! =-)

February 26, 2009  

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