Blog – Page 8

Remember When: My Favorite Season

SPRING

Spring is my favorite time of year. Everything is coming back after winter. The trees are budding out even though allergies plague me I enjoy watching the day-to-day progress. The birds are coming back to the Ozarks where I live. I like to try and name the kind of bird by its call before I see it. The weather is still getting regulated. But it is not bitter cold or scorching hot. Most days a light jacket is all that is needed to stay comfortable. The grass is greening up and the delicate first flowers are lifting their heads. Spring flowers are small with muted colors. It is as if nature is easing us into being outside before the on slot of all the vibrant summer hues.

Living on a farm there is nothing cuter than spring babies. A new calve is a joy to behold. They are so inquisitive in exploring their new world. They are soft and friendly and will follow you wherever you go until momma cow says no. The squeals and antics of a litter of new pigs, all trying to eat at the same time is better than watching TV. Mom always kept the baby chicks in the kitchen in a make-shift pin behind the wood-burning stove. This was so they could stay warm until they were big enough to be with the other chickens. You could hear their chirping all night long because they never seemed to all sleep at the same time.

Spring Work

Spring was also planting time. The fields had to be prepared to be planted and that meant everyone had to help. We learned to drive a tractor at an early age, not be afraid to ride on the back of the corn planter, and feed the seed into the hopper. It was hard work and the days were long, but we knew the corn was to feed the cattle that made the milk we sold to make a living.

Spring Fun

We got to have fun too. It was baseball season and everyone boys as well as girls got to play on the school team. We played other small schools in the area and the competition was fierce. The whole community would turn out for the games.

At Easter, some of the local families would get together for a community egg hunt. We would color dozens upon dozens of eggs then on the Saturday before Easter we would get together in one of the winter hey fields for the hunt. Each family brought a picnic lunch that was combined with all the others and while everyone enjoyed the food some handpicked egg hiders were doing their deed. It was an all-day affair with prizes, games, and some good-natured arguments over the ownership of certain found eggs

I remember one year when a devious egg hider put a prize egg where it was easy to see from a distance. Two of the older teenagers both spotted the egg at the same time. Wherewith a determined race took place; resulting in spectators yelling encouragement for their favorite racer. Then a mad scrambled to reach the egg that had been tucked in the top of a blackberry bush. This resulted in the egg falling down inside the bush. Both boys trying to reach, or snag the prize egg, to no avail; finally crawled in the bush in spite of the scratching briers and came up with the egg. It was determined that it was the best part of the whole day and both boys were given a prize.

There is nothing better than neighbors getting together after hard work to enjoy the spring and to develop lasting relationships. In our farming community, we helped each other to see that everyone succeeded and not just individuals. When the large truck farms moved in and most of the small family farms died out and this country lost the caring neighborhood mentality.

In the book of Acts in the Bible, we are told about that community spirit. We need to get back to caring about our neighbors. Many church families especially the smaller ones are nurturing that spirit today. If you are looking for a caring group of people check out a neighborhood church family. You may just find what you have been searching for.

Hebrews 10: 25,26

Leave me a comment and your email. Tell me about your caring community I would love to hear from you.

Remember When: Women of Influence

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Women Mentors in My Life

This being national women’s month started me thinking of the women who influenced my life. I grew up in a family of strong women of influence. Not just their own families but their communities. From my pioneer great-grandmother who worked alongside her muleskinner husband helping to build the railroad across the planes. To my persevering grandmother who endured type one diabetes in the days before modern medicine. My mother taught me to learn a new skill every year so I could support myself and my family if I needed to. And my aunt Hazel took me under her wing after the loss of my parents and helped me to cope with adult life and motherhood. I have written about many of these incredible women in earlier stories, except Aunt Hazel who I will be writing about in the near future. I have been very fortunate to have these women in my life. Their influence has molded me into what I am today. Without them, I would not have made it through the struggles in my life.

My Childhood Heros

There were others who molded my way of thinking. As a teen, I wanted to be a scientist and Madam Curie was my hero. I read everything I could find about her life. I studied science and as a sophomore in high school entered a contest to join the junior academy of science enthusiasts. I finished in the top 5 in the nation and was given a membership in the junior academy of science. I also devoured books by Osa Johnson about her adventurer husband Martin as they lived and traveled Africa in the early 1900s.

It was a way for a farm girl from the Ozarks to broaden her horizons. That it was ok to dream of a different life for me. That with hard work and determination I could go after my dreams. Even though the hard years of my life, where loss and heartache seemed to be the norm. I could escape for a while in the depths of a book. To this day at the age of 75, I enjoy getting lost in books about women who fought for those they loved and for their countries.

Living Some of My Dreams

I have been able to live some of my dreams; working for the military in Europe during the Viet Nam years. While there I met a lovely lady in Munich Germany, named Gisela, who at 5 years of age was sent to a family in a neighboring country to escape the Nazis who were taking children and putting them in boarding schools under the SS rule. She told about being made to sleep in a shed where mice crawled over her at night and getting very little to eat. But how she kept dreaming of getting to be with her family again and was so happy when the war was over and she could go home.

I have owned a couple of successful businesses, served several years as an alderman in the town where I lived. I am even now studying to be a more effective witness for my faith, wherever that might lead me.

I admire those women who were and are standing up for the rights of women and families. Who live by the standards set down in the bible and who aren’t afraid to voice what they believe. We all have a God-given destiny and it is our duty to find out what that is and to strive to accomplish it. I for one refuse to go quietly into the night but to live every day of my life to the best of my ability helping others and being a woman of encouragement.

I challenge you to dream big, be the best you can be, no matter what your age, and live the life God designed for you. May God bless and keep you all the days of your life.

If there have been women that you admired and influenced your life I would love to hear about them. Send me a comment and your email and I will get back to you.

Remember When: War Games

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Prelude to War

In 1965 troops from Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri spent several months training with troops from other military forts in the US. They used the county we lived in as it had all forms of terrain, hilly, flat, creeks, lakes, streams, and caves dotted the landscape. I was in High School when this took place, but I don’t remember how permission was granted for the troops to use private property for training. It was the talk of our school as troops invaded the area. It was like some of those war movies you see where long convoys of troops and machinery take over roads, towns, and fields.

You never knew when a tank would show up at your front door. Or to wake up to a troop of soldiers camped in your field. This happened to us one day; mom heard a noise outside and discovered a tank with its turret pointed right at the back door. The first thing she did was give the driver a piece of her mind for tearing up her yard and telling him this was not part of the agreement. The young driver whose face turned white looked at his commander asked what he should do. The commander looked at mom, apologized, told the driver to back out of the yard. When they were out of the yard mom asked if they wanted coffee and if they had breakfast. The commander got out of the tank and accepted a cup of coffee and assured mom that they would fix the fence and yard.

Another day we were on our way to school when we heard a loud explosion and our bus was stopped by soldiers. We were told to vacate the bus that it had been hit by mortar fire. We had to set on the side of the road, our names were taken and then we were told who was dead and who was a casualty. We were delayed there for over an hour but told that we would not be marked tardy when we got to school. This happened more than once. It gave you an interesting insight into how troops were trained for war. Many of the boys I went to school with were later drafted and sent to Viet Nam. One of the kids I used to babysit for didn’t come back I still think about him often.

Our days were filled with men jumping out of helicopters into hey fields, columns of troops, and convoys of trucks everywhere. We were not allowed to walk along country roads to visit friends anymore. It was hard to concentrate on schoolwork with gunfire and mortars going off all hours of the day and night. It was a scary introduction to the world of military conflict.

After I graduated I took a course in punch card tabulation, the precursor to computers, and became a clerk typist for the Army. I got married and went with my sergeant husband to Germany where I worked in the civil service. What we did was work where ever we were needed to take the place of a GI that was being deployed to the front. We were in Germany from 1967 to 1972.

My Experience

While in Germany in 1968 Russia invaded Czechoslovakia. Communist sympathies were rioting in the streets. All American dependents were put on house arrest for their protection. Because I worked on base I had to have an armed escort to and from work. We had to sleep in the living room away from the street-side windows that had been boarded up. When I had to go out to go to work I had rocks thrown at me and Yankee go home yelled at me. My husband’s unit was guarding the border so I only saw him a couple of times during the conflict. All the women living in the building helped each other out by watching kids, fixing meals together, and building morale. We would put the kids to sleep leave the front doors open then set in the stairwell and play cards, listen to music, or just talk.

We had to be on constant alert with food, water, and clothing for three days, waiting by the door in case the sirens were sounded; which meant we had 20 minutes to get to our checkpoint to be evacuated. We had to go to classes to teach us what to do if the evacuation order came. We were given 7 cards that we were to guard at all times. If we were evacuated there would be seven checkpoints along the way to the port where we would board a ship. At each checkpoint, one card would be taken and sent to our husbands. If he didn’t get the 7th card he would not know if we had gotten out of the country. I never want to be in that situation again. I have a deep respect for the freedom we have in America. It hurts my heart when I hear people tear down our country. If they only realized how good we have it here.

I have often thought of the many times the Lord has had His hand on my life. I think of the times that I was saved from destruction without my even knowing it. Whether you believe in Him or not He is watching out for you, waiting for you to acknowledge Him. Your life will be so much better when you give it to him and become part of His family. He says in His word He will never leave us nor forsake us.

If you are interested in knowing more about the protection of God leave me a comment and your email and I will get back to you.

Remember When: Forrest Fires

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Learning about fire

Fires, either man-made or nature-made were a common occurrence in the farming community where we lived. Many of the older farmers felt you had to burn off the hay fields in order to clear the way for the next season’s crops. Sometimes the wind would come up and the thought to be controlled fire became a major one that consumed a lot of property. The whole community would get together to help put out the fire. One time a fire got so large that smokejumpers from Fort Leonard Wood came and helped. What a sight that was.

Fire safety was part of living on a farm, with burning wood for heat and cooking, knowing how to handle fire was a necessity. We all had to know what to do if a fire got out of control. We didn’t have phones to call for help. You had to learn to watch the weather and what smoke coming from the woods smelled like. In the spring my brother and I would climb out my bedroom window onto the back porch roof. There we could see down the valley and watch the fires that had been set at other farms to clear the fields. We would try to guess which farmer’s field was on fire and if it would get out of hand or not. Burning the fields was not a practice that my dad did. He preferred to plow the stubble left from harvesting and replanting.

I was 12 and designated the local babysitter, All the little ones too small to help were brought to our house for me to watch while everyone else helped put out the fire. I had instructions to keep an eye on the direction the smoke was coming and if it got close enough that I could see flames, I was to take; the kids, some towels or blankets to the large round stalk tank by the milk house that was always full of water, get in wet down the coverings, put them over our heads, and stay as close to the middle as we could. I only remember having to do this one time.

The fire came roaring down over the hill and started up toward the house. It was in the middle of the day but there was so much smoke the sky turned as it does just before it gets to be total darkness. The smoke was thick and it was hard to breathe. I got the kids, there were at least 4, the towels and we ran to the tank. It was summer and with the heat from the fire coming up over the hill, we were all sweating when I got the kids into the tank. The water was a cool relief. The little ones were afraid and crying, so I tried to keep them calm by getting them to sing songs. When we ran out of songs we knew I recited every nursery rhyme I could think of and told stories. I don’t remember how long we stayed in the water tank. It seemed like a long time until someone came and got us. It felt like forever.

The barns, animal pens, and house were built in a circle, and dad had cleared and put gravel around them just for the purpose of fire protection. He also had tin roofs on all the buildings and tanks of water in all the pins. I don’t think this would have done much good if the wind had blown sparks into one of the buildings, but it was what we had. The fire destroyed the garden, and we lost several fruits trees, but it didn’t burn any buildings. After we were rescued from the water tank and the kids were returned to their parent’s dad said I did well by keeping a level head and not panicking. I said I hoped I never had to do that again.

Lightning was also a fire starter. I remember watching the fire burning along the electrical wires coming down over the hill toward the house. Dad had shut all the power down but the fire was still coming down the wires from the farm next to ours. Dad took his rifle, went out in the driveway, and shot the wires in half so the fire stopped as the wires fell into the creek at the bottom of the hill. We all had to learn gun safety and how to shoot if we needed to. That is something else farm kids learn growing up. Either to supply food for the table, protect crops from rodents, or whatever else nature throws at you, guns were a normal part of the farming lifestyle.

As I was writing this remembrance of a dangerous part of farm life, I got to thinking how this experience might relate to fire in our spiritual lives today. One way is that we are to be on fire spiritually. We are to be like a fire spreading the love of Jesus to all we meet. We are to let the fire of the spirit consume the chafe that has taken root in our souls, like the farmers burning the stubble left from the harvest. As a forest fire permanently changes the look of the landscape it has just roared through, the fire of the Lord can change the look of your life. If we find ourselves in a difficult situation He is there with us, He will never leave us or forsake us.

ISAIAH 43:2

If you are interested in knowing more about the fire from heaven you can leave me a comment and your email and I will contact you.

Remember When: The Cistern

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How I learned about cisterns

The house on the farm in Missouri where we moved to was a big white farm house with 2 stories, and big porches on both sides. It sat on the crest of a hill about a quarter mile from the gate to our property. On the downhill side of the house, off the kitchen, a large covered porch was built on top of the smoke house. The smokehouse was added on to the foundation of the house by some former inhabitant. This was used to preserve meat before refrigeration. From the porch you could see anyone coming down the hill. Mind you this is in the foothills of southern Missouri where you are hard pressed to find any land that is flat. We did have some bottom land that ran along each side of the creek that flowed through the property. You had to go from the gate on the top of one hill down to the creek and then up the other side to the house. We walked this everyday going to and from school, to the pastures to get the cows for milking, to the woods to help dad get wood for the stoves, and many other reasons to numerous to mention.

On the uphill side of the house: as we called it, just outside of the back door was an old cistern. What is a cistern you ask? It is a large hole dug into the ground, lined with rock, to catch rain water. At this time we didn’t have running water or electricity in the house. Dad later ran lines for water and electricity from the milk barn down to the house, but to start with we carried drinking water. Mom decided one day that the rain water was being wasted running down the hill. So dad decided to fix the old cistern. Now mind you this old well like structure was 15 feet deep, at least 6 feet in diameter and had not been used for years. When he pried the top off and we could see down into this deep dark whole, we couldn’t see the bottom it was so dark. There wasn’t any water in it, so that meant it was cracked somewhere so that it wouldn’t hold water any more.

So the plan was that my brother and I; I was 11 he was 10, would go down in this whole, clean out the junk of no telling how many years, then scrub it clean so dad could reseal it to hold water again. Great plan, but for me it was not the best idea; my brother was all for it. There were some caves on the farm that became their favorite play places. I had to overcome going into a dark cave to see what was there. I was quite happy to stay in the light. But as dad said we sometimes have to look into the dark to see where light is needed.

First dad got a long rope tied a weight on one end and dropped it down into the whole. This way he determined how deep it was. Then he got his long extension ladder and put it down in the whole. He went down first with a lantern to see if it was safe for us to go down. When a light was taken to the bottom we could see how much junk had collected over the years. This became an almost daily confrontation for me. I won’t go into what we found down there but for a girl from the city it was a courage building experience. Even with a rope and bucket to haul the stuff from the bottom to the top and then scrubbing the sides it took a several weeks to get it to a point dad could start sealing the cracks. At least it was cool down there; being underground, the walls and bottom lined with rock from the creek, and mortar between the rocks to make it hold water.

After we got our part done dad started caulking around the rocks and coating the bottom and part way up the sides with cement. He fixed the top so kids or animals couldn’t fall down into it. Then he fixed the down spouts on the house so when it rained the water would run into the cistern. We had a long tin tube about 3 feet long and 4 inches across, with one end closed off and a handle on the other end. We could let this down into the cistern on a rope; then bring up water to be used for washing clothes and people. The water stayed clean and mom loved to wash our clothes and hair in it.

We are taught in the bible to stay filled with the spirit but if we let cracks form in our heart we can become like a broken cistern, empty, dark and unusable. If our souls are cracked and dark we collect junk that needs to be cleaned out. When we make Jesus the Lord of our life He can clean out the junk that has collected in us and bring in the light. He will fix the cracks and fill us with his spirit so our light can shine to a needy world. We are to be reservoirs of the word to spill out to others. Is your life a broken cistern or a full reservoir of the word? Jesus is the only answer to any crack in the cistern of your heart. Ask him to fix your life and fill you up, you will be glad you did.

John 3:16.

If this has touched you let me know by leaving a comment, and your email I will get back to you.

JESUS IS THE ANSWER

Remember When: My Hero

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Thomas Denney Jr.–My Father

Dad was born in Oskaloosa, Iowa. Oskaloosa is a small town in the southeastern part of Iowa. As in most small Midwest towns, a family business was the way of life. The men ran an auto mechanic business where dad learned how machines worked. He also was an armature boxer in school and liked to ride horses. But when the call to arms came, he signed up with the United States Navy, in September 1942. He became a coxswain and spent time in the pacific.

While in the Navy he continued his boxing career and won several golden glove titles. After getting out of the Navy he boxed out of the Pena’s Gym in Davenport and won the Golden Gloves Award five years in a row. He had boxing equipment in the garage and spent a lot of time honing his skills. We loved to watch him work out and he was the envy of the neighborhood girls when he would jump rope and do ticks with the jump robe. Some of dad’s ancestors were street fighters. In the early 1900’s it was called bare-knuckle fighting. This would eventually become modern-day boxing.

Military Service

In 1944 Dad had recently returned from serving in the Navy when he met mom. He had been a Boson’s Mate on a PT boat and was stationed in the south Pacific. He told me once that his boat got separated from the rest of the fleet. They spent three weeks trying to stay away from the Japanese by hiding in the canals between islands. He said all they had to eat was peanut butter and crackers. We still have the whistle he used to relay commands to others on the ship.

He was also on the Day Star, a troop transport carrying men to the south Pacific. He was in Pearl Harbor as a member of the Shore Patrol during the attack. He said the island people called them white mice because of their white uniforms. He didn’t talk about the attack much; he lost a lot of friends there. After that is when he was stationed on the PT boat.

Civilian Life

I don’t know how my parents met. I either don’t remember or was never told. They were married on March 17^th, 1945. That was probably why she dropped out of school. Mom was 18 years old and dad was 25. Mom told me they had a pretty rocky start. Dad liked to party with his buddies, and she wasn’t old enough to go along. She said I came along 18 months later, and that stopped a lot of the partying.

When I was five or six years old, we lived on a farm outside of Donahue, Iowa. Dad always wanted to be a farmer, even though he had grown up in the city. I remember helping in the garden and feeding the animals.

Dad was teaching my brother, Mike, and me how to drive the tractor when I forgot how to stop it. I drove right through the gate going into the pasture. Mike laughed, and Dad just shook his head.

Living on the farm was fun even though it was a lot of work. My brother Jimmy was born while we lived on the farm. Now I had another skill to learn, helping take care of a baby. I started school there and Dad sometimes drove me on the tractor if the snow was too deep for the bus. I remember one time, we got all the way there only to find the school was closed. We didn’t have telephones back then.

The last spring we were there a tornado came through and caught Dad in the shed. He had to take cover between the rear wheels of the tractor. It was raining so hard it was coming in around the door of the kitchen. Mom kept trying to mop it up to keep it from ruining the floor. There was a way to get to the cellar from the kitchen, and Mom told Mike and me to go down there. But we just sat at the top of the stairs and hugged each other.

We lost most of our cattle when the barn was blown over on top of them. Most of the chickens were gone, too. After the storm, we drove around and looked at all the damage. One of our neighbors had a tree down through the roof of their two-story house with the roots sticking out the top.

Not long after that storm, dad bought a piece of property in a subdivision called Green Acres on the north end of Davenport, Iowa. There was a cement block garage on it that we lived in. Mom hung curtains up for walls and Dad built a bathroom.

Dad was working at the box factory in Davenport and on the weekends worked at building mom her dream house. I remember one year on my birthday I had measles and was confined to the house. Mom had planned a family wiener roast and Dad sneaked hotdogs to me through the window. Mom said he was spoiling me. He always said a princess was supposed to be spoiled.

Living His Dream

It wasn’t too long after the house was finished that Mom’s and Dad’s best friends moved to the Ozarks to farm. They convinced my parents to sell out and move, too. Farmland was cheap and Dad still had his GI Bill, so they bought a place outside of Lebanon, Missouri, and started dairy farming. I was ten years old and in the fifth grade. The farm was close to Bennett Spring State Park, on what was an old Blackfoot Indian village.

It didn’t take long, for Dad to make a name in the community. He could fix anything and was a bit of an inventor. One time a storm blew the lights out at milking time. When the other farmers saw that we still had electricity, they wanted to know how he did it! True to his resourcefulness, he had taken the back tire off his big tractor and hooked a conveyor belt from it to an old motor to form a generator, so he could run his lights and milking machines! After that when a neighboring farmer had a problem with a piece of machinery they would come to dad.

The farm became the family vacation spot. Relatives would come to get away from the city. Dad always took advantage of the extra help, especially at planting or harvest time. We kids worked in the fields, barns, and garden right alongside Mom and Dad. He used to tell people “I’ve got four strapping boys, but two wear dresses on Sunday!”

Saying Good-Bye

My father died during my sophomore year of high school. He had cancer of the pancreas and was only 39 years old. I was attending school in Fort Smith, AK. I was studying to be a medical missionary. I had been away at school for several months when I got our first break of the year. I rode to Springfield with the family of another girl when I found out that dad was in the hospital. When I went in mom met me in the hall outside his room and told me he had been in a coma for a week and didn’t know anyone and not to be too upset when I went in to see him. I went to the side of his bed and said “Dad it’s Judy I am home.” He opened his eyes and looked at me and said “My princess I have been waiting for you.” The doctors didn’t know how he had lived for the past week. The human spirit can do amazing things.

To This Day

My dad was my best friend as well as my hero. I could always ask him anything and he would stop what he was doing and talk to me. I was 14 when he died but we had a relationship that has lasted a lifetime. I still find myself asking him what to do in a situation. Since I have developed in my Christian faith I have learned that my constant companion is now the Holy Spirit. How sweet that His voice sounds just like daddy. Thank You, Lord.