"If Just A Cup of Water, I Place Within Your Hand..."

"And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail!" Isaiah 58:11

     An incident occurred when I was a young woman that best illustrates my mother's faith. It was at one of those times when Ted was away on some Air Force excursion and the children and I were staying with Grandma and Grandpa while he was gone. 
     It sticks in my mind because it so perfectly taught me what it means to trust God for daily provision. Mother's example has been important to me as I've faced my own fears and made decisions about how to deal with what life hands me. I have used this story over and over as a teacher, when I needed an illustration of plain, simple faith.

Pete and Billie Stanley

     At the time it happened I didn't realize that I was learning anything valuable about the concept of faith or any other life changing lesson.  I doubt that Mother knew she was teaching it. She was just living her life, being Billie Stanley.
     Mother was a strong, shy women, not overly articulate or chatty and outgoing. I don't think I ever heard her pray or even talk about praying but I always knew that she did.  It was something that just showed in her life. 
     My folks had a cistern on the farm. It sat right behind the garage where it caught rain water. When the rain fell from the sky, it ran into an enormous drain pipe, then flowed through a simple filter down into the cistern. It was the softest, sweetest water for miles around and it cooked a great pot of beans, which to a central Texan is fine cuisine! Added to that the water was always cold, being kept in that metal cistern that was double walled and insulated from the hot Texas sun, so it was a wonderful summer refreshment. It was also a good beauty product. It made your hair shiny and silky and your skin feel moist. In short it was a valuable commodity.
     They also had a well in the back yard that had been drilled when they first moved to the farm, but the well water had sand in it. The sand didn't make the water dirty but it did make it unpleasant to drink. A special filter would have solved the problem but then they would have had to buy a water softener too, because the water was so hard. So they opted for the cistern.
     In Central Texas water can be a precious article. Seems that there it's either "feast or famine". One neighbor was heard to remark, "When Noah's flood came, Central Texas got an inch and a half!" This area can go for months without rain then overnight it will come a frog strangling, gully washer. My parents counted on these rainy times to fill their cistern. When it was full it would supply them with water for months.
     But here we were in the middle of a hot, dry August and there hadn't been rain since fall. Daddy could tell by the gage on the front of the cistern that it was getting very low.  He came in one day and said to Mother, "We're running out of water. If it doesn't rain soon, and I mean lots of rain, we'll have to drink well water." At that time buying water was unthinkable.
     I don't recall Mother giving him an argument. She just accepted it quietly, as she did most any other inconvenience. I do remember that she said, "It'll rain sometime."
     They had always been generous with their cistern water. If a neighbor lady needed some for a pot of beans or to wash her hair, they would say to her, "Sure! Come on over and bring your bucket!" That's probably how the news, of an abundance of rain water at the Stanley's farm, spread. They now had people arriving almost daily, some with buckets and some with tall milk cans, to get water. Most folks would ask permission and Mother never turned them away, but some began to come when they were gone, then they would return home to find a tell-tale wet spot beneath the spigot. My mother responded to this with a shrug or a sigh but Daddy began to resent it as the water level went lower and lower, with no rain in sight.
    Soon his daily warnings became urgent. "We're running out of water, Billie. You'd better stop giving it away!" Then Mother would say something like, "Oh, Pete."
     One morning I walked into the kitchen and encountered a full fledged domestic war. "I'm not going to refuse people a drink of water!" she was declaring.
     "I wouldn't refuse them either if it was just a drink they wanted." replied Daddy, "but they are hauling it off by the bucketfuls! They have wells. They don't need our cistern water!"
     "Well the bible says that if we offer someone a cup of water in Jesus' name, we will be blessed, so I'm not going to tell people they can't have water as long as I have it to give to them!"
     Daddy didn't answer her this time he just walked outside muttering to himself. That day brought more neighbors and their containers for their "drink" of water. One of them even had the audacity to say to Daddy, "You know Pete, your water's gettin' low." Daddy showed a lot of restraint when he just nodded silently.
     That  night I remember waking up momentarily and hearing rain hit the roof. Mother told me later that she had pointed it out to Daddy and he said, "It's going to take a lot  to fill up that cistern!"
     Well, God must have heard him too because it rained all night and the next morning it was still coming down in torrents. Just before breakfast Daddy came running through the kitchen door, shaking like a wet dog, to get the water off his coat. Mother and I were enjoying our morning coffee as we watched him reach for a towel. Finally she asked lightly, "Did you notice the cistern?"
     "Yep." he replied and poured himself some coffee.
     I hadn't thought to look at the cistern myself, so I got up, walked to the window and looked out behind the garage. What I saw was an amazing sight. Water was gushing over the top of it and washing down its sides.
     Over the years that memory has returned to me many times. I knew without explanation that it was an important one. Mother never said to me, "God provides for those who trust Him.".  She didn't lecture me about how to exercise faith. She didn't quote the bible where it says,"Give and it shall be given to you, pressed down, shaken together and running over..." she could have said all of those things, but she didn't. Her example had spoken loud and clear.
     She had shown me that we could be kind to others even when they were thoughtless of us because her God was bigger than a Texas drought. I saw Daddy's mistake in looking at circumstances and fearing, rather than looking to God and trusting. I saw a good wife being a challenge to her husband's faith and an encouragement for him to trust the Lord ... and I saw God once again being faithful to His Word.
     

Gottersburgh (1973)

     "In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." 1 Thess. 5:18

     Our big white American car rolled along the rain swept autobahn, looking to the world, like a loaded white elephant. Typical American tourists!  Every German motorist on the highway must have been thinking that. With four little kids in the back seat and a baby between us in the front, the old car was filled to capacity.  Strapped to the top of it were tents, a camp stove, suitcases and other assorted gear for a two week vacation.
     I peered out the rain soaked window at the long road ahead. I'm sure my despondence was apparent, but I was trying hard not to show it.  As a raindrop ran down the window I thought, tears... the world is crying!   Then I deliberately made myself "lighten up" before I spoke and said aloud, "It will stop soon."
     I heard Ted say something like "Humph!"
     I knew he was getting tired and more discouraged with each mile.  The kids were irritable and crowded, the rain incessant, and the water pump was going out on the car.
     Some vacation! I thought, and almost said it aloud, but checked myself again when I glanced at Ted's slumped shoulders. It wouldn't take much to make him turn around and head back to Spain where we were stationed with the U.S. Air Force, and I wasn't quite ready to give up. So I stopped short of complaining and tried to look cheerful.  However my thoughts kept returning to Why?  that pesky question that had been pushing it's way into my mind for two days now.  I had been determined not to acknowledge it, but suddenly it was screaming at me...demanding an answer and a reason.
     Ted had worked for five years, pastoring a small flock of Christians, in a fellowship, on our Air Force base. He also directed a large youth group in the chapel, plus he was an air traffic controller in the Air Force. We hadn't had a vacation in those five years and we were tired. We had saved our money and planned, bought camping gear and fixed up our old car. We had looked forward to this vacation for over a year.  It just didn't seem fair!
      The rain slowed a little and I could now see a part of the German countryside. It was so beautiful! This is the most beautiful place in the world!  I thought. As I gazed out across the landscape a lump rose in my throat. Beautiful things had always affected me that way and my mind went back to my first trip to Germany.
     I had been given the opportunity as the president of the Protestant Women Of the Chapel organization to go along with my vice-president to a ladies retreat in *Berchtesgaden, Germany. All expenses were paid and travel arrangements made, by the Air Force and with much excitement we had spent one glorious week in the Bavarian Alps. We'd flown to Munich then taken a train to Berchtesgaden.  I was remembering that train ride and how smoothly and noiselessly it glided through the mountains. We passed small villages straight out of Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales, each village containing a big church with an onion shaped dome. The streets were dotted with quaint shops adorned with flowers and brightly painted symbols on the fronts. Across the green, hilly countryside outside the villages were larger houses, lovely farms, decorated as brightly as the store fronts in the villages. Occasionally, I'd spot a woman in a dirndl or a man in lederhosen walking across the hills. "They really do wear those things here." I'd said to Joan, my companion. "I thought they could only be seen in The Sound of Music and other movies. She agreed and we laughed together. "It's like a fairy land." she said.

Quaint German Village

     In spite of our laughter, the lump in my throat wouldn't go away and finally it turned to tears that I tried to hide. "Laura, what's wrong?" she asked. I was embarrassed by my emotions and not really able to answer her. After a moment I tried to explain, "It's just so pretty..." One glance at her face told me I'd just confused her, so I continued trying to explain my feelings.
     "Pretty things make me cry... and I guess I'm a little disappointed too, because I can't share this with my family. We haven't been able to afford to travel since we've been in Europe. We only have a little over a year left and may not ever get back again and we wanted so badly to see something of the continent before we go home. I'm grateful for this trip, but would so love to bring my family back here. See that chalet over there on the hill?" I asked, as I pointed to a lovely German farmhouse, nestled back into the hillside. "I'd love to bring them back here and stay in a place just like that. I know we'd never be able to afford a vacation like that and it makes me sad. I guess I'm just ungrateful.  Ignore me, I'll get over it." My voice trailed away as I tried to end the conversation.
     But Joan wouldn't let it end. she said, "Well there may be a way." She and her husband had traveled extensively while in Europe and she knew things I didn't know.  She continued, "There is an Army camping facility near Munich and it's very cheap for military families. All you would need is camping gear, food and gasoline. Maybe you could save up for it and come back before you leave Spain."
     Thus was born the dream!  I returned home with pictures and plans. Soon the whole family caught the vision and we enthusiastically started saving and squirreling away camping gear.
     At some point during the year, I felt obligated, as any good Pastor's wife would, to "pray about it". To give the whole thing to God so He'd have my permission to bless my plans or stop them if He wished, which I was sure He didn't  wish!
     At least I thought I'd given my plans to Him, yet here we were, three days into our dream vacation, having car trouble and traveling in blinding rain and I was struggling with anger.  It's turning out more like a nightmare than a dream! I complained in silent prayer. Why? There it was again...that question that was haunting and accusing me. It just doesn't seem fair! I whined on at God. We haven't had a vacation since we've been in Europe and we'll probably never get back here again. We saved our money, fixed up the car, bought and borrowed all this camping gear and now it seems all for nothing. We can't even see the country with all this rain, much less camp in it!
     The rain had started the first night while we camped in the little country of Andora between France and Spain, the car trouble the next day as we crossed the border into France. Ted, unwilling to give up so soon, made a decision to head straight for Germany instead of sightseeing in France as we had planned.  In Germany there were several military bases where we could get American car parts. "We can see the sights in France and Switzerland on our way back." he said.

Bitburgh, Germany

     We reached Germany the next day and after a couple of stops at bases along the way, with no success of finding a water pump, we headed straight for Bitburg, Germany, in the north. There we'd have a friend stationed at Bitburgh Air Force base,  who could help us. When we arrived at their home, his gracious wife invited us to spend the night and dry out our clothes, towels and camping equipment, which had been drenched in Andora. The guys scoured the base for a water pump, in the meantime.  It was a wonderful "shelter in the storm" and I'm still grateful to that family. While there we had a relaxing meal, a tour of Bitburgh and a good night's sleep.
     The following morning however, the situation looked even more hopeless, when there were no water pumps to be found at Bitburgh. I knew we had to make a decision soon. We couldn't continue to nurse the limping old car much farther without it stopping completely. Ted finally said over a cup of coffee in our friend's kitchen, "I think we'd better head back to Spain, if we don't find a water pump by the time we get to Munich. I just pray our car will make it all the way home."
     I was so disappointed and I knew Ted was too, so I tried not to show it.  I wanted to cry, but I swallowed hard and said, "You're right, but maybe the rain will stop and we can at least see the country."
     All day we traveled south, nursing the car along , and all day the rain poured down.  I prayed with almost every breath and alternated between repenting of every sin I could think of and being angry about the injustice being visited upon me. Somewhere along the way a scripture verse began to push it's way into my mind. "In everything give thanks..."  I sighed, and accepted the rebuke. OK, I may as well give thanks. At least maybe that will keep me from crying.
     Ever so often I'd see something through the rain and point it out to the kids, who were trying as hard as I was to enjoy the miserable trip. Finally Joel, with characteristic straight-forwardness said, "I wanta go home! This is no fun!"
     Then I, seeing an opportunity to exercise my new found spirituality said, "Now son, the bible says, "In everything give thanks", so I think we should start thanking God in all of this trouble and quit complaining." For the next few miles I expounded on the biblical principal of gratitude in all circumstances and how it demonstrates faith in the goodness of God and blah, blah, blah until everyone (including me) had it down pat.
     Night came on and the car seemed to be running pretty well, so we pushed on toward Munich. Besides, the rain was still coming down hard and there was no way we could put up a tent in this weather.
     Finally we followed the military map we'd been given and went straight to the camp grounds near the army base at Lake Chimse. Ted shinned the car lights on a locked gate with a guard house nearby. Finally he took a deep breath and got out and ran to the guard house, to talk to the G.I. keeping vigil there. He informed Ted that the gate was locked at 11:00 p.m. and it was now 11:15. They wouldn't open it again until morning. He said that there was an Army hotel up the road and perhaps we could get a room for the night there. When Ted got back into the car there was another decision to be made. We had food for a week and money to pay five dollars a night for a campsite. There was enough left over to buy gasoline back to Spain, but certainly not enough for a hotel room for two adults and five kids.
     "Now what?" asked Ted. The children were all asleep except for Joel. He had awakened in Munich. "Go on over to the hotel and see if you can rent one room for us. The two boys can sleep in the car." I said.
     "Thanks!" grumbled Joel.
     We watched as Ted disappeared into the hotel lobby. As we waited, Timmy awakened. "Where are we? What are we going to do? I don't wanna go home. That's no vacation. We were supposed to have a vacation!" came his torrent of complaints.
     Suddenly I lost it!  "Be quiet and quit complaining! I can't take anymore of it. I hate this rain and everything about this miserable trip!  I want a dry bed for one night, then I want to go home and be done with it!"
     "Mom." the irritating, calm voice came from Joel.
     "What!" I snapped.
     "In everything give thinks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." he quoted.
     I felt my face flush with anger, as I realized he had quoted the entire verse. That irritated me even more, because I had only remembered the first part of it, when I had expounded on it earlier that day. Once again I felt tears sting my eyes, so I turned my head toward the window and said. "Let's quit talking about it!"
     After a short while, Ted jumped into the car wiping rain from his face. "They're full up." he said, "but the man at the desk suggested that we go back to the little village about five miles away and try to rent a room in a guest house. They are quite cheap and comfortable. At least they will be dry."
     "Oh well, if we're just going to stay one night we might as well live it up. Get rooms for all of us if you can." I replied.
     We reached the village quickly and stopped at four different guests houses only to be told that there were no vacancies. We were about to stop at the fifth when Ted practically stopped in the middle of the street as two couples, sharing one umbrella, ran in front of our car to cross the street. He pulled over to the curb and parked in front of the guest house and got out of the car.
     I watched him in the rain and thought, Poor guy, he's soaked to the bone!  I heaved a sigh and said to Joel, Kelly and Tim, "Let's pray, kids. There's just got to be a room somewhere for us."
     We all bowed our heads and I prayed, "Lord, you know we need a room for the night. We're tired and Ted needs a good night's sleep so he can drive all the way back to Spain tomorrow, so if you'd just provide us a room, we'd be grateful...Amen... oh yes, and thank you Lord for everything." When we opened our eyes we were surprised to see Ted across the street, under the crowded umbrella with the two couples.
     "What's he doing, Mom?" asked Timmy.
     "I don't know", I said. "He doesn't speak a word of German."
     "Boy, wouldn't it be great if one of those people was a rich man with a big house and he'd take pity on us and rent us a room for the night!" said Timmy.
     I rolled my eyes and thought...kids!
     Ted returned to the car after a few minutes. He squeezed into his seat laughing and whooping like a crazy man.
     "What happened?" I asked.
     "You're not going to believe this! That man is a farmer who rents out rooms in his farmhouse for the summer. He's going to rent us one for $4.00. One of the women with him spoke English and translated for me. We're supposed to follow him to his house!"

Bavaria

     Our cheers woke the other two children and I was glad because I wouldn't have wanted them to miss the trip through what we dubbed the "Black Forest" for anything in the world. We followed the tail lights of the farmer's Mercedes for almost half and hour, through the darkest, thickest, woods we'd ever seen. The incessant rain made the trek muddy and bumpy. There were no other cars on that dark one lane road and no moon or stars visible in the sky. The whole scene was creepy. Joel had been reading Bram Stoker's Dracula on the trip and had been telling us stories from the book. Everyone was spooked...even Ted.
     After following for twenty minutes or so he said, "All right, I'm going to give this guy ten more minutes and if we don't come to a farm house by then, we're going to turn around and go back!"
     I laughed nervously, "Where would we turn around? We're sandwiched  on both side by trees and brush and there are no side roads.  We'd have to back up twenty miles!"
     Finally we did reach a farm house. It was well lit by a couple of flood lights hanging from the roof. After running in and making the arrangements, checking out the room and paying his $4.00, Ted returned for me and the kids. "It's great!" he reported... huge room with two double beds a couch and a dresser."
     "Is it clean:" I asked.
     "Come see." he said as he scooped up the sleeping baby and ran through the rain.
     The room was clean...scrubbed described it better, and dry, with two big beds that held comfortable mattresses with extra feather comforters on top of them. The feather comforters went onto the floor for the two boys while the girls got the other bed and the baby Jennifer slept between Ted and me. We were so glad to get into dry pajamas and crawl between clean, sweet smelling sheets. The rain on the roof lulled us to sleep in a matter of minutes.
     My eyes popped open early the next morning and I looked at my watch in the semi-darkness of the room. Seven-thirty! Is that all? I feel like I've been asleep for days! I can't ever remember being so tired. Then another thought occurred to me. It's so quiet... no sound of rain!  I flung the covers back and that woke up Jennifer, who woke up Ted. Then I bounded over to the window, unlatched the wooden shutters and threw them open.
     Warm sunlight burst in upon the sleeping boys but I barley perceived their chatter in the background, because it was happening to me again. Tears were streaming down my face as I gazed out across the most beautiful panorama I'd ever seen anywhere, except in a movie.
     The farm house was a chalet (just like I'd seen in my dream vacation) built on a mountain, surrounded by meadows. In the field beyond the barn, three deer were playing. In the yard next to the house was a tall flagpole and flying from it was a little blue and white triangular flag with one word on it...Gottersburgh.
     There was a knock on the door and an old German lady on the other side was chattering excitedly about something. Ted grabbed his German to English dictionary and eventually understood that our $4.00 a night bought us breakfast in the dinning room downstairs and it was ready for us. We dressed and hurried down to file into a neat little dinning room. It had a round table draped with a pretty cloth, six chairs and next to it was a large blue and white ceramic furnace, that almost filled the room. The furnace made it the warmest room in the house which was welcome on this crisp mountain morning. We were served big, fresh Kaiser rolls with honey and butter, coffee and hot chocolate. As we ate our breakfast we looked around the walls at family pictures. Our host family had lost a son in the Second World War and his picture was displayed in the center of all the others, his young, handsome face smiling proudly in his Nazi uniform.
     Thus began the first of ten, adventurous, rainless days during which time we found a water pump for our car and were able to swim in a private lake. From our chalet we ventured forth to Berchtesgaden, Germany, Salsburgh, Austria and other picturesque sites which will forever remain in our memories. It was indeed the vacation of our dreams!
     At the end of ten days Ted said what we all knew he must eventually say, "It's time to go home." The next morning about 11:00 a.m , with the children and gear packed in the car, we waved goodbye to Ludwig and his family and started winding our way through the yard and down the hill. As we pasted the little flag pole, which bore the name of this beautiful place, I looked up at it flapping in the breeze and said, "Gottersburgh". Did any of you ever find out what that word means?"
     "Yes, I did," spoke up Michelle, from the back seat. I asked a German lady at the lake yesterday and she said it means, God's Place."  Everyone fell silent as rain drops began gently hitting the windshield.
     "This is the first rain we've seen since we arrived here." said Ted, as he turned on the windshield wipers. As the wiper blades began their rhythmic trip back and forth across the windshield, they seemed to chant with every beat... "In-every-thing-give-thanks, In-every-thing-give-thanks, In-every-thing-give-thanks..."

*Berchtesgaden, for you history buffs, was one of the hide-out headquarters for Adolf Hitler during the Second World War. It was a palatial home that has now been turned into a resort hotel and Christian retreat headquarters. It has a labyrinth of tunnels underneath it where Hitler and his men could go if they were bombed. It's tucked away high in the mountains and the view from there is breathtaking. During the war it was called "The Eagle's Nest".

The Cowboy From Queens

     Our son Joel was eighteen months old when he and I left for Spain the first time. We boarded a plane in Dallas at the old Love Field terminal and flew to New York City.
     I was barely into my twentys, still wet behind the ears and a little scared about my first international travel. When we arrived at Dulles Airport in New York, I hailed a cab that drove us to a nearby hotel. We had one night's lay-over and my dad had given me enough money to cover a hotel room. He knew that trying to corral a toddler in an airport overnight, would be next to impossible.
     After we were settled into our room we watched television for a while then toured the lobby and ground floor, where we found a barber/beauty shop, (the first time I'd ever seen one combined), a gift shop (with nothing in it that I could afford), a restaurant/bar, (much too fancy for a lone mom and her baby), a newsstand/shoe shine stand and a dress shop. When finally my arms felt like they would break from carrying my chunky little boy, I decided to call it a night and return to the room. When I got there, I dressed us for bed and called room service to send up supper. The conversation when something like this:
     "This is Mrs. Gehrke in room 305. I'd like to order supper, please."
     "Excuse me, what did you say?"
     I repeated, "This is Mrs. Gehrke in room 305. I'd like to order supper, please."
     "I'm sorry, Mamm, I can't understand what you're saying. Would you repeat it please?"
     I repeated it twice more before I finally asked, "Excuse me, are we speaking English here? I just want supper!"
     He said, "Oh, you mean dinner?"
     "Yeah...dinner, whatever... just bring me two hamburgers, okay?"
     "Got it! Two hamburgers...they'll be right up!" That was my introduction to New York City  and the cultural confusion had only just begun.
     The next morning I arose wondering what we would do until seven p.m. when our plane was scheduled to leave. I'd made arrangements to stay in the room until five-thirty but that was a long way off. I was so eager to get to Spain, having been separated from Ted for over a year, that I was antsy and couldn't relax anywhere. I woke up early, dressed us both for the flight, then took Joel down to the restaurant for breakfast. Determined not to repeat the ordering fiasco from the night before. I could at least, point at a menu in the restaurant.
     We ate a good breakfast, I bought a magazine and we went back up to our room to wait. Sometime that morning Joel got whiny and bored so I picked him up and began playing with him on the bed. I had on one of my nicest dresses that I wore on special occasions. I had saved it to wear for this special occasion to meet my husband for the first time in a long time. The dress was made of Japanese silk which had been brought back from Okinawa by an uncle in the Navy. I'd had a dress made of the silk that was on the fashion of a traditional Japanese kimono...a fitted sheath with the standup color and diagonial opening that closed with three gold buttons. It was very beautiful and about three years old at that time. I was sitting on the side of the bed and Joel was climbing my body then jumping onto my lap over and over again. Apparently I had the skirt pulled tight at the knees because on about the third jump I heard a "rrrrip"! I looked down at my dress and at Joel's fat little leg sinking through a tare about eight inches long.
     After I got over the initial shock and shed a few tears about losing my beautiful dress, panic started to set in. I started to realise that I had nothing else to wear! The clothes I'd worn from Texas were wadded up in a wrinkled ball in my overnight bag. The blouse had food and dirt adorning the front of it and the skirt was so wrinkled it looked like I'd slept in it (which in truth, I had for several hours on the plane). I thought about washing the blouse in the bathroom sink but in those day you didn't just wash something out and put it back on. It would have to dry then be ironed and so would the skirt. I couldn't afford emergency laundry service from the hotel. My room service had eaten up my reserve money. Our luggage was already on the airplane and completely inaccessible to me, so I just sat there in a panic, staring at the torn dress. Finally I called down to the front desk and asked if there was a clothing store or dress shop near the hotel. I thought maybe I could afford a cheap blouse and just wear the wrinkled skirt with it. The desk clerk said, "Oh certainly, we have a very nice boutique right here in the lobby."
     Well I had no idea what a "boutique" was, but I hoped it had something to do with clothing. Never dreaming that it was code language for "expensive", I put on my long winter coat, grabbed Joel and rode the elevator down again. Once there the bell hop pointed me to the dress shop and I went directly there.
     I knew the minute I entered the place that although it did contain women's clothing, I was in the wrong place! I could tell by the smell of it that it was way out of my league. I looked around at the elegant apparel, hoping a clerk would not see me before I could get a look at a price tag. I clamped a hand over Joel's mouth and crept behind a rack of dresses and scarves, picked up a tag and felt my face flush when I read, $215.00!  It was a plain, green, wool, sleeveless, dress with about two yards of material in it. I couldn't believe it! I was about to panic again, because a snooty looking, elderly woman in spiked heels was eyeing me from across the room. I flashed her a pathetic smile and practically ran for the door without a word.
     Back at the desk, I once again was trying to make myself understood by an equally snooty desk clerk, while I asked where I might find a less expensive clothing store nearby. He said that we were not too far from the "garment district" of Queens, New York and that he would call a cab to take me there.
      As we arrived in the "district" I became a gawker. I'd never seen anything like it. Clothing stores lined both sides of the street with racks and racks of clothing out on the street and it was mid January! I was confused to see people, pushing these racks full of clothing up and down the sidewalk, to where I wasn't sure. The sidewalks and stores were crowded with shoppers. I wondered, How am I going to handle Joel and try on clothes in this crowd?  My cabbie didn't speak English, at least not Texan English, so I couldn't ask him any questions. I was on my own.
     Just as he pulled up to the curb to park, Joel started squealing when he spied a policeman on a horse. They were standing on the corner in front of our cab. I paid the cabbie and got out, then walked over to the policeman and asked, "Can my son pet your horse?" 
     He nodded and flashed us a friendly smile so I held Joel up and he began to pound away on the docile creature's neck. The policeman and I started talking and he asked where we were from and what we were doing in New York City. I told him that we were on our way to Spain to join our daddy in the Air Force and that Joel had ripped my dress this morning and I had only a couple hours to buy something to wear on the plane. "I just hope I can keep him inside a dressing room while I try on clothes." I said.
     He hesitated a moment then said, "Would you like to leave him here with me? I won't be going anywhere for another hour or so."
     It took me about a minute and a half to decide to trust him. I handed Joel up to the man and he straddled the horse in front of the policeman. He was so delighted that he laughed out loud.
     I ran across the street to the nearest dress shop, grabbed the first skirt and blouse in my size, ducked into a dressing rrom and put it on. I paid for the outfit and wore it out of the store. I was back in fifteen minutes or less. The policeman hailed another cab for us, kissed Joel on top of the head and waved goodby as we took off back to the hotel.
     By the time we left I had decided that New Your City wasn't such a foreign place after all. Anyplace with cowboys that liked little kids, most definitely felt like home to me!
      
     

Adventures in the Second Mob

The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me: Thy mercy, O Lord, endureth forever: forsake not the works of Thine own hands. Psalm 138:8

     Ted's Air Force job in 1968 was in the Control Tower Mobile unit at Maron Air Force Base in Sevilla, Spain. Their out fit was sent to various places in Europe and the Middle East to set up mobile towers.  They were affectionately known as the 2nd Mob.
     Because of this job, Ted came home periodically and announced that he was being sent TDY (Temporary Duty) to Italy, Germany, Greece or Turkey or some other exotic  place. Although this was an exciting job for him, it was hard on our family and the Baptist Fellowship that he pastored, in the Chapel, on base. At those times one of the substitute "preachers" would take over the preaching and the board would do their best to administrate the operation until he returned. Usually three weeks was the length of any TDY and we managed pretty well without him for that length of time.
     On evening Ted came in and said, "I have some bad news."
     I sighed and asked "What"?
     "I'm being sent to Turkey for an extended time. I'll probably be gone for two months."
     "Oh, no! What will happen to the Fellowship. Will we be paid while you're gone?"
     "The Fellowship will be okay. The board won't let anything happen to it and you'll just keep most of my last check and I'll take as little money as I can. The Air Force will feed and house me...and that is my first job after all."
     "Sounds miserable." I replied and tred to drop the subject, knowing that whining about it would only make us both cranky.
     In the next few days we prepared for his long TDY. Ted met with the Fellowship Board and made arrangements for one of the guys to preach and someone to take his chapel Sunday School class. We all hunkered down to get along without him.
     He left within the week and the days dragged by. We were up to about a hundred in attendance at the Fellowship when he left and for the first couple of weeks, folks stayed with us. After the second week, attendance began to drop. Added to this, my money started to dwindle. The ladies of the Fellowship and neighbors were now bringing us casseroles and cupcakes so I wouldn't have to use my "pittance" for food.
      The Fellowship was structured along the lines of any Baptist church in the states. We couldn't call ourselves a church unless we were under a mission board, which we weren't.  We baptized new converts in the Base Chapel. We held communion on a regular basis. We had a once a month lady's Bible Study. We had a youth group and a once a week prayer meeting. Yet we were not a church. As a matter of fact within our Fellowship were, Methodist, Pentecostals, Baptists, and probably a couple more that I'm forgetting. Our drawing card was that our services were closer to the way most of these folks worshipped at home than the chapel was.
     When the attendance started to drop, the head of our lady's Bible Study called an "emergency meeting".
She began the meeting with this announcement, "This is ridiculous and unacceptable! We need to start praying on a daily basis that God will send our pastor home early." She then commissioned a couple of us to go see Major Miller, the commander of the 2nd Mob and a member of our Fellowship board. She told us to appeal to him to see if he could intervene with the Air Force to send Ted home early. He had been gone three weeks by this time and we didn't see how we could possibly carry on for another five weeks without him.
     Two of us did go to the Major and if I remember right his response was something like, "You're joking, right?" Then he laughed! "There is no way the Air Force is going to let anyone come home early. The work there is not finished and it's an important operation. You may as well give it up."
     "Well, our lady's Bible Study is going to pray daily that he gets to come home early. We believe that God can work miracles even with the U.S. Air Force and cause that to happen. So will you please ask?"
     He looked at us, trying to wipe the smirk off his face and said, "Ok, I'll try, but don't hold your breath."
     We tried not to hold it against him knowing that he was as concerned about the drop in attendance at the Fellowship as we were. Added to that, a couple of counseling situations had arisen and they all wished Ted was home to take care of his ministry. That was on Thursday of the third week. We had started praying the day before.
     The Major did ask the next day and came over to my house that evening to report the bad news to me. The following day, Saturday, the ladies reconvened for another prayer meeting.
     The Monday before I had spoken to Ted on the phone. I could call him every once in a while on the Chapel phone. He said that he was broke and even if he could get out early there was little chance that he could get a ride to Spain. He said that without money he'd have nothing for food or a taxi to get him home. Since we didn't have phones in our homes he'd be miles from home when he landed in Sevilla. More than likely they would take him to Madrid and drop him off and there he'd be. It all seemed impossible.
     My situation on the home front was that I had food for at least another week, a half tank of gas in the car and 300 pesetas ($5.00 in American money). I knew that the members of the Fellowship wouldn't let us go hungry and someone would pick us up for church if we ran out of gasoline so I wasn't worried about us. There was a check waiting for Ted at Maron AFB when he returned, but neither of us could get to it at the moment and the check was desperately needed.
     In that Saturday morning prayer meeting the lady's group prayed that the Lord would not only provide him a ride home, but that he would be taken care of  him even without money. That he'd be able to eat and when he arrived in Spain he'd get transportation home. Then one bold prayer warrior prayed that God would send him back in time for tomorrow's service. New believer! I thought privately. They think anything is possible. I hope she's not too disappointed if he doesn't make it home for tomorrow's church service.
     We went to bed early on Saturday night so we'd not miss our ride to church the next morning. About 11:00 p.m. I was awakened by a knock at the door. I grabbed my robe and rushed downstairs. I opened the door and there stood Ted with a big smile on his face. I gasped and thought of the maiden in the New Testament who found Peter on the doorstep while the church was praying for his release from prison. She actually slammed the door in his face in unbelief. Well, at least I didn't do that. He grabbed me, hugged and kissed me, proving that he was real and then threw his duffel bag into the house.
     "Do you have any pesetas?" he asked. I looked outside and saw a Spanish taxi in front of the house.
     "Yes, I have 300."
     "That's what I need." he declared as I went for my purse.
     After he paid the taxi driver we went into the living room and he told me his story. "Most of the work on my end was done so I requested to come home early. I was told that it would be okay if I could find transportation but they weren't expecting another plane in for two weeks. I was filling in in the control tower so I was there about mid-morning of the following day when a plane landed for refueling. I rushed down to base ops and inquired where they were going. "They're going to Madrid for some high level meetings. They have Generals and Senators on board. I got excited and went to the CO to ask if I could hitch a ride with them. He asked, "Do you have any civilian clothes with you, Sarge?" I said, "Yes Sir!" He said, "Go put them on and hurry out to the plane. Keep your mouth shut and act like a Senator!"
     I ran back to the tower and called a friend to bring my gear to me while I changed into my civies. He arrived with my bag just as I was boarding. The steward led me to a jump seat right behind the pilot then he asked, "Are you hungry, Sarge?"
     I was starving but I said, "Not really. I think I'll just go to sleep and sleep all the way. That way if I get hungry I won't know it."
     He paused then asked, "Are you broke?"
     "No, I think I have like twenty cents left." I smiled and he smiled. He walked away and I tried to get comfortable on the jump seat.
     In a short time he returned with a covered plate. I uncovered it to find a ham steak almost as big as the plate, sweet potatoes, green beans and applesauce and a small loaf of bread. "I don't think my twenty cents will cover all this," I said.
     "Don't worry about it." He waved his hand. "We always carry more than they can eat."
     When I had finished all of that food, he returned with a huge piece of apple pie and apologized because he had run out of whipped cream to top it with.
     Just before touchdown in Madrid he came back and woke me up and said, "We're about to land in Madrid. When we do you just watch the others and do exactly as they do."
     I stepped off the plane and stood there watching official Air Force cars pick up the Senators and Generals one at a time. Finally one stopped in front of me. An Airman jumped out and grabbed my bag and asked, "Where to, Sir?"
     I straightened my tie and tried to look important and replied, "Torrejon, Terminal. I settled in the back seat, wondering how long a guy could get in the brigg for impersonating a Senator.
     I walked into the terminal and asked the man at the front desk, "Anything going to Seville tonight?"
     He looked at me in my suit rather suspiciously, and asked, "Do you have and Air Force I.D.?"
     I opened my wallet and showed him my I.D. and he said. "Grab your bag and run. There's one about to taxi out to the runway."
     When I arrived in Sevilla I hailed a taxi and prayed, Lord, please let Laura have some pesetas!" ...so here I am!"
     "Just wait until you hear my side of the story!" I said. Then I added, "Let's go wake up the Major!" We all lived in base housing so he was just a couple blocks away. We jumped into the car and drove over to his house and rather than ring the doorbell and wake the whole family, we walked across the lawn to their bedroom window and tapped on it. We peeked inside and saw him sit up in bed. He got up and came over and opened the window.'
     I was standing there smiling and pointing at Ted..
     "Gehrke" he said. what are you doing here? Then he added quickly, "No, I don't want to know. Go away, it's after midnight!"
     "I just wanted to let you know that God still answers prayer." I said.
     "Thanks," he said, "I'm sure I'll sleep a lot better...you can tell me all about it in the morning." He was already cranking the window closed. We drove home laughing about seeing the Major in his boxers and the look on his face when he saw Ted.
     The Fellowship wasn't always exciting and fun but it was a unique ministry and our school in Christianity 101. There we learned to trust God in little things and we learned just how weak and dependant we were on Him. It was the beginning of the long journey we called our ministry and our on the job training for the pastorate... a priceless education.
    

     

The Night The House Cracked

     Can there be anything more frightening than an earthquake? I guess maybe a tsunami would qualify but thankfully I've never experienced a tsunami. In Spain in 1965, I did however, live through an earthquake. I can't wait to tell you about it!
     It was Sunday night in Sevilla and we were always exhausted on Sunday nights. Ted had preached twice by then and spent the afternoon studying and writing. Usually we'd have people over after church in the evening, so the house was always full until midnight, then we had to clean up after them. It was always late when we finally collapsed into our beds.
     My dad was living with us. He'd been there since Mother's death the year before. The kids were in their bedrooms asleep and Daddy asleep in the spare room. Ted and I had gone to bed last, so we'd only been asleep a couple of hours, when I awoke and felt the bed shaking...not violently, it was more like a tremor. I touched Ted's back and asked quietly, "Why is the bed shaking?"
     He didn't move but I heard him sigh. "It's just the dog scratching underneath our bed." he mumbled.
     "Ted, our dog is not big enough to move the bed." I argued. Our dog was a miniature greyhound who stood about a foot high and weighed 12 pounds.
     Suddenly the shaking became violent. The bed was now skating across the floor. Ted sat straight up, fully awake now, and exclaimed, "The Lord is coming!" He jumped out of bed and pulled his pants on. (I've always thought this was funny. He didn't want to meet the Lord with his pants off!) By then I was sitting up too, looking out the balcony doors of our bedroom. By the light of the street lamp I could see the housing unit across the street. It was swaying back and forth.
     "Ted, it's an earthquake!" I yelled. (Note how certain and declarative we both were when the truth was, neither of us had a clue.)
     Fully awake now, he took charge and I was glad. "You go get your dad and I'll get the kids. We have to move everyone downstairs!"
     I ran into Daddy's room and started yelling for him to get up. He didn't budge...he just kept snoring. I shook him and yelled a couple more times. Finally he said, "Huh, what's wrong?"
     He sat up on the side of his bed and reached for his pants. "Forget you pants! we have to get downstairs!" I yelled at him again.
     "You go on. I'll be right behind you!"
     "No, I'm not leaving you to walk down those swaying stairs alone. Come on now!" I demanded. So he stood up and grabbed his pants. I took his arm and we started downstairs. About midway down, I realized that it had stopped shaking, so we proceeded at a slower, steadier pace.
     When we reached the downstairs, Ted and the kids were sitting at the dinning room table.
I looked behind them at the plaster wall and saw a long crack, about an inch wide, that went diagonally from the ceiling to the floor. I pointed to it and said, "Maybe we'd better go outside, I don't know if the house is safe any more."
     We led Daddy and the kids out into the yard. There we met up with neighbors who were also afraid of their "cracked" houses. After standing around talking about it for an hour or so, we realized that the danger had passed and our houses were still standing. Daddy had already gone back to his bed and Ted and I were holding two sleeping children, so we took them back to their beds and returned to ours.
     It took me a couple hours to get to sleep. Every sound startled me and every time Ted moved, I grabbed him and gasped.
     The next day we talked it to death. Everyone wanted to know what was the first thing we did when the earthquake hit. We told them our stories and they told us theirs. I remember that I was particularly impressed with our Chaplain's story. He lived in a high rise apartment in downtown Seville and he said that when he realized it was an earthquake, he fell out of bed and onto his knees, praying that the Lord would spare the city.
     The Lord did spare the city. It was quite a large quake...about a 6.4, if I remember right, but for four days before the quake, it had rained and the rain soaked ground made it a sponge. Because of that, the high risers were cushioned when they shook. We were blessed.
     And the cracks in our walls? Well, the Air Force in their tender mercy, sent around Spanish workers who put a layer of plaster over all the cracks then painted over them, so we couldn't see them any more and therefore stopped worrying about them. I guess the USAF wasn't really concerned that the houses would collapse.
     All in all it was an exciting event, but honestly, I don't think I've ever been as scared or felt as helpless in my life. In an earthquake, there's simply no place to run!
     
     

"Lead Me Gently Home..."

    "He...shall gently lead those that are with young." Isaiah 40:11

     Today's offering is another "homegrown" story. It's another "treasure" in my earthen vessel. I hope you enjoy it and my prayer, as always, is that it edifies your faith.
     I guess if you analyzed it, my Dad's faith was best shown by his strong sense of duty. Daddy was a faithful  man. That was the one trait that stood out above all others in his character. The best way for me to illustrate this is by telling you about his funeral.
     We had a closed coffin because of the circumstances of his death, (See The Angel From Arkansas) and on top of that coffin we placed two symbols of his life. One was a floppy, old, sweat-stained, Stetson hat and the other his old, dogeared Bible which had the cover re-glued, upside down. These two items, the hat and the bible, pretty much summed up his life of work and faith.
      Daddy died of a heat stroke while collecting honey. He fell dead in the middle of an intolerably hot, summer day in central Texas. We found him in the field behind the same Baptist church where he had worked and worshipped for a good portion of his life.
     Ted preached his funeral sermon. In that sermon he told the story of Daddy's conversion to Christ. As I listened to the familiar story, I suddenly realized the roots and reason for Daddy's faithfulness.
     Daddy had lived a pretty wild, raucous youth...drinking, gambling and carousing for many years. Then in 1925 he married my mother and bought a small farm north of Riesel, Texas in a little place called Perry.
     One summer day he was plowing his field, a mile or so from their farm with a single plow pulled by a mule. He'd been clearing the field of stumps and stones so a crop could be planted. It was hard work and the hard, dusty, dry soil made plowing bumpy and jerky. After a struggle, he finally got the mule going at a pretty good pace in the right direction. Suddenly his plow hit a buried tree root. Daddy's body went flying over the top of it and when he landed on the other side he hit his head on something, perhaps a rock, he never really knew for sure, but it knocked him out. He didn't know how long he'd laid there when  he came to with a bad headache and discovered that he was totally blind! He rubbed his eyes and strained to see, but to no avail so he began yelling for help. In his panic he stood and stumbled a few paces, then fell over something else. After that he laid still, afraid to move again.
     It was very hot, well into the hundreds and he was flat on his face in the dirt and at least a mile from the nearest house. He experienced fear like he'd never known before. He was as blind as a bat, in terrible pain and not sure how he was going to get home. Added to that, it was about noon and the hot Texas sun was beating down on him. He also knew that no one would think to look for him until after dark and during those summer days, dark may not come until almost ten p.m. I could be dead by then, he reasoned. He listened for his mule but couldn't hear a living thing around him. "Fool mule, he's probably in the barn eating hey by now!"
     When he heard the sound of his own voice he kept talking. Somehow it seemed to calm him and slow down his paniced gasping for breath. To his surprise he found himself praying. He hadn't really prayed since he was a little boy but it seemed appropriate now. He said, "Lord, here I am in trouble. I know I'm a miserable sinner and not worthy to ask You for anything, but if you could restore my sight so I can get home, I'll serve You for the rest of my life. I'll go to church on Sunday and every Sunday after that for as long as I live!" He told me once that it never occurred to him that God would be "coming up short" on that deal. But at that time, that was about as humble as he could get.
     He said that as he prayed, light began seeping into the corner of his eyes and ever so slowly, it pushed away the darkness. He squinted in the bright sunlight until he could open his eyes completely. To his great relief he could see again. After a few minutes he examined himself, got his bearings and walked the long trek home. 
     From that moment on he was a faithful, duty bound Christian. As far as I know he never missed a church service. I don't even remember his ever being sick on Sunday. He went to prayer meetings, evening services, Sunday School, Baptist Brotherhood, and any other meeting offered by his church.  During Daddy's lifetime he served as church janitor, yardman, teacher and prayer partner. His commitment never wavered. When we were on vacation he'd find a church for us to visit. He used to say, "You can't take a vacation from church."
     One of my greatest memories is of him kneeling by his bedside each night before he went to bed. He would pray for people by name...our family, his neighbors, the pastor, the President, the country and any pressing need we may have had at the time and then he'd end his prayers with, "...and Lord, bless all those for whom it is my duty to pray for." There was that word...duty. It both motivated and characterized his life.
     The Air Force G.I.'s used to say, "I've got the duty tonight." and we all knew what that meant. It meant that they had guard duty, the responsibility to guard some place or equipment. No one was allowed to sleep on duty. They had to remain vigilant and awake so that whatever had been entrusted to them would be safe.  That is what my dad understood about being a Christian. From the time of that prayer in the dusty field, he had the duty  for Christ.
     At age seventy-two, Daddy collapsed in another dusty, Texas, field and died of a heat stroke. Ted ended his sermon with those words, then continued, "This time as darkness engulfed him, the light didn't creep into the corner of his eyes, in the way that it had so many years before, instead it burst upon him suddenly and he saw clearly...immediately, the face of his Savior, Jesus Christ. Now he could rest from his duty and this time he didn't have to walk the long trek home, because he was already there."
     During the funeral service, the congregation closed by singing Daddy's favorite hymn. It was Lead Me Gently Home. I'm including it here because like his life and his death, it defined him.

"Lead me gently home, Father.

Lead me gently home. 

When life's toils have ended

and parting days have come.

Sin no more shall temp me,

Ne're from Thee I'll roam.

If Thou wilt only lead me, Father

Lead me gently home.

Chorus:

Lead me gently home, Father

Lead me gently home.

 Lest I fall upon the wayside, 

Lead me gently home."  

"Here I Raise My Ebenezer"

     It has been a month since I posted anything on my blog because I went to Texas on vacation. I'll probably post something about that at a later date... have to let it percolate. :) But the time away has given me a chance to think about my blog and why I'm doing this. I picked up a book that I've written for my grandchildren of stories of our lives as a family. I opened it at the beginning to look for a story that I might want to post and as I read the forwards that I had written, for three different volumes of the "book", I got my latest post. They each gave my reasons for writing. As I read them, it stirred within me, once again, the desire to see more folks write down their experiences. For that reason, I am determined to encourage everyone I know, (especially people in my age group) to get their stories down. They are all unique, all important, especially to their children and grandchildren.
      I am constantly surprised by what my children do not know about me and their family... seemingly insignificant things like, where we attended college, "Grandma, you graduated from Calvin College? Who knew!" or "You mean we are Jewish! Wait a minute! I thought we were Irish!" Or to their other Grandmother..."You had another husband besides Grandpa. What else haven't you told us?" These are important things for them to know.
     But the really important things for them to know are the things that have made us who we are. The journey we've taken through life that has brought us to this place. The prophet, Samuel placed a "stone of help" which he called an Ebenezer stone and said, "Hither to hath the Lord helped us." (1 Samuel 7:12) In the old hymn, Come, Thou Fount the song writer recorded the incident thus, "...here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I've come." That is the biblical principle. You shouldn't need more, but just in case you do, I've recorded my three forwards below. I hope this encourages you all, young and old to write your life!

     

Forward 1

     For a long time I have been wanting to write down some of the stories of our life together as a family. I also wanted my grandchildren  and great grandchildren to know where I came from and where their grandfather came from.  There just never seemed to be a time I could do this.  It was a task that seemed unimportant compared to everything else I had to do but this year I got motivated to do it.

     What motivated me, you ask? Well mostly it was poverty. I heard a man say that finances or the lack thereof, very often dictate the direction of our lives and I've come to see the truth in that statement. I wanted to give my grandchildren Christmas gifts this year and even the Dollar Store was too expensive for me and my fourteen grandchildren.  So when my daughter-in-law, Kim suggested that I write some of my stories and put them in a book for the children, I thought... yes!  The title of my little book Treasures in Earthen Vessels, and the scripture on the fly leaf, (Acts 3:6) pretty much tells you why I felt the need to write them.  I intend to add a few stories every year until I either die or run out of material so I would encourage you all to give your books to your mom for safe keeping after you read them, then I can retrieve them next Christmas and add to them.  Someday maybe I can afford to publish them for you. That way you will have a history of your family in story form to pass on to your children.

     A former President said, "We are trying to do a futile thing if we do not know where we came from or what we have been about." History is very important. It is the light at the back of the train that points our direction to the future.

     As I said in the story entitled, My Father's Faith, "No one (soldier) was allowed to sleep on duty. They had to remain vigilant and awake so that whatever had been entrusted to them would be safe." My generation will soon pass the "duty" on to you and you will be entrusted with upholding our name and the Christian faith. So my prayer for you is that some of this family history will be and inspiration and help as you assume "the duty".  I love you all!    

Forward 2

     This is the second installment of Treasures in Earthen Vessels, a book I'm preparing for you, my grandchildren. I thought I would get more than eight stories written this year but due to knee surgery in December, I was unable to meet that goal. 

    These eight stories, however will keep you busy for a while and I will try to write more in the coming year. Someday I hope to put them into a book for all of you but just in case I never get to do that, I want you to have them in separate volumes.

   As you have probably already discovered about your Grandma, I see everything through a biblical principle grid. Even the most pagan Disney movie can yield for me a principle to be analyzed and meditated upon. Because of this mindset, which I have very carefully practiced over forty some years, my stories will be full of principles. I'll try not to preach or even point them out. My hope is that you will begin to see them on your own. Now, this my bore you or put you off but it won't hurt you, so be entertained and be instructed with these latest Treasures in Earthen Vessels. Love, Grandma

Forward 3

     Not that I need an excuse, but I've found another reason for writing these stories for you children. One modern translation of Psalm 78 says exactly why I should write them and why you should read them. In verses 1-12 it says:

     "My people, listen to my teaching; listen to what I say.

 I will speak using stories; I will tell secret things from long ago.

    We have heard them and known them by what our ancestors have told us;

      We will tell those who come later about the praises of the Lord.

      We will tell about His power and the miracles He has done.

       The Lord made an agreement with Jacob and gave the teachings to Israel, which He commanded our ancestors to teach to their children, then their children would know them, even their children not yet born, and they would tell their children. So they would all trust God and would not forget what He had done but would obey His commands.

       They would not be like their ancestors who were stubborn and disobedient.

       Their hearts were not loyal to God, and they were not true to Him. The men of Ephraim had bows for weapons, but they ran way on the day of battle.

       They didn't keep their agreement with God and refused to live by His teachings.

       They forgot what He had done and the miracles He had shown them. He did miracles while their ancestors watched,..."

     Now I know that literally He is talking about passing on the scripture, in this Psalm, but applying it personally, I decided that if I can help it, my children will never forget what He did while I watched! I love you all, and Merry Christmas!