Wednesday, December 21, 2005

WALKING THE DOGS



Bettye and I have two little companions. Pepe and Vujii. Pepe is a dachshund and Vujii a Pekinese. They live for their daily walks, but they don’t understand one bit about companionship. As Bettye is preparing for the walk, getting their leashes, etc., they are a bundle of energy. Whining, begging, barking, jumping up and down. Finally they are ready and as we start out the door their feet are spinning on the floor like the tires on an old car trying to get traction in mud. When we open the door they dash out as fast as they can and hit the end of their leash, stand upright on their hind legs, hacking, coughing and gasping for air. They dart here and there, sniffing, investigating, and marking every tree, bush, and clump of weeds they can find. When we get to the park, they are still straining at their leash trying to intimidate the squirrels, ducks, and every bird they can. They lunge at them, trying to start the chase, restrained only by their tether. Finally, about the two mile mark, they settle down. Probably from fatigue, but no more lunging about, pulling and tugging, or going off on tangents. They drop back beside us, content to walk along by our side. When we come to a turn, they look up to see which way we are going. From then on it is a joy to walk along beside them. Now we are enjoying companionship.
My point is this, isn’t that the way it is in our walk with the Lord? In our youth, we are all a bundle of energy, going after this fad, darting down that rabbit trail, and generally sniffing around in side issues that have no baring on our ministry or eternity. We waste the years of our youth in the useless, and then one day we learn the true joy of companionship with the Lord. We slow down, chunk the useless and really begin to enjoy our time with our Heavenly Father. We sigh and think to ourselves, how could I have been so blind, this is what I wanted all along. God just smiles for we have finally learned.
Don in Georgetown

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

MY MOST MEMORABLE CHRISTMAS

I also remember my first Christmas that I can remember! I had to be around four years of age, and my sister Jo was about two. Dad was working at any job he could find, and our country was trying to work its way out of the great depression. We were living in an apartment on Hemphill street in Ft. Worth and Dad was working at Pick-Wick grocery store. About all I remember about the store was its sign. It was a wooden man with a snowman figure. Both his arms worked up and down, in his hands were paddles and he had a red light for a nose. We had no Christmas tree, our presents were hid under a quilt on the back porch. When it was time for us to get our presents, Dad lifted the quilt, and that was the extent of our celebration. I think I got a tricycle and Joe got a doll, but one thing I didn’t feel was poor and deprived. It was just another day, only in this one we had some new toys.
Our most memorable Christmas was in 1982. Bettye, Stacy, Chris and I were involved in getting our new church off the ground. Christmas vacation could not start until Christmas eve. So, sometime after the Christmas eve services, we loaded all our luggage and Christmas presents into our compact Chevy and headed out to Fresno, California to spend Christmas and New Years with my parents. We planned on driving all night on Christmas eve and all day Christmas. We got as far as Llano, Texas, which was only forty or fifty miles from where we started when we lost the car‘s transmission. The car managed to cripple its way to the only motel in town and sure enough, they had a room. The next morning, the wrecker came and towed us home, there was five of us in the cab of the wrecker counting the driver. The house was dark and cold, we had turned everything off. There was no food in the cabinets, refrigerator, or freezer. Christmas dinner that day consisted of peanut butter sandwiches and sodas. We opened our Christmas gifts we had planned to open in California, and watched TV. Someone has said that problem like that, when everything goes wrong, is a bonding experience. I don’t know about that, but you ask any of our family members who were involved in that Christmas fiasco, which was their most memorable Christmas? They will say, “That Christmas in 1982 whenever thing went wrong!”
What was your most memorable Christmas?
Don in Georgetown

Thursday, December 08, 2005

My most memorable Thanksgiving ever was in 1958. Actually it started
around the end of May or first of June in 1957. I was finishing my second year
at BBC and was supposed to spend the summer working for my Dad at the Central
Baptist Church in Sherman. I had interned for him the summer before. Both Dad
and I thought it was a done deal, then when he held a business meet to
allocate the funds for my salary the church voted it down. I had quit my job in
Springfield, and had no other prospects there in Sherman. So I did what any
distraught and rejected young theologue would do, I went fishing.
When I got back from fishing I had a message from Foster Parnell asking
me to come to Henderson, Texas and do for him what I had done for Dad the year
before. He put me up in a Sunday School class room and I bathed in the
baptistery that summer. Mrs. Ruth fixed all my meals and I was a happy camper.
During the span of time I was there The Leonard E. Ferrell Family joined the
church. It was Mother, Father, younger brother, and one of the most beautiful
teenage girls I had ever seen. She was voted most beautiful by her high school
class, a majorette, FFA Sweetheart, and a host of other awards. I tried to get
our guys to ask her out on a date but they wouldn't, so I did. We hit it off
pretty good, and continued to communicate by letter once I got back to BBC.
Because of the distance, trying to finish my last year in college, and her
trying to finish her last year in high school. Our letters got fewer and further
apart and eventually stopped corresponding all together.
I graduated and went to work for Dr. Art Wilson in Wichita, Kansas. The
Sunday before Thanksgiving, at the close of the service, Dr. Wilson asked me
if I would like to attend the Thanksgiving Fellowship of the BBF. It was being
held in Ft. Worth at the First Baptist Church. Of Course, I wanted to go. I
hopped a train out of Wichita and Dad picked me up in Gainesville. There was
no train station in Sherman. Thanksgiving morning we got up early and drove
to Ft. Worth. That old auditorium covered a city block and had at least a
dozen doors in order for people to enter from most any direction.
Thoughtlessly, I entered the first door I came to, saw some of BBC
buddies, and sat down with them. Soon Bro. Parnell, Mrs. Ruth, and that beautiful
teenage girl was with them. I invited her to sit with me during the services
and we spent as much time together as we could before we went back home. We
started writing again, and in December of the next year, we got married. That
will be 46 years ago December 22. That was my most favorite Thanksgiving ever,
besides the most memorable. I have had 69 other Thanksgivings, but none tops
that one.
Bettye's husband in Georgetown

Friday, November 04, 2005

Hey Guys, gals, and fellow bloggers all over the world, my name is Don Ledbetter and I'm the rookie. This is my very first venture into blogging. I hope to get better acquainted in the days (years) to come as I give my views, opinions, and outright dogmatic prognostications on matters both important and trivial. The following is a sample of the wit and wisdom that will be coming out of the hill country in central Texas.

I call it The Nap Time Funeral:

This time the phone was for Bettye.
"Miss Bettye, Lenea's Grandmother passed away; we need someone to play the organ for her service. Can you do it?" When one of your faithful members calls, of course you will do it. The funeral was Sunday afternoon. Not a good time, especially for me. That's nap time. Has been for 50 years. Who, in their right mind messes with a pastor's nap time?
Anyway, Bettye consented to play the organ, just one of her many talents, but she asked me to go with her. She really does know about nap time, but how can you say no, especially to Bettye? I have before and had to deal with guilt for the next two weeks. I consented to go, but deep inside was a begrudging bigger than an over-inflated basketball. What a waste of time, I groused. How could she do this to me? More grousing.
I went to the dumb funeral and just sat there. What a waste! Then the pastor who was helping conduct the funeral came in. A young, handsome man. He pastors the EV Free Church in our town. Pleasant as all get out. He told me his name and it rang a bell.
"Have you or your family attended my church before?"
"Yes, but I will talk to you later."
So after the service he related to me how his mother attended our church back in the early '80's and when he was nine years old he became a Christian. I baptized him. Now naps, grousing, and all general ill-will vanished. God had a blessing and a special plan to encourage, all reserved in my name and faithfully passed on, even though I had such a bad attitude.
My poit is this: no service to and for the Lord is "just routine." It wasn't routine back in the early eighties when I baptized a 9 year old boy. It wasn't when Bettye agreed to play the organ for a funeral scheduled during my nap time. No act of love or obedience, no matter how large or small is ever routine. Serve the Lord with gladness.
Don in Georgetown.