Dateline: Faulkton, S.D.
The call came Sunday morning before church. My cousin Frank telling me his mother had just passed away. Maymie Seward Snider, who was the last of my parent's generation, died peacefully in her sleep after more than 90 years on earth.
Just three months before, I had been to South Dakota for the funeral of Aunt Maymie's daughter Dorothy. Then, as now, I had hastily packed, sent a few e-mails and was on my way... except this time, I waited until after the church board meeting. An issue I feel is very important was to be decided, or at least discussed... or so I thought. But that was not the case, so I am continuing in prayer that God's house will be available to those who need a place to preach God's Word to a group of people needing to hear it in their own language.
So, again, I am in a South Dakota motel room. Faulkton is a tiny town located near the center of the state. Long ago my parents, brother and I lived on a ranch near here for a time with my Uncle Snide, Aunt Maymie and their five children. I have lots of good memories of that time... and a few not so good ones.
We all worked hard, but we did a lot of playing and one of my favorite games was to dive from the upper level of the barn down into the grain bins. Now the grains were all in bunker-like compartments divided by wood and some corrugated metal. I loved diving down into the wheat, rolling in it, burying myself in it. Needless to say, this was s strictly forbidden activity! One fateful day as I and some of my cousins were grain diving, the grain became crimson and sticky with blood. I still have a large scar above my left knee to remind me of a scrap of corrugated metal down in the grain!
Funny, at the time, my main concern was hiding the evidence. I was trying to bury the bloody grain but was bleeding faster than I could cover it up. Finally, I got out of the bin and let the other kids bury the bloody grain. I am not sure, but I think one of the others was also cut on another grain diving day... Quick learners, we weren't!
Another time, deep in a winter storm, we were gathered around the stove in the living room of the "big house." I got in a fight with one of my cousins (I think it was Frank, but am not sure) and I shoved him hard. Uncle Snide put me out the door to "cool off." I had no coat on and the icy winds seemed to cut right through me. Then, here came Aunt Maymie who brought me back in the back door and sent me up the back stairs.
It's good to see my cousins and other family again. I almost killed my cousin John when we were kids. Some of us were on top of one of the ranch buildings armed with rocks, coal and other missiles. We were the defenders. The invaders were assailing our position with their own weapons of war. Normally, I can't throw at all... although there is force in my pitch, there is no control. We were not actually throwing to hit one another anyway... merely lobbing off rounds to keep the attackers at bay. Somehow, one of my lobs, a good sized piece of coal, I believe, hit John in the head. Down he went, blood all over the place!
Kids ran screaming. Adults came running. They swooped John up and sped away with him in the pickup. I was still on the roof, frozen with fear that I had killed him. The sense of guilt was overwhelming. I had heard my mother speak of Jesus all my life and been to church often, but had no real understanding of what the Cross really meant at that time. But I never forgot how desperate was my need to make the whole event "go away."
You see, unlike the grain diving episode, it wasn't the consequences I was concerned about. There was no thought about what would happen to me. The torment was knowing I had done something horrid. I wanted to undo it. So pervasive was my guilt that I relive it even now as I write this. It was a good lesson because when the time was right for my eyes to be opened to the Cross of Christ, I already knew how desperately I needed a savior and how heavy guilt can be. When I came to Christ, the elation was that much more intense. Each time I see my tall, slim cousin John with his gentle smile and easy going ways, I am reminded that it is by grace alone I did not kill him... and it is by that same grace I no longer bear any guilt for my foolish behavior that put his life at risk.
We gathered at the funeral home for "the viewing" this evening. Aunt Maymie looked better than the last time I saw her. Of course, she isn't really there. I believe she is with Jesus. You may recall that on my last trip here, when I prayed, she opened her eyes and attended with great interest even though she had been unresponsive for about two years!
It's late and I have only had a few naps since I woke up Sunday morning... and the funeral is tomorrow. Please pray that unsaved members of our family and yours will respond to the Gospel.
Just three months before, I had been to South Dakota for the funeral of Aunt Maymie's daughter Dorothy. Then, as now, I had hastily packed, sent a few e-mails and was on my way... except this time, I waited until after the church board meeting. An issue I feel is very important was to be decided, or at least discussed... or so I thought. But that was not the case, so I am continuing in prayer that God's house will be available to those who need a place to preach God's Word to a group of people needing to hear it in their own language.
So, again, I am in a South Dakota motel room. Faulkton is a tiny town located near the center of the state. Long ago my parents, brother and I lived on a ranch near here for a time with my Uncle Snide, Aunt Maymie and their five children. I have lots of good memories of that time... and a few not so good ones.
We all worked hard, but we did a lot of playing and one of my favorite games was to dive from the upper level of the barn down into the grain bins. Now the grains were all in bunker-like compartments divided by wood and some corrugated metal. I loved diving down into the wheat, rolling in it, burying myself in it. Needless to say, this was s strictly forbidden activity! One fateful day as I and some of my cousins were grain diving, the grain became crimson and sticky with blood. I still have a large scar above my left knee to remind me of a scrap of corrugated metal down in the grain!
Funny, at the time, my main concern was hiding the evidence. I was trying to bury the bloody grain but was bleeding faster than I could cover it up. Finally, I got out of the bin and let the other kids bury the bloody grain. I am not sure, but I think one of the others was also cut on another grain diving day... Quick learners, we weren't!
Another time, deep in a winter storm, we were gathered around the stove in the living room of the "big house." I got in a fight with one of my cousins (I think it was Frank, but am not sure) and I shoved him hard. Uncle Snide put me out the door to "cool off." I had no coat on and the icy winds seemed to cut right through me. Then, here came Aunt Maymie who brought me back in the back door and sent me up the back stairs.
It's good to see my cousins and other family again. I almost killed my cousin John when we were kids. Some of us were on top of one of the ranch buildings armed with rocks, coal and other missiles. We were the defenders. The invaders were assailing our position with their own weapons of war. Normally, I can't throw at all... although there is force in my pitch, there is no control. We were not actually throwing to hit one another anyway... merely lobbing off rounds to keep the attackers at bay. Somehow, one of my lobs, a good sized piece of coal, I believe, hit John in the head. Down he went, blood all over the place!
Kids ran screaming. Adults came running. They swooped John up and sped away with him in the pickup. I was still on the roof, frozen with fear that I had killed him. The sense of guilt was overwhelming. I had heard my mother speak of Jesus all my life and been to church often, but had no real understanding of what the Cross really meant at that time. But I never forgot how desperate was my need to make the whole event "go away."
You see, unlike the grain diving episode, it wasn't the consequences I was concerned about. There was no thought about what would happen to me. The torment was knowing I had done something horrid. I wanted to undo it. So pervasive was my guilt that I relive it even now as I write this. It was a good lesson because when the time was right for my eyes to be opened to the Cross of Christ, I already knew how desperately I needed a savior and how heavy guilt can be. When I came to Christ, the elation was that much more intense. Each time I see my tall, slim cousin John with his gentle smile and easy going ways, I am reminded that it is by grace alone I did not kill him... and it is by that same grace I no longer bear any guilt for my foolish behavior that put his life at risk.
We gathered at the funeral home for "the viewing" this evening. Aunt Maymie looked better than the last time I saw her. Of course, she isn't really there. I believe she is with Jesus. You may recall that on my last trip here, when I prayed, she opened her eyes and attended with great interest even though she had been unresponsive for about two years!
It's late and I have only had a few naps since I woke up Sunday morning... and the funeral is tomorrow. Please pray that unsaved members of our family and yours will respond to the Gospel.
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