Ken

Fred’s dad was a troubled man. Because of his alcoholism the family lived in poverty. It would be easy to allow someone to be defined by their worst quality, but it would be a mistake. Here is a tought-provoking story I read in Fred’s biography:

Perhaps my best Christmas was the one that seemed the worst until some years later when I learned the mystery of it. The Depression was at is worst; the family purse was empty. I had overheard Momma say to Daddy that there would be no Christmas. There was no way. And yet Christmas morning our shoe boxes, set in a row anticipating Santa, held their annual goodies; an apple in each a tangerine in each, raisins still on the stem in each, a box of sparklers in each, a packet of Black Cat fire crackers in each. We were in business. Merry Christmas? How did it happen? I had the answer about ten years later. Momma said Daddy used a pair of pliers to pull one of his molars. That molar had a gold crown, put there by an Army dentist during World War I. Daddy removed the crown and went to the town where he sold the gold for enough to provide things from Santa Claus. Daddy never spoke of it and as long as he lived I kept his secret.

By Fred Craddock from Reflections on My Call to Preach

Last weekend here in Michigan the sky was clear and the temperatures were almost balmy. The neighborhood around Granville Cottage is called the Forest of Riverview because when they developed the subdivision they built the homes among the mature trees. Our small lot has over nine trees. All the streets are tree-lined. So Saturday and Sunday was a flourish of leaf-gathering and yard-tending.

I’m leaving before dawn for my commute to Bethel in Jackson and arriving back home after dark these days while we are waiting for the house-sale to close. Last night I made a few phone calls on the way home enjoyed some Christmas music. Lois called to remind me to pick up some corn chips to go with a black bean and corn soup she had made for dinner. I stopped by the European Market for them and spent a couple minutes encouraging the woman who waited on me. She was burdened about her young daughter. I listened and encouraged her to connect with a local church.

When I finally pulled into the Forest of Riverview I realized that the neighbors all around me had been doing more than yard work on the golden, sunny weekend… Many of them were getting their Christmas lights and displays into place. I instinctively slowed down to enjoy the beautiful sight and remembered with a bittersweet pang the sound of eight children in the car sing-songing “Ooooh-Ahhhh.” With the memory my heart was tender again with the beauty of Christmas.

“God,” I thought, “Make yourself known to the families that live in these homes, that the light of faith would glow in every hearth all through the year and the people would know the Christ of Christmas.”

As I walked into Granville Cottage Lois was busy with dinner and Hazard greeted me with his usual enthusiasm and I was freshly aware of how much our lives have been graced by the presence of Christ incarnate.

Ken Pierpont
Granville Cottage
Riverview, Michigan
December 2017