Bittersweet Farm

I’m springin’ forward.
Are you springin’ forward?
All God’s chillin’ springin’ forward.
See you in the mornin’ Bethel family….

WARNING: STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS WRITING TO FOLLOW.

Years ago I was asked to speak in Illinois for a week at a gathering of churches. Dan and Wes went with me. We stayed in the basement a farmhouse owned by an elderly lady from the church. We enjoyed good eats and fellowship. It was spring.
At the time we lived in a huge hotel that housed our ministry at the time, so I was always eager to have the boys out with me for a week. I ran in the park every day and the boys rode their bikes.

I cherish the memory and miss these boys who have families of their own and churches of their own and live far away in New Mexico and Texas.

I think it will be spring there soon and Bluebonnet time in Texas. I don’t know when spring arrives the high desert of New Mexico but I’m sure the locals will welcome it like we do when it fully arrives here about halfway through the month of May.
Dan, the big boy is a sheriff’s deputy and has a fine Christian wife and three fine boys. Wes, the smaller one, is a plumber and has a fine Christian wife and two daughters. I have lots of plans for the future, but when I come across these old pictures it wrecks me.
One more memory for those who are still reading:

While we were staying in the basement of the old farm house we were getting ready for church one night and Wes started screaming bloody murder and calling his brother every possible name a pastor’s kid can get away with.

“What happened?” I asked

“He shot me with that…” Wes said, and he was red in the face angry.

Daniel was laughing and standing there with a decanter of wretched strong perfume that was probably bottled toward the end of World War I.

It sounds funny but I weep and laugh at the same time as I type these words in my quiet house I love where I can read and write and study without a whisper of interruption. The only sound is the quiet flutter of the keyboard as my fingers move over the keys and the sound of the winter wind in woods across the road.

I keep telling myself. The boys are doing now what I loved so much. They are raising their families. They won’t realize until they are my age how much they will miss it.

Lois will be home soon. A good man would make dinner, but I think I will lay out the ingredients for her to make a homemade pizza. We will watch a program and probably talk about the kids and grandkids… and set our clocks forward so we are not late for church…
All God’s chillin’ springin’ forward tonight.

Oh. And don’t feel bad for Wesley. He up-graded his wheels since this picture was taken… (The other picture is his current ride).

Bittersweet Farm
March 12, 2022

Sunday was sunny and warm-er than it has been lately. At Bethel Church, right after the bells, we opened with the baptism of a new believer, a young woman who turned from New Age beliefs to Christ by reading thorough the Bible. We celebrated the Lord’s Supper and I finished my series on Finishing Faithful from 1 Peter. 

Bittersweet is beautiful snow covered which allows us to see that when we are gone or when we sleep deer track all over our acreage. They seem to love it along the west tree-line and under the Walnuts. The day deer do not like walnuts but during a hard, prolonged freeze the seem to spend a lot of time around the base of the tree. I’m not sure why. 

A Decorated Athlete*

Perhaps because of all my self-denigrating talk about my athletic foibles, many of you don’t know that I am actually a decorated athlete. I have actually won many awards for athletic accomplishments. 

From years 20 to about 50 I distance running was a part of my life. I was given many awards for this running. One of them was for taking third place in my age category in a small 10K race in Indiana in about 1984. It was a small race but it was a fast age. 

The rest of my awards were “Finishers Medals” awards. You get them for, well finishing! I finished the Crim 10-Mile three times. I ran a few 10K’s which, you probably know are 6.2 miles each. Along the shore of Like Michigan one Father’s Day weekend I finished a half-marathon in beautiful Ludington. That is memory I will always cherish. 

One of my most memorable finishes was a day when I only had an audience of about four and it would be my greatest running accomplishment. I was up in Oscoda County at Camp Barakel and my training schedule called for a long run. I had worked my way up to 20 miles for my long run that weekend. I went out 10 miles that day and slogged my way slowly back. I didn’t know it at the time but that would be the longest run of my life. I never finished the Marathon distance but I did finish my planned 20 mile run and at the end four of my children were waiting for me. I was so glad to see them. I didn’t finish pretty. But I did finish. And finishing is a thing. Maybe when it is all said and done finishing is THE thing… 

I attended the funeral of a brother in Christ who was about my age. He finished faithful and his funeral was like a revival service. His children his wife stood to testify of his faith and his faithfulness. They spoke of his love for his wife and children and his love for Christ. He finished strong and faithful by God’s grace. 

God help us finish faithful. I know one day, and I don’t get to chose the day, I will come to the end of my race. I’m not sure who will be there to see the finish. We have eight children and almost eighteen grandchildren now. They will be there, most likely. The story of my life, my testimony will be a part of their story for many years after i am with the Lord. 

 but I know there will be at least eight of our children and now just shy of eighteen grandchildren and Lois who I met one autumn night 43 years ago. They are watching my race. Lord willing, they will be there to see finish song and faithful by God’s good grace. 

Bittersweet Farm

February 7, 2022

*Credit to Pastor Jeff Manion of Ada Bible Church for this idea. 

Snow Day on Bittersweet Farm

It’s a snow day out on Bittersweet Farm. Snow days are “hole-up-and-write” days for me. I get up in the corner of my room next to the window looking out on the woods across the road to the south, and I put my head down and write. A couple years ago I finished my book Finding Bittersweet during a couple wonderful snow days when no one expects anything of you. I brew coffee and put on comfortable clothes and just start klacking away on the keyboard. On a snow day do you get off work? How do you like to spend a snow day? Do you have a unique snow day memory?

Maybe We Should Hit The “Reset Button” on Church.

I’ve been thinking about church and homes that honor God and influence children to love God and follow God.

In our home growing up Saturdays were pretty utilitarian. Dad was a pastor and a school teacher most of the time so we had things to get done on Saturday. There were chores and care maintenance. In the fall there was usually time for a football game. Sometimes we listened to the game on the radio while working on the car. At about six o’clock in the evening on Saturdays there was an atmospheric change. We began to prepare for the Lord’s Day. We shined shoes and lined them up. We laid out clothes. We prepared the care. We studied our lessons. Back then we called it “Doing our Quarterly.” We laid out our clothes. Mom practiced her music. Dad put the finishing flourishes on his sermon. The atmosphere just changed.

When Lois and I were raising the kids I would study on Saturday night and Lois would listen to gospel music on the radio and spit-shine the kids and get them ready. For forty years in a row she had them lined up on the pastor’s pew on Sunday morning, sitting, clothed, and in their right minds. They were always there and they looked good and behaved well like clockwork. We had a routine and a ritual and a tradition and it grew out of our desire to put Jesus first in our home. We believed that God’s ways were best and God’s ways involved faithfulness in God’s church.

Sunday afternoons were for Sunday dinner and naps and Sunday nights back then were devoted to evening church and occasional youth activities. The boys played baseball, but not on Sunday. We set aside the Lord’s Day for worship. Sunday night we would order a couple pizzas and find something tolerable to watch on television together as a family. When the kids started dating and courting and sparking and romancing, we would usually have someone over for the evening.

In the last year church life has been, for the most part, legitimately disrupted and interrupted. There are those who have had good reason not to assemble. Many who love the Lord have been legitimately cautious, but this has taken a toll on churches and the time has some now for faithful people to return to patterns of faithfulness—even if the whole culture is collectively ignoring God, the faithful should be faithful. What patterns of faithfulness have you established? What do you do in place of obeying God? Who or what do you serve when you should be serving God?

Maybe it is time for a family meeting.

Adien Redemption wanted to visit my writing loft…

Bittersweet Farm Journal—January 8, 2022

The kids and grandkids except the New Mexico and Texas Pierponts (we hope to fly down there and enjoy some of their warm sunshine this winter) came and went from Bittersweet Farm during the holidays or we saw them in their homes. This week Jesse and Holly and their two visited for the week from all the way out on Highway 101 on the West Coast of Oregon.

We enjoyed shared meals, singing, laughter, exchanging gifts, conversations late into the night and expressions of love. It turned very cold outside starting Sunday night, but the little farmhouse out on Bittersweet was warm and bright with love this week.

One day we went to Lansing to a trampoline place. Kinda’ cool except when we went to leave we discovered that Holly had lost her cell phone. Within an hour they found it in the bottom of one of the foam block pits they were jumping into. Of course there is a Chik-fil-a in Lansing and it wasn’t Sunday so we were able to get a proper Christian fast-food meal. The kids wore themselves out (and the adults) and they slept well.

Holly and Jesse and family stayed in a local Bed and Breakfast to make more room. A couple evenings ago we saw them off late into the bitter cold night. Snow on the ground. Ice in the air. The temps would drop into the single digits that night. After their car disappeared over the hill into the night, we darkened the house and got into bed. About twenty minutes later the phone rang. Trouble—Little girl weeping in the background. Scuffy, the Teddy Bear Granny gave Bella Allene was missing. Bella was disconsolate. She could not go to sleep without it. Would grandpa please go out and see if he could find it?

I dressed and took my flashlight out into the icy night. Teddy was shivering in a snow bank. I rescued him and put him on the counter then got quickly back into bed. Bella’s daddy made the heroic trip back to reunite Teddy and Bella. Within a half hour a picture arrived of Bella and Teddy warm and happy settled in for the night under a pile of soft covers. We all have our bedtime routines. Bella has her Teddy. David wrote; “He gives sleep to those he loves…” It is one of God’s sweetest gifts to his children.

Soon we will take our loved ones off to the airport and we will say goodbye and drive home with the ache in our souls we always have when we say goodbye for a time to someone we love so deeply.

Back home gramma will be cleaning up and she will find something under the bed or under the pillows of the couch that one of the precious grandchildren left behind. Grandma is tough but she has a tender heart and she will fight back a tear. When we get back together we will go over their antics and the things they said and how they have grown and who in the family they look like and we will pray for them to follow the light of Jesus into the dark time in which they have been born.

One day, God willing, we will never part again. For those who believe will enjoy eternal life together forever. Until then we trust God to make us faithful and we will pray and keep in touch on FaceTime and such.

It’s cold but the sun is up in a clear sky this morning. Lois just put a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast on the desk in front of me with a hot mug of black coffee. So there are ways our loved ones help us to compensate for the hardships of winter.

God bless you with warmth and light, coffee and bacon, and loved ones and good sleep.

Bittersweet Farm
January 8, 2021

Out on Bittersweet tonight there is a light dust of snow on the ground an it is cold outside. Lois is listening to the news and weather and pouring candles and intermittently singing. I love it when she is happy. It warms the whole house. I’m up in the corner of my cozy room in a circle of warm light writing to you, whoever you are. The drive home from the church study was beautiful tonight. I took the back roads and watched the sun poking through the silver clouds. The rest of the world has turned gray. Today it was dusted with powdery white, a muted beauty. I enjoyed the warmth of my truck and some Christmas music as I made my way out to Bittersweet and supper.

Do you have a moment every December when the “Christmas Feeling” arrives? I have a simple Christmas story for you today. I hope it warms your heart.

…And Christmas Came

It’s early December. I’m sitting in my favorite window nursing a good black coffee and looking out on my truck through the early morning snow. Sometimes the ambient noise of a small-town restaurant lends itself to the concentration needed to write. I’m working on a Christmas sermon.

I know of a pastor who was once one of the most productive writers in the nation. He summered in West Michigan because he loved to sail. I heard him say more than one that he wrote sermons and whole books sitting in a molded fiberglass booth at a Burger King restaurant in South Haven, Michigan.

So I’m writing and keeping my mind focused on my work when I pick up a bit of conversation among the workers. Most of what they had been saying all morning had been silly, empty banter but their tone changed. That captured my attention.

Someone said warmly “O, look, they’re paying for the car behind them“

“Why are they doing that,” another asked.

“You know, they are paying it forward.”

“I thought you said they are paying for the car behind them.”

“Yes, but that’s called paying it forward… You know, instead of paying it back to find someone else and do something kind for them… pay it forward.”

It was quiet for a minute while the workers just stood and watched the cars in the drive-thru lane paying it forward.

I smiled and took a sip from my seasonal cup and I looked out toward my truck. It is green. Flakes of snow drift on the cold air. Christmas music wafts out into the restaurant and right then, at about ten a.m. the Christmas spirit arrived in my soul.

I know Christmas is much, much more than the warm feeling that comes when people extend kindness to each other, but it is nothing less. God became a man to die for our sins. He would rise again and return to heaven. He is coming again to judge all mankind. It’s the stuff angels sing about and old women talk about and old men cry over and the story of Christ is so powerful that even people who don’t fully understand it are stirred to acts of good will.

I say, “God bless it. Merry Christmas.” Has it come to your heart yet? When? How?

Last Sunday when I got home from church it was sunny and warm enough for me to brush the last of the leaves from the flowerbeds and coil the hose for the winter. This Sunday we awoke to three inches of snow. I rose at five and plowed and two days later I plowed an equal amount for a second time.

It’s the evening of the first of December as I write. I’m in my study by my “fire” writing at my desk. I found some colored lights to festoon the wall of my study and some white lights to add a glow of warmth and beauty. I’m burning a pine-scented candle on my desk, a second rejected by the Preacher’s Wife Candle Company. I’m enjoying a playlist of Christmas music.

Playlists used to be mixtapes that I recorded myself using my prized dual cassette deck and spending hours creating cassettes that would play and loop for hours in the house. The soundtrack to whatever rowdiness was currently going on at home with five, six, seven, eventually eight children, a household of ten people.

Things were so thin. I made use of the library especially at Christmas time to get my heart in the spirit of Christmas. I would browse among the books and tapes to find Christmas stories and music. I would be three or four weeks ahead of others trying to get my head and my heart into Christmas. I checked out dozens of warm-hearted Christmas books for the children and beautiful Christmas music-sacred music. I discovered recordings that are still family favorites today… Still today they bring memories back so powerfully you can almost smell the fragrance of them.

The children are making their way in the world, building their own families, making their own Christmas memories, widening the circle, size and influence of our family from Oregon to New Mexico to Texas, Wisconsin and Michigan.

It warms me to think they carry with them warm memories of the weeks coming up to Christmas. Maybe those memories are as sweet as those of the day itself. Anticipation and simplicity. If it snowed, that much the better. Out in the night we would walk under the moonlight crunch along or we would bundle up and make an excuse for a drive, warm like a sleigh-ride, music always on the radio.

Anyway, December is here again and snow and Christmas is coming and the world right now needs the Christ of Christmas. The celebration of the Nativity is upon us, praise be unto God, don’t miss it. Here is a little story about something that happened years ago with out daughter Heidi, who is now a mother of two beautiful children and lives in the beautiful winter wonderland of Wisconsin.

A Christmas Fight

A dad sees his daughter growing up before his eyes. He sometimes feels that she is “getting away from him” Time and distance seem come between them and he longs for close fellowship with her. Sometimes at night when he thinks of her he remembers her when she was just a tiny girl. It was her birthday. Mom had decorated a tree in the front yard and made a cake. In his memory she darts out the door and runs around the tree fifteen or twenty times. The memory brings up an ache in his soul. He remembers her opening her Christmas presents. He remembers her tree swing. There is a little pang within him. He doesn’t want it to turn into distance and regret.

One day a few days before Christmas she came in to his office, sat down across the desk from him and looked him squarely in the eyes. Her eyes were clear blue like a mountain like and she looked at him steady in the eyes. She is upset because she helps but does not feel like she gets any money. She works hard but he doesn’t have her on the payroll of the family “business.” She comes to her dad and asks why. So he adds her to the payroll, but for now he has an idea. He comes back to her later where she is working and he gives her a fifty-dollar bill. When he hands it to her she begins to cry and says no. He begins to cry and pushes it back at her. Something is cemented between the two of them in the exchange. Their tearful eyes meet and there is wordless understanding between them.

She went off shopping. While she was gone he thought about how sweet it was to have such a daughter. To see her work. She works hard. Gets things done. She is quiet. She is growing from a cute girl to a beautiful woman. Any dad would be proud of such a daughter. When he gets up early the next morning she is up too. She slips into his room in the quietness of the early morning. That is unusual.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Why are you up? What were you doing there?”

“I was giving you your money back,” she says quietly.

I’m over sixty and the nest is empty now. I have more time for my thoughts than maybe ever before. Often they are memories, sweet memories of the noisy house filled with ten people at Christmas time. Guest coming over sleeping on the floor. A run to town for things to for the girls to make cookies, carols on the radio. Rowdy boys wrestling and breaking things.

I have plans and dreams and aspirations. There are books I am going to write, Lord willing, and I want to be a blessing to the people of Bethel. We have a growing number of grandchildren. Just keeping up with them will gives us much to look forward too, but when first I turn the Christmas music on in my truck, my mind goes back to sweet memories like fighting over paying back fifty dollars used for Christmas presents and I have to turn the music off for just a bit because I cannot see to drive and I pray that those eight children experience the joy they gave their mother and I.

Bittersweet Farm
December 2, 2021