When I was a little boy, my hair was white blonde. In the summer, the sun would bleach it even whiter and I spent a lot of time out of doors on account of my parents liked the peace and quiet.
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Grandpa’s Blanket-Lined Wammus
Thanksgiving Eve. 1980 we had a little harvest-celebration Thanksgiving service at Beaver Chapel, our little country Church. After the service Lois and I (that was about a year before the children started to come into our lives) got in our little blue VW and started across the state to be with family for Thanksgiving. The car never did heat well, so we had to stay bundled in blankets as we drove through the night. A light snowfall began in added adventure to our trip. With the temperature and the lap robe I imagine it was a little like an old-fashioned sleigh ride.
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Sometimes the Fish Catches the Boy
It, was a beautiful spring day. I worked a good day but took off a little early to clean the garage. When Kyle got home we all (except Lois) went to the Muskegon River to fly-fish. We arrived at the river access about 4:30, loaded the camera, prepared the gear and headed down the trail that runs south along the river.
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The Father’s All-Seeing Eye
If I had a twenty-dollar bill for every time I have eaten at the “golden arches” I would have enough money to by my own franchise. If cheeseburgers are bad for you, my days are numbered. I’m probably about half cheesburger myself. I can tell you our families MacOrder from memory:
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I’m Tough, I’m Tough
Chuck was working with me at the little country church where I pastored at the time. He was just a little guy, about three. He left his books on the floor of my study and made his way to the restroom. He was gone a little longer than I thought he should be so I went to check on him. The restroom door often stuck at this time of the year, due to the humidity. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t stuck.
As I approached the door I could hear him singing while he washed his hands. I decided to have a little fun with him. I held my foot against the door. In a minute I felt the weight of his little body pushing against the door. I didn’t budge. Then I heard him say “I’m tough, I’m tough.” He must have backed up and run at the door because there was a little interval of quiet and then a thud on the door. It didn’t budge. Then at the top of his lungs he cried out desperately; “Daaaaaaaaaad.”
The fear in his voice touched my heart and I quickly pulled open the door. We laughed. But I had that feeling again. The feeling that God is breaking though to my heart with a lesson. When I come up against a difficult problem I threw all my weight against it.
I say “I’m tough, I’m tough.” And sometimes when I give it everything I have I find that problems give way. But there are those times when every ounce of strength I can muster, every bit of creativity at my disposal, every talent I can apply leaves me helpless with my problem. Then I remember to cry out “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad” and my Heavenly Father’s heart is stirred by the desperation of my cry and He comes to my help. The Father heart of God is tuned to my cry! “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart and saves those with a humble spirit.”
Brothers on the Road and On the River
This spring the men of the church planned a campout and a canoe trip for Fathers and sons. God has given me four sons. I didn’t want to leave any of them, but little Wes was far too small. Dan is six and he was eager to go. Chuck is twelve and Kyle is sixteen. We loaded our SUV with tent and gear and fell into the formation with the others guys from the church made the trip north through a beautiful stretch of National forest. It was a mellow spring evening and the dogwoods were in full bloom where the petals just lay open on each stem in brilliant white against the dark green of the pines. The deciduous trees were just starting to bud in pale green. With every mile I left behind more of what had burdened me throughout the day and by the time we were about thirty minutes north of town I was beginning to feel refreshment in my spirit.
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