Bittersweet Farm

Bittersweet Farm

Judith Francis

Filed Under: Fireside Academy, Read Aloud Stories

Grandpa Waverly and I left Saturday morning to pick Judith up from camp. I wasn’t looking forward to that, I’ll tell ya’. It had been a great week. I had lots more room in the back seat without her elbowin’ me all the time. Friday night we had watermelon and I had it all to myself. (I missed not having anyone to spit seeds at, though). I didn’t miss her whinin’ all the time about stuff the way sisters always do. I didn’t miss her snoring in the next room (She sounds like a Boeing 747 winding up for take-off when she snores). I didn’t miss her making me turn off the baseball game to watch “The Adventures of Heidi.” I didn’t miss her makin’ me help her find the stuff she loses. I didn’t miss her hoggin’ the tire swing. I didn’t miss her ridin’ my bike. The only time I missed her was when I had to do her share of the dishes.

So you can see why I wasn’t lookin’ forward to her coming back home from camp. At least we would get to spend a week at Grandpa’s farm before everything was back to normal at home.

Grandpa wanted to spend some time with us so he said he would take me along and pick Judith up from camp. We would spend the week sleepin’ in “the bunkhouse” (That is a shed out back grandpa built for us to sleep in in the summer. It had checked curtains in the window, a bunk bed made from locust trees cut right on the farm and a table with a Kerosene lamp) We would go fishin’ in the pond eat grandma’s old fashioned cookin’ every meal (except Tuesday night when Grandpa always took Grandma to Ellie’s Dinner for the special). Grandpa said we could build a tunnel in the hay mow and ride tractor-tire inner-tubes down the hill and cool off in the swimmin’ hole if we got hot and He said grandma would have plenty of ice-cold lemonade made with real lemons. It was gonna be a great week. If only I didn’t have to put up with Judith. Eight-year-old sisters can really get under your skin after a while. I would just have to make the best of it. Maybe she will marry young or go to stay at a boarding school in a far-away state or live with grandma and grandpa for a few years till I go to college.

I loved riding in Grandpa’s old pick-up. It was a old Ford with a wooden bed. He treated it like a member of the family. He said it had been on the farm since just after he came home from the War. He bought it used from Billy Hatcher’s lot on Mill Street. It was a great truck except for one thing. It was narrow and I had to put up with Judith’s elbow in my side all the way to the farm.

Finally we rounded the bend in the tree-lined gravel road and caught sight of what my Grandpa liked to call “The Old Homestead.” Grandma was waitin’ to tell us how big we were gettin’ and she said “you must be famished” and set us right down to huge, chewy peanut-butter cookies and tall glasses of fresh, cold milk. “Drink all you want;” she said; “there’s more where that came from.” Charlotte gave more milk than Grandma and Grandpa and all the cats could drink, so we got to drink a lot, which was good ’cause at home if I didn’t get up early “you-know-who” would scarf it all down before I was up and I’d just have to do without.

It’s a big farm and I tried to keep clear of Judith all week but we did have a few little differences-of-opinion. She squealed on me for being rough with Callie, the barn cat, and we got in a little scrape at the Ellie’s Diner on Tuesday night when I stole a couple of her fries and she squalled like somebody ripped her arm off. At the swimmin’ hole she got mad cause I dunked her a couple times and she told grandma I held her under till she turned blue but she was just trying to get me in trouble as usual.

Saturday morning Mom and Dad were coming to get us. On Friday Grandma said; “Kids, today we are going on a little treasure hunt. We said “Where!?” and Grandma said “Right here in the house. You wouldn’t believe the treasures that are up in that old attic. We haven’t been up there for years, but I think it is about time to do a little exploring.”

After breakfast we went up the stairs to the second floor and then up the little stairs to the attic. Grandma called it the garret. It had little windows at both ends that let in light and it was full of old chests and trunks and wooden boxes full of old stuff that was all yellow and brown. There was dust on everything.

Grandma showed us lot a’ neat stuff that she had to explain how to use. She showed us pictures of mom when she was little. She looked like Judith but I’m sure she was a lot nicer girl. Grandma got a little teary-eyed when she was lookin’ at the pictures Just before lunch Grandma kinda squealed and I thought she had seen a mouse but she held a old shoulder satchel up over her head and said “I found it!”

The little bag had a brass plate on it with the initials J.F.W. I asked Grandma what the initials stood for and who the bag belonged to and why she was lookin’ for it and she just kinda’ smiled and with a twinkle in her eye she said “That, my children, is a mystery that will be solved later this evening.”

After supper we went out on the poach to cool off and chat. Just as mist was settling on the fields around the house and fireflies came out Grandpa finished a batch of home-made ice cream. We ate it with strawberries from the garden. We squabbled over who was gonna’ sit in the porch swing. Grandpa made me sit on the steps.

When we finished our ice cream Grandpa said he wanted to tell us a little story, “You might say it is a mystery;” Grandpa said. “I’ve been watchin’ you this past week and your a pretty good boy. You work hard and do as your told. You’re respectful to Grandma and me, but you don’t treat your little sister Judith here they way you ought to. You don’t treat her with special kindness like a big brother should. That’s why I asked your Grandma to go up in that attic and find this bag. I haven’t seen it for years. It kinda’ makes my heart hurt to see it, because it is a very special bag.”

“When I was about your age my little sister tagged along after me everywhere I went. She was like a shadow. Her eyes were as blue as a mountain lake and she had golden hair. Now we got along just fine but there were times I wished I could be on my own and not have her along. The fair came to our county the summer I turned ten and I couldn’t wait to go. I begged my Pa and he said I could go Friday night if I got all my chores done and if I took my little sister along. I was sure disappointed with that idea because me and my friends had plans that didn’t include little sister taggin’ along. I said so to my Dad. “Why do I have to have that little brat with me everywhere I go. I’m sick of her always hangin’ around;” I said. My little sister was in the next room and when she heard me say that she burst in to tears.

“My dad said I didn’t have to have her around. He said I could stay home and he would take my little sister to the fair. Well that made me pretty mad sittin’ home and seein’ Daddy and her go off without me. But I thought about it some while they were gone and by the time they got home I asked her to forgive me for treating her the way I did. After that we got along better and I tried to treat her with special kindness because I remember how hurt she was when I said I didn’t want her along. I’m glad I did because that fall my little sister took sick and before Christmas she was in heaven.”

“Son, do you know why your little sister is named Judith?” Grandpa asked me. “Sure, after mom, right?”

“Well, yes, and no,” said Grandpa. “You see this handbag” See those initials on it J.F.W? They stand for Judith Francis Waverly. When my little sister came home from the fair with Daddy that night she had a big smile on her face and her blue eyes sparkled like stars. That’s the picture of her that always sticks in my mind. She had this little bag on her shoulder. Daddy had her initials put on it at the fair. She loved it and carried it with her everywhere she went.

I’ve never forgotten her and never stopped missin’ her either. That’s why, when Grandma and I had our first girl, your mother, we named her Judith, after my sweet little sister, Judith Francis who died years ago when I was a boy. I don’t suppose it will be long till we see each other again in heaven. We’ll have a lot to talk about and I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

You can imagine how I felt about then. Grandpa didn’t have to say anything more. I know Mom and Dad noticed a difference in the way I treated little Judith after that. I don’t think they knew why.

They gave that satchel to Judith. On the way home in the back seat it gouged my ribs a few times but I really didn’t mind. I really didn’t mind at all.

When Everything is Gone

Filed Under: Fireside Academy, Virtues and Values

Last weekend we drove to Ohio for a few days and enjoyed seeing the old sights and remembering things. We saw some old friends, visited my folks, preached and did a family concert in their church. After the preaching and singing we ate some ice cream on the lawn and drove home with a happy settled feeling in our souls both for the fond memories of a place we served and loved and satisfaction about where the Lord has us now.
[Read more…] about When Everything is Gone

Red Dot Days

Filed Under: Fireside Academy, Virtues and Values

The house is quiet. Soft instrumental music floats easily from the speakers in the dining room. Candles burn on the mantle and table. The home is filled with a pleasing aroma. The children are reading except for the second oldest boy who is concentrating on a game of chess with Dad. Mom is working with the girls on a beautiful quilt. It will be a gift for a favorite missionary couple in Alaska. Dinner was cleared away and the oldest girl is now setting the table for a very special dessert. It is a cake with pineapple and orange frosting. Coffee for Dad and the older boys tonight is a special almond flavor, the scent of it wanders around the house.

The phone rings, but the ringer is low and no one moves to answer it. Before bedtime the music will quiet and the games and dishes will be cleared away. The family will gather in front of the fire and enjoy a time of prayer and sharing. Hearts will be opened and Dad will read from the Bible. Then everyone will kneel for prayer before bedtime for the younger ones.

The older ones will spend another hour reading a classical novel aloud, Mom works on some Thank-you cards. When the fire burns low the family secures the house for the night.

It has not always been this way. A few months ago this same family rarely ate a meal together. Everyone had their organizations and events, church, hobbies, community and school there was no time to be a family.

One fall day in a Campground in Kentucky the family sat around a fire and discussed the direction they had been taking. Earlier that day that had wept when they looked at the picture albums. The picture collections documented how quickly the children were changing and growing.

Their times to be together as a whole family were quickly slipping away. If any changes were going to be made, they would have to be made soon. That night Mom and Dad lay in their sleeping bag they prayed. They prayed that somehow God would allow them to have more times like the autumn weekend they enjoyed. They prayed that they would have more times all together as a family, with no distractions, or interruptions, plenty of talk and just being together, laughter and time to pray and talk about the important things, what they believed and what the Bible teaching about the important issues of life.

Soon the tent was quiet except for the children’s soft breathing. Outside the tent a softer whisper of wind in the pines on the ridge overhead, crickets, frogs and the constant gurgle of the water winding over rocks in the stream.

Dad got up quietly and slipped a sweatshirt on. He walked along the stream until he found a stump where he had started the day with his Bible. His soul was very quiet and he had a clear sense that something vial was going on inside his heart. He leaned back his head and drank in the dark outline of the mountain against the night sky.

Since he was a little boy lying on the front porch of his grandfather’s farm house he always thought about the vastness of God when he gazed into the night sky. It was a cloudless night and the stars where brilliant overhead. He breathed slowly and let his lungs fill over and over again with the cool, fresh mountain air. He felt as if every breath expelled more of the frustration and confusion that had clouded his heart over the past months.

He was busy and felt that he was not in control of his life. He tried to deny it but when he was honest, he knew that his family was slowly growing apart. They were each going their separate ways, pursuing their own interests. They were passing like ships in the night on their way to distant places.

That late that night in the mountains, a vision formed in his soul.

As he gazed into the starry heavens everything became clear. He knew what he would do. He stayed out listening to the music of nature, the owls and the brook, and the night insects for another hour. He spoke quietly with God, making vows as serious and as binding as he had ever made and he knew from that night forward things would never be quite the same again.

Before he made his way slowly back down the mountain he knelt and prayed aloud. “Oh, God,” he begged, “forgive me for my foolish pursuit of empty things. Forgive me for my selfishness. Forgive me for ever thinking that I could compensate for the emptiness in my soul by filling my garage with toys. Forgive me for ever thinking that the gifts and privileges I buy for my children can ever replace my time and my love for them. Forgive me for worshipping things and using people and neglecting you. I repent.” Tears ran down his face. “Let my children see how much I love you. Let them see how much I love their mother. Let them see how I love each of them more than life itself.”

When he rose from his knees his heart was light and his mind was clear. He made up his mind that he would not talk about what he had purposed in his heart to do that night, but when he got back to town, changes were made. He began to say no more and chose to do without a number of the expensive trinkets that forced him to work overtime. He resigned a board and a couple organizations. He sold some things and took a load of unused things to the Goodwill. He organized his life and his schedule and made time for the most important things in his life and the most important people. The changes caught on. With a little encouragement the children began to throttle back on their outside pursuits.

A week after they returned home he stopped at the office supply store on the way home from work and bought a little package of adhesive red dots.

Those red dots would change his life. That night they all sat in the living room and marked a day a week on the calendar with the red dots. No one would accept any appointments or outside engagements on red dot days. The phone would not be answered on “red dot” days. The television would not be turned on on “red dot” days. No one would go out and no one would be invited over. They were sacred family times set aside for the family alone. The girls would always plan special food and the boys made sure there was wood for the fire. Mom always tried to create a special atmosphere in the home for family nights. In the summer they made a deal with themselves that they would watch the sunset on Lake Michigan at least ten times.

Over the years the family collected a whole cupboard of games and a heart full of treasured memories.

Each of the children will grow up and leave home and form families of their own. Each of the children will cherish memories of those simple, quiet, unhurried family times. Each of them will have “red dot” days with their own families. And years from now when the driveway fills with cars and the grandchildren scamper in with their cheeks all aglow with the cold and excitement of a holiday, the “red dot” days are what the family will remember most. Old photos and old videos will come out again and the tears will flow. They will sing the old songs and laugh and cry and stay up late. They will remember the nights that bound them together in love forged their character and laid the foundation for their values.

And the house will quiet in the evening and all the grand children will circle their grandfather and he will weave a tale that will keep them all silent in wonder. Before the fire dies on the hearth he will tell his favorite story about a quiet starry autumn night on a mountain in Kentucky years ago. And then they will kneel together and pray.

(From Stonebridge Newsletter – Number 37)

The Sacrament of Living

Filed Under: Fireside Academy, Virtues and Values

How many sacraments are there? Baptists say none, only ordinances. Other groups have settled on seven. Without being too sharp in our theological distinctions, there is a sense in which there are millions of sacraments in God’s great creation. They are everywhere as far as the eye can see and they are all around you. You talk about a reason to get up in the morning!
[Read more…] about The Sacrament of Living

Ralphy’s Moment

Filed Under: Current Thoughts, Fireside Academy, Virtues and Values

A few years ago I was coaching baseball in Ohio. I was standing in the mouth of the first base dugout watching play when the other team sent up a little kid that had been on the bench all year. He played for a very cut-throat, competitive team and rarely got in the game. His coach was a big “win-at-all-costs guy” everybody called Chopper. Chopper was not from the “play everybody” school of baseball coaching.
[Read more…] about Ralphy’s Moment

Follow Ken Here