BANANA NUT BREAD

I love banana nut bread!

I've been noticing five black bananas on the bottom shelf of our refrigerator. I know Deb has a big day today. We're having our own small Thanksgiving Dinner this afternoon. She'll be baking apple pies to take to Troy and Missy's tomorrow for a bigger version of a family Thanksgiving. I made my mom's cranberry jello yesterday. I'll be making ham rolls today!

Recently, on a visit to see my brother-in-law, Dick, I asked to go through Beverly's recipe box. I was hunting for a recipe for the Mac&Cheese Cassarole that my mom used to make. I was DELIGHTED when I found a letter from my mom to Bev explaining how she used to make it! While shuffling through the recipes, I also found my mom's recipe for banana nut bread.

So, upon arising this morning, I began the process. I'm definitely NOT the baker in our family! But I followed mom's directions to the 'T' and put three loaves in the oven. It took me well over an hour to prepare and suggested a baking time of one hour [but she noted to check it in 45 minutes].

Now it's time for a little sidebar:

Debbie is an amazing baker! Her pies are literally ‘Blue Ribbon Award Winning’ – according to the Canfield Fair! 😚 

At this time of year she – like so many of you – makes cookies. Her pecan tassies, peanut-butter-cup, lady-fingers and Snicker-doodles are such a treat! And, of course, throughout the year she frequently makes batches of chocolate-chip cookies [using her Grandma Whippo’s recipe]; they are the best anywhere! 

Pretty much anything sweet that comes out of her oven is worth waiting for!

Except her banana nut bread! 

I’ve told her through the years that it hasn’t been baked long enough. You can’t spread butter on it because it crumbles all up! It’s good tasting but frustrating to eat!

Now, on top of all this, is the realization I’ve come to that my mom severely overcooked her meat! She was a great cook, but her hamburgers were crispy!  When my brother-in-law, Dick, became part of our family, he teased her constantly! He had been a butcher for Tobin Meats [in Rochester, NY] for seventeen years – and Dick knew meat! He tried to convince her – but it was too late for her to change.

Interesting note: Just a few weeks ago, Debbie accidentally over-baked her banana nut bread. She was upset, until we sliced and ate it. She commented that she accidentally got it to come out “just like your mom’s”!  We had a good laugh about that!

So, early this morning found me mashing bananas and adding mom’s ingredients to a large bowl. When I saw this huge bowl of over-ripe bananas, flour, eggs, sugar, and other sticky goodies, I decided the best way to mix it was to wash my hands and do it by hand. For fifteen minutes I squeezed and mixed and squeezed some more – until it looked right to me. Then I poured it into three bread-pans and placed it into the 350 degree oven! 

Having set my timer for 45 minutes – I retired to my study to work on Rylie’s Bible!

When the timer went off, I went to the kitchen to check the nut-bread. It looked amazing! But I just wasn’t sure? I have a baking specialist in the house, so I cracked the bedroom door to find Deb just getting up. I asked her to check it for me.

Oh my! The house smelled SO GOOD!  She noticed right away and started firing questions at me. She seemed pleased that I did this to make her day easier! Using a toothpick, she told me to give it ten more minutes – even though the edges were getting brown.

I did, however, take the small loaf out to cool on the racks.

Ten minutes later, I pulled them out and set them aside to cool! They turned out beautiful – and delicious!

Deb has already stated that I am now the official banana-nut-bread maker in the Haire household! I guess that’s a compliment?

Another sidebar:

Sundays were a big day in my growing-up home! We had a set schedule that included Sunday School, Morning Worship – and then later in the day Youth Group and the Evening Worship Service.

We always had a huge Sunday dinner upon returning from church. My mom had the gift of hospitality, so she often invited people to come to our house for dinner!

Her spiritual history was heavily influenced by the Scottish Reformed Church [Think: Eric Liddell and the movie: “Chariots of Fire”].

Being a strict Sabbatarian, she did as much of her meal preparation on Saturday evening as was possible. I recall EVERY SATURDAY EVENING seeing a pot of peeled and cut potatoes covered in water and sitting in the sink!

Our house was always busy on Sunday mornings as four had to use one bathroom, so breakfast had to be simple and involve no work! Consequently, every Sunday morning my mom would set a fresh loaf of banana nut bread on the kitchen table along with a soft stick of butter and a stack of small plates [often paper]. It was her version of a do-it-yourself breakfast – and we all loved it!

So, I guess you could say that banana nut bread had a significant place in my upbringing. To have made it this morning using one of my mom’s original pans and also her recipe has made my morning kind of SPECIAL!

She shaped my life more than any other person! So many things I do today are because of her teaching or example! Her modeling of:

·        a dedicated prayer life

·        a love for missionary work

·        meticulous planning

·        a love for the Bible

·        a commitment to the church

·        a high priority for her family

·        a systematic approach to any job

formed me powerfully to be the man I am today!

It’s been forty-four years ago that she went to Heaven! I occasionally feel badly because I don’t consciously think of her every day anymore. But when I do, I am fully aware that – outside of Debbie – no one has impacted me more than she did! 

I love you, Mom. I wish you were here to have a slice of my banana nut bread with me! 

MOM

It’s remarkable to me that I have written far more about my dad than I have about my mom.  As much as I loved and respected my dad, he was far less engaged with me than my mom was.  She was clearly the primary parent – the real molder and shaper of who I was to become.

She died in 1981 from complications related to her heart.  She lived long enough for our daughter, Tracie, to be born and even held her once.  Unfortunately, neither Troy nor Tracie have any memories of her.  However, she doted on Travis when given the opportunity and went to extremes to influence him. 

She amazed me in so many ways! 

She always knew when I was faking sickness because I didn’t want to go to school [probably because of a test or not having my homework finished].  She would take my temperature and tell me to go ahead and go. Then she would add that if I still felt badly later in the morning, have the nurse call and she would come to bring me home. 

She had been raised in a Scottish Presbyterian home and then aligned with the Free Methodists after marrying my dad.  I wonder if there were any discussions about that?  It certainly represented a pretty significant theological change. 

The Free Methodists during that time were practicing a very legalistic form of faith.  It could probably be best described by a statement I read in a Tim Hansel book:

“Christians don’t dance.
Christians don’t drink.
Christians don’t swear.
Christians don’t smoke…and
Christians don’t like each other.” [Holy Sweat, p.107]

A group of women quickly took my mom to the back of the sanctuary and told her that to be a good Free Methodist, she would have to remove her diamond ring.  My dad had bought that beautiful ‘basket-weave’ ring at a ‘close-out’ auction on 7^th Avenue in Beaver Falls.  But she removed it and tucked it away in her dresser for the next forty years! 

Eventually, her eyes were opened to the foolishness of her actions when she became active with a vibrant group of Christian businesswomen who wore exceptionally nice clothes and excessively beautiful jewelry.  Her comment to my dad was: “Leonard, these women are so full of the Holy Spirit!, and they really know how to pray!”   

The ring came out and she wore it until 1973, when she gave it to her poor son to use as his engagement gift to his fiancé.  😉  [to read that blog article: https://hal-lelujah.blogspot.com/2011/12/engagement.html]

She was a proud home-maker! Her day was spent doing the laundry, cleaning the house, preparing meals, and raising her family!  Married August 17, 1934, their first child – Jeannette - came along in February of 1937.  Ira followed in 1940. Beverly was born in 1944.  And I was their only baby-boomer, born in January, 1952.  The parenting role that began in 1937 finally came to a conclusion in 1969 when I graduated from high school and left home.  That’s thirty-two years she invested in raising, training and releasing us! 

Her extra-curricular activities were centered around serving the church.  She held many roles over the years:

o Sunday School teacher,
o Cradle Roll Director
o Women’s Missionary Society [WMS] president
o Pittsburgh Conference WMS president for a number of years
o She was an elected delegate [twice] to the Free Methodist National WMS Conference
o As WMS Director, she developed an evangelism program referred to as ‘Coffee-Cup Evangelism’ and promoted it aggressively across the Pittsburgh Conference

Although my dad said the prayer before our evening meal each night, my mom was clearly the spiritual leader of our home!  It was she who taught each of us to pray at the side of our bed!  It was she who built excitement in us as ‘the Lord’s Day’ approached!  It was she who modeled a love for God’s Word constantly before our eyes! 

For many years, she kept a plastic loaf of bread on our table that was filled with small cards that included verses from the Bible.  Someone would be delegated to draw out a card and read it before our evening meal.

Her outstanding gift was hospitality!  I often wonder who wound up with her ‘Guest Book’?  It was a long list of missionaries and denominational leaders who had stayed in our home or eaten at our table!  Most Sundays, our table was filled with guests and opened to its full length!  She had done as much preparation on Saturday evening as possible [potatoes were ALWAYS peeled and covered with water on Saturday evenings]!

Oh yes! Part of her Scottish Presbyterian background included a strict observance of the Lord’s Day!  In our home, there was no television, no games, no outdoor playing on Sundays.  It was a challenge growing up in that environment.  Eventually, dad decided that we could watch television after returning home from the evening service.  I also recall a few times that he took me out in the front yard and threw a ball with me; I’m sure my mom was not happy about that! 

She was also a staunch prohibitionist!  She was a member of the Prohibitionist Party.  She was a leader in the Women’s Christian Temperance Union [WCTU].  !  [For a humorous story see: https://hal-lelujah.blogspot.com/2011/12/egg-nog.html]

But her strong belief system anchored each of us.  All four of us lived out our faith by following in the ways that she had initiated in our lives

After the death of both of my parents, I was gifted with their Bibles.  My mom’s are a treasure-chest of notes, dates and observations.  She went through two, with the first one being given a home-made cover with pockets to hold all of her prayer lists.  She believed in the power of prayer!  Of all the things that she modeled for me – THIS IS THE MOST VALUABLE!  She believed in prayer and practiced it!  Her faith was childlike!  She prayed about all things!  Her Bible is stuffed with lists of people that she had promised to pray for!  I always knew that her prayers followed me!

_____________________________________

Not many folks remember my mom.  I was only 29 when she died!  I know she was proud of me being in the ministry. 

After all these years, I confess that I don’t consciously think of her every day.  That makes me sad, since her impact was so dominant! 

But I do recall that after graduation, I was ready to leave the nest.  Even at the young age of seventeen, I was ready to spread my wings.  Thanks to her foundation-building, I never strayed far from the path she set my feet on. 

I have several pictures of her in my study.  When I examine those pictures, I do so with the knowledge that she set my feet firmly on the path that I still continue following.  Essentially, she’s the one who led me to the Lord!  She wanted me to know Him intimately and modeled a godly life for me faithfully! 

Thanks, Mom!  I’m looking forward to seeing you again someday – probably not too far off!  I love You! 

Your youngest, [the baby] 😊

Harold

 

PS  -  Don’t be confused if you hear a bunch of people referring to me as Hal.  After you and dad were gone I shortened my name a bit.  But I’m still your son!  ❤

 

PPS  -   I mostly remember my mom as being robust woman.  However, her diabetes and heart problems eventually caused her to lose a lot of weight.  She ultimately became quite frail.  A lot of the pictures that remain are of her and dad camping.  They LOVED their little camping trailer and being part of the ‘Happy Wanderers’ camping club!  Eventually, they brought their camper to the Tri-State Campground each year for Family Camp! 

     

A CHRISTMAS EVE TRADITION AT THE HAIRE HOUSE

I realized this morning that I didn't add a blog this Christmas season.  So, on the day after Christmas, I will reflect on a memory that centers around my mom!

Have you ever eaten hash?  Sure you have!  The problem is that almost every family has a recipe for hash that is different!  A search of the internet will produce scores of recipes.  I just came across Mexican hash, corned beef hash, roast beef hash, sweet potato hash, steak and egg hash, and many others.

The hash we ate in the Haire house was very simple and easy to make.  It probably has connections to the Scotch, Welsh and English roots of our Hairetage.  :-)

Mom simply filled a cooking pot with water and brought it to a boil adding bits of raw ground beef, sliced potatoes, onion and some sliced carrots.  Cook this covered until it boils and then simmer it for another hour.  Add salt and pepper to taste and serve with your favorite toast and butter.  It ALWAYS seems to need more salt!  

I know that it sounds strange to drop raw ground beef into boiling water!  Trust me, it will surprise you how good it will taste!

One Christmas Eve, when I was a teenager, I asked my mom when she was going to start her hash.  She gave me a funny look and asked me how I knew she was going to make hash.  I responded, "Mom, you always make hash on Christmas Eve!"  She looked surprised:  "I do?"  "Yes, you do!"   Without realizing it, she had created a tradition simply because it was one of the easiest and fastest meals she could make.  The busyness of Christmas Eve created a circumstance that caused her to always fall back on hash!

Debbie made it several days ago and I enjoyed it for three days.  Tracie thought it sounded good, so she made it too.  Her comment when I asked about it:  "Dad, I could drink all of that broth in one sitting!"  

Thanks, mom.  You've been gone forty years now, but I still think of you and still miss you!  Your fingerprints are all over my life and I'm SO GRATEFUL!  

Feeling Grateful

Yesterday, since it was rainy and I couldn't work outside, I decided to drive up to my brother's house in northcentral Pennsylvania.  He's downsizing and offered me his riding mower.  So, I hitched up my little flatbed trailer and headed off in the late morning.

It's a four-and-a-half-hour trip;  I arrived at 3:00 PM.  Joyce had a nice lunch for me and we sat and talked for a while.  Then Ira and I went out to load the mower and tie it down.  They invited me to spend the night and the better part of wisdom said I should do that;  however I took off a little after five o'clock.  

By the time I reached route 80, it was already dark.  It made for a long, lonely trip.  In spite of having the trailer loaded, I was still able to roll along with traffic at 70 miles-per-hour.  I expected to arrive home a little after 10:00 PM, watch some TV and go to bed.  That's NOT the way it happened.

Around 8:45, as I was accelerating up an incline, my Xterra began to shudder.  I couldn't tell if I had a flat on the vehicle or the trailer.  I immediately slowed down but did not pull off.  The Emlenton exit was coming up and I hoped to make it.  I did.  

There was a truck stop there!  Yay!  I pulled under some lights and disconnected the trailer so I could locate the sound.  It was definitely coming from the car.  I crawled under the car with my flashlight and checked the tie-rods and springs.  Everything looked good.  I gripped each wheel and they all seemed tight.  

I  notified the people inside that I would be sleeping in my vehicle.  After calling Debbie, I hunkered down to spend a long night in the Xterra.  UNCOMFORTABLE!!  And rather chilly!  I forced myself to stay put until 6:00 AM.  Then I went inside for breakfast.

After talking with some locals, I discovered that there was a repair shop across the street!  :-)   I pulled over and waited for them to arrive;  they opened at 8:30 AM.  

The owner was more than happy to take it for a short ride.  He then pulled it inside and jacked up the front right.  The wheel wobbled significantly!   Two lug bolts had sheared off!  Two other lug nuts had fallen off along the way.  Of the remaining two, one was loose.  

Now mind you, I had been rolling along at 70 mph with one lug nut holding my tire on!!!!!    See why I'm feeling grateful?   

Psalm 46:1  
God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.

POST SCRIPT

My Mom had a peculiar way of thinking about things.  I suppose it emerged from her Reformed Presbyterian upbringing.  She strongly believed in God's protection!  I can't tell you how many times, when we were traveling, that she would see an accident and say something like:  "Leonard, if we hadn't ______________  [fill in the blank:  gotten that long light, or stopped for iced cream, or left a little late...] we might have been involved in that accident."   I'm sure that each of my siblings would smile at this explanation;  they all heard it as often as I did!  

I thought of Mom this morning after my car was fixed and I was back on route 80 - again going 70 mph!  A few miles down the road there was evidence of a MAJOR accident:  deep black skid marks for several hundred feet and crumpled guard rails for an equal distance.

You know what leaped to my mind?

If I hadn't pulled off last night because of my problem...

;-)  

OCTOBER THOUGHTS

In some respects, it's remarkable that I haven't written more about my Mom over the years!  She was certainly the dominant force in my formative years.  As I've written before, my father wasn't an affectionate man and we did very little together.  I did become closer to him when I became an adult, but we never shared a deep sense of bondedness.

But Mom (Hazel Haire) was my 'hand's on' parent!  Her impact was persistent and powerful!  Her constant love for the Lord led her to be deeply involved in our local church.  When I was a teen, she was a key leader in the Pittsburgh Conference Women's Missionary Society.  Her passion for missions was epic!  We frequently had missionaries stay in our home overnight or for a few days! 

In addition, she was deeply committed to prayer!  Her Bible is still filled with lists of people that she was regularly praying for.  She cultivated in me a passion for God and for the things He cared about.  She poured endless time and energy into preparation for mission events.  She planned and executed "This Is Your Life" programs for a number of missionaries and other church leaders. 

I still possess notebooks in which she tucked away magazine clippings, bulletin items, scriptures, sermon notes, and other items that she didn't want to lose track of.  I wonder if she had a dream of someday collating much of this information into a book-form?  She inculcated a similar practice in me that has resulted in a massive, alphabetized electronic file that has fueled my sermons and teaching for decades! 

She died a little over a year after having a heart-valve replaced.  The surgery had been successful, but the anti-rejection medications eventually took her life.  She died less than two months after Tracibeth was born.  The date was October 10, 1981.  I was 29.

Losing her had a massive impact on my life!  Essentially, Troy and Tracie have no memories that include her!  :-(   Travis had some memories of her deep love for him!  I understand that this is one of the results of being the youngest in my family;  however, knowing that my children missed out on her tremendous influence and love has been a chronic point of sorrow for me! 

For years after her death, I experienced a bout of depression when October rolled around.  Even though over thirty-five years have passed, I still can't get past an October 10th without missing her deeply! 

Then, two years ago, early October was marked even more deeply by Travis' death!  We got word of his cardiac arrest on October 5, 2015.  It was just past 3:30 PM and I was about to get in the car when Troy put his hand on my chest and said, "Dad, you're not going to Kittanning today."  That's when our world collapsed...

By 8:30 PM, remarkably, we were on an airplane headed for Honolulu.  The next day we arrived at the hospital to stand by his bedside and weep.  He died three days later on October 9.

The next weeks went by like a blur.  There was a memorial service at the Pearl Harbor Chapel attended by his work associates and friends.  There was the funeral at the Naval Academy in Annapolis.  Through it all - we were numb.

The first anniversary of these dates was difficult.  We (Debbie, me, Troy, Tracie and Josh) mourned together via text.  We upheld one another with words of affection and prayers of concern.  We were all deeply hurting.

This year has been different.  Debbie and I spent a quiet week at a condo in North Carolina.  She hardly went out at all.  I ventured out for some hiking.  We were quiet all week.  We both did a lot of reading and napping.  Troy and Missy attended a retreat in Arizona for the siblings of lost military members.  I guess we're all finding our way through this the best we can...

Since Travis passed, our 'highs' aren't near as high and our 'lows' are much lower!  Neither of us are as social as we used to be.  Even Debbie, who has carried me relationally for over forty-four years, now often suggests that we just 'take a pass' on interactive engagements. 

Many others have been down this road before us.  They report that the pain lessens with the passing of time.  I guess we can attest to that to some degree, however, the knowledge that our precious son is gone can assault us at the most unsuspecting moments. 

We live with questions that can't be answered or are too difficult to ask...  Times of real joy - that used to regularly punctuate our lives - are extremely rare now. 

Somewhere in my training as a counselor, I read that one must talk of your lost loved one for one-hundred hours to facilitate the healing process.  However, most people - understandably - are reluctant to bring up Travis' name for fear of causing us pain.  A corrective to this scenario is:  WE LOVE TALKING ABOUT OUR SON! 

I recently had a chance to talk with our nephew, Colin Bredl, who is also serving as an officer in the United States Navy.  I shared a number of 'Travis stories' with him.  I don't know what he thought of my candor.  It was therapeutic for me to talk with Colin.  Upon Travis' death, his Commander heard about Colin;  some phone calls were made and Colin was granted 'leave' to travel to Annapolis for the funeral.  It meant a lot to us to have him there! 

I weep.  I hold Debbie when she weeps.  We occasionally lay awake at night in sullen sorrow.  Sometimes we speak;  other times we just hold hands.  All of the time we lean on the One who loves us most:

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained

Too deeply for mirth or song,

As the burdens press, and the cares distress

And the way grows weary and long?

Refrain

Oh yes, He cares, I know He cares,

His heart is touched with my grief;

When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,

I know my Savior cares.

Does Jesus care when my way is dark

With a nameless dread and fear?

As the daylight fades into deep night shades,

Does He care enough to be near?

Refrain

Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed

To resist some temptation strong;

When for my deep grief there is no relief,

Though my tears flow all the night long?

Refrain

Does Jesus care when I’ve said goodbye

To the dearest on earth to me,

And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks,

Is it aught to Him? Does He see?

Refrain

A Mother's Love!

I shared the following story in today's Christmas message, titled:  "Gifts Fit for a King!"

We probably best capture the true essence of gift-giving when we are still quite young.  We want to do something great for our parents.  We want to do something extravagant.  We really want to impress them.  We may even empty our piggy bank as we indulge ourselves in the adventure of buying great gifts for our parents.  This obviously happens after we’ve passed through the home-made gift-giving stage!  

I remember the year that I became fascinated with a horse’s head in an expensive gift shop in Beaver Falls when I was about 10.  I walked to Beaver Falls three times (a five-mile walk - one way) to look it over and evaluate the situation.  If I spent the $10 on it for my mom, then I would have to be a little chincy with everyone else on my list.  But, my love for my mom won out.  I spent the money and bought the horse’s head.  

Now I forgot to mention that my mom had no love for horses.  She had never had a horse and had never been on a horse;  as a matter of fact, she had probably never even been near a horse.  I don’t know what happened to logic that year, but I convinced myself that she just had to have this horse’s head.  

On Christmas morning, when she pulled the tissue out of that expensive looking gift box and gazed on that horse’s head, I knew I’d hit a home run!  She loved it!  She fussed over it and gushed over me for spending my hard-earned allowance money on such a nice gift.  

After Christmas, she called me into the living room one day to discuss a special place for this treasured gift.  My folks had just gotten some new living room furniture, and one end table was rectangular with a lower shelf and a top shelf.  She had placed it on the lower shelf and explained that it looked like it was in a stable.  I was tickled with delight at her creativity!  

In time, the horse’s head was gradually moved further and further back on that lower shelf until it couldn’t be seen by anyone.  I never noticed.  I was a young man before I realized how inappropriate a gift it was for my mother;  yet I love her to this day for the graceful way she handled me and my horse’s head gift!

Sleeping on the Floor

When I was a kid (or as Len Sweet puts it: wiwak), my mother had an amazing skill that she had highly developed by the time her fourth kid came along.  She could convince me to do things and make me feel that it was an honor to do so.

When company would come, she would tell me that the company would be using my bed.  As a result, I would be allowed to sleep on the living room floor.  It would be like camping inside!  I could use my sleeping bag and have a flashlight.  It would be so much fun!

Every time this happened, I eagerly unrolled my sleeping bag and crawled into it feeling that I was the luckiest person in the house!

I miss her!  She died in 1981, two months after Tracibeth was born.  She taught me so much!  Her spiritual influence was massive!  She had a unique sense of humor.  She loved me.

By the way, I slept on the floor of my new office last night.  That's what triggered this post!  I laid in the dark and thought about my Mom.

HAZEL'S THEOLOGY AND THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL

My Mom was raised in the Reformed Presbyterian tradition (think CHARIOTS OF FIRE).  As a result, she had some ways of thinking about God that were perfectly clear and reasonable to her.

Here's an example of something that happened more times than I could count when I was growing up:

We would be loading up the car for a trip.  The plan was to leave at a certain time.  But, during the process of packing a phone call would come that would detain us for a little while.  There would be some frustration over the delay.

So, a few minutes later than planned, we would leave on our journey.  Somewhere down the road we would see an accident with several cars involved.  My  Mom would inevitably say:  "If we hadn't been delayed, this is right about where we'd have been!  I believe God was at work in our lives to protect us from harm!"

As poor an illustration as this is, this kind of belief was aired over and over as I grew up.  She believed strongly in the providential care of a sovereign God.  She believed this to the core! 

How's this intersect with the Appalachian Trail?

I have longed to backpack the Appalachian Trail since I was twenty years old.  Because it takes about six months to do this trip, it is difficult to make this happen.  I started over two years ago to plan a 'Sabbatical Leave' for six months.  A year ago, I started a count-down to April 8, 2012.  After preaching my Easter message, I was going to board a plane for Savannah, Georgia.  My son, Troy, was going to take me to the trailhead and then join me for the first week on the AT.

But, plans have changed.  Instead, I have resigned from the church I am serving.  Debbie and I have applied to go to China to teach English for the 2012-2013 school year.  As a result, the AT is on hold!

I wonder...

If Mom was still here, would she be saying:  "Well, Harold, God is protecting you from something!" 

HE BECAME HER NEIGHBOR!

Thousands and thousands of children grew up with Mr. Rogers.  His consistent and calm spirit was reassuring to them.  He was predictable and simple.  He nurtured trust in them.  He explained things.  He created a safe place.

Mister Rogers

Our son, Travis, was one of those children.  He loved Mr. Rogers and would sit enraptured by his show on a daily basis.

My Mom was still living at the time.  She dearly loved Travis and wanted to be able to connect with him in any way that she could.  When she found out that Mr. Rogers was his favorite show, she started watching it every day.  She knew this would equip her with things to talk with Travis about.

Then, she started having heart problems.  In 1980, she went into Allegheny General Hospital to have a very serious (at that time) open-heart surgery.  She had a bad heart valve replaced with a pig's heart valve.  It was a critical time for our family!

The surgery went well, and Mom was eventually stepped down from critical care to intensive care, and then to a regular hospital room.

Now it's important for you to know that Fred Rogers was an ordained clergyman in the Presbyterian Church.  He often frequented Pittsburgh hospitals to minister to children and others.

One day, my Dad was in the hospital room with my Mom.  Suddenly, she told him that Mr. Rogers had just walked past her room.  She sent my Dad to see if he would step in so she could meet him.

He did!  He visited Mom for about fifteen minutes.  She told him all about Travis and his love for the television show.  He listened compassionately.  He prayed with her and then signed her hospital menu before leaving.  She was ecstatic!

Such is a man who found his purpose and lived it out to the glory of God!

THE TALK

Everyone grows up thinking their Mom is the best cook in the world!  I was no different.

My Dad was a man of few words and rare affection.  After I became engaged, he and I were alone one day;  he started out:  "Son, now that you and Debbie are engaged..."

I thought to myself:  "This is Dad's 'Marriage Talk'".  I was anxious to receive his advice.  I respected him and knew I needed all the help I could get.

His next words (after an awkward pause):  "...don't ever compare Debbie's cooking to your Mom's!"

I made a mental note:  "OK, that must be really important since he said it first."  Then I waited for whatever was next...

Nothing else came.  That was it!  "Don't ever compare Debbie's cooking to your Mom's!" 

I thought:  "Wow!  That must be important!"

We were married.

I noticed immediately that Debbie's cooking was VERY different from my Mom's.  I said nothing.

However, after eating Debbie's cooking for a year, I decided to venture into the dangerous ground of disobedience.

First, I told her the story of my Dad's 'talk'.  Then, I told her that after eating her cooking for a year, I realized that my Mom cooked nearly everything well-done!

She smiled.  We laughed. 

Last night, I had 'The Talk' with Troy.  I covered a little more than my Dad did...    :-)