Three Wishes in Alabama

Friday when we were on the long trip of our journey from Georgia to Texas, we had to stop on one of our many potty breaks in Alabama.  When we walked into this certain convenience store, there was an Indian working the counter.  He was an Indian like from India, and he had an elaborate Indian turban wrapped around his head. 

When we walked had just gotten through the door, Andrew exclaimed in amazement, "Dad!  A Genie works here!"  And the guy really looked the part.  He really enjoyed watching the kids pick out snacks, and was very friendly.  I just really liked hearing what Andrew said in his innocence.

Later, Johnie

Talking to Mom on the Phone

Don't get me wrong.  I am really glad to be here in south Georgia.  In a short two weeks this summer, I went from Census worker in Wichita Falls to Engineer in Georgia.  And I like it fine.  The people are nice.  The weather is a little bit more tolerable.  The trees are prettier.  There are about 7 Christian radio stations, even if only two of them come through well all the time.  So I'm glad to be here.

But when I talk to my mom on the phone I really long to be back in Wichita.  Let me paint you a picture of what I miss.  Earlier I called her.  She told me about the rain, and boy is it raining there right now!  The strong thunderstorms of north Texas are so familiar to me.  For 20 years I studied the rain through those same windows, and I can just picture it in my mind.  I have been soothed many times by the churning rumble and steady drips that put me deep in thought.  Over the phone I couldn't hear the rain, but I could hear Tennessee Ernie Ford playing loud and strong.  If you know my sister Nelda, then you've no doubt experienced what I'm describing.  She loves Ernie Ford so much, for years she wanted to marry him! 

In just an hour from when I'm writing this, Gayle is taking mom and Nelda to the Cousins Family Reunion held this year at Faith Baptist Church.  And mom described to me how Nelda is sitting in her special chair with her poncho already on and holding two umbrellas.  She's ready to go. 

 Well, I'll get to be back there in about a month.  In the meantime, I think I'll just sit back and enjoy being with my family here in this nice south Georgia weather.


Johnie

Be the Hero

We went to a birthday party today where they had swimming.  While I was still lathering everybody up with sun screen, Lora Beth started flailing around in the water, and then I heard something that changed my whole demeanor.  I saw her pop up out of the deep end water, and she spit out, "I'm drowning!"  Now if any of you know me, you know I don't really like water, and I hate to even get my head under.  But I just jumped in and pulled her over to the ladder. 

Now the rescue didn't look poetic or dignified.  I was probably sputtering as much as she was, but in an instant it was over.  The danger had passed.  Then I realized what had just happened.  I could have lost one of my children!  What if I hadn't been there?  She could have died right there.

I have heard salvation described as pulling a drowning person out of a sea that is full of drowning people.  We pass those drowning people in the aisles of Wally World every time we're there.  Dying people check us out at the cash register.  They honk at us in the parking lot and cut us off on the street.  These are the people that Jesus wants.  They are the people that Jesus gave up His life for.  Trust the Holy Spirit's guidance when you see someone who looks like they need hope.  That's what our salvation is - HOPE.  Give out the hope of Jesus, and help someone out of the hopeless ocean of sin and pain.  It is awesome to pull someone from drowning.  Let's pull them out of something that not only affects this life, but the next.

Let's also not forget that those of us who know Christ were once drowning in our own sin and shame, too.  Someone cared enough to reach out a hand and pull us out with the simple message of the gospel.  It's our turn to be the hero for someone who needs this hope of Christ.

Gone Fishing

Today I went fishing with a friend out to Lake Nocona.  We got to some really good fishing spots with his boat - spots that couldn't easily be gotten to from the shoreline.  It was a beautiful lake with trees and hills all around.  My friend Kevin took me to all of his favorite fishing spots, and we did catch a few fish.  Okay, I caught few fish.  I caught one bass total, which is stretching the word "few" quite a bit.  Kevin caught three bass, a crappie, and a bluegill.  Written all down, it sounds like a lot, but we fished for 5 hours. 

If you only knew how much I wanted to catch a fish!  With each cast I just knew that a fish was going to tug my line tight.  Then my lure would be back at the end of my pole and I would cast it back out with hope in my hand.  By the way, I caught the first fish within the first hour.  That means that four hours went by without reeling another one in.  I got a few strikes, but we ended up calling it a day a little after noon.

While casting out my line, I kept thinking about Jesus telling the disciples to not give up fishing.  Once they had already quit for the day, and the other time they were about ready to quit since they had been fishing all night without catching anything with nets.  That's some depressing fishing!  But just like God filled their nets to increase their belief in Him, He had kept their nets empty all that time beforehand. 

They fished in their own efforts and caught nothing.  Then with just a word, Jesus enables them to catch more than they could have imagined.  In the same way, our best efforts to do God's work fall short when they are not through faith.  Yes they got tons of fish, but it wasn't so that they could have fish.  It was so they could see that they needed Jesus.  Jesus wanted their trust and relationship.  He gave us a light and easy yoke, much better than the burden we carried when a slave of sin.  He bought us with His grace.  Let's thank Him for taking the pressure off when it comes to catching fish, whether they be our big dreams in life or just a simple fish hanging from the end of a string.  We catch something better when we accept what He gives us willing.  We get closer to Jesus.

First Place Goes To...

Our oldest daughter won the 3rd 9-week Jefferson Elementary school-wide writing contest.  It had to be a letter of complaint.  Hmmm....Should I be concerned that she won a letter of complaint writing contest?  LOL.  By the way, her school has a uniform dress code.  So enjoy "Trouble with Uniforms".

 

Dear Mr. Page:

You should really end the rule that says that we must wear uniforms.  There are some wonderful reasons why this rule should end, and you will certainly agree after you read this.

One reason this rule positively must be put to an end is that public schools should certainly be more like other places.  For example, you don't have to wear a polo shirt to Wal-Mart.

The next reason the uniform rule should absolutely end is that we only want to wear the clothing we like.  To explain, no kid wants to wear only the certain styles that a bunch of grown ups pick out.  It is also true that we express our selves best by the way we look.  A football fan might want to express itself with a favorite team shirt.  A person who likes red and green could express him or herself by their favorite colors being worn on the same shirt.

Above all, uniforms should certainly stop because we could be cleaner.  For example, we don't have clean uniforms in our closet every morning.  A student might have to wear the same filthy clothing they wore yesterday.  We also sweat a lot in thick, hot cloth.  We can't always find and buy thin material shirts.

As you can see, the uniform rule is not important.  I have plenty of wonderful reasons why it should positively end.  You must, absolutely stop uniforms.  Please consider this urgent request.

Sincerely,

LBL

 

When she wrote it, she didn't relize that it was the parents, not the principal, who voted to keep the kids in uniforms.  But she did a good job, even though she did "air some dirty laundry."  Chuckle-chuckle!

A Child's Perspective

This is one of my favorite stories from my kids. 

At Josiah's 3rd birthday party, the big moment had finally come when he could open his presents.  He reached inside a gift bag and pulled out a couple of nice matching little boy clothes.  With a puzzled look on his face, he held them up and asked, "Laundry?"

Uncomfortably Out of the Box

Sometimes God allows us to be very comfortable in our lives - good job, nice house, great neighbors, beautiful neighborhood.  And we have to look closely to find where it is that we rub up against the world.  What I mean is that whole "in the world but not of it" verse, except it's when we are hardly aware that we're in it.  Sometimes the closest that we get to seeing the lost world is a trip to Walmart. 

However sometimes, we are thrust out of our comfort zone into an uncomfortable and unpleasant darkness, where there is no love or forgiveness.  That is the real world for some people.  I'm talking about battered women, unloved children, and depressed men.  It amazes me how many people don't know about God's love and it truly breaks my heart.  Some folks don't even know a small bit about Jesus.  In their mind, He's up there with Buddha and Gandhi and Mohammad.  And all the while they think they've got to work their way to heaven while living in fear that their best efforts just won't be good enough. 

We are called to take them the truth and love them and show them that Christ wants them right now just like they are, just like He wanted us when we were hopeless.  How easy it is to forget that we were once "on the outside" and we had weird ideas about heaven and how to get there.  But we have been given a gift, and a gift is meant to be shared with someone. 

So are we safe and sound in our snow globe world where we don't have to touch the untouchables?  Switchfoot has a song ("Gone") that says it like this, "we got information in the information age, but do we know what life is outside our convenient Lexus cages," and I think it's a fair question.  Sometimes playing it safe is just an excuse for not doing anything we find uncomfortable.

So take a risk for Jesus and do something that is out of the box that might even be uncomfortable.  But in so doing, think of the beauty of a miserable soul hearing the word of God for the very first time.  Trust me, there is a high that comes with such a moment as that which is addictive and makes the safe life look empty and vain.

A Road in the Forks

If you were to ask me where I thought we might be living come September, I would have to say I have no idea.  Oklahoma, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Ohio, Alabama, New York, who knows, maybe somewhere still in Texas!  With all of these places calling out my name, I keep praying, "God please open the door You want me to go through and please close all the others."  I may not know the future, but God has already seen all my days out to the very end, so He knows where He wants me and I trust that He will lead me there.

We all have good friends here in Wichita Falls, and for that reason alone it would be nice to stay here.  But we also have a good church and lots of family here, too - even more reasons it would be nice to stay.  But no door has opened up here yet, and so far I don't see that changing.  God, you know I would like to stay, but whatever you want, that's what I want.

I feel like I'm standing in a huge intersection of paths just looking for a sign pointing me in the right direction.  Honestly, I have even tried walking down each of those forks on my own just to see if I could find some clues of discovering the right one, but they all end up blank country roads with no distinction, and I just end up back at the cross-roads.

I know God won't leave me here forever.  I know He has perfect timing, too.  But the communication chain feels very one-sided at times.  The only notes I keep getting from God say, "Trust Me."  Thanks for that plan, God.  Thanks for spelling it out for me so that I know what You're up to.  I am trying to trust fully, but it is not easy.  God, I trust You, but help me trust You where I struggle with trusting You!  I'm here at the fork in the road.  God, please show me Your road, Your chosen road in all these forks.

Is This a Cross I'm Carrying

Jesus said, "Take up your cross and follow Me."  Well when He took up His cross, it was to carry it to the hill where they were He would be killed.  I can't say that I've ever been close to being killed for belonging to Christ, but sometimes I think about the tough circumstances I'm in right now and I think, "So this is what suffering for Christ feels like?"  But I don't feel right about comparing me being out of a job to Christ dying on the cross. 

When Jesus told me to take up my cross, I think He meant, "Be willing to die for Me."  Am I willing?  I'm not sure, but I want to be.  It was a lot easier "being willing" before I had a family and had kids.  Would I be willing to die for Christ now?  I think Jesus would help me through it if He brought me to it. 

I'm like a kid scared to death of getting a shot.  Sometimes I don't even realize that it's already over and done with, and I'm still fighting.  God will help us carry our crosses even if we don't recognize them.

Johnie

Someone to Trust

I hate to admit it, but for the sake of using a good example, I will.  I watch the teen drama series "Endurance" on Discovery Kids.  I really do fast forward through most of the drama, but when my kids are watching it with me they really want to know why so-and-so's upset.  We get to talk about how to treat others and why the host keeps talking about karma.

If you haven't heard about it, here's how it goes.  Twenty teens (10 boys, 10 girls) go to some remote wilderness area where they play endurance games.  They are paired into boy-girl teams of two, and the last team standing gets to go on a cool trip somewhere like the Galapagos Islands.  Throughout the game teams are eliminated through games of chance, constantly boiling the number of players down.  Teams start off making alliances and talking behind other people's backs to see how they can get them in one of the elimination rounds. 

Now that I've explained it, this is where the plot gets thick.  During the games in the "High Sierras" the blue team won the right to trade players on any two teams, or they could let someone else do it.  A guy on the purple team conspired against the blue team by telling all the other teams to talk blue into letting red (who volunteered to be traded with green) trade themselves.  The girl on blue didn't want to hurt anybody's feelings by splitting up other teams herself, so she gave it to red.  Red then turned against her and split up the blue team. 

Wham!  Instantly she burst into sobs.  None of the people who were directly conspiring showed much remorse and they defended their actions.  But that kept happening to this girl in particular throughout the game with many different people.  They would lie to her and eventually she couldn't trust anybody except her teammate.  One boy set up an elaborate lie to try to trick her about his choices when they where challenging each other in an elimination round.  When the boy's team lost, she said, "That's what you get for lying."  The boy responded, "It's not like it's a sin!"

This poor girl was crying through the whole game because no one would be real with her.  They would say one thing to her, but talk bad about her behind her back and try to deceive her.  And from all that I could tell, she never provoked any of them.  She was tormented through the whole game because many people meant to do her in.

She needed someone to trust, that she could confide in.  She felt alone. 

How about you?  Have you ever told something very deep and personal to someone "in confidence" only to have that person blab it so that everyone knows your secret?  It happens.  And we've all been on both sides of it, too.  We've been hurt victims and been guilty perpetrators. 

We all need someone we can trust, but how can we tell if someone is trustworthy.  Listen to what they say.  Do they ever complain or talk bad about others?  Are they judgmental and critical?  Can they be trusted in little things you say in confidence?  Unless you don't care who knows your struggles and your secrets, then go ahead and tell someone you've just met that you don't know anything about.  Test the waters with a little thing if you are in doubt.  There's nothing wrong with that.

Above all, pray for a true friend that can be counted on as trust-worthy, encouraging, and understanding.  God is faithful and can provide that kind of friend.  Also pray that you will be a true and trustworthy friend to others.  God is the one who can truly change us.  You might even need to ask for forgiveness for not being trustworthy if you've hurt someone in the past. 

When we take our cares to God, we will all get closer to God and find out that we are not all alone in the end.  No one is perfect, but God is working in other people's lives just like He is working in your own.  "Draw near to God and He will draw near to you."

Getting Real

People are a lot like onions with layers and layers to who we are.  The deeper others go, the more the tears flow, both theirs and ours.  I guess most people hold back because of fear of what other people would think if they only knew what we are really like. 

We are comfortable going a couple of layers deep, telling what we do for a living and giving our family stats (married, four kids, a dog, a cat, and a hamster).  We feel comfortable talking about the shows we watch (Oh yeah, I wonder who's going to replace Jacob, too, on Lost!  And on 24, who would have ever thought it was the Russians behind the near-nuclear attack on New York City!  Jack against the Russians...again!)  The weather's a no-brainer easy thing to throw out when there's awkward silence, too...(Hasn't this just been beautiful weather!  Man we got a lot of snow!  Boy it's hot!  Boy its cold!  Yeah, global warming has been great for Wichita Falls!) 

But the stuff that we struggle with, man, who wants to air that dirty laundry?  We think, "Yeah, I'm depressed, but who wants to hear that!  That's real stuff, but who would be my friend with such a heavy problem?"

Oh, it gets heavier - lots heavier.  What about the history we carry around with us, the stuff that eats our lunch every day.  Hidden child abuse, hidden addictions, hidden crimes, that we've grown thick layer upon layer of calloused conscience over. 

If we could just see what God sees, how many maimed, wounded, injured, and bleeding people would pass by us in the church halls, cracking a smile and saying, "Everything's going good!"  Fat leaches of struggles are hanging down, and we talk about the weather and what we're going to have for lunch!  Some of our friends would look like Jacob Marley's ghost carrying thick prison chains through the crowds of God's people.  Just picture it:  mangled, diseased and held captive, all shaking hands and talking about how nice we look in our Sunday clothes! 

We are all so fake!  We put up a good front, hold back, and wonder what others would think of us if they only knew.  I think somewhere the church body bought the lie that we have to look perfect and act perfect and be all smiles so that everybody thinks we really are perfect!  Who's kidding who?  We all know ourselves and know how messed up we are, but we think we'll be viewed as backslidden freaks if we share even ONE of our struggles.  But to be honest, we are backslidden freaks when we have stuff to hide. 

It all comes down to Courage and Trust.  It takes courage to admit our wounds, failures, and insecurities.  It takes vulnerability and trusting to peel back the layers and bare our hearts to someone we know very little about.  But it's time to stop looking in the mirror and painting on the glass over what we see to make ourselves look better.  God didn't come to heal those who are well, but he came to heal those who are sick.  It's not that the Pharisees were really even well.  The pharisees were sick, but they pretended they were perfect and holy, and Jesus couldn't use them or heal them.  They were okay in their own eyes.  What about us?  Are we real with those we call our friends?  Or are we hurting inside, but acting like nothing is wrong?  I want real life.  Let's get it in our heads.  If we want God's best for us, we've got to get real.
--Johnie

Beached Pigs of Change

In the gospel of Mark there is a story of Jesus and His disciples going over to the land of the Gadarenes and a demoniac running straight at them just as soon as they got there. The man was very strong and had even broken chains that had bound him in the past. He would cut himself all the time, too. And what better place for the demons to take him than to the tombs to live in misery. But the demons feared Jesus and asked Him a favor. They wanted to be spared and to be cast into a heard of about 2000 swine. Once out of the man, he was perfectly fine and free, and wanted to always stay with Jesus, but the pigs, oh my! They all ran down a steep bank and right into the sea of Galilee and drowned!

The first point that I want to note is that the people of the place were not appreciative of Jesus coming there and asked Him to leave. After all, He had just sent a herd of livestock to their unprofitable death. But those pigs demonstrated God's power to those people for quite a long time. Can you imagine how the stench prevented people from enjoying the water for some time? Nobody wanted to fish there because of the stench of beached pigs. But every time someone saw the pigs (or smelled them) they probably thought about what had happened to the demoniac, replaying the story over in their minds. This man Jesus did something in five minutes that they hadn't been able to do in all those years of trying.

The second point is that the demons didn't want to leave the country. They obviously were succeeding in their objectives there. Not that it matters on an eternal scale, but these people that were raising pigs were not living the kosher life of the Jews, so they probably were Gentiles. What good would the demons do if they killed the herd of pigs? Well, for one thing, tormenting pigs would not progress their battle for men's souls. They probably killed the pigs to torment the pig owners and to be freed up to possess others who did not have God's protection. The land of the Gadarenes was a choice place for demons, and I wonder if they were assigned that particular area to subdue. No matter how ominous these demons were though, they were and will never be a formidable foe of Christ. He has given us, the redeemed of the Lord, His power in the fullest.

We who now can spiritually see know that we were like this man. The sacrifice that God's Son Jesus Christ freely made once and for all, is still enough to forgive anyone who cries out for forgiveness and mercy. Even if we were not possessed we were on a dark road that only took us to death and destruction. Sin, although it offers the illusion of control, was indeed our master, and we did its bidding. But thanks be to God our Saviour for buying us out from that which was death and transforming us into new creations through His mercy, forgiveness, and love.

--Johnie

Healthcare Reform

Below is my plan for healthcare reform. It may seem too late to mention, but I think it has the largest potential for change without the intrusion that the current bills have in them. All of these ideas and suggestions are to be used together to make it work to positively reduce healthcare costs without major change to the current healthcare system. The basic outcome of my plan would put the ball back in the consumer’s court, giving them the decision making authority as to what happens to them medically and financially, and it would also reduce medical provider’s liability. The key word to my plan is “Menu”.

• Require all medical providers to supply both physical and online menus of services and products.

• Menus would detail the baseline cost of each service and product, just like a restaurant menu.

• Consumers could choose which services they would be willing to pay for and receive.

• The choices made from each menu would be a legally binding contract that would exclude providers from liability if a potentially beneficial or life-saving service is not provided because a patient was unwilling to pay for it, and would allow consumers to choose which services and products they are willing to pay for.

• Baseline fees would be defined as the charged fees and costs for all individual medical services and products prior to any discount, and would be the actual dollar amount that all insurance discounts and negotiated rates would be based upon.

• Exclude medical providers from liability for providing a potentially life-saving service that was not selected by the consumer, however, at the cost of the medical provider.

• The menu system would be an option in the current medical system. The menus use by consumers would not be required; however, it would become widely used due to its popularity.

• Anyone who would chose to not use the menu would continue in the current system.

• A government subsidy could be obtained by medical providers for the cost of initially creating the menus, up to a certain dollar amount.

• All menus for all providers would be accessible to the public to increase competition among providers.

• Providers could update menus once every calendar year, with that date clearly visible on each menu.

Here is what I see happening from this plan. Competition would be increased among medical providers because of the visibility of how much their services cost. The competition would lower baseline prices. In turn, consumers would know ahead of time how much money a medical service or product would cost them depending on their insurance plan. Medical choices would be more in the hands of each individual consumer. Medical providers would not be inclined to prescribe unnecessary services or procedures just for liability protection. Then medical providers would see a reduction in lawsuits and liability costs because of the legally binding menu contracts. Insurance costs should go down across the board because consumers would be choosing to use fewer services.

For myself, I would just love to know ahead of time how much I am going to be charged for medical services and to be in control of my own money when it comes to healthcare. Also, I would love for people to leave a comment on my blog telling me what they think would work best to reduce healthcare costs.


--Johnie

Sunset Poem

Sunset by Johnie Levell

Twilight rainbow on the sky
With piercing dots across
Reflected on an ebbing swath
Of blue on blackened green.

Vapor trail on western edge
The dark face scarring slow
Healing blows from stratosphere
Smoothing out the grey.

Shadows eastward racing fast
Over hills and trees
Legless speed across the ground
Merging into night.

--Johnie

Hole in the Roof

Around the 2nd chapter in the gospel of Mark is a story that starts off with, “Now Jesus was in the house.…” Earlier Mark describes how Jesus healed Simon Peter’s mother-in-law in Simon’s house in Capernaum. I am deducing that this was the same house that Mark was referring to here.

The house was so packed that four guys carrying their lame buddy couldn’t get in, so they came up with a brilliant plan – tear a hole in the roof and lower him down to Jesus from above. It was a very bold plan indeed, and Jesus commended the faith of the lame man’s friends. He healed the man both of his sins and his lameness and off he went, happy as a lark.

There had to be a point some time in the night when someone said goodbye and shut the door on the last visitor. Simon must have been so excited! It was such an unforgettable night! I can just imagine the amazed look on his face! That’s probably when Simon’s mother-in-law chimed in and said, “Now, Simon, first thing tomorrow you’re going to have to get up there and fix that roof!” Yep, she was definitely her old self again.

The next day up on the roof, I just wonder if Simon pondered, “Jesus, can do anything – should I have asked for the roof to be miraculously repaired, too?” I don’t know that he thought it, but I just know that someone had to repair the hole in the roof. And I know that whenever I repair things, it is a great time to think. I think about how Jesus was a carpenter and how he did a lot of repair work, too. Did Jesus help Simon repair the roof? We don’t know, but it could have happened that way.

Whatever the case, someone had to get up there and fix that roof. Isn’t that just like life? You’ve got a perfectly good roof over head and then someone comes along and tears a hole in it and leaves it for you to fix. But God grows us and changes us into something new and beautiful when we have to fix the broken things in our lives like screaming dishwashers, dead driers, and unplanned sky-lights. He is a repairer of people and we can focus on how He repairs us when we have to deal with all the things that need repairing that interrupt our normal daily lives. So every time you have to repair that broken whatever, remember that God is only one that can truly repair our relationship with Him. All the tedious time and energy spent making things all good again reflects our heavenly Father’s compassion on our broken lives.


--Johnie

Cost Cutting Measures

Today was the Christmas party at work. Not many people were there anyway, but people did bring lots of food. Just before lunch I was asked to the office and was told that due to cost cutting measures I was being let go. That's right - laid off.

So now I am wondering what God has planned for me. I have a real peace about this though. I believe God is in control and has plans for me which are for good and not for evil - plans for a future and a hope. I know that in Christ I am more than a conqueror, and that I am a royal heir of the Creator of the universe. The glass is way more than half full for me! Not only is the future part of God's plan for me, but so is what happened today - getting laid off.

So on this Christmas Eve Eve, let's focus on the Christ, the Son of the living God. I thought of a new aspect of the Christmas story that relates to my day. I was thinking about how excited Mary must have been to be the "chosen" mother of Jesus, but what kind of face did she make and what did she say when Joseph told her they would have to go to Bethlehem when she was nine months pregnant? It was something totally unexpected that probably wasn't anywhere on her radar. But it was part of God's plan. And how did she feel when she laid her newborn baby in a feeding trough? I bet she felt sad at not being able to lay him in the bed Joseph had been working on. But it was part of God's bigger plan. Am I worried? Not now. And I'll try to not worry a month from now either. What happened today, as well as all that God has planned for my tomorrows, is part of God's good plan for me.


Merry Christmas,
Johnie

A Pure Language Once Again

This morning our pastor preached on the Tower of Babel. Not that he was on the tower of Babel, but he preached over the tower of Babel. Not that he was flying over in a plane either, but his topic was the Tower of Babel. There! I hope that didn't confuse anyone! But speaking of confusion, the languages of the world were confused there at the Tower of Babel. God didn't want things to keep going in the direction they were, so he ended the tower's construction by mixing up the languages!


But half-way through the sermon, I remembered a verse that said the world would one day have one language again. It is Zephaniah 3:9, and it says, "For then I will restore to the peoples a pure language, that they all may call on the name of the LORD, to serve Him with one accord." When Christ reigns on the earth, He will restore a common language to His people. It will help unify them as His people in all things, especially in worship.

Praise God for His marvelous plan!

--Johnie

Anthony Family History, Part 2

I found a note written by my great aunt Valera sharing her memories about my father's mother, Lou Alice Anthony Levell. As I read these letters, I connect more with my past, seeing the more real side to people I've always just thought of as "ancestors". One day, people will see my name on a page and just think of me as "an ancestor" too. That is if they even see my name. I wonder where old blogs go when time has passed by.

Think of all the things you do each day and how little those things will be remembered. I encourage you, and as well I ought to do the same, to print out anything that you type that you really want to remember. Who knows when all the things you send into cyberspace will be deleted by a perfect stranger who is just trying to make more room on a busy and over-taxed server! Everything you've written will be viewed not by its content, but by how much space it takes up. And actually, that's not far from how things have gone for thousands of years.

The elderly die, and there houses must be cleaned out before a week is up because the grown children have to go back to work, often times in another city. Bookshelves full of notebooks and journals and hand-written poems and stories - all are boxed for the auction or thrown in the trash because it would take forever to properly sort through them all. Every now and then one or two tid-bits gets saved and handed down from generation to generation. Well, here is one of those tid-bits written about my grandmother by her sister. Enjoy!

--------------------------------------------------------------

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES FOR LOU ALICE ANTHONY LEVELL

Written By: Valera Anthony Tindall

My first remembrance of Lou Alice was the year I was five. I have just a faint memory of anything up until then. That was the year 1922. We had moved from Kemp about 12 or 15 miles out in the country. I remember yet how I enjoyed living at that place. Our house set off the main road a few hundred yards. There was a deep creek that crossed the road and since the mail man passed that way it was necessary to have a good bridge over that creek. Papa and some neighbor men built a good, new bridge there and that was the gathering place for us kids on Sundays to get together and play. Also Lou Alice and Johnie and their friends took a lot of pictures sitting on that bridge. (I wish I had them)

Lou Alice was 15 years older that year and that was courting age. One of the boys in the community started calling on her. She was real pretty. With such blue eyes, wavy brown hair, very out-going but of a quiet nature, and I loved her very much.

This young man was several years older than Lou Alice. I think he wanted to marry her but she discouraged him. She had a date with him one Sunday evening and Mama & Papa made us kids stay outside and play. Everybody was very formal in those days.

We couldn't go in while they were courting. That young man spent the whole evening with her. Ree was 8 years old and full of mischief. She got tired staying outside and slipped into the house. She went into the room through a door to his back and crawled very quietly under the bed. She was right behind his chair where she could reach out and pretend she was going to pinch his legs. Lou Alice got tickled, but pretended to be laughing at their conversation. I don't know if Papa and Mama ever found out about that or not.

Beside the big house we lived in was a small two-room house with an up-stairs. Papa kept hay and peanuts in the upper room. That was also our play house. We would go up stairs and hold our meetings or play school. I remember one Sunday evening we were having a church service and Johnie was the preacher. He started calling for mourners. We all got up to go to the mourners bench and Ree bumped her head. She really did start crying and was fixing to turn and go to the house, but Johnie and Lou Alice said "no" go on. That's good, 'cause you are supposed to cry anyway.

That fall when crops were gathered we moved from that place a couple of miles and a family by the name of Levell moved in. There was several boys and some girls. They all got acquainted and it wasn't long until one of the boys became "smitten" by Lou Alice. He turned out to be Oather. She fell in love with him right away too. And before long they became engaged. That broke my heart because I was really foolish about her, and she was my sleeping mate. Cayce & I both cried at the thought of her getting married and leaving us.

Mama had a lot of pretty sun flowers that year and Lou Alice would stand among them and count off each petal -- "this year, next year." She said which ever it ended on told when she would marry. Each time it would end on "this year." She would become estatic and I would be heart broken. So they really did marry that year and she moved back to the place she had moved from just the year before.

Lou Alice had a beautiful voice. She sang a love song called "Tommy Don't Go." Another one called "The Great Divide, " was very popular in those days. It went something like this -- "Away out on the breast of the wonderful west, Across the great divide. With someone like you a pal good and true, I like to leave it all behind and go and find, A place that's known to God alone, Just a spot to call our own. We will build a little nest, Somewhere way in the west and let the rest of the world go by." She sang those love songs with Oather in her heart and mind. Their love for each other was very special and few people are blessed to find a love such as their's was.

Oather came courting Lou Alice in a Model "T" Ford. It didn't have a top. That is the first car I remember except our mail carrier. On Sunday evening he took Lou Alice for a drive. But he brought his widowed sister Rosa along that time for it was not proper for her to go off alone with him. I remember Rosa sat in the front seat between them even. After Oather and Lou Alice were married that summer -- in July I think, they came to visit us in that Model "T". Us kids could hardly wait for the weekend. Cayce and I would pretend we were Oather and Lou Alice and we would sit out in the car till it got so dark we were afraid to stay out any longer.

That fall they moved into a house of their own just around the curve from his family. They lived there several years and that's where you children were born, except Helen. Cayce and I spent a lot of time with them and that's when I met Leona. We were about the same age and so we would plan to visit them at the same time. Lou Alice had a lot of patience to allow us to spend so much time with them.

I was spending a week with them once and Oather went to Kemp that Saturday. He came home with the prettiest pink veil dress for Lou Alice. It was too large (She was about size 8) and he had to take it back.

Lou Alice had two little pet Bantams she was crazy about. Oather sold them to someone who was looking for Bantam chickens. When he told her, she broke down and cried. He was so sorry and promised to get her some more. I remember how he tenderly held her in his arms. She wasn't angry just sad. I never remember them being angry at each other.

I remember the Tabernacle across the field from where we lived. In the summer during their protracted meetings, we could sit on our front porch and hear the beautiful singing. A couple of songs I still seem to hear Lou Alice sing. One was "I was sinking deep in Sin." The other one was "Higher Ground." It went like this -- "Lord, lift me up and let me stand, by faith on Heaven's stable land, a higher plain than I have found, Lord, plant my feet on higher ground." She sang it with so much feeling I believe I could, at my young age, detect the seriousness she felt. I believe she helped to inspire my love for singing. I learned to pick up tunes easily from hearing her sing.

Lou Alice worked hard. In less than four years after she was married, she had her third baby. But she never complained. Just to be by Oather's side was heaven to her.

In the fall of 1927 our good times ended. That fall, the Levell family all moved back to Hubbard, and Papa had rented a place at Eustace. I don't remember for sure but I think they all stopped at our house the night they left. I can remember Maud and Opal kissing Papa good-bye and said he looked so much like their own Daddy, who had died about a year earlier. We were all so sad about being separated.

We didn't see Lou Alice again till the next summer of 1928. Lou Alice & Oather came for a visit. You children had grown so much and what a thrill it was for all of us to be together again, except for the fact Little Jack had just passed away a few weeks earlier. Poor Lou Alice, only 21 years old and so much living crowded into her short life. We never saw her again. "As I write this the tears are falling, and my throat is choking." The beautiful memory I have of her will last forever. She died the next year 1929.

She wrote us often before she died and sent pictures so we could see how fast the children were growing. They were planning to visit us that summer again. They were anxious for us to see the new baby girl (Helen). But Lou Alice became real sick. They sent for Papa. We were all heart broken. He said she told him she wanted to go home.

You children had a wonderful Mother and Father. They were beautiful inside. I wish you could have known your Mother too, but it was not God's will. Someday though you will understand and be satisfied. Then you will all be re-united and can shout together, for God has truly planted her feet on Higher Ground.

(Valera Anthony Tindall)

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I can't imagine how hard that must have been on my father's family with his mom dying so young. By the way, I was named after my father's father, Johnie Oather Levell.


--Johnie

The Killing Section

I have been reading the book of 2nd Kings at night with the kids and right now I would say we have been in the killing section. It is about how Ahab's family got wiped out for disobeying God and encouraging Baal worshipping in Israel. Last night we read how Jehu killed Ahaziah's 42 brothers and then killed all the Baal worshippers by calling them all together for "a great sacrifice" to Baal.

It wasn't too long ago that he had commanded Ahab's 70 sons be beheaded, and he stacked there heads in 2 heaps by the city gates. And it seems like only yesterday that Jezebel (Ahab's wife) was throw out the window and eaten by dogs. Well, we read of Jehu's death last night and I can't remember what comes next, but I have to keep telling the kids "no" when they want to act out the story! I mean what would we play: Okay, now you be Jehu and kill everybody! Then we'll each take turns! I mean the questions I've been asking the kids are pretty gory anyway. Stuff like, what was left of Jezebel? Who got shot through the heart?

The bottom line is that God hated sin, and loved Israel, and would command such things so that His people would turn back to Him and serve Him. The Creator of all things is jealous of our affections. It is a sobering reminder of how jealous He is and of where our affections lie. He wants my whole heart, not just my Sunday morning heart. Not just my "squeeze you into my busy schedule" heart.

Even though we are learning a lot about the kings of Judah and Israel, Christmas is coming up. I think I'll replace reading 2nd Kings with our advent readings through December. Everything has its season, even 2nd Kings. I just want focus on Jesus' amazing birth and God's amazing plan of redemption!

--Johnie

Anthony Family History, Part 1

I have so much family history stuff on our shelves! It came to my attention that a lot of people that read this blog also would like to know it. What I'm about to write is not from me, but from Phyllis Price Terry Maynor about her grandpa George Washington Anthony. He married Ollie Elizabeth Spurgen and they had six children, one of which was Lou Alice Anthony. She was my father's mother. So enjoy these memories of some distant cousin recalling the life of George Washington Anthony.

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MEMORIES OF GRANDPA ANTHONY
Written by: Phyllis Price Terry Maynor about George Washington Anthony

When I was a little girl I took Grandpa for granted. I unknowingly assumed that all Grandpas were loving and kind and could fix just about anything. When I got to be a teenager I thought Grandpa was so old fashioned and square (which he was, thank God). When I was twenty, grandpa went on to be with the Lord. Now that I am 51, I remember my Grandpa as just about the most perfect man who ever lived. How I wish I had had the wisdom to have listened to him more because he was a walking treasury of knowledge and understanding.

We always lived with my Grandparents or very near them when I was a little girl. How our lives were enriched by them and we were not even aware of it at the time.

I remember Grandpa carrying me around in his arms when I was little and picking mulberries off the trees around our house. How I loved them! Then we moved away from that place when I was six and I never had mulberries again in all these years until this year when I found a tree growing on the country estate that my husband Jimmy and I just bought and built on last year. I found the tree as I was making my Spring rounds looking for birds and their nests (I am absolutely wild about birds and anything to do with nature, thanks, I believe, to grandpa's blood coursing through my veins). Well I found a tree just loaded with green mulberries. I had no idea how long it would take for them to ripen, but I watched it closely and in two or three weeks the mulberries had turned from green to red to black. I picked the first one and with anticipation put it into my mouth. Surely enough, it tasted exactly the same as those Grandpa fed to me so many years ago. I had forgotten the taste. But it all came back to me with such an overwhelming joy. Thank you, Grandpa, for teaching me about the joys of nature.

Grandpa went to the woods and cut white oak splits and made baskets--all sizes and shapes. He made little ones to give to us kids, and bigger ones for Mother and Mama (our name for Grandmother). And he made real big ones to use at the barn for corn and cotton and such things. He made baskets for friends, too.
And Grandpa had a workshop that he had built and it was such a delightful place to look at (but not touch). In it were a home-made firebox and bellows. I've seen him so many times build a fire in the firebox and blow on it with the bellows until the coals were almost white hot. Then he would put in a plow or other metal farming instrument. When it was red hot he would bend it to whatever shape he was aiming for. Then when it was just like he wanted it he would douse it in cold water.

In the shop, too, was an iron anvil, and a homemade press (I think he had another name for it) where he pressed the twisted plugs of tobacco that he had grown himself. I guess his only vice was a love for chewing tobacco and snuff. I never thought of it as wrong, though. And he had shoe lasts, which he used to repair the family shoes. There was a different last for each size shoe. They were iron too, and were interchangeable on an iron post of some sort that held them stationary while he slipped a shoe over one and repaired it.

(This is Johnie talking for a minute. I have some old family tools and I may just have one or two of those shoe lasts that she is talking about. If they weren't his, then they were from approximately the same time period. Now back to the story.)

Grandpa had very nice handwriting and he could draw quite well, too. Once when I was about twelve he drew and colored with crayons a country house and gardens for me. Silly me, didn’t realize what it would have meant to me now, and I misplaced it and it was probably thrown out in the trash. No, that's not right, paper trash was not thrown out but saved to light fires with. How it twists my heart now to think that precious work of Grandpa's probably was burned on a cold winter morning.

And Grandpa could sing and play a fiddle. He knew how to read notes and sing "old harp". Mama could sing, too, and she played the guitar. They did not have music in their churches, but they really loved music at home. In their Church, which was Primitive Baptist, also known as Hardshell, they often sang the notes of the songs rather than the words. I can just hear them now, the church full of them singing, "Do, re, mi, mi, do, re, fa, fa, la, ti, do", and the parts harmonizing.

Grandpa loved his Church. He loved his Bible. and he loved the Lord. Until his eyesight became so poor in his later years, he spent much, much time studying the Bible. He could quote so much scripture. And he had such an understanding of it. He really felt a duty to share his understanding of it with as many people as possible so they would be enlightened, too, concerning the things of the Lord. After Cayce moved away from Europa, Mississippi, to West Point when Grandpa was about 80, Grandpa was not able then to do much work around the place. So EVERY morning, weather permitting, he walked the few blocks to downtown West Point and he would stand on the street corners and stop any man who came by who WOULD stop and question him about his relationship with the Lord. Rarely did he get an answer that was satisfactory to him, so he would proceed then and there to educate that man on the truths of the Word of God. He told us of so many of those encounters. Sometimes he would talk with someone who really appreciated him, but more often his captured audience would be squirming to get away, or would become argumentative, poor thing. It did no good to argue with Grandpa about the Bible because he could out-quote anyone I ever knew. And if he was not able to persuade the other party of his beliefs, he would at the very least so thoroughly confuse him that he was not able to argue at all within a few minutes. Grandpa enjoyed these little daily mini-crusades so very much.

My family lived only one block from the very prestigious First Presbyterian Church. On the Sundays when Mama and Grandpa could come to spend the day with us, often Grandpa would go down to visit with the Presbyterians. He would be wearing clean, but very likely faded, work pants, a clean chambray shirt and suspenders. He would walk down to that church filled with that bunch of high-minded people and he would sit on the front pew. After the choir had sung their selections and the Reverend had delivered his sermon, Grandpa would stand up and ask for a few minutes of their time. Then he would point out to them with all sincerity and gravity the error of their doctrine. He did not do this to embarrass them, but he honestly thought he was doing them a service. He would always be hurt because they were so ungrateful for his services. Finally, after this had happened several times, his physician, Dr. Tom Braddock, who himself a faithful Presbyterian, had a little private talk with Grandpa and explained to him that the Presbyterians were really not unkind people, but they would prefer to just go on in their unenlightened state. Grandpa never went back. Poor Presbyterians.

Grandpa knew all about herbs and their uses. He could always go to the woods and return with a root, or bark or leaf that would help alleviate the the symptoms of whatever malady had attached itself to one of his family. I remember one particular incident when I was about three or four and Joe Boy, being sixteen months younger than myself, was about two or three. Candy, and indeed any sweet, was a rare treat. But Mama, bless her heart, always kept huge quart size bottles of Milk of Magnesia tablets setting around. She took two or three of these tablets after every meal to alleviate a real, or imagined, sour stomach. At some time I had been given one of these tablets and they tasted pretty good to me. (We know now they are very much like peppermint candy). Well, on a particular spring day, right after lunch, when all the men had gone back to the fields and all the ladies had "lain down for their afternoon nap" as was the custom then, I was feeling mischievous (as usual). I spied Mama's Milk of Magnesia setting on the mantle, and I remembered their wonderful taste. So I climbed up on a chair and got the big bottle. Then I invited little Joe Boy to come with me for a little "Phyllis style" tea party. I must have known that I was misbehaving, because I led us out the back door and under the high back porch. There we sat ourselves down around our little imaginary tea table and I poured Joe Boy a bottle-cap full of the candy-tasting tablets. He ate them gleefully, then I treated myself with a capful. I graciously served him again, then myself again; and this went on I don't know how long. By and by, the ladies of the house (Mother, Mama and Aunt Valera--we all lived in the same big house) awakened from their siesta and looked around for their little charges. I heard them calling, but kept quiet as a mouse. I expect I knew a spanking was coming shortly. Well, they finally found us under the porch with the incriminating empty Milk of Magnesia tablet bottle. I don't remember getting that much-deserved spanking for they were all so mortified that we might be quite ill from partaking of so much of the medicine. Grandpa was summoned, and I remember he went right away to the woods and came back shortly with a bitter tasting root (I believe it was Calamus) that completely nullified all the joys of the former merrymaking. It was awful, but other than a few hurried trips to the outdoor toilet for the next couple of days, we were not the worse for our adventure.

My Mother told us that when she was growing up Mama and Grandpa were good and loved them, but very strict. She was not allowed to dress in the latest styles (of the 20's), and even though she was a star basketball player for her High school, she was not allowed to play in the revealing short uniforms the rest of the team wore. Mother had to play in a dress, because Mama and Grandpa believed in modesty. Mother began to raise her own children in much the same manner. Ah, but she had not counted on the recalcitrant Phyllis. I wanted to be like the other kids. Finally, when I was about twelve, Betty nine, and Winnel seven, I wore her down. She agreed to making us some little shorts and short-cropped top sets to wear at home in the country only. She made these from large scraps left over from other sewing she had done for she did all the sewing for herself and us girls, making all the clothes we wore. Well, the day came when all three of us girls had our new short sets on and over to Grandpa's we went right after lunch, as usual. Grandpa was sitting on the porch swing and he took a look at us and said, "Well, I see Ree has made you girls some Summer-Town-Cool-Suits." That's all he said to us, but he did have a little talk with Ree (Mother). He was not able to prevail, though, and from then on Mother dressed us much like other kids.

Grandpa used to make wine in the summertime from elderberries, his own home-grown grapes, and I think peach (brandy). I remember that he was very careful in making it just right and was always satisfied with it, but I really don't remember ever seeing him drink any of it. I know us kids were given a little at times when we were sick, and I suppose the adults took it when they were sick, too. I never thought too much about his wine-making, but now that I am back in the country with my own grapes, I think I would like to try to make a little myself, for medicinal purposes, of course. So I checked with Cayce and he still has Grandpa's old family recipe, which has been handed down for generations from the time that grandpa's ancestor Perry Antonio left Italy hundreds of years ago. I hope to make some of Grandpa's wine this summer (1990).

Grandpa was quite a gardener, and grew all kinds of good things to the delight of us grandchildren. He grew peanuts and popcorn and watermelons. He grew an unusual fruit called "vine peach". I never heard of them before or since. But best of all he grew strawberries. When the strawberries were ripe, he would "hire" us grandkids to come over and pick them. He paid us a dime for each dish-pan full that we picked. It was wonderful to get the dime, because money was scarce for us in those days, but best part of all was we could eat all the strawberries we wanted as we picked. I've never had strawberries that good since.

Grandpa was never idle, except for a rest in his hammock or his front porch swing during the hottest part of the day after lunch. He was either busy in his orchard, or garden, or shop, or he was studying his Bible or crusading. But at times, he would be caught up with his work and he would make us little homemade toys. He made each of us a little rocking chair. And of course the little baskets I mentioned. But he made all sorts of little whirly-gigs and things, too. One time he made my little sister Winnell a cute little wishing well with a windlass to raise and lower the little bucket.

Grandpa was a great carpenter. His house and ours was full of his tables and chairs. He had made them for friends and neighbors, too. When my Mother and Dad got married he made Mother a pretty little Settee and washstand. But he also had done some real building in his younger days. When his own children were young, the school in the town they lived in in Texas had burned down. Grandpa contracted and built a new school for them. My Aunt Valera says that it was the finest building around, two story, brick. He had made a concrete block and set in the front of the building with the name of the school -- INDEPENDENCE HIGH SCHOOL. She said people for miles around talked about that fine building.

Oh, Grandpa could do just anything he wanted to. Really. He was so talented. And he was so understanding and wise. I'm so proud to be his grandaughter.

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I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did! What a wonderful story!

--Johnie