Affordable Class

My self-appointed job description from the time I was a little girl was to bring some happiness into my mother's harsh life as a farmer's wife.  Hoping she had escaped the drudgery of farm life by marrying my town-dwelling Irish dad, it was disappointing for her to return to the farm to care for her widowed mother when her father died soon after her marriage. Kentucky-born Grandfather Blair was an educated man who sacrificially provided for a vocal music education for his only daughter, Zema. When she returned to the farm after her training and the winning of singing contests my mother saddled up a horse and became a circuit-riding music teacher.  Grandfather Harlan had helped to pioneer a mission which ultimately became First Methodist Church of Wilsey, Kansas where my mother directed the choir as well as soloing for special events. My mother did not, however have a personal relationship with Jesus until years later, even though her parents did and she served in the church.  I had whiffed the sweet aroma of Jesus in the merciful behavior of my grandmother, but I did not know His Name until five years after she left for Heaven.

Harlan's widow, Grandma Etta Blair taught my dad how to farm while tending to the chores and gardens.  My mother ventured outside only when necessary. ...to the outhouse, the wash house and the chicken house where she raised chickens in order to buy items from the Sears Roebuck catalog that brought a little bit of class to our plain farm home.  That catalog, when outdated was relegated to the outhouse where it served quite a different purpose. On the wall of one of my upstairs bedrooms hangs a yellow and blue porcelain light fixture, probably purchased from a catalog with Mother's hard-earned egg money. A Houston friend Emailed me recently and gave me a warm compliment:  "Jo, you can decorate a home on a dime!" Yep. ...and guess where I learned how to do it!  Mother made school clothes for me on her treadle Singer sewing machine. One time she actually bought me a pretty green skirt. Attempting to get warm as I dressed for school I backed up to our coal/wood-burning stove and scorched not only the skirt but my backside.  My mother was too mad to even sympathize about my burned behind.

After years of ever-so-appropriate church services during our training for ministry in Minneapolis and Dallas, California's Peninsula Bible Church gatherings appealed to the Irish in me that was hungry for light-heartedness.  The church was brimming with new believers who were being discipled by men and women with no seminary education. (!)  Ed Stirm, one of the five men who pioneered the fellowship, owner of a steel company and a former trumpet player with a dance band and I teamed up to entertain the people as they streamed into the Sunday evening service.  I am slightly hesitant to tell you this, but oh, well, here goes: One night D. Parsons, a new Christian slid in beside me on the piano bench and said: "Jo, you're the best thing that's happened here since the uplift bra!" This man, fresh out of the world had not been sanitized yet.  I knew that, and I nearly fell off the piano bench, laughing.  ...back to Ed Stirm: though his and Margaret's home covered a city block in Menlo Park Margaret designed and sewed many of her own clothes and was also a self-taught artist.  On the bedroom of one of my guest rooms is her beautiful painting of a rose-filled Victorian-era white pitcher.  From my mother I learned that it doesn't take much money to both dress stylishly and decorate our homes with a little bit of class.  From Margaret I learned that one can have wealth and choose to live frugally. This woman who could well afford to shop at I Magnin helped me perfect my dress-sewing skills. One day she invited my mother and me to tea. When we walked into the foyer of her home, there sat an antique potty-chair filled with cascading ferns. My mother's disdain for potty chairs nearly erupted, but I grabbed her by the arm and held on until her moment of shocked disbelief subsided.

...so what's the message this week?  Dig around and you may find one or two in here somewhere. Eventually my mother came to personally know Jesus.  My dad came to Him first. ... at 75.   He knew he was a sinner because my mother told him so, but she was never quite certain that she was. ...but she's there and I know it. So are my brothers and their wives and one of their kids. So is one of my kids (the one who inherited the most Irish) and I am getting mighty eager to see his dad and him at The Gate.  My son Jeff and I talked about that on the phone the other day. "Mom, I still have things to do."  "I know, Son. Apparently, so do I."  As our Lord rightfully judges this nation for our blatant immorality this is no time to be declared outdated and relegated to an outhouse!

OLD GOSPEL SONG:

Life here is grand with friends I love so well
Comfort I get from God's own Word.
But when my soul needs manna from above
Where could I go but to the Lord?

WHERE COULD I GO, WHERE COULD I GO?
SEEKING A REFUGE FOR MY SOUL.
NEEDING A FRIEND TO HELP ME TO THE END
WHERE COULD I GO BUT TO THE LORD?

Love, Jo