There were many things I thought I might do this week as I readied for Easter Sunday, but sitting in an ICU room at Baylor, Garland was not one of them. However, now that I am, looking about this room and my Mom - struggling so to live - I am reminded of many things.
Mom has lived most of her adult life here in Garland, Texas
(save a family sojourn to Kansas for Dad's job, ca. 1964-72). She and Dad bought their first home here when I was a toddler - sometime around 1952 - and each of my brothers and sisters, along with me when young, lived a substantial part of our lives in this place. Like many other Garland-ers, Mom worked for Kraft Foods. Here we attended public school, church, and frequented her ballparks and skating rinks. For a short time, Dad moved us 'up and out,' to the White Rock area of Dallas, where we attended Wilshire Baptist Church just down the street from our home. But in his heart of hearts Dad was a 'Garland man' - and so we returned for those years prior to our move to Kansas. When my family did move back to Texas, some years later and after I was grown and on my own, there was no question as to where they'd live. It was
Garland!
Not far from this Hospital room is 'Duck' creek, which meanders through the heart of the town. As a boy I would play and fish in this creek for crawdads. One summer I carved a boat from a piece of wood, painted it and fashioned a 'made with a stick' mast and handkerchief sail. Then, with my boat tied to a string, I spent hours watching as it floated down the creek only to be pulled back to me time after time. The summer before we moved away my string broke, and I could not catch it because of flood waters. I stood resigned on the creek's bank and watched as 'my' boat floated away, like an old friend, wondering of Kansas and growing up.
Thinking further back, there were many Saturday's I would ride my bike north up First Street, to the town square, where with my 'Fifty cent' allowance I could watch a movie and buy a candy bar and coke. Just as good was my other option - which was riding my bike to nearby Kenwood Shopping Center and Woolworth's, where I could saddle up to the soda fountain and order a "3 Scoop" Banana Split. With this option I'd have money left over. Not a lot, but enough to leave a
tip - like Dad, which made me feel good and so grown up.
In my memory Easter was
always a happy day. At Easter-time I'd get a new shirt and tie - usually from Sears or J.C. Penny's, and, once in a while, I'd also get a new 'store bought' suit. My sisters
always got new dresses, and we'd take a family picture all dressed up 'to the nines'. I was careful to want my ties to look just like Dad's and my shoes to shine like his, too. So he'd help me with both as we sat on the porch to talk while the girls finished dressing. Mom always looked so pretty. She'd wear
both a hat and summer gloves - and I felt we must have been the handsomest family around - or at least at our church, so I thought.
But now, as I sit here quietly watching Mom, I am grateful for something
other. I am grateful that Easter for my family was more than new clothes and a picture. For, for us - Mom included - it was a day of worship and celebration that Jesus had come and that victory over sin and death was real. Confessedly, I didn't think much of death then. In fact, I did not really think of it at all. Death was for old people and people who were sick. Not for me! Not for my Mom, my sisters, or Dad! Not back
then.
Of course so much has happened since those days gone by. Did God know I'd be sitting here today, less than 2 miles from where I once played? The answer is, '
yes, He did!' And... He
also knew that the boy of then would be both a pastor and son today. A man, now ever so grateful for this Easter, which represents much more than wonderful memories. One so grateful, today, for the
cross and the
truth - that because He lives so too will
Mom,
Dad, my
family and
me!
Happy Easter,
indeed -
Pastor Sam
http://open.spotify.com/track/6jgDhbzfHWmQoVlUvDoaWX
are not alone.
