Monthly Archives: November 2014

To Uncle Bill…

Uncle Bill and Aunt NormaEarlier this evening I received word that my Uncle Bill had passed, he was 97.

My first impression from the news was sadness mixed with joy; joy, for knowing that his soul was now with the Lord above and that it could only bring thankfulness and blessings to our memories of him. I could also take comfort that his struggles with his recent medical problems were now over.

The past year or so had been difficult for him and the family with his health issues. It seemed his age had finally caught up with him and that he was finally susceptible to the medical problems that face most elderly people. Up to then, he had led an abundantly healthy life. As long as I could recall, he and my Aunt Norma would walk every day. This was as much of their daily routine as was their morning devotional and prayer. Like Grandma and Grandpa Tron, they would rise early before dawn and sit at the kitchen table reading God’s Word and praying together, a scene as beautiful as life itself.

Unfortunately, we never got to see enough of him and Aunt Norma.

I could never recall them living close, rather always far away. When they would come home to New Harmony for visits, the family would all come into Grandpa and Grandma’s house to fellowship with our distant family. I could recall how my dad would seem to straighten up a bit more and our acts of foolishness would be less tolerated, for after all, Aunt Norma and Uncle Bill were coming. I could probably tell you without knowing they were coming to visit, just based on how everyone seemed to primp, tidy and prepare as if we were being inspected. The irony of it all was that neither Uncle Bill or Aunt Norma were at all bothered by what they saw and could care less how well we dressed or straight we sat at the table, rather, they looked at us to see within ourselves for who we were and what our souls had to say about us. Yes, they were probably the first people I had known that exhibited the characteristic of what it is to be truly Christian, for they carried themselves as such. Their devotion to their faith was not only lip service, it was factual. The adherence to the Sabbath was strict and obedient. In essence, if there were anything that caused us to walk taller and tighten our belts was their straight and narrow path upon which they walked, which caused us to want to do the same. Whenever a Sunday school lesson would ask, “Who in your life would you say are your Christian mentors,” Aunt Norma and Uncle Bill would be the first people to come to mind; that was their legacy. I can safely say that many in our family feel the same way.

So, for many years as my life continued on, I would occasionally hear of them moving to this place or that, but eventually they finally settled down and retired in Florida.

As my own life’s travels carried me from one place to another, I eventually found myself living on the outside looking in, having also moved away from New Harmony, something I would have never have imagined as a child.

Now I too had become a distant relative.

As life’s journey carried on, I was eventually able to begin attending classes at the University of Florida in Gainesville. An added benefit to my school location was that I finally found myself living within easy traveling distance to Aunt Norma and Uncle Bill’s house. So, when time allowed, I would stop by and visit them in Punta Gorda on my journeys to and from college. On our visits, we would always withdraw to the back of the house, in their Florida room, where we would sit and look out at the beautiful lake behind their home. Like some folks sit around the TV and visit, we would sit idly admiring the living scenery before us as a tranquility of peacefulness would settle upon our hearts. The soft-spoken voice of Uncle Bill would add to the passive serenity before us as we sat and discussed the myriad of tales life had presented since our last visit. Uncle Bill would always take the time to listen to my current plights and struggles and would offer gentle advice while Aunt Norma would listen and agree as we talked. I always found myself inspired from our visits, no matter how much confusion was in my life. In all my journeys, I still cherish those visits knowing they are now part of my collective memory.

On one of my trips, I spent the night and had more time to visit than normal. By chance, I reviewed the items in the bookshelf in the room in which I was staying. Besides numerous Bibles, I also found countless volumes of quarterly Bible study guides with important verses and sayings underlined or highlighted. I was struck by the depth of devotion and intensity of worship the notes in these pamphlets represented. Again, I was reminded of the sincerity of my Aunt and Uncle’s faith and how deeply compassionate their lives had been being devoted to God and the work to which they were called. During that same visit, they took me by their church where they had worked tirelessly for many years creating a food bank and clothes exchange for the less fortunate in their area. Their travels away from home were limited in part due to their commitment to the church. I recall once when I asked about them visiting New Harmony and their daughter who lived in the northeast they replied that they had trouble getting away from the food bank since it was hard to find enough volunteers to man the store while they were away. I was confounded at this but realized they were so devoted to their belief that it was unthinkable for them to leave something they felt called to lead. Once again, I had to admire them for their obligation.

Ninety-seven years is a long, prosperous life to live. I know my cousins, Sarita and Robert, will miss their father. I know Aunt Norma will never be the same without Uncle Bill by her side. For all of these family members and more I ask the Lord to look over them and provide them the comfort they will need in the coming days and weeks ahead. I am very remiss about not writing that letter to Uncle Bill before he passed. He wasn’t one to read emails, so I had planned to write him a letter and print it out then mail it the old fashioned way. Just this past weekend I thought of it again and realized time was quickly passing for us all. Yet, now I know he knows all I had to tell and more and again, for that I am grateful.

So this evening, as I reflect over the far too few times in life we had to spend together, I realize that my Uncle Bill was more than an elder of the family, he was our spiritual leader as well. His and Aunt Norma’s legacy will live on through the rest of us and for that I know we will always be thankful.

May God bless you and keep you Uncle Bill; till we meet again at the Eastern Gate,

– love your nephew, Timothy.

 

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Cold Rain of Warm Memories

rainThe magnitude of any one day is compromised by its passing quickly into the next, a mere moment in time which soon fades into the collective memory of our past.” – T. Tron

Today as I ran in the chilly forty-degree drizzle, thoughts of past times would come to me as momentary glimpses afforded me when the passing cars would allow. Knowing I had to be aware of my surroundings, I couldn’t just drift off into deep thought, so safety was of the essence and thought was only of consequence.

My training was an easy ten mile jaunt over hilly terrain along the main vein of travel that connected our countryside with the link to Hwy 421 and Siler City, known as McClaurin Road. I don’t like to run the route, which it is probably one of my least favorites of all the places I’ve run because of the traffic, but it’s easy and convenient. Its ease of access reminded me of one of my first routes; another country road back in Indiana.

The road back then was also paved, but rough from wear during the winter months of freezing, the ground being forced to and fro from the tumultuous upheavals of freezing and thawing. It was also one large loop that was almost exactly three miles in length, perfect for the beginning runner. The only problem with the course was the traffic, it too being a little narrow country road. Of course thirty years ago, traffic was much lighter than today, almost everywhere and especially out in the countryside of southern Indiana. There was one major hill on the road, one we called Oak Hill. I don’t know where it received its name, but it was quite possibly an island many eons ago when the world was in its infancy and that area was covered with water. However, towering above the fields of corn, it was in a sense an icon of sorts, standing tall above the sea of green below, one that would become golden when the tassels atop the corn would come into bloom. On those summer days, the smell of the tar on the road would mix with the smell of the endless rows of corn, one I can still remember even today. The air was so thick with the smell of corn you could almost taste it.

Here in this area of North Carolina fields of corn are rare.

So as I ran along watching and listening for the next car, my mind would search for the next trigger to take it off into another void of thought and recollection.

I passed the home of one of the local newspaper writer, Bob Wachs. Evidently some of the cars passing me had been some of that family that had just gathered on his front porch and were being greeted and welcomed in the door as I passed by. I wondered how many of them noticed me just then, or if they had no idea I even existed as they had reached their destination and the joyous family reunion was just beginning. I was the onlooker, like the cattle lying in the pasture nearby, watching the humans carry on as if in some big celebration of sorts that kept them inside and out of sight. The thought came to me, “I wonder what they’d do if I just ran up and invited myself in for dinner?” I began to drift off to Thanksgiving Dinner’s past when suddenly another car tore around the curve ahead forcing me off the road and quickly searching for safe footing as the blast of fury and wind passed.

I continued on, thankful that I wasn’t tied to any table and was free to immerse myself in the cold, fresh air of outdoors this dreary overcast day. It’s funny how days like today make you want to stay inside and hide from the raw embrace of the outside air, but once you step outside and take the plunge into the elements, you find it’s not all that bad; in fact it’s almost refreshing. However, as I neared the end of my run I noticed the wind changing direction and the temperature seemed to dip even farther. If I hadn’t already had a full steam of body heat created, I would’ve certainly found myself colder than I could already gladly entertain. Thankful to find myself trudging up the last big hill toward our farm, I watched as my own herd of cattle lay in repose, chewing their cuds and watching another being trot by, uncaring, unfazed by my presence. Their nonchalant attitude gave me comfort, for they were at peace, and with that knowing, so was I.

After I had reached my stopping point, I walked a bit and soon found myself in the rocker on the back porch with my shoes and socks off for a few brief moments. As I cooled down I thought of the times I would wade in the icy waters of the pool at my mom’s house in Florida the last time I was there for her funeral a couple Decembers ago. I thought of my pond down below the house and wondered how cold it might be today and if wading in it would also bring me back to that pool in Florida. My thought was broken by the hunter’s truck driving back down the hill, obviously taking a break for lunch as it had just passed noon after I returned home. The mist was heavier now and again, I was thankful to have the shelter of the porch upon which I sat to cover me as I sat resting in the rocking chair. The handrail of the porch gleamed proudly with the new coat of paint, another task completed, and another step closer to the sale of the farm.

There would be no turkey dinner for us today, but that’s okay.

Both of my children had oral surgery yesterday and both are on liquid diets. Their ordeal was precipitated by the fact that they wouldn’t miss school after the surgery if done during the Thanksgiving break. Meanwhile, my wife is sick with a head cold and I have to work tonight; fun I know. Yet even with all this, I know there is a purpose for what we do. There will be other Thanksgivings; there will be other dinner tables to gather around, all this I know and with that I can also take comfort.

Yes, today was a good day, and for that I was thankful.

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