IT TOOK A MIRACLE (Another Family Story)

I have explained to my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren (those old enough to understand) that one of my missions in life is found in Psalm 78:2-7:

2b I will utter hidden things, things from of old—

3 things we have heard and known, things our ancestors have told us.

4 We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the LORD, his power, and the wonders he has done.

5 He decreed statutes for Jacob and established the law in Israel, which he commanded our ancestors to teach their children,

6 so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children.

7 Then they would put their trust in God and would not forget his deeds but would keep his commands.

I have a lot of stories, and I tell them over and over, realizing i am being repetitive for those who are not “new to the family.” But it is by design. My family has been blessed by God. We have experienced His workings in so many ways, and some of the stories, quite honestly, can only be explained as “miracles.” 

Today I came across a family story that I had recounted for an assignment in my college freshman English advanced composition class. As I read the familiar story, I realized again: 

I need to tell the stories. 

I love to tell the stories (of Jesus and His love),

I WILL tell the stories.

This is one of them.

From my freshman year at SBU, 1965

 Mrs. Barbara Ford

Advanced Composition

Assignment Topic: An “Inward Journey”

 

 

 For eleven years my father has been a Baptist minister, living a wonderfully happy life with his wife and five children. He is a man of short stature with bright red hair and serious brown eyes. His face is covered with freckles, but it almost always wears a smile. However, my father’s life has not always been exuberant and joyful; he was an alcoholic from high school years until the age of thirty. The miraculous event that changed his life occurred one February afternoon at West Helena, Arkansas.

 

The blinds were closed tight, and all the doors were locked. The white house at 123 North Eighth Street was empty except for himself, because his two oldest daughters, Barbara and Janene, were still at school, and his wife was at the Crippled Childrens’ Clinic at Memphis, Tennessee, with his only son, one—year—old Keith. His third daughter, Brenda, was accompanying her mother and brother, as she was not yet old enough to be in school. He could hear no sound in the house except the labored breathing of a man who was just sobering up from an all-morning hangover. As he sat on the couch in the living room, he realized anew what a mess he had made of his life. “Surely,” he thought, “there must be some way I can find the peace that would give my life meaning. There must be a peace that would help me to be a better father and husband.”

 

As he wrestled with this question, he began to glance desperately around the room for some ray of hope for inner peace. On each arm of the couch were objects for him to consider, and he knew that he must make a choice. On one arm of the couch was what was left of a fifth of whiskey. He looked at the bottle, and he said to himself, “You’ve tried for years to find peace in that bottle, and you know it isn’t there.” He looked at the other arm of the couch. There was the Bible that his wife had used the preceding night to read from, to the children, after which they had each prayed for God to “please help Daddy stop drinking.” He thought, “Maybe I can find peace there. I’ve certainly tried everywhere else.” He looked once more at the bottle; then he reached over and picked up the Bible. As he did, it automatically fell open to the fourteenth chapter of John. His eyes immediately fell upon the twenty-seventh verse, and he read, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” His heart cried with joy, as he at last discovered that he could have peace through Jesus.

 

Now unaware of the empty, still house, he got on his knees and prayed, “Lord, if you will help me stop drinking, I’ll do anything you want me to.” The Lord kept his part of the bargain; and, although not expecting a call to preach, he kept his part when the call came.

 

When the family returned to the house that evening, the older ones recognized a beam in the eyes of their father and husband which had not been there before. From then until now they, along with Melody Gay (born five years later), have lived a joyful, Christian life with this product of a miracle.

Daddy-his first pastorate, Jessieville Baptist Church

Jessieville, Arkansas 1959

Story From One Family Easter

                                                     A Famous Wilson Family Story

            as told by R.V. and Leona’s OLDEST, Barbara

 

 

Easter 1986

Mother was visiting Janene and David in Argentina, and Daddy was staying at home. He had retired from the State Department of Education and was finally able to spend his time doing what he loved—pastoring at Corticelli.

 

My family lived in Licking, MO, about 35 miles south of Rolla. During the week prior to Easter, I called to see how Daddy was doing. He was excited about his plans for the Easter service at Corticelli (he always loved doing special things on Easter Sunday). He told me about a plan to involve the children in some kind of balloon launch between the Sunrise Service and the regular Sunday morning service. He said the kids had written their names on cards. I didn’t really understand all the details, but Daddy was excited about it because he thought the kids would love it.

 

On the Monday following Easter, our teenage children were on spring break, and they each invited a friend to join us on a day trip to Elephant Rocks, close to Ironton (southeast MO) for the day. The young people took off on their own, and Russell and I took a leisurely stroll along one of the paths where we had never gone during our previous visits to Elephant Rocks.

 

Free of the kids and feeling rather adventurous, we strolled along the path, enjoying nature. In the distance, I could see something “unnatural” in one of the low-hanging branches of a small tree. We thought it would be fun to check it out, so we walked toward the mystery, and Russell stepped through some weeds to reach up to get it. “It’s a balloon with a string attached,” he said. I didn’t have a clue at this point, so I said, “Cool, get it down and let’s look at it.” As he started to pull the balloon from the branch, I could see a little card attached to the balloon string. ONLY THEN did Daddy’s special plan for Corticelli Easter come into the fringe of my memory. No way. Then I recognized the familiar handwriting—Daddy’s.

 

Russell retrieved the yellow balloon, only somewhat deflated, and we looked at the card. It was a Corticelli Baptist Church business card, and in Daddy’s handwriting was a Scripture verse. On the back of the card was the name of a little girl.

 

I could not believe it. I was absolutely so awestruck that I could barely walk back to the park entrance to find a phone to call Daddy (this was before cell phones, you realize). He was sitting out on the sidewalk in his lawn chair. He was pretty amazed (not nearly as amazed as he should have been) and instead of ooh-ing and aah-ing over my story, all he wanted to know was whose name was on it. I told him. He said she would be so excited to know that her balloon was found. That was his response—that the little girl would be thrilled that SOMEONE found her balloon!! (But then, that was Daddy.)

 

The rest of that day, all of us strained our necks looking up into the trees all around the area, thinking that if one balloon had made that improbable trip through Missouri, surely others would’ve been on the same wind-path. But no.

 

Upon reflection, I feel almost like a girl who finds a bottle on the beach. Wait! It looks like it has a message in it! Open the bottle. Wow—it does have a note in it! Oh, my--not only is there a message, but it’s from my dad, in his own handwriting.

 

(I still have the balloon tucked away in my keepsakes from 1986.)

 

That a balloon released on Easter Sunday morning from Corticelli Baptist Church was found on Monday morning at Elephant Rocks in Ironton, MO, is pretty amazing. But that it was found by that pastor’s daughter, who lived in a totally different part of Missouri from the church, and a yet entirely different part of Missouri from the balloon's landing site—now that’s a story that defies telling.

 

But of course I WILL tell it, for as long as I have breath in my body!!!

Barbara (Wilson) Ford

 

66 Years Ago

June 28, 1959, was my daddy’s first Sunday as pastor of Pleasant Hill Baptist Church, Jefferson City, Missouri. I didn’t take note of the date at the time. I had just turned 12. My family of 6, Daddy, Mother, myself (the oldest of the kids), two sisters and a brother, was moving to that area from Arkansas. 

I would not have remembered the date, but I would always remember that during Training Union on that Sunday evening, I met “the Ford boys” (there were three of them). I was immediately infatuated with the oldest of the three (Russell). I didn’t learn until later that he was two years older than I. Challenging, but I was sure of my goal!

After church that Sunday night, when we were all in the car, I announced, “The oldest Ford boy is mine.” It was necessary for me to “stake my claim,” as I had two sisters. 

Later, when I was catching up in my diary, looking through my Sunday School quarterly (a lesson book for each Sunday), I noticed that I had written on the page of the lesson for Sunday, June 28, 1959, “Daddy’s first Sunday as pastor at Pleasant Hill.” That’s how I knew the date, and since that was the Sunday I met Russell, that date became set in concrete in my mind.

I could hardly believe it when he (the most handsome guy in the world, already a freshman in high school, whereas I was starting my 7th grade year) started to pay attention to me. Long story (VERY long story) short, I never dated anyone else. 

So, when I first met Russell, I was not yet praying about God’s plan for my husband. But as the years progressed and the relationship developed (back then, we would’ve said it like this: “As we began to ‘get serious…’”), I found myself praying passionately that God would make clear His plan for our relationship. He answered my prayer. 

We were married when I was 18, and Russell was almost 20. Daddy performed the ceremony in that same little church. 

We will celebrate our 60th anniversary on September 8, 2025.

Oh, and by the way, my sister (15 months younger than I) married the youngest Ford boy, and they have been married 57 years.

Time passes so quickly. 

Christmas 2024

It’s been awhile since I posted, but I only have three art pieces that I haven’t shared.

More Than I Can Imagine?

I’ve been a Christ-follower since age eight. I’ve been a learner, with a desire to know Him more and better, all those [many] years of my life. And yet, I still have so much more to learn, and I sometimes find myself completely lacking in the “faith department.”

Recently I had the blessing of seeing God answer my prayers, in a couple of specific situations. Those situations involve other people, and so I will not recount the specific examples publicly. However, I want to say this: In those two or three situations recently, God did more than I asked—my faith was not strong enough to ask for that much. Why not? My faith needs to be stronger.

This verse came to my mind: “Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen.” (Ephesians 3:20-21)

In those recent situations, I prayed, but not for the miracle that God delivered. I didn’t even ask. I didn’t stop to realize that God could do the seemingly impossible. Do I know that He can? Of course, I know that God can do anything. Did I ask Him to do that? No. But He did WAY MORE (immeasurably more) than I asked, or even than I imagined.

Along with thanking Him for what He did in those circumstances, I am also asking Him to INCREASE MY FAITH.

Closing out with recent watercolor work (having a bit of a struggle getting back into the routine of painting, and it seems that after a break, I always feel like I am starting all over, in a way)…

European Robin

Harvest Mice

#IncreaseMyFaith #GodCanDoMoreThanIAskorImagine #MyInfiniteMind #NothingIsImpossibleForGod