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

Retro: My Blog Post from 2013, on 50th Anniversary of JFK Assassination

This morning I was thinking that I had a strong memory about the date “November 22.” Immediately I realized, “I’m thinking this is the anniversary of the JFK assassination.” I looked it up to confirm. Yep.

Later this morning I was looking through my blog posts (starting in 2013) to delete some of them in case I decide to have the blog printed. Strangely, as I was scrolling through the many posts, I came across a post I had published on the 50th anniversary of the JFK assassination, November 22, 2013. 

I am linking to it here, for those who might be interested in reading. In that post, I wrote about my own diary entry when the event happened (I was 16).

 Link to 2013 blog post: 

My blog post about the JFK Assassination on the 50th anniversary.

Me in 1963 (ugh!)

#JFKAssassination #Journalofa16yearold #lookingback

Brief Catch Up

For weeks now, every day my notebook task list says “Catch up on blog.” Fortunately, it automatically forwards to the next day, saving me a lot of time with the need to re-write the task repeatedly. I am so far behind.

My HEART and my ART today:

But today, I am just going to post a verse that one of my friends posted on Facebook, as a reminder to those of us whose hearts are heavy with “worries” about tomorrow’s election and what it might mean for our country (good or bad). And then I’ll just do a “photo dump” of the art pieces that I have completed since last I posted on my blog.

The mystery was then revealed to Daniel in a vision at night, and Daniel praised the God of the heavens and declared: “May the name of God be praised forever and ever, for wisdom and power belong to him. He changes the times and seasons; he removes kings and establishes kings. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to those who have understanding. He reveals the deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and light dwells with him.”

‭‭Daniel‬ ‭2‬:‭19‬-‭22‬ ‭CSB‬‬

God is in control. His plan is always the best plan!

“A Little Bit of Honey”

Although I “popped on” recently to blog a short piece about my painting of the “honeybee,” there is a bit more I would like to share that comes to my mind when I think about the honey bee.

According to my recent research, some etymologists assert that the correct usage requires two words, i.e., honey bee, because it is a kind or type of bee. It is incorrect to run the two words together, as in dragonfly or butterfly, which are appropriate because dragonflies and butterflies are not flies

So, as I think about the honey bee…

I like to think about honey. I always have it in my pantry (raw, local) because I use it in so many ways in my cooking. 

Often what comes to my mind is a memory based on this verse:

Genesis 43:11, KJV:

“And their father Israel said unto them, If it must be so now, do this; take of the best fruits in the land in your vessels, and carry down the man a present, a little balm, and a little honey, spices, and myrrh, nuts, and almonds.”

When the famine was great in Canaan, Jacob (Israel) desired to send his sons to Egypt for the second time to ask for food. The brothers did not realize that the person they had previously “dealt” with in Egypt was their brother Joseph, whom they had sold into slavery when he was a young man. But this time, when Jacob wanted them to return to Egypt to ask for food, the brothers told their father that “the man” (Joseph, their brother) told them not to come again without their youngest brother. Jacob did not want to send his youngest son. But his other sons convinced him that was the only way their request would be honored by “the man.” So Jacob sent them, along with the youngest brother, and told them to take some things with them (by way of convincing “the man” to give them food), including fruits, a gift, a little balm, and a little honey, along with spices and nuts. In this case, the attempt at persuasion was successful, and the rest of the story is an amazing working of God’s plan.

Many years ago (probably in the mid-60’s), my Daddy preached a sermon (I likely heard it more than once) that was one of my favorites. The title was “A Little Bit of Honey.” I still remember it. He used this verse (Genesis 43:11) as his text, and the theme of his sermon was that if we would remember to add “a little bit of honey” into a circumstance, things might turn out for the better. He “expounded” on that theme, of course.

Actually, there are several Bible verses that mention honey, such as:

Psalm 119:103 

How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!

Proverbs 24:13

Eat honey, my son, for it is good; honey from the comb is sweet to your taste.

Me? I like a little honey on a homemade biscuit. And, it adds a sweetness to several of my homemade bread recipes. 

From my Kitchen:

I’m glad God made the honey bee!

#honeybee #watercolor #aLittleBitofHoney

Quick Little Honeybee Painting

I’ll just hop onto my blog for a moment, to post my little honeybee painting that I just finished, from a mini class in Anna Mason’s Nature Studio, where I am a member. 

My daughter-in-law is not fond of anything that flies and buzzes, and I can understand that, because I am morbidly afraid of the creatures that are slithery. So maybe I’ll give her a heads-up not to look at my Instagram or Facebook or blog! Ha.

This one was very quick and relatively easy, so it was a nice break for me, and yet allows me to stay in touch with my “painterly” side.

#AnnaMason #NatureStudio #honeybee #watercolorhoneybee #watercolor

Detailed Realistic Style + Me = Perhaps a Good Match

So, I admit that I am sort of embracing the more realistic style of watercolor painting, and while I knew from the beginning that style is much more “me” than the loose (place a bit of wet paint on wet paper and spread it around) style, the times I tried it in my early days of watercolor painting resulted in a feeling that I just might not be able to do it. In other words, there’s no doubt it’s a lot harder. But “a lot harder” also means “more challenging,” and that, too, MIGHT describe something that would appeal to me.

Still, though, I don’t like working at something if I don’t feel like I can eventually “get it” (not to be confused with “mastering it,” which I do not feel will ever be the case, when it comes to watercolor painting).

I have been applying myself to stick with some tutorials in this detailed, realistic style, and now I am beginning to think I might be able to get to the point of feeling a bit successful.

The previous post contained three of those types of painting (snowdrop flower, green and red apple, and monarch butterfly). For the last few days, I have been working diligently on this “Opening Rose.” It is getting more and more enjoyable for me to paint in this style (that is synonymous with saying I am feeling more and more like I can do it). 

I have always loved this Bible verse:

“And whatever you do, in word or in deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” - Colossians 3:17 (CSB).

And another:

“Whatever you do, do it from the heart, as something done for the Lord and not for people,” - Colossians 3:23 (CSB)

I do want to try to do my best at things I attempt to do. That said, a balance is needed for someone like me, who tends to expect perfection from myself, even when I know it’s not possible. So, sometimes, I allow myself to not expect so much. But I can always do it from my heart, while giving thanks to God.

That part of the first verse about doing it in the name of Jesus, giving thanks to God—that part plays well in the arena of painting botanical subjects, or animal subjects, for that matter. Every time I paint a flower or a plant or a bird, for example, I am made aware again of God’s marvelous creations. Take the monarch butterfly on the previous post, for example, or the rose in this post. These things are such great reminders of the majesty and miracle of God’s creation. Painting them really allows me to delve into the depths of the creation, and it is inspiring to me.

#watercolor #watercolorrose #watercolorbotanicals #rosesarecreatedbyGod #annamasonnaturestudio #detailedrealisticstyleofwatercolor #workatitwithallyourmight

Latest Artwork, Inspiring Verses and a New Journal

As promised in the last post, I am focusing for awhile on a detailed, realistic art style, as opposed to the loose style from the previous post. I like both styles, but there is a part of my “being” that kind of prefers detailed realism, although it is honestly much more difficult (i.e., challenging). I will probably go back and forth between the two styles, because I also like variety.

Following tutorials by Anna Mason (Nature Studio), in the last few weeks, I painted these three pieces:

Aside from my artwork, I would like to share a couple of verses that are among my favorites and happen to be verses that our pastor (my grandson Conner) recently led our congregation through, in our corporate prayer time. (As I recently confessed, I am drawn to verses that have to do with generations of believers…also, the Chris Tomlin song “Holy Forever” practically has me on my knees from the first line: “A thousand generations falling down in worship….To sing the song of ages to the Lamb…” Oh my…)

“Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your might to all who are to come.” - Psalm 71:18

“But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children—with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.” - Psalm 103:17-18

And speaking of grandchildren, mine are all special, of course. My wonderful granddaughter Tory just blessed me with a new Prayer Journal for my birthday. She is such an inspiration to me. According to the foreword, the “Pour Out Your Heart” Prayer Journal is meant to be “a tool to help develop a lifelong pattern of gospel-centered, Scripture-based prayer…It is not something you will complete in a week or even a year. But over time, this little book will grow into a valuable treasure, a safe place to pour out your heart before the Lord, and an ever-deepening reminder of his promises and faithfulness…” I started working in the prayer journal today.

#watercolorsnowdrop #watercolorapple #watercolormonarchbutterfly #AnnaMasonNatureStudio #generations #legacy #athousandgenerations #HolyForever #prayerjournal

Beautiful Spring Days but a “Hitch in the Giddy-up”

I’m still trying to get used to the seasonal nuances of the Pacific Northwest. We have had some pretty spring days, but it seems like it’s taking a long time to be consistently nice and warm (and sunny). But there have been several days of sunshine, and my recent addition of a few hanging flower baskets provide some joy with their “touch” of spring. As I write this today, it is a perfect spring day, with sunshine and warm temperatures.

We are a bit restricted from our usual amount of “running around,” with my hubby’s herniated disk (and accompanying nerve displacement) causing a lot of pain. He can drive, and we do get out fairly regularly, but he really can’t get out of the car and walk much at all without lots of pain. He is showing progress, so we are hopeful to be back to normal soon, but this has been 2 1/2 months of his not being able to do most of what he generally can do without even thinking about it (mowing the yard, weed-eating, for example). 

It kind of makes us realize what all we take for granted! Doctors say it could even be up to a year before the disk works itself back into place. We are hoping that with his faithful adherence to the physical therapy exercises, we can speed up that timeline. We also hope that the disk will soon have moved away from the nerve, so that the pain is much less in the near future.

My watercolor painting has given me something to do on these different-than-usual days. I’ll share some of my recent work, and these are all the loose, wet-on-wet style. I have since returned to a more detailed style, and the next post will include some of those pieces.