The Anniversary

The Anniversary


The old man trudging along the dusty road stopped and looked around. He seemed unsure of his whereabouts as he mopped the perspiration from his face with a soiled handkerchief. Then glancing behind him once more he moved on again out of the meager shade offered by the scrawny little tree that almost looked out of place in the otherwise treeless landscape. Topping a small rise in the road the old man paused once again to gaze ahead. Far in the distance a few hardscrabble buildings rested atop a small hill. They resembled a bit of something added to a painting as an afterthought by the artist. The late afternoon sun and shimmering heat waves made them appear to float on a sea of haze.

The old fellow started on with an expression of something akin to fear on his weathered face but with the determination of one on a mission that must be accomplished. However, as he drew closer to his apparent destination his steps began to lag once more as though he dreaded to go on. He stopped then started on, then stopped, then took a few more steps and finally stopped and sat down. Then burying his face in his hands he sat with silent sobs wracking his gaunt frame.

It was dusk before the old man got to his feet and resumed his journey toward the same ramshackle buildings. They now appeared as a dark splotch against the gray of a fading twilight. No lamp appeared in the window of the house to welcome him as he approached through the gloom of sudden darkness as the last of the light left the sky. There wasn’t even the welcome bark of a dog to greet him as he opened the gate and stepped into the sun baked yard; Not even a sound other than the squeak of the gate hinges as he pushed it shut behind him.

The old fellow’s shoulders seemed to droop even more as he stepped up on the porch and reached out to take the screen door handle and pull it toward him. It made a scraping noise as it dragged on the rough board floor of the porch. Reaching with his other hand he turned the knob and let himself into the darkened room. Again, the silence seemed almost to have a weight to it and he stopped just inside the door. Light flared suddenly as he struck a match on the inside door frame and touched it to the wick of a bracket lamp hanging on the wall nearby.

As the light pushed back the gloom, the meager furnishings could be seen. There was a couple of worn arm chairs and an old wicker table. A doorway opened into the kitchen while another opened into what was apparently the only bedroom in the small house. Inside this room the furniture was much like that in the main room, a chair, a wardrobe and a bed. At first glance the room seemed unoccupied but then as the old man carried in the lamp, a form could be seen in the bed. The small frame of a frail old lady was almost hidden by the quilts piled high. No movement or sound came from her as the old man moved about the room.

Finally, he came over to stand gazing down at the still form of the one lying there so quietly. It appeared as though he was forced to come against his will for he still seemed to be trying to avoid something. After some moments the old man spoke slowly and barely above a whisper; “It’s no use Martha, they won’t come. They didn’t even believe me when I told them. They tried to tell me you weren’t even here anymore. I told them, but they just wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t get them to come. Even when I explained it was our fiftieth anniversary they still just laughed. They just don’t understand that I couldn’t let you go before we celebrated our anniversary. We’ll have a party anyhow then I’ll take you back to the cemetery tomorrow."

THE END

Author: William L. Hyatt

Poetry

ONLY LONELINESS FOR ME


In this world of love and laughter
No happiness can I see;
Now and forever after,
There’s only loneliness for me.

No joy-but only sorrow
In this whole life will be;
The hope of my tomorrow
Holds only loneliness for me.

Pain, regret, broken dreams,
Gladness is gone, so is glee;
Life is darkness; now it seems
There’s only loneliness for me.

Sadness, tears, also heartaches
Are all that’s left, save memory;
O’ the pain of these heart-breaks
Leaves only loneliness for me.

A cloudy sky, a rainy day;
This the future seems to be;
Tomorrow painted twilight’s gray
Brings only loneliness for me.

Copyright 1998
William L. Hyatt

Fishing

FISHING

I well remember the first fish I ever caught. Being raised up during the latter part of the “Great Depression”, we fished a lot for the purpose of adding to our food supply. We ate whatever kind of fish we caught, even rough fish such as carp and drum.
The particular day I’m remembering, I was five years old and we had gone fishing on a small creek near where we lived in West Central Missouri. There were in my family two older sisters and an older brother besides my parents. We all fished and were lined up along the stream for some distance with me being near my parents. I had played more than I fished so had caught nothing when time came to go home. My dad said for us to roll up our lines and get ready to leave. I remember begging to stay for a little while longer so I could catch one. He was adamant about leaving and told me to get my line rolled up. Just as I reached for the pole the bobber went under and, grabbing my pole, I jerked so hard that pole, line and fish wound up in a willow tree nearby. Yes, I had caught a fish and a nice one at that. It was a Crappie that weighed about three quarters of a pound. I think it was the best fish any of us caught that day. At least that’s the way I remember it. This may also be my first case of “selective” memory.

Bill

A first post

Welcome to Bills Blathering, a blog site for my ramblings. Feel free to read anything I post here. Comments are welcome.

Called Of God

Romans 11:29

I can remember when I was all of eight years old and we lived on a farm in West central Missouri. I went to a country school and told someone I was going to return to the area someday to either teach school or to preach. At the time I knew nothing about either subject nor did anyone in our immediate family even go to church. The only time I can remember being in church before that was when I was about seven years old and we had gone to a revival meeting one night at a church near our home. The night we went someone broke into our smokehouse and stole a half of a hog we were curing. My dad said he would never go to church again and it was several years before he relented.

We had lived near neighbors to a family who made their livlihood by stealing. By near I mean they were our closest neighbors even though they lived nearly half a mile from us. But that is how it was in the country when I was growing up there in Missouri. Anyway, they had moved from the community, either to keep from getting run out or something. We later moved to the town where they had moved. Some would call it coincidence but Psalm 37:23 says, "The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord". Now I don't know that anyone would have called my dad a good man but he certainly wasn't a "bad" man. In any case, even then, God had a call on me though I was not aware of it. By this time I was a teenager and had forgotten all about what I had said about teaching school or preaching. I had not the least inclination of even going to church even after my parents had seen the Couple who had been thieves. They met them in town when they went to buy groceries and Mr. and Mrs. B had become Bro. and Sis. B. They invited my parents to attend church with them at the Assemblies of God church. My dad was so impressed by the change in them (see 2 Cor. 5:17) that they agreed to attend. I didn't go to church as I thought that was for feeble-minded folk and children. I would ride up to the church with my parents and go on up town to hang about until time for church to be over. Then I would be back for the ride home or else I would walk home.

This went on for some weeks until, one day I had no money to warrant going up town so I decided to go with them to church. To my surprise there were several young people I knew from school there. We would sit and talk while the preacher preached but God was working behind the lines. One night the former lady thief came back and asked me if I didn't want to go to the altar and get saved. I didn't know what she was talking about but something (The Holy Spirit) seemed to make me get up out of my seat and make my way to the altar. When I got up from the altar I knew I was saved. The next day I could hardly wait to tell my best friend about it but he didn't know what I was talking about. A short time later, Sis. B. came back to me again and told me she thought my dad would get saved if I went to him and asked him. I didn't know how to ask so I just asked him the same way she had asked me. Without a word, but with tears streaming down his face, my dad made a beeline for the altar. Before long my mother and kid sister were saved also. It wasn't long before I learned I needed the baptism in the Holy Ghost and started seeking. About that time I received the call to the ministry and it scared the bejabers out of me. I was one of the most bashful and shy boys you would ever expect to meet at the time. However, I did bring a sermonette for youth meeting one night. I think it took me about five minutes to say what I had to say. I argued with God about His calling me, and eventually backslid, because I was scared of the idea of preaching. But, even then, He was still working. I would go to church and just have to go to the altar. Then He would renew the call and I would run again. I even went into the Air Force trying to escape from Him but He followed. I was overseas in New Foundland and had taken to drinking a little bit. One night after being in a bar I caught the bus for the ride back out to the base and a young man in uniform got on at another stop and sat down right across from me. He had a Bible in his hand and I said something about him being in church. He replied in the affirmative and when I asked him where he had went to church he replied, "The Assemblies of God church". I was floored, as I did not know there was one within a thousand miles of where I was stationed. See, God was still keeping track of me.

I returned to the states and received my discharge and went back home. My parents had moved to Richmond, Missouri a year or two before I went into the service so we no longer lived in the same town where I had gotten saved but they were still attending a local Assemblies of God church. I tried to go to church but God would not let me attend without reminding me of His call upon my life. I finally went back into the Air Force and then married. After giving me two sons my wife was killed in a car wreck and I got scared because I had not taken her to church. Then, in a dream, He let me know she was with Him. I remained in the service for nearly a year after her death then took a discharge and re-married. I married a young Assemblies of God girl and attended church regularly with her. It seemed as if God might have forgotten about my call but, no! He reminded me very forcefully one day.

I had gone to a mission church to hear a young man I had met while stationed at Grandview, Missouri. He was preaching a revival at The Lighthouse Mission in Kansas City, Missouri and I went there early to visit with him before church time. When the man in charge of services introduced him as the evangelist that night someone stepped up behind my right shoulder and said, "Son, that's where you belong". It was so real I turned to see who had spoken but saw no one. I knew it was God and answered, "No, God, not me. I don't want to preach". Again He said, "Son that's where YOU belong", emphasizing the you. Once again, I replied, "No God, not me. Get someone else. I don't want to preach". The third time He spoke He said, "Son, you will either obey my voice and heed my call to preach the gospel or you will die in your sins and go to Hell". There is only one way to answer that and I answered it by saying, "OK, God, anything you want". When I had said that all the fear of preaching left me and I could have preached to thousands of people right then. I never did get to hear that fellow preach. It took all the time he was preaching to have that conversation with God.

Many years later I did go back to the area I had grown up in and pastored an independent Full Gospel church for a while.