DAD

Born in 1916, in Elroy Texas, Bernard Carl Pearson was the only boy in a family that included three girls. His dad Carl Bernard Pearson was a blacksmith. Dad went to school in a little red building that is now the volunteer fire department building in Elroy. An adventurer at heart, he went to a business school in San Antonio so he could help manage his dad’s blacksmith business. World War II called Dad where he served in the Army Air Corp as a 1st Sergeant in a Finance operation in Belgium. There he meet my mother, Irene. They got married, moved back to US after my brother was born in 1946, then went back to Belgium for a short stay when I came along in 1948. He eventually decided to move back to Austin and later to Houston. Through the years, Dad modeled life principles that would have great impact on us boys. He taught us to not judge a person by the color of their skin. He taught us to treat everyone with respect. He taught us to work hard and save money. He taught us the value of family.

When Dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, he did not give up on life. He continue working as long as his mind allowed. When he could no longer work, he still work around the house doing as much as he cold. Even when he could no longer move his muscles, he still did not give up. I remember a funny incident when he was in the nursing home. His orderly (a women) was moving him from his bed to his wheel chair. She told us to watch his face. As she lifted him, his hands slide from her waist down to her hips – then he smiled. She said he like hold on to her hips. Dad knew how to enjoy life – no matter what.

In John 15:15 Jesus said, “I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.” I believe Dad taught my brother and me the things his dad taught him. My last word to him before they laid him to rest was, “Thanks, Dad, for being my friend.”

Today my children are grown. My daughter and grandson are living with Carol and I. Gage is my friend.

The Original Christmas Carol

Christmas Past

In the beginning was God. Gen 1:1 says the earth was empty and God gave it life. This was the first gift. God breathe His soul into His creation. Thus the earth was full of God’s character. The Old Testament is an account of how man used and misused this special gift. This was the Christmas past

Christmas Present

The birth of Christ represents God’s second gift. He gave the earth and mankind, His Son Jesus so man could understand God’s character. When Simeon saw the Christ child, he recognized the second gift God provided mankind. He praised God and offered a blessing to Joseph and Mary. (Luke 2:22-35)

During His three years of public ministry, Jesus showed the world the greatest gift possible; the gift of life. John 10:10. This is Christmas Present.

Christmas Future

The Holy Spirit gave John a look into the future (Revelation 21). John describes the final gift from God – A new heaven and a new earth for the old has passed away – A New Jerusalem full of God’s character. God now dwells with his people and they dwell with Him. This is the Christmas Future.

The Christmas story is now complete.

Father’s Day and the Master Gardner

Today is Father’s Day; a day we traditionally honor the many Dads across the land. As I enjoyed my morning coffee out on the deck, I notice the roses needed dead-heading, so I set down the coffee cup and picked up my pruning shears. Dead-heading is the process of cutting off the rose flowers that have past their prime. This makes the plant look better and promotes new growth. As I  continued working through the roses, God spoke to me and said,

“Just as you area working your garden, I must also work mine.”

Not being the brightest bulb in the world, I asked. “What do you mean?”

God said, “What do you do in your garden?” “

I plant new plants after preparing the soil, keep the garden free from weeds and rid the plants from parasites and disease, nurture the plants by watering and feeding, prune and dead-head as needed.”

Then I understood. I simple replied, “Thank you for caring enough to include me in your garden.”

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Today I reflected on my Dad, the person who taught me about friendship, the person who taught me to look past the color of another person’s skin, the person who taught me about compassion and doing the right thing. How thankful I am that my Dad cared enough to teach me these things.

I also reflected on my children. Since they are adults now, I see them with a different perspective than a parent see younger children. They turned out pretty good, I think. I am not sure how much of that is due to anything I did or did not do. I hope I passed on to them the wisdom my Dad instilled in me.

A few weeks ago, I had the blessed opportunity to spend a week with my youngest daughter and her family in Dallas. Laura asked for my help in replacing a fence around their home. This meant working hard and playing with Gage, my Grandson. He is an eager learner. As I look at the photos, I have a clearer picture of how God works His garden.

The Parable Of The Oak That Drew Sustenance From The Elements

“Here I am,” said a man, “getting along past the meridian of life, and have nothing to show for my efforts.

“All these years I have striven to give a true account of myself before God and my fellow man, and have failed. Having had the best preparation in college and professional school that money will buy, and having had ample opportunity to show my ability in at least three different lines of work, here I am left stranded high and dry, like a miserable piece of flotsam on life’s wide sea. There seems to be no work for which I am adapted.”

“Sit on the bench beside me,” said his friend, “and look at this giant oak before us. See how it drinks through its leaves the same air that the little plum drinks in yonder. It draws nourishment through its roots from the same soil. The same rain blesses them with its showers, and the same sun shines its benediction down upon them both. From all these elements in nature the oak draws suste­nance, just as does the plum. And yet the oak does not become a plum, nor the plum an oak. Each is governed by the inner law of its own being, which takes from each element exactly that which its own peculiar nature and genus demand, and rejects that which it cannot use. Look carefully, friend, at the oak. It is especially like unto you, for it, too, is late in arriving.

“You cannot, by taking thought, add one inch to your stature. But you can by being true to the law of your own being–even as the tree gives itself to the air and the sunshine in perfect trust to the great Father who governs all things, both the lilies and you-draw unto yourself exactly the opportunities, the environment, the friends that you need, and your success will be measured only by the dreams and desires which are rooted within your own integrated, unified self.

And the friend walked away, but the man still sat there and stared at the oak, until it became no longer a fancy or a dream but a living fact that the law which governed the oak also gov­erned him, and that which was his could not ever escape him, and that which was not his could never really belong to him.

And days went on and a great quietness came into his soul. He could not understand it, because always before he had been unrestful at heart. Neither could his wife understand it, nor his friends. And then one day a man came to him with a wonderful offer which became the door to a career of true usefulness and happiness. And how and why it came he knew not, neither did his friends, nor did he ever meet anyone who could tell him. But as he passed the oak tree one day, he suddenly knew why it had come to him. For he knew that within the oak there was a power which was continually creating that which its inner nature craved from the silent elements without. And great calmness henceforth stayed with that man, a calmness that to others seemed colossal when those about him seemed lost in inconsequential things.

Now let your roots sink deep and take in the nourishment God has for you. Psalm 1.

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Clark, Glen, “I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes”, Harper & Row Publishing, NY, 1937, p173-174.