Everyone likes a good story, and for my money there is none better than this one. I can say this because it is the story of GayNell and I. Her story began when she became an addition to the family of a poor Texas preacher. Juanita Ferris was the young bride of a preacher boy named Hardie Weathers, who was the son of a U.S. Marshal. His family of four boys and a girl were Methodist people, in the Baptist town of Waco, Texas. It was like they were meant to be together for when they were in the seventh grade they had an interest in one another. A few years later GayNell's mother and grandmother were visiting a church, and it was there GayNell's granny said, "Juanita, isn't that Hardie Weathers singing in the choir?" The fire was lit, and they became an item. During the great depression their journey of faith began. Hardie would laugh, as he would talk about their early days in ministry. I can still hear him say, "We ate off the clothesline and ate wind pudding."
He meant by this expression that he only had two sets of clothing, those he had on and the one's on his back. Let me satisfy your curiosity, for those wondering about what wind pudding is; wind pudding is whatever the lord blew in on a certain day. Those were the war years, and it was where he became a faith preacher. They did not beg, they believed, and that was as real as it gets. GayNell's grandmother was first nations Choctaw from Oklahoma, and she has told me the stories of how her grandmother took in laundry to provide for three girls and three boys and she also worked at the hospital as a nurse.
I was privileged to meet the men who were my father-in-law's best friends and even spoke for some of them when we started out. I can only imagine the stories he told his buddies about some of the places we stayed, which was not the Marriott or the Hiltons. One of the places we stayed was a side room off the platform of the church sanctuary and we slept on a roll away bed, a fold up twin bed on an iron spring. On Sunday morning we had to go the pastors home a few blocks away to shower and get ready for church. We had a lot of adventures like that over time, but it became a long road of obedience in the same direction. I can only say GayNell had been prepared for this life in that she had never known anything other than this. She has never known anything but ministry, and her parents lived a life of faith in front of her, which became our shared passion. One of the places they lived was in a church they had built upstairs over the baptistery. Her mom had to stay up at night and fight the rats and mice off their newborn.
Most of you have heard, we met on a blind date and were married 90 days later. We met the week after Valentine's Day, 1965 at my uncle's lake house, south of Houston. I got lost on our way home and had to ask a policeman on the south side of Hobby Airport, where her home was. We were less than a mile away from the residence. When I was getting back into the car after speaking with the officer, I caught a glimpse of her leaning across to the driver's side window and thought to myself, "Oh girl! You look altogether too comfortable in my car." Honestly, I can still see her leaning across to the side where we were talking. I have never forgotten how comfortable she looked at that moment. That was our first date, and a young woman (whom we never saw again) had introduced us. Makes you wonder, what if she had not been a part of the scenario? I do believe that God moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.
Sixty years, nobody has ever asked us how we have been together so long? However, if someone did ask us, my answer would be GayNell has been the perfect complement to my life. I would add that my mother and father set an example for me and her mother and father set an example for us. It is interesting how our parents love for each other kept them following the path of covenant. My mother was 42 when my dad died of a massive heart attack. My mom never had an interest in another man. She had her kids to raise, and she raised us the way she knew our dad would want us to be raised. Her name was Golda, but our dad called her Goldie, and I can still hear him calling her name sixty-three years later. I can still remember the smell of my dad's pillow. It's funny how things like that linger in your mind concerning those whom you have loved. When I was 17, I did not return home one night. Early the next morning my dad, who they nick named Speedy, came and found me. I was leaning over a pool table in the local pool hall that stayed open 24 hours. Suddenly, the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. I felt someone looking at me and even with my back turned, I knew who it was, it was my dad. He never said a word; he did not lift his voice, he just stood there, and I quickly stopped what I was doing and headed for home. He came and found me because my mother and father loved me. That is the way I surrendered to our heavenly father. Love is what compelled Jesus to come and find me and when I realized what that love meant, I followed.
When we think of the places we have lived, and the hundreds of people we have served throughout the years, the good always outweighs the bad. The Lord has made real His Word to our hearts and minds, "blessed is the man who passing through the valley of weeping make it a well and the rains fill the pools also." One of our favorite translations of this verse is found in the message bible:
"And how blessed all those in whom you live, whose lives become roads you travel; they wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain! God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and at the last turn—Zion! God in full view!" Psalm 84:6
King David is speaking to me once again as I write this weekly letter:
Gaynell and I have spent over half of our lives with the family of Heritage Fellowship, and we can with thankful hearts say, thank you for allowing us to be your pastor and sharing life together. As I wrote this letter, it was not easy, because I saw myself standing at the head of your loved one's caskets, and when you cried, I cried. As a pastor, you find out what it is to love like a shepherd, to care like a shepherd, and to enjoy life together, which you have taught us to do. I have watched your children play around the altar area, like agile lambs, and my prayers start there for them.
We have spent nearly forty-four of the sixty years of our lives with you, and it has been a pleasure to serve you and yours. We are blessed, and Heritage is our inheritance. It has indeed been beautiful.
God is love and we love you, with gratitude,
Cleddie and GayNell
He meant by this expression that he only had two sets of clothing, those he had on and the one's on his back. Let me satisfy your curiosity, for those wondering about what wind pudding is; wind pudding is whatever the lord blew in on a certain day. Those were the war years, and it was where he became a faith preacher. They did not beg, they believed, and that was as real as it gets. GayNell's grandmother was first nations Choctaw from Oklahoma, and she has told me the stories of how her grandmother took in laundry to provide for three girls and three boys and she also worked at the hospital as a nurse.
I was privileged to meet the men who were my father-in-law's best friends and even spoke for some of them when we started out. I can only imagine the stories he told his buddies about some of the places we stayed, which was not the Marriott or the Hiltons. One of the places we stayed was a side room off the platform of the church sanctuary and we slept on a roll away bed, a fold up twin bed on an iron spring. On Sunday morning we had to go the pastors home a few blocks away to shower and get ready for church. We had a lot of adventures like that over time, but it became a long road of obedience in the same direction. I can only say GayNell had been prepared for this life in that she had never known anything other than this. She has never known anything but ministry, and her parents lived a life of faith in front of her, which became our shared passion. One of the places they lived was in a church they had built upstairs over the baptistery. Her mom had to stay up at night and fight the rats and mice off their newborn.
Most of you have heard, we met on a blind date and were married 90 days later. We met the week after Valentine's Day, 1965 at my uncle's lake house, south of Houston. I got lost on our way home and had to ask a policeman on the south side of Hobby Airport, where her home was. We were less than a mile away from the residence. When I was getting back into the car after speaking with the officer, I caught a glimpse of her leaning across to the driver's side window and thought to myself, "Oh girl! You look altogether too comfortable in my car." Honestly, I can still see her leaning across to the side where we were talking. I have never forgotten how comfortable she looked at that moment. That was our first date, and a young woman (whom we never saw again) had introduced us. Makes you wonder, what if she had not been a part of the scenario? I do believe that God moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.
Sixty years, nobody has ever asked us how we have been together so long? However, if someone did ask us, my answer would be GayNell has been the perfect complement to my life. I would add that my mother and father set an example for me and her mother and father set an example for us. It is interesting how our parents love for each other kept them following the path of covenant. My mother was 42 when my dad died of a massive heart attack. My mom never had an interest in another man. She had her kids to raise, and she raised us the way she knew our dad would want us to be raised. Her name was Golda, but our dad called her Goldie, and I can still hear him calling her name sixty-three years later. I can still remember the smell of my dad's pillow. It's funny how things like that linger in your mind concerning those whom you have loved. When I was 17, I did not return home one night. Early the next morning my dad, who they nick named Speedy, came and found me. I was leaning over a pool table in the local pool hall that stayed open 24 hours. Suddenly, the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. I felt someone looking at me and even with my back turned, I knew who it was, it was my dad. He never said a word; he did not lift his voice, he just stood there, and I quickly stopped what I was doing and headed for home. He came and found me because my mother and father loved me. That is the way I surrendered to our heavenly father. Love is what compelled Jesus to come and find me and when I realized what that love meant, I followed.
When we think of the places we have lived, and the hundreds of people we have served throughout the years, the good always outweighs the bad. The Lord has made real His Word to our hearts and minds, "blessed is the man who passing through the valley of weeping make it a well and the rains fill the pools also." One of our favorite translations of this verse is found in the message bible:
"And how blessed all those in whom you live, whose lives become roads you travel; they wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain! God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and at the last turn—Zion! God in full view!" Psalm 84:6
King David is speaking to me once again as I write this weekly letter:
"Your boundary lines mark out pleasant places for me. Indeed, my inheritance is something beautiful."
Gaynell and I have spent over half of our lives with the family of Heritage Fellowship, and we can with thankful hearts say, thank you for allowing us to be your pastor and sharing life together. As I wrote this letter, it was not easy, because I saw myself standing at the head of your loved one's caskets, and when you cried, I cried. As a pastor, you find out what it is to love like a shepherd, to care like a shepherd, and to enjoy life together, which you have taught us to do. I have watched your children play around the altar area, like agile lambs, and my prayers start there for them.
We have spent nearly forty-four of the sixty years of our lives with you, and it has been a pleasure to serve you and yours. We are blessed, and Heritage is our inheritance. It has indeed been beautiful.
God is love and we love you, with gratitude,
Cleddie and GayNell