Raising seven children in the
1960’s I’m sure was no easy task. My
parents were hard workers and wonderful providers. Not only did they both work full-time jobs,
after they got home they either worked in the garden or dad took on outside
carpentry jobs.
Dad planted unusually large
gardens, and in September mom canned vegetables in our large kitchen. Their labors provided us with vegetables
during cold weather and course helped reduce groceries bills.
On many occasions mom canned
well into the early morning hours. I
remember drifting off to sleep listening to the sounds of lids popping! My siblings and I would later line our basement
shelves with green beans, corn, tomatoes, okra, beets, potatoes, and other
yummy winter delights.
In late summer dad would load
his pick-up truck with garden produce and head for the Farmer’s Market in
Youngstown. Proceeds from these trips
went toward buying school clothes and supplies.
Dad also raised a hog or two or a cow to slaughter in the fall. By the end of October we were ready for
winter in the “snow belt.” I realize I
sound like Laura Ingalls Wilder’s 21st century counterpart, but it’s
true!
You can imagine that money
was tight in our home, and I tried not to place additional financial burdens on
my parents, except for one day in July 1970.
My pastor’s wife had approached me with the idea of going to youth camp
in Big Prairie, Ohio. She sensed that
God was working in my heart and encouraged me to do everything I could to
attend.
Because I had no way of
earning money, this meant asking my dad for the necessary registration and camp
fee. Timidity almost overwhelmed me, but
something (Someone!) strongly stirred me to approach dad for the money. It’s not that I was afraid of him, but I knew
that money for “extras” was in short supply.
Besides, I had to consider my brothers and sisters. Understand, $23.00 represented quite a
sacrifice in a family of nine.
In retrospect, I realize the
Holy Spirit honored my hungry, searching heart and gave me the fortitude to ask
my dad for the necessary amount. Mom and
dad were sitting at the kitchen table, relaxing after a hard day’s work. I approached them with my voice quivering and
said, “Dad, I’d love to go to camp in a few weeks. Could I have $23.00?” I believe the Holy Spirit touched his heart
at that precise moment and without hesitation dad said, “Yeah, I don’t see why
not.” Subsequently, he placed his hand
on my head as if to say, “It’s alright!”
That quick touch said, “We love you.”
Mom immediately wrote the check.
Since that day I have
referred to this incident as my “Twenty-three dollar miracle.” First, I knew my parents sacrificed greatly
to send me to camp. Second, on August 4,
1970 I responded to an invitation to accept Jesus Christ as my personal Savior
and simultaneously was called to preach!
Dad’s $23.00 investment yielded a minister of the Gospel!
To this day, as finances
allow, I love helping young people go to camp.
I wish to payback what God so miraculously made possible in my
life.