Before I get too far into this journal, today isn’t actually my birthday. What, you say? You see I live in Australia which is one day ahead of where I was born in the states. So as we celebrate my birthday today in Australia we can actually celebrate it again tomorrow as that is the actual day I was born into this world back in the states. Not bad is it?
Now that your confused I will get on with the main topic of this journal. I had cataract surgery one week ago today and all has been well. In fact, the eye that had the cataract removed has 20/20 vision according to the doctor. So now it is a waiting game for one to two months and then an eye examination to determine the strength of my new glasses. Yes, the reality of it all is I am 71 and not only counting but deteriorating due to sin.
Anyway, now I will really get on with my main purpose for writing this journal. I am now only four years shy of my mother’s age when she entered eternity. She along with my father, grandmother and grandfather are all buried in the cemetery not far from where we resided when I was a boy.
That cemetery brings back some memories. One memory is when I was in 4H. We had a hay rack ride one Halloween and stopped at this cemetery. I don’t remember a lot of what occurred there but I do remember walking among those tomb stones on that bright crisp autumn Iowa night. That has stuck with me all these years.
As a boy of 16 I remember riding my Triumph motorcycle past that cemetery quite often on warm Iowa evenings enjoying the breeze and having June bugs hitting my forehead. Those June bugs could really hurt! Anyway, I didn’t really think much of what that cemetery was all about until 1961 when my grandfather passed away.
He was my dad’s father and lived on the farm about one mile from where we lived. I enjoyed many hours with grandpa. Often I could be found riding that old 48n Ford tractor with grandpa ploughing a field or mowing hay. I loved helping put up hay. Frank was a neighbour who lived on another farm near-by. He would come with his baler and I and a few others would pick up the bales and throw them on a hay rack. Then when the hay rack was loaded we would take it to the barn and put the hay in the haymow. Those were the days before the huge bales like they have today. These were bales you could pick up and pick them up we did. Putting them in the haymow was done via a fork similar to this which was hooked to a rope which was hooked to a tractor. The tractor would pull the rope and the hay would be lifted up into the haymow and when we had the hay in the place where we wanted it we hollered “Drop it!”. Then we stacked the bales and another load would ascend into the haymow and we did it all over again. At noon grandma would have lunch for us and we would gather around the table and talk and listen to the news on WHO. Grandma often made doughnuts for a treat but grandpa liked bread and jam for his dessert. Yes, when grandpa was placed in that cemetery it took on a whole new meaning.
I was saved some years before grandpa died but his passing had a great influence on me and my life. The Bible tells us “The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance” 2Peter 3:9. God desires for you, the reader of this journal, to personally know Him. John said “He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life” 1John 5:12. Yes, I am 71 and counting but unless the Lord returns my body will someday lie where grandpa, grandma and my parents lie. I am ready, are you?