What will your children and grandchildren remember about you? That is a sobering question, isn’t it? The following is what Don Boys’ was taught from his dad. Enjoy!
“Character must be sought, taught, and caught but often it is fought! Whatever character I have, I got it from my father who died at age 66. My dad was a highly principled and successful man with a sixth grade education! At this time of year, it is appropriate that I consider how much I owe him. Much of what I am and what I have accomplished is because of him.
Dad dropped out of school in the sixth grade to help support his family. He was the eldest of five brothers and three sisters. The depression was on and war drums were beating all over Europe and the far east. After several odd jobs, he got a job pumping gas at an ESSO station in Wayne, WV on old U.S. 52. He was an early teen and would be married before he was sixteen. Mom was a year older and got married after graduation. A little over a year after they were married, “Little Don” entered the world.
After a few years, Dad got a job running a cake route for a national cake company and became a troubleshooter for them. Things were tough until I was in the seventh grade. By that time, the war was over and Dad was making more money, even bought a used car with a rumble seat. He ended up buying two gas stations and a drug store and became a highly respected man, not because of his success but because of his character. He tried to pass that on to me.
My most impressive lesson from Dad was that, “A man who will lie will do anything.” Life has proved that truism. People will lie then lie again to cover the first lie then sometimes even kill to not be detected. Plus, as he said, if you don’t lie, you don’t have to remember what you told people about anything.
Dad was savvy about people and business. He bought a gas station on one of Huntington’s major streets and quickly made it a success. He wanted everyone in town to know that Boys’ Esso Station did the best wash job in town and could be trusted with minor repairs. So I had to wash under the wheel wells and other places that no one could see.
I had just become a Christian and refused to work on Sunday morning or evening since I would be in church. He was not thrilled with that but he grudgingly accepted it. He permitted me to drive our service truck around the station driveway as I taught myself to drive. The truck was a 1948 Ford pickup painted white with red fenders. On each door was emblazoned “Boys’ ESSO Station” and within months I was using it for my dates with Mary Anne who was destined to become my wife. Often on Sunday or Monday, people would inform Dad as to where I had been on my Saturday night date! Within a year, I was preaching throughout the WV-KY-OH area and drove the truck to my preaching engagements.
Dad was not successful by accident. It was all planned and I had to follow his plan. I was to approach a car on our driveway with, “Good day, sir, may I fill it up and check your oil?” Dad never had a psychology course but he knew it was better to suggest a fill-up rather than, “What can I do for you?” He also knew that a few cars each day would need oil, maybe even an oil change. Of course, every car got the windshield and back window cleaned.
Dad taught me to work hard and long and watch out for details, something I have treasured during my life. All my life I have never been comfortable when people were working while I was watching. His push to get me to finish a job the best I could has been reflected in every area of my life sometimes to extremes. I remember when I was 40 years old and Mom and Dad came to Indianapolis to spend a few days. In recent years I had annually sold a million dollars per year of whole life insurance (for six years); was now administrator of one of the largest Christian schools in America; was a member of the Indiana House of Representatives; and had just written my first book; yet I remember wondering what Dad would think of my backyard garden! Would he be impressed with the straight lines of vegetables; the firm, red tomatoes, the lack of weeds (that he had taken years to train me to eliminate in our family garden)?
To this day, I still follow procedures that he insisted on me following as a boy: always wash my hands before every meal; comb my hair; stand when a lady enters the room; never sit when speaking with a lady; never talk when someone else is taking; respect all uniforms and I do to this day.
I was to keep my word whatever the cost to me. This came home to me when I was publisher of Christian school curriculum and mailed a promotional piece that was ambiguous, to thousands of Christian schools. It cost me over $2,000 to make it right although I could have pleaded that it had been taken the wrong way. Dad would have insisted that I make it right. I’m glad I did.
One of the most impressive lessons from Dad was his almost fanatical insistence on paying bills on time. It has played out in my life as I pay all bills when they arrive not when they are due.
I think Donald W. Boys was a great man even before he trusted Christ at 60 and after that he became a good man–an outstanding Christian. I still find myself wanting to talk with him at times; but it will have to be some other time!” http://donboys.cstnews.com/character-must-be-sought-taught-and-caught-lessons-from-dad
In the only Psalm he wrote, Moses said “The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away” Psalm 90:10.
If you have been following this blog you know I turned 71 this year. Therefore, I am living in those borrowed ten years. Wow! However, as I looked in the mirror this morning I noticed someone else or at least I thought I did. On the other hand, I have noticed this for some time now. That image in the mirror is getting more clear as time passes. What is it; or rather who is it I see in the mirror? Well, I see my father. For those who know me; you say how can that be when your father passed away several years ago? I know, I know, but it certainly looks like HIM!
Now you and I know it is not my deceased father I see in the mirror but it is simply my own reflection that is seen there. Nonetheless, it is that reflection in the mirror which reminds me more and more of my father with each passing day. Why, is this? Part of the answer is; I have inherited my earthly father’s DNA. Putting it in Bible terms it is “the image of the earthy”. That is the physical side of it.
So too, because I have trusted the Lord Jesus Christ as my own personal Saviour I am promised I “shall also bear the image of the heavenly” 1Corinthians 15:49. This latter promise is all “…thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” 1 Corinthians 15:57. This body which is of the earth is “corruptible” and “must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality” 1 Corinthians 15: 53. The incorruptible and immortal is the spiritual side of it.
This old, worn out body of flesh, in which I was born, will some day pass away but the Lord has a new body waiting for me. As Paul wrote “For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens” 2Corinthians 5:1. Thank you Lord!
<p><a href=”https://vimeo.com/39817503″>Fighting Mac – the story of William McKenzie</a> from <a href=”https://vimeo.com/xdcam”>Mal Hamilton</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a>.</p>
“The story of William McKenzie, a Salvation Army chaplain and one of the first to land in Gallipoli after the initial attack. He inspired the Anzacs by his heroic actions and words of faith.” https://vimeo.com/39817503
The 25th April is Anzac Day here in Australia. This film is about an ANZAC Soldier, Soul-winning chaplain who served both his country and his God in WWI. I hope you enjoy this short film. 1 John 5:12 “He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life.”
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?
Where do the years go!? I am not sure but they go and they go fast. The Lord has been so good to me in that unlike Job I have not had it that bad. I was reared in
southern Iowa just outside Ottumwa,
west of the airport turnoff.
Getting to our house you would turn right off the highway and onto the Highland Center road. Not far down this road you would first pass Mr. Cellars house on the left and almost immediately go down the hill and then up again. You would then go a mile or so and over the railroad tracks and soon after the tracks you would come to an intersection. At the intersection you would turn right and just up that gravel road on the left was our house.
That was home! Back then the Highland Center road was a dirt road and after a rain it was a mud road. However, when I was a teen, they asphalted the Highland Center road all the way from the highway to Highland Center. Nevertheless, the road past the house I grew up in is still gravel.
In this journal I just want to relate a time about 60 years ago when I was just a boy. Many hot and humid Iowa summer days I would take my bike out to the gravel road and ride just a short distance south to a big tree which stood on the opposite side of the road from our house. It was nice and cool under that tree protecting me from the hot Iowa summer sun. That tree was my pretend gas station. Did you have a pretend place when you were young? I would spend hours pretending to fill my (bike) car and doing whatever else that could occur at a gas station. Now, just one day from being 71 going to the gas station is not as enjoyable.
Yes, I have grown up (and out) but for some reason this big shade tree (no longer there) which served as my gas station was impressed on my mind this morning just before I got out of bed. Why? I do not know but perhaps to just share with you a memory that has stayed with me all these years and perchance jog a memory that lies hidden somewhere in your mind.
One of the blessings of growing old/er is the memories of days gone before. Make the most of the time you have; for “Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away” James 4:14.
“Islam in America: Violent and Bloodthirsty, or Peaceful?”
“My Experience With Islam in America
Islam is supposedly a religion of peace. American Muslims, at least, are supposedly peace loving, Americanized and Westernized people. The vast numbers of Quranic commands to kill non-Muslims are supposedly irrelevant to these American followers of Allah who supposedly put the Constitution above the Quran. Is it so? There are certainly secular Muslims who care more about making money and living like rich people than about what the Quran says. However, there is a vast and growing body of already extant evidence demonstrating that far, far too many Western Muslims, and majorities of Muslims in many nations worldwide, still believe the Quran and thus tend towards violence. To that body of evidence may the following true story provide some further light. The person involved in the record below will remain anonymous, and statements in the comment section speculating on the person involved will probably be deleted. The story will be told in the first person. It illustrates Islam in the American heartland.
The Testimony—What Muslims in America Are Doing
Not that long ago I was in the Milwaukee area, on a public sidewalk, passing out The Testimony of the Quran to the Bible outside of a Muslim gathering at a particular mosque in the region. Recognizing that “a soft answer turneth away wrath” (Proverbs 15:1), I sought to be especially polite and kind to the Muslims there as they left the mosque in multitudes. I was by no means doing anything to whip up the Muslims, as some foolish people in Christendom do at Muslim gatherings. As I respectfully offered them the literature, some of them cursed at me. One of them spat at me. Some of them ripped it up. (Some of them took it also, and I do not know what they did with it—hopefully they read it and God worked in their life toward them rejecting Allah and receiving Jehovah’s eternal Son, Jesus Christ.) One of them told me that there were crazy people there and I might be in danger. After a while, a sizable group of young Muslim men told me that they were going to kill me. They were not kidding, either. As they were approaching me, a private security vehicle with its lights flashing “just happened” to pull up, and it remained on the site the rest of the time I was passing out the Christian pamphlet. The vehicle stayed there for about two hours while the young Muslim men circled around and around in a car to see if the security vehicle was still there or if they could act out their desire to do me serious bodily injury or send me to the grave. This private security vehicle was God’s answer to my prayers, and the prayers of others, for protection before I went. After about everyone had left the mosque, I left also.
Politely passing out that pamphlet to those Muslims was the most dangerous evangelistic endeavor I have ever undertaken. I have passed out tracts to gatherings of people of many different religions. I have preached on the street and passed out literature to gatherings of militant sodomites, in front of drunks, and with various other rabble-rousers. While sometimes these people have made threats (sodomites, for example, have burned tracts, said they would kill me, and done other similar things), none, I repeat, none of these evangelistic opportunities has been as dangerous as politely passing out pamphlets to Muslims in the American heartland. This is my testimony to the character of Islam in America.
Interestingly, I was listening to National Public Radio (NPR) one time—perhaps a mistake in itself—and the radio station wanted people to call in to give their story of their encounters with Muslim neighbors. Everything was supposed to be light, happy, and frothy. I called and told the person vetting the calls what my story was. Not surprisingly, I was not allowed on air. It did not fit the P. C. fairy-tale narrative about Islam.
We should use the freedoms that we have in the United States to boldly evangelize the Muslims that are here—we would not have that liberty in countries where they are the majority. We should also ask God to protect us and take sensible steps to protect ourselves when we do so (e. g., have someone recording the evangelism on a camera, have someone ready to call 911, perhaps even wear bullet proof vests or other protection, although, based on Matthew 5:44, the example in Acts 7, etc. I do not believe it is best to carry weapons for self-defense when preaching the gospel, although carrying them for general protection is certainly Biblical, Luke 22:36-38. If Stephen had used a concealed weapon in Acts 7 things would haven been not a little different!) We should also consider what we are doing to our nation when we bring into our country and make citizens those who believe in the Quran. Muslim immigration can be vastly limited by simply passing a law that states that countries with a high level of support for terrorism cannot send people here (with an exception for persecuted minorities such as Christians). Islam does not even need to be mentioned in the law. By passing such a law, those who believe in the anti-Biblical and anti-American system of Sharia can be kept out to a large extent, while those that are already here can be boldly evangelized.”