When you grow up on a farm you learn two important lessons pretty early in life. The first lesson is that the work isn’t done until it’s finished, no matter what the clock says.
I come across folks all the time who look at the clock and base that as to when they can quit what they’re doing.
Oh, how I wish I could have done that the past two weeks.
I have dispatchers at at least two different companies who appreciate me for my work ethic. They ask for me specifically because they know the deliveries will be made, or if they aren’t made I at least did my best to get them done. Sometimes that pesky clock works against me.
Last week I was scheduled to deliver mattresses. I was to leave out on Tuesday afternoon. Deliver up to and including St Joseph, Missouri then be back Thursday afternoon or evening.
When the need for another driver to make a haul into Arkansas beginning Thursday came up guess who was called upon to do it.
I so wanted to take my ten hour break at home before I left for Arkansas but knew it would be best to drop my empty trailer, hook up to the next load and get as far as I could that evening.
Everything got delivered Friday. I got back home Saturday a half hour past noon.
For the record I could have made it to my first delivery on time if I wasn’t restricted by federal laws making me stop after a certain amount of time at work.
Some folks obviously weren’t raised on a farm.
The second lesson you learn from farm living is death is a part of life.
Children are drawn to kittens. There’s no denying that fact.
One summer we had over three dozen cats on the farm, most of them kittens. A disease ran through the whole lot of them. All of the kittens died. It doesn’t get any easier but you learn to move on after each death.
I remember when Grandpa Webster died at the age of 75. I was about 20. His age made me expect him to die sometime. Yet, everyone else was shocked.
I guess some lessons come later to some people.
My dad’s oldest sister died in her sleep early last week. Aunt Nette was in her late 80’s. Her heart was operated on a few times so it wasn’t a huge surprise when I received the news.
Another legend from my adult fellowship at church went home to be with our LORD as well last week.
Ada Chandler was loved by all who knew her. She had a stroke a few months ago that sent her to her end on this earth. She was in her 90’s.
Ada ran the prayer ministry with her husband Carroll until he passed to glory a few years ago. She kept it going as long as she could. Thank you Anita for grabbing the baton from them. We’re in good hands.
Ada had a feisty personality that we loved. Her failing eye sight made her speak up in class to let us all know we have to print our prayer requests neatly, among other particulars that we would laugh at under our breaths.
You learn to respect World War 2 veterans, especially ones under five feet tall. She will be missed.
Writers create certain story characters from real-life folks they know. The very first story I began to write needed an elderly woman in it. Ada was my inspiration for this particular character.
My character is a retired school teacher known for having a look that set everyone in their place. Ada didn’t have a look but she held our respect just the same.
When I began writing the story I just used the name Ada for my character. Barb read some of what I wrote and told me I couldn’t use that name.
I later changed the name to something more fitting, Pearl Remington.
Imagine a pearl handled pistol. Beautiful to look at but lethal under the wrong circumstance. That was Ada Chandler.
We knew she was all bark and no bite but that just made us love her all the more.
The fact that Ada and Carroll ran the prayer ministry up until the end of their lives tells me they had a farm kid’s work ethic. Their job of serving God didn’t end upon retirement, they worked until they were called home.
Well done Ada Chandler, thou good and faithful servant.
Well Done. You finished strong.
I hope the same is said of me when I’m in heaven, too.
I’ll see you later. Wade
