Tuesday, July 26, 2016

I Almost Flew The Coop

Dr. Ronnie W. Wolfe

At one time in my young life we had a chicken house. Along the side of it we had coops. They were attached to the chicken house, and there were (I can't remember) about 10-12 coops alongside the chicken house.

One day I decided that it might be a good idea to climb to the top of the coops. I began climbing, which was customary to a young "monkey" as I was. When I arrived at the top of them, I found it entertaining that I could see down on so many things from a different view from what I had ever seen before.

Then I became afraid. I was afraid that I might fall if I tried to get down. I called as loud as I could to my mother, who was in the house. She came outside, and I said, "How do I get down from here?" Now, my mother was always wise "to the hilt," and I thought she could give me an easy answer to my dilemma; but she said, "Get down the same way you got up, only backward." Then she went back into the house. To this day, I don't remember climbing down, but I tried to do what she said, and I am alive today.

Many times in life we get ourselves into messes that we feel that are impossible to escape, but there is always a way to escape, especially with our faith in God and in Christ.

Many people get out of church and find it difficult to get back in. Many get into bad habits and do not know how to get out of them. Take my mother's advice. Go out the same way you came in, only backward. This is very good advice, even though it may seem to be simplistic and vague.

Sometimes we must go back to our younger years, back to our old selves, back to our old values, back to our simple thinking, back to where we met Jesus and trusted him with our whole hearts. It may be a little scary at first, but there is a way back.

For those who have never known Jesus Christ in pardon of sins and through a new birth, you must look forward to trusting Jesus' death, burial, and resurrection to bring new life. Then you can begin to live anew and have assurance as you have never had it before.

1 Corinthians 10:13 There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.

Monday, July 18, 2016

My Lost Doll

Dr. Ronnie Wolfe

My mother-in-law, when she was living, collected dolls. Some of her daughters would buy dolls for her on every one of her birthdays and at Christmas time. She had a whole room full of dolls. Dolls were on the bed, covering it up, on the floor, and on every piece of furniture in the bedroom.

Once, when I was visiting her with her daughter, my wife, I took the time to go back into the bedroom and look at all the dolls.  Now, I am not a doll lover. I would never collect dolls, though my wife did to a small degree.  As I looked through the dolls, I noticed this little boy doll dressed in green. I think he must have been a little Irish boy from what I can remember. I don't know why, but I fell in love with that doll.

When I went back into the living room, and told my mother-in-law that I wanted her to be sure that I got that doll when she died. She said she would. I never really thought about it after that.

My wife passed away in 2003, and her mother came to the visitation and funeral. At the visitation, my mother-in-law came to me and handed me that little doll and said, "I want you to have this before I die just in case someone forgets to give it to you after I am gone." I was speechless.

I took the doll and placed it in a ante-room in the church so that I could take it home afterward. In all the business of the funeral, I forgot to take it home. About two weeks later, I remembered the doll. The next Sunday morning I went to church, and I immediately went to the room to get the doll to take it home. When I got into the room, I could not find the doll anywhere. Evidently someone had seen it and had taken it. I was extremely sad for several reasons--first, because my mother-in-law had taken the time to give it to me; second, because she had given up one of her dolls for me; and third, because I really wanted that doll for several reasons.

I know that a doll is only a doll and that in this case I was a softly, but I cannot help still missing that little green boy who used to sit on my lap.

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Is This The Providence Of God, Or What?

Dr. Ronnie Wolfe

It was Sunday last. My grandson and I, after the Sunday morning service, went to our local Skyline Chili restaurant to eat some good chili.

As we were sitting close to the front door eating, several people came by and spoke to me, and I greeted and talked with several of them at length.

A family from our church happened to also be at the restaurant; and, when one of the children saw all the people come to me and greeting me, she said, "Does everyone know Bro. Wolfe?" Well, it certainly does seems to be the case sometimes.

One man who greeted me and talked with me a little took it upon himself to pay for our meal, for which I am very grateful. May God bless him for that. That happens occasionally, and I know that was God's providence.

But after my grandson and I ate our chili, I asked the waitress to bring each one of us a cup of chocolate ice cream. In a couple of moments, she returned with the ice cream. I asked her to also bring the bill, but she said, "Someone already paid for your food, so you don't owe anything." I reached for my cup of ice cream and said, "You mean, even these?" She looked at me hurriedly and said, "Oh, don't worry about that."

So the man paid for our meal, and the waitress gave us the chocolate ice cream for free. I hope she did not get fired (I am sure she did not). Now, isn't the love of Jesus something wonderful? That is God's Providence working among us.

Saturday, July 9, 2016

Who Is My Father?

Ronnie Wolfe
After I had left Falmouth, Kentucky, and moved to Lexington, Kentucky, to go to school, I lived in a house where some other men lived. We all had our rooms, and the landlady lived in one section which had a kitchen and a separate bathroom. All of the men had to use the same bathroom, and most of the time there were either three or four men besides myself. I had the whole upstairs to myself, though it was divided into two rooms, and another man could have lived in one room and I in the other. This did not happen the whole year and more that I lived there.

While there, one late evening, while I was sitting on my bed upstairs and probably doing homework, one of the men downstairs came up the steps and spoke to me. Then he sat on the bed beside me. It was only a couple of minutes until he said, "Ronnie, I have some news for you, and I know you will be surprised." I wondered what kind of news he could possibly have for me, so I asked, "What news?"

He looked at me a little strange and said, "Ronnie, I am your real father. You see, when you were young, my wife and I were separated, and you were given for adoption to another couple. I had not seen you since until today. After I learned who you were, I did some research and found that you are my son."

I did not know quite what to say. You might say that I was speechless. He began to go on and on about some of the details of why he was my father, details which now have passed from my memory. It may be so that I did not even listen to his detailed musings, because I was shocked at his sudden revelation.

This would not have been so bad except for the fact that it was true that, when I was growing up at home, we had taken in my first cousin to raise. My mother took him when he was nine months old. I did not find out that he was a cousin until he was about 13 years old. Now I am faced with a possibility that I may also have been "taken in" and that I may be another cousin rather than a brother to those raised around me.

As he talked, I began to contemplate all kinds of things, because I really did not want this man to be my father. Eventually, I looked down at my hands. When I saw my hands, I realized that my hands were almost exactly like my father's hands. I was more like my father than I was like this man who was claiming to be my father--we had nothing in common.

We are children of God, because we have become somewhat like him; and one day we will be like our Lord, Jesus Christ. 1 John 3:2 Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is. There will be no doubting then that we belong to Him. But the question is, "How do we look right now?" Are we like him in our daily living and in our worship? Do we love him as we love our human parents, even more? Are we talking with Him and admiring Him as our Lord and Savior?

I loved my father with a deep love, and I tried to obey him and my mother. I learned a lot from them and wanted to grow up like them.  We should also desire to be like our Father in Heaven even to the point that we may, if not look like him now, at least act as he would act on the earth.

The next morning, as I went to leave for breakfast through the center hall which led to the front door, I noticed the front door open and some men standing around in the hall. I paused to see what was going on, and at that time, two men were walking out with this man who claimed to be my father. They were taking him to a mental hospital. I was saddened, yet relieved, that I still had my same father. I can never lose my real father except in death, and I did in 1970; but I can never, ever lose my Heavenly Father, because he has sealed me with His Holy Spirit.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

My Broken Nose

By Ronnie Wolfe

My father worked in the city (Covington, Kentucky) and stayed there all through the work week. He came home on Friday evening. One Friday evening he came home, but he went immediately to the barn to do some work before he came to the house.

I was anxious to see him, so I decided to go to the barn. In my excitement, as fast as I could, I started toward the barn. I went out of the house and across our front porch. When I got to the edge of the porch, I was stepping off the porch and lost my balance.

As I stepped off the porch, I saw immediately a rough rock making its way up from the ground right into my face. Actually, I was falling toward the big, rough rock, and that rock slapped me right in the face as I fell to the ground directly on my nose.

When I began to cry very loudly, my father ran as fast as he could to me, picked me up, checked my nose and said, "I think he broke his nose." Then he carried me into the house.

My nose really hurt, but I was at least in my father's arms preferred and protected. That was all I wanted.