When They Call Your Number

I enjoyed watching the Heisman presentation this week-end. The show reminded of another great player from my hometown.

He was the great grandson of an early Oklahoma United State Senator. He stood 6 foot 5 inches, weighed 245 and he could fly like a sprinter. And man, could he ever zing the football on a line. He could flat out “bring it”. He had all the impressive stats and stature of today's pro quarterback.

But the year was 1962, and he would become later known even to this day as the greatest athlete to ever come out of Lawton High School. For many years, he held the state high school record for high hurdles. He was member of the heralded 1962 Lawton High School Track Team who that year won the state championships. Lawton’s 1962 track team was named the 44th best high school athletic team of the past 100 years by the Daily Oklahoman.  He led Lawton to its only state high school basketball championship in 1962 beating the number one rated team Tulsa Central coached by a twenty six year old coach in his first high school basketball season named Eddie Sutton. He was The Daily Oklahoman Football Player of the year in 1962 filling the sports page with a full three column photo under the caption, “The Blond Bomber” .He was the starting quarterback in the 1962 All –State football game and later quarterbacked Oklahoma to a victory over Texas in the 1962 Oil Bowl Game. He had over 41 offers to Division I schools, and chose The University of Oklahoma.

He was the scheduled starter for his first season at OU until knee injuries side lined him for a year of rehab. He came back the next season as the starting deep safety and held that position for the next three years. He intercepted two passes in Oklahoma’s victory in the 1964 Gator Bowl. In 1965, he won the low hurdles event in the Big Eight Track and Field Championships in Oklahoma. He was drafted by The Oakland Raiders.

There was another player who was a member of Lawton’s 1962 basketball squad. He was at the other end of the skill set and rarely played unless several of the regulars were severely injured, missing, or if we had a comfortable double digit lead that began with a three. It was one of those opportunities to sit, reflect and be ready if your number was called. They never called my number during those days of “pine therapy”.  Probably just as well under the circumstances. Better to ride the bench and let people wonder about your basketball skills than to take the court and confirm what most suspicion by an absence of significant playing time. I remember our basketball coach (who fancied himself as an amateur comedian) telling a local Lions Club that “Anderson is not particularly fast, but I did see some interesting foot speed when he got off the team bus for the pre-game meal at a buffet in Chickasha”. That’s not the sort of clipping you want to show your grandchildren.

 “The Blond Bomber”, or better known as my longtime friend Bill Thomas, went on to enjoy a wonderful family and a successful career in real estate, and later until his retirement in teaching and coaching. I was stunned to learn that the “Blond Bomber” died in Sun Lakes, Arizona earlier this year after a long bout with bone cancer. Those of us who remembered his quiet but powerful leadership were sadden by his passing.

I remember the agony of “riding the pine: in those days. I wondered if the coach would ever “call my number” to get in the big game. How insignificant those feelings have become.

Three of my closest high school experienced adversity this past year. Each now live within 30 miles of each other in southern Arizona.  Bill died of cancer. Our class president went through the heartache of being abandoned by a wife who no longer wished to married. Our head cheerleader experienced a similar situation only to experience a subsequent unexplainable and unexpected death of her only son. Each called to ask me where was God in these situations. Each asked why God allowed these tragedies to invade their lives. I missed my chance with Bill who died before we could visit. I have not been back to Arizona since most of you know why and when.

I won’t miss this chance again, because when God calls your number……

“The Woman In the Wheelchair”

Stillwater Churches established an annual tradition of promoting “Random Acts of Kindness” during the last week of September. Many small groups go into the community to perform simple acts of kindness to randomly unsuspecting individuals. Some of these acts include putting quarters in washing machines at laundry mats, making arrangement to take 5 cents off every gallon of gas at service stations , handing out water and popsicles to OSU Students fields, and other citizens on public walking trails, taking cookies to hospital , fire , ambulance, and police stations, , and presenting unusually large tips or gift cards to wait staffs at Sonics and other restaurants. The opportunities are limited only by imagination.

For example, one group took a home cooked "man sized" box lunches to city sanitation workers at 5 AM one morning. Another group cooked hamburgers and hot dogs for teachers at Lincoln Academy. My favorite was a box of groceries, clothes, and gift cards placed in a box on a doorstep of a deserving individual and then vanishing in a get a way car a/k/a “Knock and Run Benevolence”. I enjoy partnering with the organization of this event every year, but I am often bothered by the underlying connation that some may see only the irony of churches doing RACs one day out of the year The thought is slightly analogous to why Christmas motivates certain behaviors only once a year. For some "christianity" is what they believe, for others "christianity is what defines their lives. Expressed another way, its not so much what yoiu believe in but in whom do you believe

Several weeks ago one of our women in her late 50’s came into our church office struggling with her wheelchair. She has suffered from MS throughout her life. She talks with great difficulty, and it took me a little bit to understand what she was saying. The short story was that her husband had just become eligible for social security benefits which for some reason caused a modest increase in her monthly disability payments. She had “rolled” her way to church with great effort from a nearby subdivision to ask how her “extra” money could be used to help other “less fortunate” people. Talking through tears while standing behind her, I told her I would come up with options the following week. She left the building, and as I watched she fell to the ground from her wheel chair on our side walk, produced a spade and a Wal-Mart sack and began pulling herself along the sidewalk weeding our flower bed. This is how she serves the church each week along with helping us pass out bulletins on Sunday..

A passerby on the highway called our office from his car to tell us that a lady may have fallen out of her wheel chair outside our building and we may want to “check her out”. There were many Random Acts of Kindness performed in Stillwater this week, but none shall equal that which we received from “the woman in the wheelchair”.

Katherine was born in the remote backwoods of Alabama in 1922. She was the oldest of four children. Her younger brothers died at various times as small children. None of them lived beyond their fourth birthday. The family shack had a dirt floor and was without electricity or water. Her mother died when she was eleven. Katherine was told by her Father the cause of death was "dropsy". To this day, Katherine has never understood what that meant. What she did understand is that her father removed her from the third grade and told her it was "time to get to work if she expected to eat". Katherine had difficulty supporting herself and her father who suffered from mental difficulties. Her father entered into "a guardianship agreement" with a local Alabama family who agreed to house and feed Katherine in return for Katherine's commitment to care for a bed ridden family member. There was money involved for her Father who quickly abandoned her after making that agreement. She never saw him again. She was trapped in that arrangement until she was 18 years of age. She walked everywhere during those years. Servants were not permitted to ride in automobiles. She walked by a "tent revival" as a teenager and accepted Christ as her savior. She was baptized in the river, and became as she described "one of God's children". He promised to love her as his child. That arrangement was more than enough for Katherine. At age 18, she married a young soldier boy from Perkins, and they moved to Oklahoma in 1945 when he returned from the war. Life was hard. Katherine and her husband were described as "dirt farmers". Living off the land proved difficult. She sold produce from her garden along dusty country roads. He worked "busting broncs" for local farmers and ranchers. They spent most of their time employed as "farm hands" in and around Payne County. Her husband was the last of a disappearing group of cowboys who made their living from the employ of larger cattle and horse operations throughout Texas and Oklahoma. They were never able to have children. Her husband died in the early 1980's. Members of his family tried to "look in" on her whenever they had time. They allowed her to live in an old two room rent house in the country. She survived on $400 a month social security and very little care or attention. Katherine never learned how to read or write. She concealed that well because it was embarrassing. They lost her glasses in the hospital. When they brought a replacement pair and an eye chart, Katherine just kept saying "they look fine to me". That's how I knew. I met Katherine in the hospital because someone told me she was a nice but lonely old lady who likely would likely spend her last days there. She had fallen and broken her hip in her home. She laid there on the floor for five days before being discovered by family members. What an irony that the last days of her life were spent in the nicest and most comfortable surroundings she ever experienced. She marveled at "the room service" that came like clock work three times a day. Of course, the nurses absolutely adored her. Katherine had a sense of humor and enjoyed being teased. She worked cross word puzzles by getting the published answers and filling in the blanks of the puzzles appearing the week before. She got a kick out of that. Someone bought her a television in the late 90's and that became her primary source of entertainment. She had two maybe three dresses. I am not sure. She was always too embarrassed to attend church, but she managed to contribute small amounts of money to local churches from her social security. She loved to give out $5 dollar bills to extended family members at Christmas time. . Katherine died at Stillwater Medical center this past Sunday. Katherine lived less than twenty miles from my comfortable home and church. I never knew her. I will think about that distance from time to time. I know I will think about her when I consider complaining or whining about anything "uncomfortable" or "inconvenient" in my life. I will think about her when I look inside my wallet or my closet. We talked about the importance of being "mission minded" in staff meeting this week. It would be too easy to say that Katherine could have been embraced by anyone without the necessity of a shot record or a passport. But Katherine would tell you that the only difference between her life and other dirt poor and uneducated people in Ethiopia, Hondourus and other areas of the world was this – Katherine had Jesus! In her mind, she was truly more fortunate. To her, lost people were in more desperate situations. Amazing huh! She would urge all of us "to Go, to Gather, and to Grow" not just for the poor and unfortunate, but more importantly for the lost-especially the lost. Jesus was all she ever had in her life, but that was enough! Katherine of all people helped me to understand the importance of mission work across the world and across town. I also have a re-newed understanding of the underserved need to care for others in this community less fortunate who exist outside the walls of our church. Katherine was laid to rest in a brown hard scrabble cemetery just off the highway in Tryon. They miss spelled her name in the local newspaper. But then again, she would not have been able to recognize that. She never had her hair done. She would have really enjoyed that experience yesterday at the funeral parlor. . Her family wanted a small line in the obits section to tell every one that Katherine "was in heaven". They edited that part out as "not important to the story line". Go figure! When we leave the cemetery today, everyone will be heading back to their busy lives, and most will be thinking about lunch. I will from time to time think about Katherine's simple but hard life of trust, obedience and her assured hope of heaven. None of us will hear the cheers and celebration occurring elsewhere today when Katherine arrives safely home. But I will know---and I will smile!