Dad's Last Supper

 This past Sunday, Resurrection Sunday, Union Springs Baptist Church observed the Lord's Supper during the Worship.  My mind goes back to that last supper when Jesus became a servant and washed the disciple's feet.  True to who He was He humbled himself to the lowest of servants.  It was a nasty job.

I'm reminded each time of being the one in my immediate family that had to empty the "slop jar" each morning.  Some people would call the "slop jar" a chamber pot.  Our slop jar was an empty gallon paint can.  We couldn't afford an inside toilet nor a store-bought chamber pot.  They did not have them in Jesus' day and the lowest of servants would empty the clay jars of human waste at the local dung gate or dump.  I emptied our tin gallon bucket in the edge of the woods.

The slop jar resided in my brothers and my bedroom.  Our sister had to do "Number Two" in it almost every night.  I believe did it because I had to empty it.  My brothers and I just went outside to pee and to the outhouse (toilet) when dad built one.

When Granny Hopper would stay with us, she always used the paint can slop jar.  There was no modesty curtain and our ten-by-ten bedroom with the army cot which was my bed and my brothers' double bed filled one end of the room.  A baby bed used for clean clothes that mama ironed was at the foot of my cot.  Each corner beside the door opening (no door) were wires nailed loaded with clothes and coats.

I was ashamed carrying the slop jar especially when we had company.  When there was company, I would place the tin bucket through my sister's bedroom window outside on the ground.  I would carry and empty it.  The edge of the yard was so beautiful green where I deposit my sister's number one and two. 

My sister was like one the Buc-ee gas station’s rest rooms sayings, “We are number one at number two.” 

Sunday marked the forty-first Easter since my dad died.  As were observed Communion, I thought back to the Last Supper I had with dad.  It was the Monday night after Easter, and we had convinced momma to take some time off.  She had cared two years for dad who had a brain tumor.  He was in his last hours.  Momma had babied daddy and his nursed could not believe how healthy he was.

Momma had fixed daddy a wonderful meal with his favorite potatoes, green field peas, pepper sauce, corn, tomatoes, cornbread, and sweet tea.  I wheeled dad to the supper table in his wheelchair.  He was very feeble and could not speak.  I prepared him a plate and began to feed him.  Every time I watch Driving Miss Daisy, I weep.  I think of feeding daddy what would be his last meal. 

I would take a fork and point it to his food.  If he wanted it, he would nod his head yes.  If he did not want it, he would nod no.  One time he nodded no to everything.  I finally bumped the sweet tea glass, and he smiled and nodded yes.  It is a precious moment in his and my being that I will forever cherish.

I feed him some cornbread, and he choked.  I thought he was going to die, and I was alone with him.  We had a great time not realizing it would be the last time we would communicate.  During the night he slipped into a coma.  Early Friday around four in the morning, daddy died.  I would spend our last moments holding his hand.  When he the nurse pronounced him dead, I shook his hand and said, "See you later pop."

Daddy had turned sixty on April 9, 1984.  Easter Sunday was April 22, 1984, and I fed dad his last meal on the 23rd which is today's date for this article.  He died on the 27th.  

Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into his hand, and that He was come from God, and went to God; He riseth from supper, and laid aside his garment; and took a towel, and girded himself.  After he pureth the water into a bason, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded.   John 13:3-5 KJV

"Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me." John 14:1 KJV  

Greatest Night in History

 

So, after receiving the morsel of bread, he immediately went out.  And it was dark. John 13:30

How many of you know someone that has so much potential and refuses to live the good life that God has for them?  Each of us knows someone who has allowed alcohol, drugs, and other deadly vices destroy careers, marriages, families, and fortunes.  How many parents grieve over a child that could have been a great Christian working to improve society but falls victim to the sins of society?  How many neglect the opportunity to serve the Lord? Do we consider how much we grieve the Father when we do not live according to His plan thereby not living to our potential?

Journey back to the night of Jesus’ betrayal.  What was the greatest night in the history of the world when the disciples were gathered together with God turned into a restless night of confusion, separation, denial, guilt, jealousy, murmuring, and rejection.  An intimate relationship with Jesus and with each other becomes a night of revelation about the hearts of the Twelve where unfilled areas of the heart were exploited by sin, especially Judas.  Jesus loved Judas knowing his future betrayal.  Jesus knows and loves us in-spite-of our actions. 

Long Cold Journey

 I love Spring.  New life is everywhere.  The sunshine creates thousands of shades of green, millions of different colors decorating the landscape, and in Alabama temperature changes that baffle the mind.  In the mornings you need heat and clothes that keep you warm and are removable because afternoon you need an air-conditioner and shed clothing.

Night times are marvelous with clear skies and billions of stars that remind us how insignificant we seem in this universe God created.  The Bible reminds us that humanity is His greatest creation and all that He created was for us.

One beautiful spring Saturday, my son Aaron and I decided to make a road trip.  Living in Linden, Alabama we were a hundred miles from Sugar Ridge my home where I grew up and where I am now retired.  Aaron has a Jeep Wrangler, and we removed the hard top and doors and started to make the trip just to check on the house and property.

I went into the house and got me a jacket.  It was a good sun shining morning and Aaron questioned my getting my leather jacket.  I reminded him that it might turn cold before we returned to Linden.  He reluctantly got him a jacket, a down one I might add. 

Aaron had a friend that had testicle cancer and had lost all his hair due to treatments.  Aaron decided to shave his head to encourage his friend.  He asked me to shave it, and I did.  I add this information because it is pertinent to our adventure.

The journey was one that helps bring a father-son relationship a cherished one.  Aaron had the best time that day.  My hair was blowing in the wind while Aaron's bald head was getting a tan.  It was exhilarating viewing the spring unfolding its beauty.  It was fantastic watching from the jeep.  We took our time and took in every special moment.

The Spring began sinking into the western horizon.  Sunsets are gorgeous on Sugar Ridge.  We started our one-hundred-mile journey back to Linden.  My leather jacket looks great but lacks any warm thermal qualities.  I carried mostly for blocking the wind.  Aaron started home in his short sleeves.  We went through Clanton the county set of Chilton County got us some grub from Sonic as darkness dominated the skies.  The air began to cool.

Traveling down Alabama Highway 22, it got cold and colder.  Aaron finally put on his jacket and turned the Jeep's heater to high.  On 22, we discovered all the cold spots and the colder spot that trees had shaded during the day.  Warm spots we few and far between.  My leather jacket did not warm me.

With the temperature steady falling, I begged Aaron to stop, and I would use political signs to make us doors for the jeep.  It was election year and there was plenty if signs.  He pulled his jacket over his bald head, I shivered, and the Jeep began a refrigerator.  When we reached Selma, we stopped at a redlight and the heat from the pavement temporally gave us some warmth.  

I don't know if the cold froze Aaron's brain, but he would not stop.  Outside Selma we were halfway to Linden.  We could not feel the heater any longer.  Aaron was driving so his left leg was exposed the cold from the missing door.  As passenger I my right leg was freezing.  He slowed the Jeep hoping it would reduce the and we could feel the heater.  It did not good.  Two icicles finally arrived in Linden to a warm house.  Both of us still had cold legs.

We laugh at our frozen escapade now.  It was a journey that I will always cherish mostly because I made this wonderful memory with my teenage son.  

Thanks, Aaron, for making life fun and unforgettable.

Thank you, God, for your wonderful creation and unpredictable Alabama weather.

O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.  Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.  When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?  For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.  Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:  All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field; The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.  O Lord our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!  Psalm 8 KJV

While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease. Genesis 8:22 KJV

The Right to Vote

 It was a November evening in Alabama.  The Hopper family loaded into a 1958 Chevrolet Biscayne and headed to Posey’s Crossroads.  It was Election Day.  Day had changed his election voting location from Randolph, Alabama to Posey’s Crossroads which was less than a half mile from our home.

Dad had moved us back from Beloit, Illinois in March 1960.  Dad had been registered in Randolph even while we lived in Illinois from1957 to 1960.  This had to be 1964 and one of the most memorable moments of my life.

Mom, my sister and two brothers sat in the Chevy as dad entered the polling building which was a car shed which exists until now.  Things in the ballot house started to deteriorate when they refused to allow daddy to vote.    He had returned back to the house to get the legal documents that verified that daddy had changed his voting place.  

Dad walked back into the car shed and produced his documents.  What they told dad was that his name was not in alphabetical order and was added to the back of their registration roaster.  The irony was that dad was registered and all the men running the voting were personal friends with dad.  They often played checkers across the road at our local store/filling station at Land Mart.

There was a big commotion building as faces turned red, shouting continued to get loud, and face to face confrontation grew intense.  Then it happened.  Escalating, dad began to roll up his long-sleeved shirt.  We all sat in the Chevy watching something like at the movie drive end.

Momma said, “Bobby, go get your daddy.  Tell him it is not worth it.”  What those so-called friends of daddy did not realize, they were about to feel the wrath of my dad.  It was a defining moment for the Hopper family.

Dad’s rolling of the sleeves was a signal that some serious “butt kicking” was about to explode.  Mom always bought regular shirts for her Hopper man and his three sons.  They never fit because we were not regular.  We were taller and bigger.  I have pictures of us growing up.  Regardless of the sleeve, short or long were worn one to two rolls on them.  When dad got serious, working or kicking butt, he rolled them higher above the bend of the elbow.

When we lived in Beloit, Illinois, daddy worked at Beloit Ironworks in Beloit Wisconsin.  We lived one block from the state line.  One morning after a midnight shift, a raucous began across the street at a tavern named The Brown Derby.  Police were trying to arrest a drunk.  He had escaped and wound up in our back yard.  He had wrapped his arms around on a utility pole.  There the police had handcuffed him there.

Daddy woke from all the commotion and went out to investigate.  He asked the officers what was happening.  They said they could not put the man in the patrol car.  The drunk did something that most Yankees do not take offence but to Good Old Southern men and boys it is the unpardonable sin.  The drunk what’s it to you SOB as he spat in daddy’s face.

Dad slowly removed his wristwatch and his beloved ruby ring and handed them to one of the bystanders as he rolled up his sleeves.  With one bow to the jaw of the drunk, he slid down the pole, the officers thanked dad, undone the handcuffs, and laid the unconscious twice smashed intoxicated man in the patrol car.

The person that took dad’s ring and watch gave them to mom as the neighbors gave dad an ovation.

I went into the voting shed and took daddy by the hand as he rolled his sleeves.  I was almost twelve years old.  Looking at dad with eyes of pity and respect I said, "Momma said to come on that they are not worth it,” She knew dad would do serious damage and be in serious trouble.

The real damage was that we spent the rest of the evening traveling to the county courthouse trying to help daddy vote he never did.

That is one of few times I witnessed my daddy being hurt.  We heard him telling the poll men that he fought and was wounded in WWII, that he paid his pole tax (abolished in 1966), and that he was registered.  None of the men at the polls had ever served in the military.  From that day on, dad never respected or had any relationship with those men.

Not long ago someone posted an Easter picture (below) of my sister, brothers, and me.  People wanted to know, “What’s up with these Hopper boys and rolled up sleeves.”   As Hank Williams Jr., another Alabama boy would say, “It a family tradition.”  We all still do it even though our lovely wives buy us shirts that fit.  It’s a habit and reminder of the right to vote.

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. 

II Timothy 1:7 KJV 

It is joy to the just to do judgement: but destruction shall be to the workers of iniquity. 

Proverbs 21:15 KJV

Notice the sleeves on the Hopper boys

MIRROR, MIRROR

 

            One of my earliest memories is getting a haircut. I remember sitting on a board on the arm rails of one of Mr. Bratton’s barber chairs. As I looked in the mirror, I could see the barber cutting my blond locks from my small head. I have a very large knot on the back of my head, and, for years, the barber would gap my hair and cut my head. During that first cut the barber pulled my hair, and I have hated a haircut since that time.

            I never understood why Daddy made my brothers and me get a haircut every two weeks. We were very poor, and the $1.50 charge was more than the hourly minimum wage. I think that the other boys being long-haired hippy freaks might have played a major role, but most of the haircuts came before that era.

            The trip to the barbershop was not all bad. While Daddy supposedly ran chores, I would read comic books. There were Spiderman, Batman, Superman, and the Incredible Hulk.

            The most fascinating thing was the barbershop mirrors. Behind and in front of each barber chair were large mirrors. Looking up from deep in the bat cave while reading Batman, I could see the mirrors reflecting one another. It was endless. One reflected the other until it got so tiny you could barely see the reflection, but it kept on going. That was long before the Energizer bunny!

            I do not like mirrors, because they reveal too much. The better the mirror the more flaws one can see. Take the poor stepmother in Snow White. The poor woman was the fairest in the land until the day Snow White became a young woman. I studied Bettelheim's interpretation of fairy tales in college. He said that in fairy tales the wicked stepmother is really the mother who loses the husband’s affection to the budding young daughter. In other words, Snow White became a daddy’s girl. The poor mirror just reflected what stood before it. Father time caught up with the mom.

            My brother-in-law had a revealing experience once in a steakhouse. He was at the potato bar. As he loaded his baked potato, he noticed a man on the opposite side of the bar. The man had a huge potato, covered with cheese, bacon bits, butter, and sour cream. My brother-in-law was amazed at how much the man put on the potato. The potato had so much in it that it spilled over onto the man’s plate.

            My brother-in-law thought to himself, “What a pig!” My brother-in-law noticed that the man stopped when he stopped and started when he started. He thought the man was watching him. He noticed the man’s arm and realized that the man was wearing a red and black flannel shirt, just as he was wearing. The man continued to mimic my brother-in-law’s movements.

            Curiosity killed the cat, so my brother-in-law lowered his head to see who was on the other side—only to see his own reflection in the mirror. The thoughts my brother-in-law had had about the man were really his own condemnation. It always looks worse when we watch someone else doing what we do.

            A colleague of mine said his dad ran an auto repair shop. When he visited there, his dad asked some advice to help him organize the collection of repair manuals he had in his office. My colleague suggested that his dad could put more shelves behind his desk if he would remove a large mirror. His dad told him the mirror had to stay. He said that when customers became angry during a repair, he would invite them into the office for coffee and discuss the problem. He said he never had a customer get irate or even very angry. They would not—because they could see their reflection in the mirror.

            While attending university, I worked in the carpenter’s shop. On one occasion, we placed mirrors in an exercise room for the athletic department. Every piece of exercise equipment in the room had a full-length mirror where a person could see his or her progress. People did not know that it was an experiment.

            Each participant followed the same routine. The first mirror distorted the person’s reflection to make him appear heavier than he actually was. Each mirror targeted a specific part of the body, and the exercise equipment in front of it worked that area. When he completed the workout, he looked in the last mirror, which made him look thinner than he was. The mirrors encouraged people to exercise.

            Mirrors help dentists, mechanics, electricians, welders, and truck drivers see places they normally cannot see. If you drive, you know the importance of a rearview mirror. “Objects are closer than they appear.”

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does. (James 1:22–25, NIV)

 

How will the reading of God’s Word aloud help reveal more of God? 

Do you think about being made in God’s image when you see your reflection in the mirror? 

How is the Bible relevant in your life today? 

 

Prayer: Father, thank You for your eternal word that helps us see what we cannot see. Your Word reveals You and helps us see ourselves as You see us. It does not gloss over sin or sinners and does not compromise. Your Word is perfect, and blessings flow when we live it. Help us to be reflections of your marvelous grace and infinite mercy. Thank You for creating us in Your image.

page 26, I Will Speak Using Stories: Thirty-one Day Devotional