The Hopper Clan Christmas

Wow, wonderful, fantastic, and great were words that described Saturday January 10, 2026. It was a big day in the life of the Hoppers. We had our family Christmas with fifty-seven members attending at the family farm at Sugar Ridge in Jemison, Alabama. It was the perfect morning for those of us that love it gray, overcast, cool, and rainy.

J M and Leecie Hopper would have been proud of all the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren having a prodigious day. The day started at eleven with a funeral of my niece’s grandfather. The rain was steady, and we all thought that the turnout might be small, but the dinner did not begin until two in the afternoon.

Returning from the funeral, a sizable crowd gathered at Sugar Ridge. Rain was drizzling heavily. My youngest brother fried fish in an iron pot, and my middle brother boiled gumbo in another iron pot beside him. There were uncles, nephews, and small children onlooking in anticipation of samples from the pots. The fish samples were delicious.

Inside all the women were steadily preparing the fixin’s to accompany the fish and gumbo. Fish and grits, turnip green soup, cornbread, and rice were hot from the stove. Nephews battered the fish and then battered oysters which my brother cooked. One sister-in-law brought home-made apple bread. My wife made an apple cake, Hors d’oeuvres, white chocolate covered Ritz crackers filled with peanut butter, a meat tray and stuff for sandwiches, and more.

When all was ready, I, being the patriarch of the Hopper Clan, offered up a Christmas prayer of thanksgiving. Just as in a story, the rain stopped, the sky lit up and dozens of children hit the yard finding mudholes, pools of water, and anything else they could explore. The hills and hollers were loud with the sound of laughter and screams as barefooted kids chased chickens, a dog, and a tomcat.

There were no electronics, just kids with imaginations and swinging in tree swings, rolling in the wet grass, and getting mud between their toes, up their backs, and on their faces. It was a special moment of noise that had long been absence. There were no arguments or upset folks, only smiles and laughter. Everyone agreed that God had given us a great family and glorious day to celebrate Christmas. The gift we shared and received was love.

Some of the family played a card game called swoop. Then they played “My Weird Family.” The family voted my sister the winner. One tradition we have when at Sugar Ridge is to take a picture of the family on the steps of our front porch. I worried that the weight might be an issue, but it held the family.

One by one family members began their journeys home to places from Birmingham and central Alabama to Gulf Shores and the Bay. Some of the family stayed for the baptism of one of the great grandnieces. We wanted to make sure her baptism waters were dirty. She did say that she did want to scare the preacher with some dye to color it. She has the spirit if a true Hopper. We concluded with Sunday Dinner at my sister’s home. She lives in the shadows of the giant peach tower on Interstate 65 in Clanton.

J M died in 1984 and Leecie died in 1987. Their desire was for us to love one another. We try to honor that desire. It was so much fun watching the kids making trails to the old home site where J M and Leccie raised us. I think that the good earth of Sugar Ridge felt revised. I know that the Hopper Clan did. Thank you, Lord, for a great day.

Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee. Exodus 20:12a

 

 

 

 

God Hears the Heart

I read an interesting article the other day and it resonated with my heart. It was about an upcoming wedding. The bride was thrilled that she had lived long enough to marry. At nine years old doctors at University of Alabama Birmingham diagnosed her with cardiomyopathy, a disease of her heart muscle.

An eleven-year-old boy died from an accident was doctors pronounced him brain dead. Doctors asked his family if they would donate his organs. At first his father refused but later said that he felt as though his son was tell him yes.

On Mother’s Day 2011, UAB surgeons transplanted the boy’s heart to the nine-year-old. Their families became friends and on August 9, 2025, the bride invited the boy’s parents to her wedding. The boy’s parents were thrilled that they allowed their son to donate his organs that other may have life.

I have read about the thrill that parents whose children donated organs, especially the heart, hear their child’s heart beating. There is a special bond forged when listening to a heart beating.

The same day that I read the Florence wedding and the heartwarming event, I received a picture of my youngest son riding his son on his back.  It’s a wonderful picture.  My son Aaron and grandson Jack Barrett are in the water.  It was a picture of love, trust, and hope.

When Aaron small, his brother Andy and sister Angel loved the water. Angel could swim before she could walk. They had traumatized Aaron making him terrified of water. I had a very difficult time teaching him to trust me and jump into my arms at the pool. When he did learn, he became a very good swimmer.

Seeing Aaron and Jack Barrett together brought back memories of my love for Aaron. Jack Barrett looks like Aaron.  They have the same smile. Since they live in Texas and I in Alabama, the picture is a sweet reminder of a dad/son relationship. I pray that Aaron will have the same heart and love for Jack Barrett that I had for him.

Aaron did trust me. When he was a baby, he would lay on my stomach with his right ear on my heart listening to my heartbeat. He would continue to sleep listening to my heart until he got so long that he pushed my chin with his bushy hair. He was around four years old when stopped laying on my stomach.

He continued to listen to my heart beat each time he hugs me the lays his right ear on my heart. Oh, what a wonderful feeling that is. In my thirty-one-day devotional, I Will Speak Using Stories, the first devotion is God Hears the Heart. It is about a small boy that when speaking his words were not comprehensible.

He volunteered to pray one Father’s Day. The congregation, with the exception of his parents, did not understand him, but God did. It was one of the best Father’s Day experiences I ever had.

I pray that you will obtain a copy of I Will Speak Using Stories.

Herman’s Hermits had a song with these lyrics:

Every time I see you lookin' my way
Baby, baby, can't you hear my heartbeat?
In the car or walkin' down the highway
Baby, baby, can't you hear my heartbeat?

Thank God He hears the heart.

But the LORD said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart. (I Samuel 16:7 KJV)

YOU LOVE THAT LITTLE BOY?

 

January 18, 1976, is an important day in the Hopper family.  The first grandson of JM and Leecie Hopper came that day.  It was a Sunday morning that Andy Lee Hopper entered the world.  I was a proud dad of the future of the Hopper family.  He entered life with a broken collarbone and yellow jaundice.  As a new dad with a boy child, I had many thoughts about the new responsibility I had.

Andrew, a disciple of Jesus and brother to Peter was the inspiration for Andy.  Andrew means strong, manly, and brave.  Lee means shelter, sanctuary, or haven.  My mom’s name was Leecie, which is Irish meaning servant of Jesus and English meaning happiness gaiety.  Andy Lee is an important name to honor.

One of my fondest memories is my dad holding Andy at Granny Hopper’s wake.  Andy was three months old.  It represented the passing of one born in 19^th Century 1891.  The look at dad had and the scene of this muscular man holing a small fragile baby is a price picture.  Andy would be the first of many more Hopper boys born.

Andy loved cowboy boots, tractors, and horses.  Every toy horse he had usually had a broken leg.  I have his Wonder Horse in storage for restoration.  It has a missing front leg.  One time I watched him play in a field of red top clover.  On his knees, he would throw his head back and kick his right leg into the air.  I got close enough to hear him, heard him neighing like a horse, and saw him chewing on a clover stalk.

I had an old Jersey milk cow that Andy loved.   He drank her milk as a baby. He would call out to her; J E R S E Y and she would come to him.  At one time, he had several laying hens, but that is another story for another time.

I mentioned that he loved tractors.  One time his pawpaw Moxley received a toy metal cast John Deer tractor as a gag gift for Christmas.  Pawpaw gave it to Andy because Andy thought Pawpaw got his Christmas present.  It is also in storage in my shop along with other toy tractors and trucks.  Andy had a toy John Deere peddle tractor that we lost in a house fire.  The John Deere trailer that came with the tractor survived.

Andy would ride along side of me when I cut the fields with a real tractor.  I was so happy when he would ride with me.  One day a man in an empty log truck stopped and came to the tractor that Andy and I were riding.  He introduced himself as Travis Price.  He asked, “You love that little boy?”  I thought he was about to scold me for riding my toddler on a large piece of equipment.  I looked him in the eye and said, “I love him very much.”  Then he shocked me with, “You better do a better job of watching him.”

Just minutes earlier, I had the responsibility of taking care of Andy alone while his mother ran some errands.  She had not been gone just seconds when all of a sudden Andy was missing.  I panicked.  I called out to him.  We were standing in the front yard when he disappeared.  I run into the house and I looked everywhere.  Andy was notorious for hiding.  I looked in the basement, in the closets, under the bed and in the bed.  I had built him a Captain’s bed and he was not the hidden toy box of the bed.

I went back out front and there he was standing in the yard.  I hugged and squeezed him and told him how much he scared me.  Then we went to the tractor and started cutting the field.  That’s when Mr. Price stopped and told me something that really scared me.

Mr. Price said, “I topped the hill, to our left, with a large load of logs.  In the middle of the road was your little boy.  I was scared to death and knew I could not stop.  I waited to see which way he was going to run.  When he ran toward your house, I run the log truck into the side of the road at the house over there, pointed to my grandmother’s house.

Mr. Price said I was so scared I was nauseated and had to stop about a mile up road and settle my stomach.  I was so bad that I drove very slowly to the sawmill.  When I saw that precious little boy in your arms I had to stop.”

He had my attention, and all the possible dangers and scenarios flooded my mind.  Mr. Price then shared with me what I will never forget.

He said, “I had a boy about your son’s age.  One morning I had to run to town.  As I started to back my car out of the drive, I made sure there were no children around the car.  Not seeing any, I started back.  That’s when I heard a terrible sound.  I stopped and checked under the car.  That’s when I saw that I had run over my son and killed him.  I will never forget what I saw and what I done.  He had hid under the car and I did not see him.  That’s something that I will never get over.”

When Mr. Price left, I took Andy into my arms realizing that a dad that loved his son very much lost his son.  I had mine because another dad was willing to sacrifice himself to spare my son.  I hugged and loved on Andy so much.  I wept. 

God’s gives us great responsibilities when he gives us children.  Andy is approaching his 49^th birthday as I write this article.  He lives far from Sugar Ridge in Bessie, Alabama where he learned to call Jersey, eat red top clover, ride toy and real tractors, and have laying hens.  San Antonio is a long way from County Road 50 where God placed his hand on a logger and surrounded my Andy with angels.  I love you son! 

The Father loves the Son and has given all things into His hand. John 3:35

Agape

 Love comes in many forms.  There is philia which is love for one’s neighbor.  Eros is the love one has for his or her mate.  Mania is a mentally excited, excessive and persistent love. This type of love is like an obsession or craving. Storge is the love parents have for their children.  The highest love is agape, the love God has.  Agape love is the most powerful force in all of creation.  The old song says love can pick up and put you can put you down, take your world and spin it all around. There is nothing in the world stronger than love. 

It was love that kept Jesus on the cross.  It was love that raised Jesus from the grave. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:6(KJV)

When the Church at Corinth had disputes over different attributes, the Apostle Paul stressed love.  Paul called love the queen of graces.  The church has many attributes and talents, but love is the greatest.  Paul preached Jesus.  Jesus is God’s greatest expression of Himself to mankind.  Love is the motive for ministry.  Love never changes.

When I was a small boy, I would go to the wood yard with daddy.  I love the smell of cut pine.  There at the mill were huge saws cutting and sizing the logs.  The men were fun to watch chewing their tobacco, wiping sweat, and telling tales. 

Daddy got out of the logging business, and I did not go to the wood yard for many years.  When I did, I noticed that things had changed, but one little man did not.  Some of the old hands were fatter, gray haired, bald, and wrinkled, but the named Mr. Bob looked the same.  He wore the same hat, drove the same truck, and spit tobacco the same way.  I thought I had gone into a time warp.  The last time I saw Mr. Bob he looked the same with the exception that he drove a new pickup truck.  Mr. Bob seemed to never change, but he did.

Unending love is always the same because God never changes.  It is His nature.  Love spoke all creation into existence.  It is the expression of God’s being.  There is no love apart from God.  Love will last as long as God and that is a long, long time.  Love is forever.  And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. I Corinthians 13:13 (KJV)

God wants us to demonstrate His love to a world that has perverted love.  This Valentine’s Day give more than a fancy card, fine chocolates, and flowers.  Share the love of God.

 

Have a Happy Valentine’s Day

 

PS:  Guys don’t forget the fancy card, fine chocolates, and flowers!

Thanks Dad

In one of my favorite pictures of my dad, he is leaning against a two by four board holding up the front porch.  Dad did not like to have his picture taken.  On this occasion, his brother was down from Illinois.  Dad had been hauling logs that day and had the smell of pine rosin and sweat mingled with the aroma of Camel cigarette smoke and grease on him.

In this picture, dad is tanned and muscled.  He was very strong from working with pulpwood and logs most of his life.  I, along with my brothers and sister, could not wait for dad to come home in the evenings.  We would spend many evenings lying on an old quit in the front yard just talking about life and looking at the heavens.

I remember that I could not wait to get old enough to go to work in the woods with him.  Back then, pulpwood was measured.  I carried a measuring stick and marked the fallen pine timber as dad cut.  He had a large, and heavy, McCulloch chainsaw.  As a ten-year-old, the chainsaw was very heavy.  It was all I could do to crank it.  When I could not, daddy would give the cord a yank and fire it up.  Ever once in a while, he let me run the chainsaw.  Most dads won’t let a ten-year-old run a chainsaw!  I had the best dad.

When hauling logs, dad allowed me guide the mule that pulled the logs back to the truck.  I was not sure I could do it, but dad said the mule knew what to do once I hooked the tongs to the log.  It was fascinating that the mule could find his way back to the truck.  I would jump on the log and balance myself as the log rolled, twisted, and turned going up and down the hills and hollers back to the truck.  It was even more fun to watch the side loading arms of the log truck throw the logs on the truck.  I don’t think momma would have let me go with daddy if she had known how dangerous it was.

I remember helping dad fall a giant oak.  He bated the tree and I helped to push.  Suddenly as the giant tree started to fall, a gush of wind caught the oak and pushed it back toward us.  Daddy yelled, “Run son!”

As a boy, I wanted to spend as much time with dad as I could.  Dad was what folks back home call a “jackleg mechanic.”  When you are poor and have nothing but junk, you spend a lot of time repairing.  Most of my time was spent under the hood or underneath cars, tractors, and trucks.  This is something I enjoy doing today.  It is therapeutic and nostalgic.

For some reason, dad went most places by himself.  On particular day, he was going to Montevallo to pick up his check.  Momma asked if I wanted to go.  I think she wanted me to spy on dad and see what he was doing.  I knew I had to keep my lips sealed if there was to be another expedition with dad.  I was so excited and could not wait to ride in our log truck with him.

As I went out the door, I closed the door on my fingers.  Doing the natural thing, I yanked them from the closed door, leaving on of my fingernails between the door and the door sill.  Blood was flying and the finger was throbbing.  I was not going to miss an opportunity to spend time with dad.  I dare not cried.  He would have made me stay home.  I remember sitting alone for what seemed an eternity with my finger throbbing with the beating of my heart.  Dad wanted me to be tough.

Momma taught me how to drive, but daddy let me drive.  Dad went from logging to working in a rock plant.  Our family car became his work vehicle.  As usual, it needed repair another rear axle.  As we started to Bessemer, Alabama to find a replacement, dad said, “You drive.”  I was twelve. 

On a long hill near Montevallo, I remember being scared to death as we descended.  I looked at dad and he seemed to have confidence in me.  That was until I kept riding too close to the outside of the highway.  Dad told me that there was more room to the inside and stop driving like momma. He said that we would have to have new tires and the front end realigned if I kept running off the road.  Driving in Bessemer was scary and exciting.  I had the time of my life, me driving my daddy.

In her book, Catching Fireflies, Patsy Clairmont says that she read somewhere that we get our role models from our same-sex parent and our sense of safety and security from our opposite same-sex parent.  I don’t know about all that, but I do know that I am glad I had a daddy that loved me and taught me much about life.  I know there are thousands of children that do not have a dad in their lives.  Society is paying a tremendous price for this.  This creates a negative view of God as our Father.  Those that have a nurturing and tender interaction with their dad helps in bonding with our heavenly Father.  Clairmont says that Deuteronomy 32:4, 9-10 gives us a glimpse God’s father-heart.

 

He is the Rock, his work is perfect: for all his ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is he.

For the Lord's portion is his people; Jacob is the lot of his inheritance. He found him in a desert land, and in the waste howling wilderness; he led him about, he instructed him, he kept him as the apple of his eye.

 

November is the time for Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving.  Thanks dad!

Notes of Love

 

I may be a little old fashion in a high-tech society because I collect books.  I’m glad that I do because books are on the endangered species list.  Thanks to all the new electronic gadgets and the evolving smart phone, books will soon disappear.  My publisher has conferred that books are no longer in demand and want my future writings to be in electronic format.

I have a good number of books that the authors have autographed.  I have a signed copy of Herschel Hobbs’ My Faith And Message, which Dr. Hobbs autographed three months prior to his death.  I will never forget my conversation with him at a senior adult retreat at Shocco Springs Baptist Retreat at Talladega, Alabama.  We had some mutual friends.  Dr. Hobbs spent his childhood in north Chilton County a few miles north of where I grew up.

I have several book autographed by Dr. Calvin Miller.  It was Dr. Miller that encouraged me to write.  And his books are special reminders that we were friends and that his passing left an empty spot in my heart.  In his book, The Sermon Maker, Tales of A Transformed Preacher he signed , To Bobby, A Great Friend.  In another, The Book of Jesus,  that he edited he signed, To Bobby from an old, old prof and admirer. Calvin Miller.

I always date the books that I read.  I underline pertinent things that help to write articles such as this one.  I have my own order to how the books are on my shelves and usually can find them without much searching.  I know most of my books by color and size and it drives me bananas when I cannot find one quickly.

Since this is Valentine month, I decided that I would look for some Valentine cards that my children have given me through the years.  I knew that I had some in one of my old Bibles.  Instead, I found a Father’s Day note that Aaron gave me in 1999.  It is a white piece of paper with heart stickers all over it.  On the front, Aaron has written Happy Father’s Day!! in blue and he has drawn a red heart with I love you in it. 

Inside are twenty heart stickers on the left and the sticker page where the hearts were is on the right.  Above the missing heart sticker page Aaron writes, “Your the best dad anyone can have you don’t drink and cuss and I thank you for being a good christian.”  The back page has, “from Aaron I love you always. June 20, 1999”

There was a Valentine card from Andy.  It looked like one a small child would draw, but was a published card.  It said, “Dad, here’s a Valentine just to say “I love you.””  The inside reads, “No, I haven’t been drinking and I don’t want to borrow money.  Happy Valentine’s Day.”  Love Andy

Little Valentine Cards from Angel simply say, “Will you be my Valentine.” 

I do not know if children still give Valentine cards at school.  I know I had to give them to classmates that I really did not want to be my Valentine.  There were those little girls that chased me that I really did not need to foster their thoughts about me being their Valentine. There were those pretty, little girls that I had very special Valentine cards.  I took time to write special words to declare my intentions.  Some of those little girls I really thought special felt the same about me as what I felt about the ones I did not want to receive a Valentine.  Well, that’s love.  Sometimes I have wondered, “Did I run too fast and from the wrong girls?” 

My wife Lisa wrote some beautiful love language in last year’s Valentine.  One special line was, “I go to sleep every night knowing that I am loved by you & also that you are my one true love.  I’m lucky I could not outrun her.

 Jesus has sent us a wonderful Valentine card, the Bible.  The Bible is God’s love letter to you and to me.

But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8 KJV).

Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God (1 John 3:1a KJV).

We love him, because he first loved us (1 John 4:19 KJV).

Matthew Henry stated, “As the Father loved Christ, who was most worthy, so he loved his disciples, who were unworthy. All that love the Savior should continue in their love to him, and take all occasions to show it...Christ’s love to us should direct us to love each other.”

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY and as you might guess; I was not able to find all those hidden Valentines.

 

Hand-Me-Downs

 I remember one night my brothers, sister, and I got one the biggest surprises of our lives.  Our Uncle Everett, Aunt Mildred, and cousins Wayne and Judy came for a visit.  They had a great big cardboard box filled with toys, clothes, and shoes and it wasn’t even Christmas.

Wayne and Judy were older than we were and they decided to clean out their closets and toy boxes.  Uncle Everett and daddy served in the army together.  Coming home with daddy after doing basic training, Everett met Aunt Mildred.  They fell in love and married when WWII was over.

Uncle Everett was a tinkerer.  He had to know how things were made, tearing them apart whether or not they needed repair.

Aunt Mildred was my favorite Aunt on daddy’s side of the family.  The distinct characteristic about her was her feet apparel.  She wore what looked like a pair of orthopedic shoes and white socks.  That is not that unusual, excepting that she wore them with dresses.  Aunt Mildred could make you laugh just listening to her talk.  I remember several years back that I went to spend Thanksgiving with Uncle Everett and her.  Uncle Everett has gone to be with the Lord since that time.  Aunt Mildred and he were wonderful Christians.  What made that more wonderful was there were not many Christians in the Hopper family for along time.

That big old cardboard box had some great gifts for us.  I remember there was a red corduroy jacket in the box.  I was so proud of that dress corduroy jacket that I wore it for my fifth-grade school picture.  You know I found out later that that jacket was called a “hand-me-down.”  When I tell people that I wore “hand-me-downs” they ask, “I thought you were the oldest?”  I was in my immediate family, but way down the list with my cousins.

There was a Mattel toy gun with holster in the box.  It was a snub-nosed 38.  It had spring loaded brass shells with yellow plastic tips.  When you fired the gun, the spring in the shell would release the suppressed yellow bullet tip and it would sail through the air.

There was a remote controlled, battery operated, replica of a police car.  With the controls you could steer it, make the red light on top blink, and sound off the siren.  It was fun.  I could be a robber with a snub-nosed 38 and chase myself with the police car.

I remember that there were other great gifts in the box, but I remember these three most because those are the ones I claimed.  That pistol looked like the real thing.  In fact, Mattel made their toy guns so detailed to the real weapon, that they discontinued their guns because of being associated with violence and began making real weapons.  I never could figure out about that violence thing with toy guns.  I guess that is because I had a daddy that made sure I understood the difference between make believe and reality.  He reminded us over and over do not point a gun at anything unless you intended to kill it.  He helped me understand the meaning of receiving a gift or gifts.

As Uncle Everett, Aunt Mildred, Wayne, and Judy left that night, we realized we were special, and God’s people had blessed us with wonderful gifts.  The best gift they gave was love.

And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work: (As it is written, He hath dispersed abroad; he hath given to the poor: his righteousness remaineth for ever.  Now he that ministereth seed to the sower both minister bread for your food, and multiply your seed sown, and increase the fruits of your righteousness;) Being enriched in every thing to all bountifulness, which causeth through us thanksgiving to God.  For the administration of this service not only supplieth the want of the saints, but is abundant also by many thanksgivings unto God; Whiles by the experiment of this ministration they glorify God for your professed subjection unto the gospel of Christ, and for your liberal distribution unto them, and unto all men; And by their prayer for you, which long after you for the exceeding grace of God in you.  Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift (Second Corinthians 9:15 KJV).

"I Will Never Forget When Dad Passed Away"

Even though I carry the Hopper name, I resemble my mother’s side of the family.  Grandpaw Chapman, momma’s daddy, was a tall lean man and mom had his features, but her brother and four sisters were short as was Grandmoe Chapman.

Grandpaw called my momma “Long Legged Sally” and she was the other son.  Momma could out wrestle, out hit, and outwork her brother and sisters.  She was bonafide “Tom Boy” and Grandpaw chose her as “the pick of the litter.”  It was no secret that momma was his favorite.  Momma also was a Daddy’s girl and loved Grandpaw very much.

I remember when daddy was unemployed.  Grandpaw would drive up to our house and have a load of groceries in his 1950 Plymouth for us.  I have fond memories of riding in the rear seat of his that old Plymouth as he and momma went to the Calera State Bank to sign co-sign a loan for momma.  I still have that old Plymouth.  That car, the property where my home is, my looks, and memories are the only things of Grandpaw Chapman that I have.

Grandpaw Chapman was born in 1892 and died of cancer in 1964.  He served in the Army, but never saw action in World War I due to having the measles.  He worked at a sawmill and farmed.  He never owned a tractor and farmed using a mule.

A family friend, J B Popwell, said that when he was a little boy that he saw Grandpaw Chapman plowing in the field and the mule sulked and refused to plow.  Grandpaw beat the mule and the mule sat down.  J B said Grandpaw grabbed the long ears of that old mule and bit the mule’s nose.  J B said Grandpaw drew blood and had meat from the mule’s nose in his teeth.  J B said the mule rose on his hind legs several times trying to shake Grandpaw from his nose. 

It makes me wonder about Balaam, hired by the Ammonites and Moabites, hitting his donkey while on his way to curse the Israel.  I do not think that Grandpaw was on his way to curse someone, but if I know my Grandpaw, there was a whole lot of cussing directed at the mule.

Grandpaw Chapman did not receive Christ as Savior until he was on his deathbed.  His conversion was the first time I ever heard of “Death Bed Confession.”  Brother Calvin Crocker was faithful to visit Grandpaw and shared the plan of Salvation with him.  Grandpaw did not live long after his conversion.

Grandpaw was the first family member I remember dying.  Momma was very heartbroken at his death.  I had never seen her cry like that before.  Moved by immense emotion, she wrote a song about his dying.  She would sing it many times after his passing.  When momma died, her cousins sang the song at her funeral.  I hope you enjoy it.

I'll never forget when dad pasted away
Not a word from his mouth to us he could say
He knew that we loved him and listened to us cry
but now he is resting way up in the sky
                   (Chorus)
There's a bright star that is shining
it's shining so bright
It went to heaven early one night
The angels are singing with God's Great Band
And I know Dad's resting in the Promise Land

There was a black cloud gathered in the Northwest,
for God was telling us he knew best
He sweep down here and carried him away
And now he is resting with God today
                  (Chorus)
There's a bright star that is shining
it's shining so bright
It went to heaven early one night
The angels are singing with God's Great Band
And I know Dad's resting in the Promise Land

Mother is weeping since Dad went away
She is hoping and praying that she'll meet him someday
She is so lonely and always will mourn
Until she shall meet him around God’s Throne
                  (Chorus)
There's a bright star that is shining
It's shining so bright
It went to heaven early one night
The angel's are singing in God's Great Band
And I know Dad's resting in the Promise Land

Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion: for, lo, I come, and I will dwell in the midst of thee, saith the Lord (Zechariah 2:10 KJV)

Happy Father’s Day