What a Great Run!

When my dear Silver Fox walks in the back door tonight, he will join the ranks of retirees everywhere.  I think it's safe to say that he has "gotten the good out of his education."  40 and 1/2 years of taking care of animals of every shape and size and the people who care about them -- also of every shape and size.  :)

I joined him on this journey during his last year of veterinary school at Auburn University when we married in March of '71 and moved into a 10' by 50' trailer on Wire Road.  The following March we moved to Huntsville for Steve's preceptorship, and he ended up working at Bentley Animal Hospital for a year.  Steve had told me before we married that one day he'd like to open a practice in either Hartselle or Australia.  Ha!  Even though I was perfectly willing to go with him to Australia, it was God's plan for us to go to Hartselle.

The day we opened Pearson Animal Hospital was also the day we found out that I was pregnant with our first child.  We had borrowed the down payment on a house, furnished our little 3-room rented office space with garage sale treasures, and literally didn't have two quarters to rub together.  We both believed if he could ever make $100 a day, we would be successful.  I was the receptionist in those first months because I was all we could afford -- me with my bright shiny music degree (very unhelpful in a vet office) and squeamish stomach for blood, guts or "earthy odors."  We will ALWAYS be grateful to brave Mrs. Reed who brought her dog "Inky" through our front door, giving the new vet in town a try and becoming our first client.  As a wonderful symbolic gesture, about 30 years later she was also Steve's LAST client before selling that practice and moving to Ecuador.

The people of Hartselle were so very good to us.  Somehow, they trusted Steve and embraced us both from those very first days.  He couldn't have found a better clientele, and it was the perfect place to rear our children.  He has YEARS of stories to tell, so expect a blog from him soon with the probable title of "Doc's Ology."  He plans to explore the 5 most important F's in his life -- Faith, Family, Finances, Fishing, and Furry Friends (and sometimes Football).  I'll let you know when he launches it.

In 2002, God opened the doors -- very obviously and literally -- for us to go to Ecuador as Southern Baptist missionaries.  Steve's title was Veterinarian/Church Planter, and our assignment was to the Quichua people in the Andes Mountains, people who were very dependent on their animals.  During those years, he did more teaching that actual practicing, but he was still using his veterinary skills on a regular basis.

When it was clear that God wanted us back in the States, we had a real dilemma on our hands.  How would we go about starting over?  We had sold his practice and our home.  Where would we live?  How would we support ourselves?  A friend of a friend of a friend -- you know how that goes -- knew someone who needed a relief veterinarian while she was on maternity leave.  That got us through the first months.  Then, Target and PetSmart started building their new stores in Decatur, Al, and Banfield Pet Hospital was going to be located in the back of PetSmart.  Steve worked at an existing hospital in Huntsville during the construction in Decatur.  Once again, God had it all worked out for Steve to be the Chief of Staff at the Decatur location.

The children and I could write our own book about the memories we have as the family of a veterinarian, but all of that can wait for another day.  Today I just want to tell the world how proud I am of Steve.  His career has been characterized by consistency, dedication, and excellence but most of all, by integrity.  He has focused much of his energy and expertise on the Animal Kingdom and their owners.  Now, he truly wants to focus on furthering the Kingdom of God in the years that God has left for him on earth.  It's been a great run, hon.  I'm so glad I've been a part of this journey with you, and I'm confident that our best years are straight ahead.

My Granddaddy Rose Sang in the Choir

Last night as I was getting ready to go to choir practice, the face of my Granddaddy Rose came vividly to my mind, and it occurred to me in a fresh way that he had been a member of the very same choir where I am now.  Of course, it was called the Adult Choir back then, and today it is known as the Celebration Choir, but it is in the same church and is a part of the very same music ministry (evolved, yes, but much the same).

I can still picture him standing in the tenor section with his silvery, wavy hair.  Granddaddy was short, but I always knew just where to look to find him in the group.  A particular Call to Worship that the choir sang still rings in my memory.  "The Lord is In His Holy Temple.  The Lord is In His Holy Temple.  Let All the Earth Keep Silence Before Him."  Then the basses would sing in deeper and deeper voices with notes descending lower and lower -- "Keep silence.  Keep silence. Before Him."  I was in awe of that music and those words.

Granddaddy's first "song leader" (as we called the Minister of Music back then) was Melvin Hyatt, and his wife was the organist.  Then, we had Brother Rucker.  I don't remember his first name, but he was from Bogalusa, LA (as a child, I thought that sounded so exotic), and he had a daughter named Melanie who was my friend.  They didn't stay very long, but then came Ken Jacobs, and he stayed for a VERY long time.  I'm sure he was still the Music Minister when my Granddaddy finally got to the point where he couldn't participate anymore.

Granddaddy wasn't "the star of the show," by any means.  Oh sure, he sang in a couple of quartets from time to time, but he was better known for the fact that he "begat" some very musical children, six to be exact, several of whom sang in that same choir or in the choirs of the churches where they were members.

When I walked in the back door of the church last night, I saw James Agee coming toward me.  James and I go WAY back.  I'll always remember that he brought Teddy Bears back from the Smokies for me and my Aunt June (only six months younger that I) when I was only seven or eight years old.  Now, he's the Head Usher, and I get to see him practically every Sunday.  I told James that I had been thinking about my Granddaddy, and he helped me tell another young man who was standing nearby some things that HE remembered.

Granddaddy was born in 1900 and never owned a car.  He lived on East Washington Street here in Athens from the mid-1950's until he had to move to a nursing home in his last years.  Six days a week he woke up early, got dressed, and starting walking down his street to the town square where he worked as a barber -- meaning that he was on his feet ALL DAY LONG.  Then, he would walk back home at night.  On Sunday, the scenario was the same, except on that day he was walking to church rather than to the barbershop.  Often, people who were accustomed to seeing him on the road stopped to give him a lift.  They knew him, and they knew where he was headed.  But, if no one stopped on a particular day, he kept right on walking.  James recalled a Sunday morning when there was a good bit of snow on the ground, and he looked out to see Granddaddy (Mr. Clarence) walking up the sidewalk to the front door of the church.  With all of that walking and standing  he did, it wasn't too surprising that when he DID manage to sit still for awhile, he often dozed or "rested his eyes."  I still smile to myself thinking of him asleep in the choir loft during many a sermon.  :)

For a few years, my family and I lived next door to Granddaddy and Grandmomma (who was homebound all her life because of severe motion sickness and a heart condition), and we, of course, gave Granddaddy a ride to church during that time.  We moved away from Athens in 1960, when I was ten years old.  Some people would call it a "twist of fate," but I see it as the direction of God that Steve and I moved back to Athens in 2010 -- fifty years later -- and we decided to join the church where I had been on the Cradle Roll, a member of Sunbeams, where I marched in for Vacation Bible School and saluted the flags and the Bible, where I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit drawing me to accept Christ as my Savior and was saved and baptized, and where I participated in the Junior Memory drill and some of the very first Children's Choirs.

Granddaddy didn't sing in the choir to make a lasting impression on ME.  He sang because he loved music, and he loved worshiping God and using his talents in that way.

Now, I am the grandparent (gulp!)  Several times some of MY grandchildren have been sitting in the congregation when I have walked out in my choir robe.  It thrills me to hear them whisper loudly, "Look!  There's Grandmomma!" And, I give them a big smile from the choir loft when I see their little hands frantically trying to get my attention.  But, like my Granddaddy Rose, I don't sing in the choir in order to make an impression on them.  I sing because I love music, and I am so happy to be able to express my worship through this ministry.  Just maybe, though, fifty years or so from now, my grandchildren will remember seeing me in the choir, and it will matter to them like it matters to me to think of my dear Granddaddy Rose.

Psalm 100 --"Make a joyful shout to the Lord, all you lands!  Serve the Lord with gladness; Come before His presence with singing.  Know that the Lord, He is God; It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves; We are His people and the sheep of His pasture.  Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, And into His courts with praise.  Be thankful to Him, and bless His name.  For the Lord is good, His mercy is everlasting, and His truth endures to all generations."