A 1950 Studebaker pickup truck has come to live at my house. It is in the good company of some other similar projects. We have a menagerie of antique tractors, cars and various other motorized tools and thing-a-ma-gotch-its. It isn’t a lack of interest in new innovations that brings these things to my door. Keith has a great interest in better ways to move about, but for the old, they all have a story that makes him smile. While the work is being done, he will ponder things past and present, friends will drop by, and Keith will smile….. a lot.
Keith has searched the world over for a truck such as this. He claims, and my ignorance on the subject cannot dispute, that Studebaker’s ingenuity was way beyond its time. But specifically, his mother had an ole’ truck just like the one we now own. Because I am a story teller, I’ve tried to draw out, why this vehicle? She owned many others he has no interest in. His answer was simple. “When Steve and I were little, mom got the truck stuck on ice.” That is all. When our truck came into the yard on the trailer, little brother said, “Hey, do you remember when mom got that old truck stuck on the ice?” In the late 1960’s, a young mother got out on an icy cold morning to go get the babysitter and got hung in a valley between two tiny hills, on an old country road. She couldn’t go forward, she couldn’t move back, so there they sat and it made quite an impression on her two young sons.
My inquires to her state of mind and the eventual rescue have been answered with blank stares and shrugged shoulders. For two little boys, stuck on the ice with mom is story enough. It begins and ends there. But my mind won’t let it rest, so I’m going to insert what I know. IF she had ranted, raved and cussed every living being and God Himself, Keith and Steve would have remembered. Children are fascinated by emotion, it would have stuck. The presence of panic or despair would have frightened two impressionable boys and they wouldn’t have forgotten. They were totally unaware of anything but the delightful spin of tires. Beverly had an incredible work ethic in both motherhood and her career as a nurse. That day, she could have stayed home, but her family needed the income and waiting patients needed her skill and care, so she went, and got stuck.
As I’ve tried to understand the story that has brought a grin to my husband’s face all week, I remember that Beverly was brave, strong and a fierce advocate for her children, but she took it a step further. She was an advocate for all children, and in order to help them, she helped their families in tireless ways. Her garden produced more than she and hers would ever eat. She had extra plates at the table and plenty of blankets to warm the cold. I asked her one time why she bothered. Her quick answer redirected my attitude and behavior for always, “When I get to Heaven’s door, God won’t ask how everyone treated me down here. He will only be interested in how I loved.”
Two little boys, one truck and a dozen moments in time have brought reason to be joyful years later. When crisis arises, be okay. Someone is watching and learning, and they need to see your strength, and faith in action. When someone is in need, help. You can’t take it with you and Jesus is watching. When you don’t know what to do, be good and kind……and just maybe, 50 years later, someone will smile when they remember.
Love,
Gretchen