Well, well, well…long time and no visit on the front porch…no apologies, no excuses…but so glad you stopped by! 

It has been almost a year since my last blog...blogging takes time.  It takes thought...it takes more time.  I often feel my to do list outweighs my time allotment...but decided to take some of that precious time on this cold November day in 2013...to invite you to celebrate and magnify the Lord with me!

50 YEARS!

50 years.  A great deal of stuff can happen during 50 years.  Good, bad, sad, happy, birth, death, marriage, divorce… Half a century…50 years. That's a long time.

We recently observed the 50^th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy and the death of C. F. Lewis.  Dark day for Texas and for America that day of the assassination of John F. Kennedy.  For the past few weeks the news has been full of minute by minute accounts of the dark day in November 1963.  Hard to believe 50 years.  Most people who were alive at that time can recall just where they were and what they were doing when the news broke.  Unbelievable.

I am celebrating another type of milestone; 50 years ago in November, 1963, I accepted Jesus as my Savior.  I was a lost, confused 10 year old child. But,a kindly neighbor took me under her wing, invited me to church.  The church was a new work…a home mission’s church that was started in an old, very old school house I stress OLD; a one room school house which had been divided into two rooms.  It is still standing today-boarded up, just as the picture shows-but still standing as a witness, a light, a testimony to the lives it has touched. It was complete with an old wood/coal burning stove.  Wood floors, old dusty wood floors, drafty old windows and on one wall hung a picture of George Washington that I thought had to be the original portrait.  It wasn’t of course.  Running water-none-which meant when nature called,  you literally had to take a walk up a path and beware.  Don’t recall ever venturing to this facility.  Not because I was afraid, as we had one of these fine facilities at my house.  Just chose not to.  Oh, and one light bulb to illuminate the church.  Bare bulb.  No frills. 

This little church was born out of a man’s dream to help people, such as myself, find the Truth, and find Jesus as Lord and Savior.  Roy Gabbard.  He had a heritage of several generations of preachers and teachers, but somewhere along this way, he ventured off the path of the straight and narrow.  After his search, he returned to the God of his youth and the God of his roots.  Thus, eventually he was called to the ministry and planted a church.  That small beginning has flourished into a ministry of churches, tent revivals, singing groups, evangelistic work through TV and radio.  Wonder if he ever dreamed his small beginnings would mushroom into such ministry?  But that is God's plan: small steps, small beginnings, obedience in small things=God's blessings beyond our hopes and dreams.

My neighbor faithfully took me to this little church. Not many folk in attendance.  I recall Pastor Gabbard singing and playing his guitar.  I remember singing from the hymn books.  I loved to sing.  Cherished the words from those old hymnals; ‘At the Cross, At the Cross’….Of course I had no idea what the meaning was to this songs...but the power of the message of those songs drew me and comforted me.

 I remember the piano player banging on those keys like there was no tomorrow.  I remember the preaching.  Since I had little experience with church, especially a little country church like this, the preaching to me was more like hollering and more hollering.  I remember thinking ‘why is this guy so angry?”!  Hmmm...now realize it's the passion for the Word that we Christians experience...a passion, a drive, a desire to 'GO and TELL' and sometimes yell.

I remember Sunday School.  I loved Sunday School.  Charlotte Gabbard was the teacher.  It was a small group.  But, I remember loving the stories and the comfort of the Word.  My dear neighbor came and picked me up, faithfully, week after week-rain, cold, sleet and snow. She has long gone to her Heavenly home, I wonder where I might be today IF she had not taken the time and interest in the little Lawson girl who lived over the hill and through the woods.  Reaching out to one does count and does make a difference-especially to that one.  What a difference it made to me.

A few months earlier, the Gideons, a group of businessmen who raise funds and supply Bibles to school children, military men and women, nurses, doctors, motels…came to my school.  I remember the buzz was, “the Gideons are coming, the Gideons are coming’…hmmm…what is a Gideon?  Well, I found out.  Kindly, concerned men who handed me a little red New Testament.  God’s Word. I did not know exactly the treasure I had just received.  No idea.  I took it home and for some reason began secretly reading this treasure by the light from the kitchen when I was supposed to be sleeping. I did not understand the message...thees and thous and wherefores and begats and this and that...but nevertheless, I was drawn by the power of the Holy Spirit to read this Word.

  

One rainy, cold November Sunday in 1963 I went to church, received a handout after Sunday School and carried it home.  That afternoon, I read and re-read that little handout.  Not much to do at my house on a cold rainy November Sunday afternoon.  Stay quiet and stay out of sight if possible and don’t say or do anything to upset the delicate status quo.  After reading that little paper several times, the message hit home.  On the back was the outline of the plan of salvation.  A-Admit you are a sinner...  B-Believe in Jesus. C-Confess that Jesus is your Lord and Savior.  A huge, bright light went off in my little 10 year old brain.  Jesus loved me and He could save me from my miserable self and my miserable life.  It was a cold, rainy day, but a warmth came over me.; a warmth down to my toes.  I not only said the sinner’s prayer, I found a piece of paper and wrote a letter to Jesus.  Making sure I covered the A, B and C.  Then I signed it and dated it.  Priceless…the defining day of my life; the Crossroads that forever changed my life!

So 50 years…50 years, I have had a Friend, a Confidant, a Helper, a Healer, and a Savior.  Ups and downs…mountains and valleys, trials, tribulations, victories..but all sprinkled with the power and comfort of the Holy Spirit, the Grace from the Son and the Love of the Father.....by the way I met a young man at that little country church.  Glen Gabbard, the son of the Preacher man Roy Gabbard and the brother of my Sunday School teacher, Charlotte Gabbard.  I met the Preacher...we fell in love, married, had 4 children and a gaggle of grandkids…we have pastored in several states, met some of the best folk this side of Heaven.  50 years….and they said it wouldn’t last!

50 years does seem like a  l o n g time and it is….but compared to the Promise of Eternal Life that I now possess because of that decision in November 1963…50 years here on earth is just a mere drop in the bucket…I have 50 times 50 years times 50 years…eternity...to live, move and have my being in Him.

So celebrate with me, Glorify His Name with me, but more importantly if you do not know Him as Savior, invite Him into your heart where He will make His home...John 3:16...for GOD so loved the world that He sent His Son...

As I wrote earlier, blogging takes time, thought and tenacity...I usually don't write until or unless I feel the inspiration...been writing this blog in my head for several weeks now...but really been writing it for the past 50 years...

So thanks for stopping by...I do feel a few more blog thoughts forming and stewing in my soul...so hopefully, we can visit again here on the front porch real soon...until then...be blessed