Dear old Aunties

Auntie Elsie, Aunt Betty, and Auntie Gladys- another year older!

We all have them... dear old aunties that poured out love to us when we were children. I had 5 of them on my dad's side. Two of them just celebrated their 96th and 93rd birthdays this week. Let me share with you my memories.

Auntie Peg. One of a kind. Loud, opinionated, with a memory for obsure details of the past. She knew everybody and everybodies business. I lived with her while in college for 6 months; it was there I grew to love this unusual lady who was a bit brash on the exterior, but a gentle, loving soul on the inside. Aunt Peg passed away a few years ago at 93 year of age. When we were children, we didn't like staying with Aunt Peg... as an adult, we loved being around her and hearing her stories and listening to our family history.

Auntie Gladys is the second to oldest... she turned 96 this week. She was the care-giver. From the world's view, Auntie never did anything huge in her life; she stayed home and cared and nurtured her family, and doing it so well. Uncle Bill, her husband, was one of my favorites. A fisherman, a quail hunter, a talker. It was this auntie that cared for us many a Friday nights as we laid around her house after our weekly trip to the laundry mat with my dad; she fed us, she mended our jeans, she mothered us.

Auntie Elsie turned 93 this week. Auntie Elsie was the happy one; always laughing; always excited about birds and flowers. She lived on the farm outside of Kellogg in a big house with lots of rooms. You wanted to be around Aunt Elsie because you knew your spirits would be lifted. She was married to Uncle Roy; a great farmer, but just the oposite of Auntie... gruff, frugal and impatient. Never have I seen a couple so opposite in their dispositions. Never have I seen a lady enjoy spending her late husband's saved money after he passed away. What fun for us to see our dear auntie get out and enjoy her life with traveling late in her life.

Auntie Anne... the kissing auntie. We knew we were going to be lavished with lip-sticked-kisses when we met and left this auntie. She was the beautiful one; her hair, her makeup, he whole demeanor shouted glamour. We loved seeing auntie as a kid; she loved everyone of my 23 first cousins; she never remembered our faults and shortcomings, but poured out love and affection to everyone, every time she saw us. We loved going to her house; we always felt like a king in her palace.

Aunt Betty... she turns 72 in early February, the youngest and the last of 8 kids born to my grandma and grandpa. Aunt Betty was different from the rest; she became a single mother in the early 60's. She never married, but had the one daughter. Aunt Betty grew on us. We never stayed at her home as a child, but later learned to love her for who she was; a staunch Democrat, a smoker, and a great cook.

As I reflect this week about the birthdays of my four living aunties, I am glad they were/are apart of my life. I have had 3 aunties that have lived into their 90's, each one living through 2 world wars, each one leaving a wonderful legacy in my mind. I pray I can do likewise and influence my nephews and nieces with love and kindness and kisses and encouragement as they grow up in a very different world than I did.

The Red Dress

I was 5 at the time; my sister Vivian would have been 7. We both were attending the same school in Grinnell Iowa: Cooper Elementary. Cooper Elementary no longer exists but a newer Fareway store has been built over the site.

In those days, 1960, girls wore dresses to school. If for some reason the weather was bitterly cold, pants could be worn under the dress. There were strict dress codes for all students.

This must of took place after our mother left us; Dad had custody of 4 young children; he worked at Donaldson's factory in Grinnell while raising 4 kids in a cold, old farmhouse. During that first winter, Grandma Taylor came up from Missouri to help with the household chores and be there when we arrived home on the bus.

Vivian brought home a note from her teacher one day asking if she could stay after school. The teacher had said she would bring her home. Permission was granted. Discipline? Extra help on homework? No... shopping.

We don't recall the teacher's name, only the act. She took this little 7 year old, who probably didn't have a decent dress at the time, up town and bought her a simple red dress.

I have often thought of the impact this wonderful gesture by a kind, sensitive teacher must have made on this young child who must have missed out on a mother's fussing over her school clothes for her.

Reminder to me: Watch for opportunities to create a "Red Dress" moment in the lives of children. Acts of kindness to a 7 year old that needs a little extra love may become one the pillars that could shape a child's perspective all their lives.

I know... I remember... and I know my sister remembers.

Written by
Earl Taylor, Director of Design and Vision
Hidden Acres Christian Center, Dayton, Iowa
Hidden Acres is a youth camp and retreat center and is owned and operated by the Evangelical Free Churches of Iowa, South Dakota, and Missouri.

One Last Trout

It is a cold,snowy day today; my thoughts are on future Springs and past Springs: the following story is from 2008, written after my dad passed away in June.

We had been saying for years, “This could be our last trout fishing together.” Finally, it came true this spring. Dad turned 80 in February, and had spent a good part of the late winter in and out of the hospital with old age infirmities; his body was worn out.

We headed to Waterloo Creek near Dorchester; this was a stream that Dad had grown to love to fish; he had one hole he particularly enjoyed sitting over. My brother Randy and I loaded Dad and his scooter chair up, and headed north from our cabin for what was to be the last trout fish.

It was a sunny day; we arrived before the stocking truck arrived. We were the first ones in and we were able to secure dad’s favorite hole. The stocking truck arrived by the time we had our equipment unpacked and poles readied to fish. Dad caught his last five trout that morning. He never moved from his chair the entire time he fished; we handed him bait, retrieved his fish and put them on a stringer, and brought him drinks and sandwiches.

We almost forgot to take a picture; but now are so thankful we had Dad pose with his last catch. That was the last time Dad sat along the banks of an Iowa trout stream; it all started in 1964 when a friend invited Dad to use his little school house cabin along Wexford Creek, south of Lansing. For 44 years, Dad had hauled his boys, his grandsons, and old hunting buddies to the cabin to try their luck on these small ribbons of streams that the DNR keep stocked weekly with hatchery raised trout: browns and rainbows mostly.

Dad only caught one lunker trout in 44 years; a 5 pound rainbow; and even this by accident. I had hooked the trout earlier with my cane pole and bobber, but it didn’t take long before I was stripped of line, hook and bobber; too much fish and not enough pole. Dad was throwing a spinner when he hooked my broken line and bobber, wrapping the line up in his spinner. After 20 minutes of working the fish, Dad dragged it onto shore. But, he was just as happy catching 12 inch rainbows that glistened when fresh out of the water; to Dad every trout was a blessing and a thing of beauty to behold.


We will return to the cabin again this spring to do a little more fishing,turkey hunting and seek for mushrooms; but we will also make our way up the path from the trout stream at Wexford and visit Dad’s nearby grave. It was Dad’s wish to be buried in the Catholic cemetery overlooking the Wexford stream and right down the bluff where Dad shot so many spring gobblers; it was as if he wanted to be able to hear one more trout break water for a gadfly or catch one more gobbler announce the morning off the roost.

Welcome home Dad. May spring come soon!

Written by
Earl Taylor, Director of Vision and Design
Hidden Acres Christian Center, Dayton Iowa
Hidden Acres is the youth and family camp of the Evangelical Free Churches of Iowa, South Dakota, and Missouri

Good Luck: I will pray for you!

The two phrases don't fit together: Good Luck and I will Pray for you! It is one or the other, but it can't be both.

To the Christian... who prays and seeks the direction of the Lord, there is no such thing as good luck. There are answered prayers, there is the hand of the Lord on them, but luck has nothing to do with good things happening to a person or a family.

Case in point: I saw it happen yesterday. Let me share Tracy's story. Tracy Waltz is our youth pastor's wife. 10 days ago, we had a wedding at the camp chapel, with the reception at the main lodge. Tracy and Joel were there helping and participating in the fun evening. On the drive to the camp, Tracy took off her wedding ring in order to put on some hand cream. As she left the car to walk into the lodge, she forgot that her ring was in her lap. It wasn't until later that she realized that she didn't make it home with her ring.

This was not just a off-the-shelf ring; the diamond was Joel's grandmother's set into a new ring. Not only was it valuable, there was alot of sentimental value to the diamond itself. Tracy was crushed; Joel was doubtful that it would ever be found.

Tracy returned to the camp yesterday with a metal detector. Since the wedding, we have received over 10 inches of snow, and plenty of ice. The circle drive in front of the main lodge had been walked over, driven over and the snow and ice pack was at least an inch thick; and their were fresh bobcat tracks where the maintenance man had just scraped off what snow and ice that he could. Tracy used the metal detector and heard a beep under the snow. Tracy tells her story, "I figured the camp picked up bottle caps and litter, so I was hopeful. I went into the lodge, got a bucket of hot water and began to pour it over the spot. Right before my eyes, a circle began to melt around my ring. I stood there and cried... knowing it was truly a miracle. My husband had wished me good luck before I left home, and I told him he should pray that I would find it. He did, I did, and so did others"




What a great reminder to me... expect God to intervene when we pray. We worry, we fret, we stew before we pray. Buried under the snow packed situations of our struggle on earth, He has already has the perfect answer ready for us when we pray.

Written by:
Earl Taylor, Director of Vision and Design
Hidden Acres Christian Center, Dayton, Iowa
earldtaylor@yahoo.com
... Hidden Acres is a youth camp and retreat center and is owned by the Evangelical Free Churches of Iowa, South Dakota, and Missouri.

Leaving Margins in Your Field

Boaz told his foremen, ”Leave some stalks of grain behind so that Ruth may come behind and glean in our fields. And don’t embarrass her in any way!” (from Ruth 2:15-16) Our staff recently returned from a national Christian camping conference where the speaker, Pastor Bryan Loritts from Memphis, Tennessee spoke from this passage; the hearts of the entire staff were stirred as he shared this principle: The principle of allowing margins in our lives: Boaz provided margins in his fields by telling his workers to leave some behind; “don’t pick up every sheaf… leave some for the needy… leave something for those who are willing to work for their bread… we have enough, we don’t need it all.”

This is a wonderful picture; I see it often from the farmer who wants to make sure the pheasants and deer have enough food to make it through an Iowa winter by leaving the last 4 rows of corn. I see it in some homes where boxes and boxes of food are packaged up and given to the hungry. I see it here at camp when families are struggling along, living pay check to paycheck, and we are able to say, “ No problem, Come on and come to camp. We have room and let’s not worry about the fees.”

We purposely have built in margins into Hidden Acres' finances. Even in the early years when we found ourselves short, we always attempted to show mercy and margins with our summer campers. Why? It is very simple, “The gospel can’t penetrate a heart of the young person if he isn’t at camp, but stays home loafing around the house!” Empty beds cannot be ministered to. I want kids to come to know Christ!”

I love that theme of building margins in our lives. I was young and stupid once; and went into debt for stuff and house. When I freed myself of debt, I felt a big burden slide off my back; I began to build in financial margins into my life; not building wealth, but opening up more opportunities to give.

Charles Wesley built in margins into his life: He determined that 29 pounds was an adequate sum to live on each year. When the royalty checks began to arrive, he still determined that 29 pounds was adequate to live on, and gave the rest away.

I do have to admit, I don’t build any margins in my life when it come to mercy, or gentleness, or kindness. My driver personality gets in my way at times and blocks out seasons of mercy and gentleness. “ Lord help me to let my margins along my fields to grow wider and heavier for the Lost!”

For us this Christmas time, we have built into our calendar a month of margins; it is our slowest month of the year and we use this time to reconnect with family, to plan for the upcoming year, and to renew our spiritual lives. Workers without margins in their life burn out and leave.

I won’t say it too loudly but I pray you have created some margins with your gift giving. I have been around for 54 Christmas’ and I honestly don’t remember a gift that was memorable; the gifts was nice stuff to have, but there has been nothing that I received that I still cherish and keep. Enuf said!

I trust we understand and know what our 29 pounds looks like, and have the self control to live on our 29 pounds each year and give back to those in need.

Wishing you and your family the very best!

....Boaz the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth; Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of King David.....and Jacob the father of Joseph of Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ. Matthew 1:1-16

Written by:
Earl Taylor, Director of Vision and Design
Hidden Acres Christian Center, Dayton, Iowa
earldtaylor@yahoo.com
....Hidden Acres is the youth camp and retreat center owned by the Evangelical Free Churches of Iowa, South Dakota, and Missouri.

Joy to the World...THE LORD IS COME!!

Talk about getting me out of the mood for Christmas!! I turned on a local TV station this morning to catch an update on the upcoming storm, only to be greeted by a lively New York City choir singing a rendition of Joy to the World. Nice choir: energetic and engaged. But they got the song all wrong: they couldn't sing the song as written: Joy to the World, the Lord has come... that would be offensive to someone... instead they replaced the Lord has come with "let everyone sing". As if singing was going to bring lasting JOY to the world.

For those who know me, you know that I don't go for all the hype and glitter of Christmas. I was told when I had children I would change.... I didn't: I have four. I was told when I had grandchildren I would change... I didn't: I have six!

I do love the spirit of Christmas: the extra time with family, extra time to read and relax, extra time to reflect on the past year and anticipate the next year, and I even like a few football games. I don't need presents and decorations and parties to accomplish that. What I like best is the platform of the Christmas season to share my faith: it is a no brainer. When others complain about their busyness of the week, I can talk about the Christ child... born to be the Savior. Born into a world full of sin and strife, knowing that this "lamb of a child" would 33 years later be the final and perfect sacrifice.

Today is the 23rd, and I have yet to visit a store in town to purchase the "Joy giving gift" that many have labored over for weeks. My prayer over these next few days is that I would be sent a stranger with an empty spot in his heart, and that I might be the messenger of the Good News to all people and share about this Christ child born so many years ago... "Lord give me the courage and discernment when you send a joyless person into my life!"

Written by:
Earl Taylor, Design and Vision Director
Hidden Acres Christian Center Dayton,Iowa
...Hidden Acres is a Christian youth and summer camp along with an adult and family retreat center located in central Iowa. Hidden Acres is owned by the Evangelical Free Churches of Iowa, South Dakota, and Missouri.

Apples don't fall far from the Tree

My 4th grade friend Norman

My daughter arrived home from college a few Christmas's ago; she had called earlier in the day and said she was bringing a friend.

I was a little taken back when I stepped outside to greet my daughter; I could see her friend was struggling with her baggage. She walked with a limp, her knees were turned in and she wore thick glasses, with limited eye sight.

As we sat in the living room, tears came to my eyes because I was seeing the exact image in myself 37 years later.

We had moved to Coon Rapids, Iowa when I was going into the fourth grade. I was ready for the move. My dad had recently remarried after a 1961 divorce. We settled into the community, and I started school in Miss Sorenson’s class.

In 1964, there were not special education classes, only three levels of students: the smart, the average, and the slow. We had 3 slow students in my 4th grade class. Dave, Patty, and Norman. I was average to smart.

No one wore tennis shoes to school in 1964, but dress shoes. Norman didn’t wear either; he wore a heavy type above-the-ankle work boot that was sturdy, bulky, and enduring.

From his feet to his head, Norman dressed differently than the other kids. His coat and jeans were not stylish, but straight cut denims that a 30 year old farm hand would wear. He wouldn’t eat the 35 cent school lunches, instead he would carry his lunch of heavy dark bread sandwiches full of last night’s meat. I ate the Friday fish stick lunches and drank the 2 cent milk.

I wasn’t the biggest kid on the play ground, but I remember watching after Norman. I always made sure he was included in kick ball games at recess and would not allow the other boys to poke fun or mimic Norman. He was not overly gifted in running and throwing, but he was extra strong in arms and chest.

When Christmas came around in 1964, my dad was making around $3000 per year. I didn’t know we were the poor ones. I remember having our Sunday school Christmas program prior to Christmas school vacation. I remember the good hard candy and chocolates that were passed out to each child in the brown paper sack. I saved mine.

I took it to school on Monday morning, gift wrapped in a box and slipped it to Norman over lunch. He never said much. I never received a thank you, but I knew I had done the right thing that Christmas. I haven’t seen Norman since grade school. I moved away when we finished 8th grade.

I doubt my daughter’s friend got asked to visit somebody’s home often during her 4 years at Moody Bible. I am glad that apple’s don’t fall very far from the tree. I am glad that some things can be taught and others things are pure instinct.

And to you my old friend Norman, Merry Christmas to you again, 44 years later.

Written by
Earl Taylor, Director of Vision and Design
Hidden Acres Christian Center, Dayton, Iowa
...a children's and youth camp, a retreat center, and a family camp located in Central Iowa. Hidden Acres is owned by the Evangelical Free Churches of Iowa, South Dakota, and Missouri.