Normally, I do not blog about anything that is
personal, but today I wish to make an exception. Those of you who know me already know most of
the facts presented here but this is a special tribute to a special person.
On
February 6, 1958 I had the fortune of being married to Doris June
Robinson. For fifty years she was, as is
noted on the door of the conference room at South Arkansas Christian School,
the perfect “preacher’s wife.” I can
truthfully say, I would neither change any of the things she did, nor things
that she did not do. Oh, we had some
disagreements along the way but usually
they were my fault. The only time the
kids felt any tension between us was when a leaf fire that she was burning,
spread and caught the dog house on fire to which my bird-dog was chained. At that time I told her, Honey, you can find
a wife any day of the week, but a good bird dog is hard to find. Things were a little tense for a while.
Early in our marriage we moved frequently;
changes between schools and churches.
She never complained. She taught
herself to drive during one week when I was away for church camp. We had our moments of sadness, as everyone
has. Our first child was premature and
only lived twenty-four hours, we lost another because of a miscarriage that was
caused by an automobile wreck. Then
there were the normal loses of parents and the other relatives. We each tried to always be there for the
other.
Her work
ethics were tremendous. Often she worked
at two different jobs and then loved to get out and mow the lawn.
We had no
particular dream in life except to be together, raise our family and worship
our God. Then things suddenly
changed. A single cancer cell was
discovered in her breast. By this time
two of our great-grandchildren were here.
She was so determined to have a part in raising those kids that she
chose to have both breasts removed to avoid the return of the cancer. Then a few months later the words no one
wants to hear—stage four cancer. Her
cancer was a cancer of the lungs, which had spread into the bone and into the
brain, thus major surgery, chemo, radiation.
Not one time did she ever complain.
However, it seemed as if her concern for the children was even stronger. In the last few months of her life she would
often waken and ask, Honey, is her head uncovered.
She told
me during those last weeks, Honey, take care of those kids. That was her dream.
Thus, the
title, fulfilling the dream. There are
some things in life to which no question is asked, a person just does it. There have been many who made mention of the
difficulty of raising teen age kids today.
I remember a picture many years ago of a boy carrying a smaller boy on
his back. Someone asked if he were
heavy. The older boy responded, No, sir,
he’s my brother. The task of providing
for Bailey and Charlee is not a burden, it is a joy, because I am Fulfilling a
dream.
Normally, I do not blog about anything that is
personal, but today I wish to make an exception. Those of you who know me already know most of
the facts presented here but this is a special tribute to a special person.
On
February 6, 1958 I had the fortune of being married to Doris June
Robinson. For fifty years she was, as is
noted on the door of the conference room at South Arkansas Christian School,
the perfect “preacher’s wife.” I can
truthfully say, I would neither change any of the things she did, nor things
that she did not do. Oh, we had some
disagreements along the way but usually
they were my fault. The only time the
kids felt any tension between us was when a leaf fire that she was burning,
spread and caught the dog house on fire to which my bird-dog was chained. At that time I told her, Honey, you can find
a wife any day of the week, but a good bird dog is hard to find. Things were a little tense for a while.
Early in our marriage we moved frequently;
changes between schools and churches.
She never complained. She taught
herself to drive during one week when I was away for church camp. We had our moments of sadness, as everyone
has. Our first child was premature and
only lived twenty-four hours, we lost another because of a miscarriage that was
caused by an automobile wreck. Then
there were the normal loses of parents and the other relatives. We each tried to always be there for the
other.
Her work
ethics were tremendous. Often she worked
at two different jobs and then loved to get out and mow the lawn.
We had no
particular dream in life except to be together, raise our family and worship
our God. Then things suddenly
changed. A single cancer cell was
discovered in her breast. By this time
two of our great-grandchildren were here.
She was so determined to have a part in raising those kids that she
chose to have both breasts removed to avoid the return of the cancer. Then a few months later the words no one
wants to hear—stage four cancer. Her
cancer was a cancer of the lungs, which had spread into the bone and into the
brain, thus major surgery, chemo, radiation.
Not one time did she ever complain.
However, it seemed as if her concern for the children was even stronger. In the last few months of her life she would
often waken and ask, Honey, is her head uncovered.
She told
me during those last weeks, Honey, take care of those kids. That was her dream.
Thus, the
title, fulfilling the dream. There are
some things in life to which no question is asked, a person just does it. There have been many who made mention of the
difficulty of raising teen age kids today.
I remember a picture many years ago of a boy carrying a smaller boy on
his back. Someone asked if he were
heavy. The older boy responded, No, sir,
he’s my brother. The task of providing
for Bailey and Charlee is not a burden, it is a joy, because I am Fulfilling a
dream.