Today is the 13th anniversary of that fateful day when America was attacked and thousands died because of International terrorism. Since that day thousands more have served their country in foreign countries, many of whom have given their lives in the cause of freedom for all people. The problems brought to the world by terrorism have not gone away; they seem to have taken a turn for the worse. Let us pray for our leaders and for all our fellow Americans who serve in the military and the many people who suffer today for various reasons because of this ongoing war against terrorism.
September 11, 2014 (Thursday)
When school started in the fall of 1942, I was in the sixth grade and my sisters were in the third grade. We moved back with our grandparents after a summer with our mother, and each day walked the few blocks to Sherman Elementary School.
I discovered that Troy Conner lived across the street about a block away. I had met Troy in the third grade when I attended the same school he attended (Breckenridge Elementary), for three weeks, after which my parents decided to get back together and I resumed attendance in the same school I had already attended for two years (Theodore Roosevelt Elementary). I recognized Troy from three years before and we became great friends, for the rest of our lives. Troy was a member of a good Christian family. I went to church with that family and was saved during a revival meeting at their church. At the end of the school year our teacher, Marjorie Peters, joined the WAVES. We had been her first pupils after graduation from Rice. The year went by quickly, the summer passed, and soon we were in Junior High School in the 7th Grade. Somehow Troy and I got separated into different groups for our classes, and, although we were still the best of friends, we found ourselves going separate ways much of the time.
At the end of the 7th Grade, I moved to another part of town to live with my father and Dorothy, my new stepmother. (Picture of Daddy and Dorothy at right, date unknown). All three of us kids made the move. The girls attended Elliot elementary school not far from our home, and I rode a chartered city bus that subbed as a school bus back and forth to the same Junior High I had attended the previous year (John Marshall).
After a while, something remarkable happened; Dorothy was gloriously saved while attending special services at the Denver Assembly of God. She was influenced to attend the church by Daddy’s sister, Mary, and her family, all of whom were active members of that church. Dorothy almost immediately became a leader of young people in the church. She loved every minute of it all. Evidence abounded that she was sincere. For example, I remember we had new siding put on our house, and the contractor told her he was giving her a special price and would appreciate it if she told others that she paid the full price. Her reply, and she was very nice about it, was, “I can’t do that–I’m a Christian and I must tell the truth.” She was a totally sincere believer for the rest of her life.
I was 13, in the 8th grade, and beginning to have girlfriends; she was a compassionate
counselor to me as I tried to find my way as a confused adolescent. Whenever there was a conflict between my father and me, she quietly and unobtrusively had little talks with him so that our disagreements were resolved in a pleasant way.
I attended Sunday School and church with her and my sisters at the Assembly of God for the rest of the time I lived with them after her conversion to Christ. I moved the next year to live with my mother and stepfather. We didn’t go to church, but I know Dorothy always prayed for us, and a few years later when I started preaching, I’m sure she was happy about that. (At the right is a picture of Dorothy on her 80th birthday).