It Takes Three...

In 1955 these two married each other.

Travis and Rachel met at a roller skating rink in Hopewell, Missouri. Mom’s account is that he came in and caught her eye. She gave him a closer look when she skated past him standing there with two of his brothers. 

The next time she skated by, she winked at him. (She openly admits that she was a flirt…lol) Then she pointed him out to her mother sitting nearby and said, “I’m gonna marry him.”

I don’t think Dad knew what he was in for because she made up her mind that day - he was the one for her. I’m not sure how the story went from meeting to marrying except that Mom asked Dad instead of the other way around.

Technically, they were married in a double wedding ceremony with another couple and when their friends were talking about getting married, they suggested my parents get married, too. Then Mom said to Dad, “You want to?” I reckon he said yes because it’s now 2016 and they have been married for 60 years.

It seems today, it’s an incredible thing if a couple sticks it out for 60 years and I agree that it is an incredible thing!

But I will tell you a secret…it wasn’t just these two who got married that day in 1955. When they were married, there were three involved. (No, she wasn’t pregnant...)

You see, they entered into marriage with each other but also with God. He was included in the vows and promises made that day. Without Him, it would have been impossible to keep those promises for 60 years. Too many hardships and difficulties came their way for them to have made it through in their own power.

They lost their third child at three months old, Annie Marie Eye. She died of crib death. My parents were both completely crushed and devastated by this. But they trusted God to get them through the heartache and were blessed with a total of ten children counting her.

Dad answered the call to preach which was a blessing but also put pressure on the marriage. Mom didn’t marry a preacher but many years into the marriage, found herself married to one. Dad grew deeply in his relationship with God and she was along for the ride whether she wanted to or not.

I was born in 1968 (child number 7) and it was shortly after that, we began attending a Primitive Baptist Church and Dad soon became the pastor. We drove every Sunday to churches in our association. No church was closer than an hour drive away from our home in Potosi, Missouri.

Usually, on the fifth Sunday of the month, we drove to a church in Rector, Arkansas. We got up before the crack of dawn and piled into the old station wagon and we kids went back to sleep as Dad drove to the little church there.

It was an ordeal to drag us kids all over Missouri and Arkansas to go to church. Not only that but when we went to church, there was always lunch afterwards. So, Mom had to cook food to take with us for lunch. This was a big sacrifice on her part I now see, because it was a lot of work for her just to go to church.

All the while, Dad worked in the lead mines to support his family. Sometimes, different shifts. Plus he was a part time pastor. Mom worked when she needed to but mostly took care of the family and home. There were strikes and lay-offs, picket lines and health issues due to Dad’s full time job. Not to mention raising nine of their ten children and the stresses that adds to life.

Midlife came with all of its testing and difficulties. Praise God they made it through and God blessed them with the desires of their hearts. They were blessed with the land Dad had longed for his entire life and built a new house there.

What a testimony to God and His intertwining of grace, mercy and forgiveness into marriage. It cannot survive without those beautiful things. He has extended those to us and we must extend the same in marriage.  Believe me, it can be the hardest thing to do.

So I want to say thank you for the incredible example set forth, for all of their children and many, many grandchildren, of a picture of marriage and how it takes more than two to make it work.  It takes three.

If they die...

In March 2011, my nephew, Brandon Bourbon came to visit me in Tennessee with his girlfriend, Nicole. I was so excited because I don’t get visitors from home often and he wanted to go to church with me. I’ll never forget proudly introducing him to fellow church members at Temple Baptist Church in White House, Tennessee where we were members at the time. I introduced him to the Pastor, the Youth Pastor and anybody else who noticed my tall, good-looking, football playing nephew!

I don’t remember the sermon that day but I’ll NEVER forget how happy I was to have him with me in the service. 

After church, we took Brandon and Nicole to eat at our favorite Chinese buffet. Then we went home, played soccer in the back yard (where I realized I’m getting too old to play soccer with college kids!) and hung out until evening.  

I’m glad I snapped a picture of him (and Nicole) in our front yard that day. After which, he climbed up the tree next to us, giving everyone a good laugh!

When I was very young, a friend once asked me, “How do you know if you love somebody?” I remember thinking about it a second and then I replied, “If they die and you cry…then you loved them.”  She thought that made pretty good sense and I’ve never forgotten that conversation from my childhood. I guess because it is true.

Since I was a kid, I’ve lost some relatives along the way but nothing hit me as hard as hearing my sister tell me that my nephew, Brandon, had taken his own life. We were all in shock. Brandon was not depressed that any of us were aware of. What is this about? We had tons of questions and nothing made sense.    

We went home for the funeral and I must say how proud I was of our little town of Potosi, Missouri. Brandon was a bit of a home town hero because of his football successes and they wanted to turn on the football field lights for him - one more time. 

The funeral was on the high school football field and it was packed. There were three buses of football players from Kansas University and Washburn University where he played college football. First, his high school teammates went through the line and left jerseys on the casket. Then Kansas University football players went through then Washburn University. I’ve never seen so many big guys with tears streaking down their cheeks.

It was evident that those who spoke, truly loved Brandon. The most touching part of the funeral was at the end when the Superintendent of schools said, “Something isn’t right about this whole thing. Brandon was never on the 50 yard line. He was always at the in-zone.” 

Then Brandon's blockers came up and carried his casket to the in-zone one last time for one final touchdown. There was silence until he reached the in-zone and then cheers erupted in the crowd along with complete breakdowns of tears by some. The whole service completely honored his life.

Brandon was just a really great kid who made everyone proud of him. He was in love with God. His life reflects that and God was all he could talk about according to his best friend, Dylan who spoke at his funeral. I can only imagine the impact he would have had if he would have become a youth pastor or ministered to youth in some way because kids loved Brandon! 

He was the type to play outside with the little kids throwing a football when everyone else was inside talking.  My son, Joseph, came out of his room shortly after Brandon’s death carrying a football with a KU logo on it and showed it to me. He said that he and Brandon were playing catch outside one day and Brandon gave it to him. Now, it is a treasure to Joseph.

There is NO question that Brandon was deeply loved and is already dearly missed.  He was beloved to those of us lucky enough to know him.  

My childhood logic about love stands true, “If they die and you cry…then you loved them.” 

I’ve never seen so many tears.

Love one another deeply, from the heart.  1^st Peter 1:22