The Stars Fell From the Sky

THE STARS FELL FROM THE SKY!

I love my grandchildren more than all the stars in the sky. That's what I tell them, and that's what I mean! That's a lot, a whole bunch! When I say I love them more than all the stars in the sky, I'm not talking about just the number of star although that's an awesome number. I'm also thinking about the brightness of the stars on a very clear, cold night. I'm picturing the beauty of the stars above Table Rock Lake where I was on the top of the world looking down on God's amazing and wonderful creation. I'm remembering the stars near the creek where I grew up and had the blessing of looking at the stars, most of my growing up years, with no artificial lights to dim them.

When I ponder on the beauty of the stars, I am taken back to the time the "stars fell out of the sky."

It was awesome, spectacular, unbelievable, and very frightening. It was November 17, 1966,
when my mom was cooking breakfast prior to daylight. She noticed "sparks" out the window and thought the house might be on fire. Instead, it was soon apparent that stars were zipping by the dozens at a very fast speed and all at once from the sky. Was the world coming to an end? What was this?


My dad insisted that I run to my grandparents' house slightly less than a quarter of a mile "across the creek" and wake them, because whatever this was, they wouldn't ever see it again.


What an absolutely terrifying trip, over the footlog, and across the way. Again, I say, it appeared to me that every star in the sky was falling and at a fast speed. (I'll never see it again). By the time I got Grandpa and Grandma woke up, alas, the show had stopped, and the world was still turning.



We soon found out, via the radio, that this was a magnificent meteor shower. I looked it up on the internet and found that the "November 17, 1966 Leonid Meteor Shower was the largest meteor shower in our lifetime with a reported 150,000 meteors entering our atmosphere every hour, that's over 40 per second."




That was was one of the most memorable moments of my life and I wanted to record it. God is such an awesome God. I'm thankful I'm a child of His, and that when the world ends as scripturally defined, I am ready. I am happy to have seen this spectacular God event, and I am so blessed to love my sons and daughters-in-law and grandchildren more than all the stars in the sky!!!!!

Once Upon A Creek

Oh, the creek. My thoughts. My dreams. The clear, quiet rippling water with its crawdads and minnows. The loud roar of a small creek during a flood. The calm, clear high water after the flood.

The creek was. I didn't give it a lot of thought. But I "thought" many, many hours while staring into the clear ripples. Sitting on the gravel near the creek, I dreamed the dreams young girls dream. It was "my" place. There was just enough of a creekbank so that I could hide behind it and not be seen from the house. The creek coud be so PEACEFUL. (And let me tell you, I can skip rocks with the best of them from the practice I had while"thinking").

Our house was basically in a valley but sitting on a small knoll. When the creek "got out of its banks," as small streams do very quickly with heavy rains, I was, when I was small, afraid it would come up and wash away our house. It always stopped just short of the knoll, not that far away. Before the creek escaped its boundaries, it was a roaring train, taking with it everything in its path. We watched trees washing down that body of swelling water. We threw in sticks to watch them bounce down the creek. A "flood" was great reason for excitement, and nature gives the best!

There were many times when the creek spilled from its banks and filled the field almost up to our house. The most memorable time for me is when the tractor and wagon were sitting in the field. The water isn't that swift once it's out of the banks but it still carries a bit of power.
My dad asked one of my brothers to wade down to the tractor and unfasten the wagon, for he feared a log would catch it and carry the whole thing down the stream. The wagon was unhooked, and lo and behold, it went floating down the field and creek. Whoopee!

The creek didn't have a bridge to wash out, and it always filled up with fresh, loose gravel in the crossing. My dad would figure out the best way to ford the creek by finding where it was most solid. The interesting part was when visitors, usually relatives from afar, came across the creek, they inevitably sunk into the fresh gravel and sand, and out came the tractor to the rescue.

There were, of course, times when that little creek became such a monster that nobody could cross it. It had a footlog. The footlog was a large tree that had been felled across the creek. It was fastened with a log chain to a tree or roots at the high bank. At the lower bank, on the opposite side, I think it was loosely tied. Above it, from one tree to another, was a strong rusty cable that one could hold onto while crossing the footlog. That cable was literally a lifeline.
I was terrified of crossing the creek especially when the waters below were swirling and angry from flooding. "Don't look down. Don't look down."

We needed to traverse the creek to go to school, so the footlog was a daily experience.
In addition to the main stream, we had to cross two other branches that flowed into it . Those we could usually cross by stepping on rocks and jumping from one to another, getting our feet a little wet, at times. Those smaller tributaries could roar, also. One flowed along side of my grandparents' house. The other crossed the main road. I remember one time that first little nothing branch was high enough that Dad put a blanket over the hood and blasted through it. I was frightened!

In the spring of my 17th year, coming home from a date when all the streams were out of their banks, I convinced my boyfriend to just let me out of the car right before the third branch from the house. I knew I could go around it if I walked up the bank, found a barb-wire fence and followed it to my grandparents' house, thus avoiding the first two creeks. He didn't hesitate much that I recall! So, there I was, in total darkness, finding and holding onto a barbed fence, walking through tons of wet leaves. (I'm a brave girl)! I don't think I attempted the last footlog, and, therefore, spent the night at my grandparents' house. No way of communicating that to my parents without phones, but that's creek living.

One experience I'll never forget is one time when the footlog, which it sometimes did, washed away from the lower bank, and could not be crossed. My dad went some distance in a field further up the creek and felled a tree across the creek, so we could get to the school bus. The pool over which the log rested was clear and deep and COLD from the recent flood. I've always had ear problems and bad balance, vertigo, and a fear of falling. I did NOT want to cross that log with no cable to hold onto, but I DID want to go to school. I remember I had books and a little clear zipper purse with tangee lipstick in it. I remember falling into that COLD creek. I remember going onto my grandma's house, but I don't think I made it to school that day. By the way, the water was COLD.

Summers in the creek were something! Down the creek was a pool deep enough for swimming and playing. Summers were so hot, and the days were long. There wasn't air conditioning, surprise, surprise! I remember doing what many MO kids did, sitting under a shade tree drinking water from a pint or quart jar. But mostly, I remember the creek. Our clothesline was full of jean shorts and such all the time because my three brothers and I went to the swimmin' hole several times a day if we wanted.

The thing I remember most about swimmin' were the leaches and occasionally the snakes. I wasn't as big a fan as my brothers of the swimmin' hole because I didn't like either (snakes or leaches--and sometimes my three brothers). That's putting it mildly. First, we would splash to bring on the leaches. Then the brothers would catch them and pound them between rocks. These leaches were four or five inches long and fat with blood. They just didn't want to die. Later when I saw what they called leaches in Texas County, I couldn't believe those little short, brown mini-babies. I guess I was pretty over-careful because I don't remember ever getting one of those blood suckers on me.

The creek remains in my heart and soul, and I have memory pictures (in my mind) that I will hang onto forever. Once I sat on the banks and dreamed. Now I dream I'm sitting on the banks . . .

Jordan Daniel - Second Born - Loved-First Class

I couldn't bother blogging on the burning of our home before talking about the birth of my son Jordan Daniel Hall, so the house story will have to wait.

When we talked about having a second child, we didn't know he was more than ready to join our family. First month we tried, Bingo! My family doctor said, "Well, you may be Fertile Myrtle," now! So much like Jordan to get the show on the road. He's been one of the stars of our show ever since.

I have to say carrying Jordan brought me great joy, but he made me just as sick as Josh did, and I again took nausea meds daily througout my pregnancy. When Jordan was conceived, I was teaching a combination fifth-sixth grade, I believe, but down in the primary building where I had taught first grade for a number of years. Jordan was very kind to plan his arrival in June, so that I would have time off both before and after his birth. The next fall, I taught 7th grade and put a picture of Jordan on my classroom door with, "What's new? Jordan Daniel Hall."

It was a great year looking forward to this babe. Somewhere in the middle of that expectation, Phil bunged up a knee, twisting it climbing a telephone pole on his very good job with the phone company. He was promised a job but it might be an office job near St. Louis, and we couldn't handle that, so Phil was unemployed. That's another story because Phil found jobs to earn a living for his family. In February that year, Phil's son Steve arrived from California; he was an 8th grader. He did not want to be in Missouri, and much of Jordan's time in the womb was tumultous as there were lots of upsets, worries, and problems in our household. That's a story, but I don't want to go there.

Jordan was due June 24, 1981, and his name was to be Jeremy Phillip or Rachel Ann Hall. I felt that if we had another son, he should carry his dad's name just as did Joshua Phillip. Strange I am!

Jordan has always had a way of doing things his way, and he managed to do just that. He didn't come on June 24, but on June 25. I was cleaning out my bedroom closet (standing on a chair) while Phil and Steve were arguing over a wheelbarrow of rocks in the back yard, when Jordan made it known that he might just not wait 8 days past his due date to come like Josh did. In fact, he would come on time but just enough off to let us know who was in charge!!!

So, I had some regular pains, and Phil, with the roads clear, still had no intention of waiting around. Steve, 14, and Josh, 29 months, were taken to Grandma and Grandpa Hall's house. Phil and proceeded to go to Houston to the doctor's office to see just what this child was trying to say. Our great doctor wasn't sure at that point if I was in labor, so he suggested we go walk in the park. It was a HOT June day and humid, and I was pretty miserable walking in the park.
Before noon we were back in the doctor's office and were placed in a COOL back waiting room. We were there two or three hours, I think. The nurse checked me and said it would be about 10 or 12 hours. She, afterall, used to deliver babies in a doctor's office in Mountain Grove, and she had spoken, and I believed her.

I was very upset because my pains had become quite, quite severe, and I really couldn't tell where one ended and the next started. I just gritted my teeth and smiled at Phil after the pains when there was a dip in the wave of never-ending pain. Phil, bless his heart, was looking at a magazine and talking about skylights in them. I'm saying, "Phil, I can't stand this for 10 more hours." Phil always was my rescuer, and I always could depend on him not being shy like I was. He went into the hall on the hunt for Dr. Wall as soon as he heard him come back from lunch. He said, "Dr. Wall, I think you need to check her. Her pains are too close together."

The good doctor humored him and eventually came into the room. He brought with him a student nurse whom he had check me. She said, hesitantly, that maybe I was a "two." Dr. Wall followed up, got this commanding posture, said, "She's complete! Phil, where's your car?"

The nurse said, "Can you walk?" This was the same one who said it would be 10 or 12 hours.
I said, "Yes," but was surprised to find that there was a very low heavy weight, and walking was a little slow. We made it to our car, and Phil ZIPPED across town to the hospital. When we got there, a wheelchair was outside waiting for us. Dr. Wall wasn't far behind.

No time for prepping. No time for anything. To the labor room. Throw some orange antiseptic on, do a small episotomy, and this kid is born screaming--surprised? He had orange hair from the antiseptic, and he was crying before he was all the way out. Sorry for the details, but that's our Jordan.

I laughed and laughed. Literally. I could NOT believe he was born. I could not believe things were CLEAR this time. I could not believe any of it. The nurses admitting both of us to the hospital because they didn't have time before. They called Jordan the 19 minute wonder for we were there 19 quick minutes before he was born. Thank you, Jordan. I'm not saying I didn't have pain, but I appreciate you screaming your way out.

I remember coming down the hall with Phil, beside Jordan who was on a bed being wheeled where-ever, and Phil saying, "He looks just like Josh." There definitely was a resemblance at birth. Still is, but many differences in facial structure that people don't notice at first.

Also, again this should have been a clue that Jordan was going to be a self-thinker. Somehow his dad just LOOKED at him and knew that his name was NOT Jeremy Phillip. He looked like "Jordan" (a name we had discussed along with Phil's middle name Daniel).

We called Phil's parents and the boys. Phil's mom and Stephen wanted to call him Daniel Jordan, and I think Phil didn't really care that much which, but I said, "Jordan Daniel it is." I'm not at all sure Jordan didn't name himself. He has a way of figuring things out!

Another thing. I had gained only 22 pounds with Josh but quite a bit more with Jordan. And yet, he weighed less than Josh by quite a bit. My husband had to say, "You told me that weight was the baby, and then you kick out this 6 lb. 12 oz. baby!" He was MOSTLY joking.

Jordan was born on Thursday at 3:44 p.m. and came home on Sunday. Grandpa and Grandma and the boys, Steve and Josh, were waiting on our front porch to welcome this sweet little package. (To Be Continued)

Happiness Beyond Explanation

With the due date for my much wanted and longed for baby just past, the weather hit! Up the hill and over the road (through the field) to the to the old huntin' lodge we lived in became a feat some couldn't accomplish. My protective mate, who was gone long hours at work while I was at home on Christmas vacation from school, decided we should move to my parents' house until the baby came. We packed up the basinett and a few things and moved a few miles away to wait.

Little did we know, we would never return to our lodge home. We would never use cousin David's baby chest we covered with a fresh coat of white paint and decorated with decals. Our baby would not use the blankets, outfits, and other gifts generously given to us at a church shower and at school. We would never again sit under Phil's grandfather's table. More about that coming up in the next blog.

Sometime after midnight, beginning the new day of January 7, I awoke with regular pains. Phil and I watched a movie, and just before dawn, we were ready to head for the hospital in Houston, MO. Just one minor problem--the roads were covered with both ice and snow, it was STILL snowing hard and VERYcold, registering 18 below zero that night or the next, I can't remember which. Anyway, again my protective husband to the rescue!He decided we needed an escort to the hospital, a good 28 mile trip. He called "Brother Bill," or "Willy" as he fondly called his older brother to follow us. Always good in a pinch (or a baby's birth) Bill came to the rescue. Good idea . . . the snowplows hadn't run, visability was terrible. The only glitch, in the very slow trip, was when Phil decided he was nervous enough he had to stop and relieve his bladder. That worked out all right but must have gotten Brother Bill going -- either laughing or calling Phil names for stopping. We'll never know!

Arrived at the hospital. Long story short -- the doctor decided after several hours that I wouldn't be delivering that kid that day but kept me in the hospital. Too far home in bad weather to turn around and come back, so he said, and I'm grateful. Not long after that announcement, my water broke, and the hard labor began. Brother Bill made the treacherous trip back to Plato and picked up my sis-in-law Kay and my mom who both visited with me some, but I don't remember it well. Somewhere along the way, I was given demerol although I tried to go natural, and things became crazy hazy.

Actually, the labor lasted way too long with some collateral damage, but Joshua Phillip Hall was born at 7:55 p.m. and needed a moment to start breathing. His daddy said he was a little blue "around the edges"--fingers, toes, etc. But, I remember, Dr. Wall saying those famous words, "It's a boy!!" Before that I remember him saying, "Let's have that baby," and the forceps did their work and damage. :)

I will never forget Daddy saying, "Hi, you little bugger," and talking to his son so naturally. I never loved him more. I was elated, on some kind of natural endorphin, and didn't sleep the whole night. Phil spent the night in the waiting room and slept the night away. Nor did I see the baby all night either since we didn't breast feed as much back in those days, and the nurses took care of him.

The wing of the hospital was new and the heat in the nursery wasn't sufficient, so they put Josh in an "isolater" to keep him toasty. While we were in the hospital three nights, only two other babies were born, red-headed girls, both, so we knew we brought home the right babe.

On the fourth day, we came home from the hospital; the roads were still terrible. Friend and neighbor Dianne Ingalls came up with her studded tire car and held Josh in the front seat while Phil drove and I "lay" in the back. No sitting for me.

Joy! What joy to have a new baby!

On the second evening home, somewhere around supper time, Mom and Dad's neighbor, pounded on the door, saying, "Your house in on fire, and I think it's gone!"
To Be Continued.

Yep, I went to the doctor after a false-negative pregnancy test and found that I was --glory, glory--expecting a child. The doctor had with him a student or intern that day. I remember sitting on the table with this wide, wide, lunatic grin on my face that I absolutely could not make disappear! The young attendee said, "She looks like she's going to jump off the table." It was one of those few times in my life when I could not, could not wipe the grin off--so strange.

From there, I started buying thriftshop bargains, going with a friend to Ft. Wood. I bought a couple maternity tops and wore them from the git-go. Didn't matter that I didn't need them.
Later one of my sisters-in-law said Phil's dad said to them, "Oh my--if anything happens to this baby." We actually did have one scare in which I was put to bed for a day or two, but it passed quickly.

My biggest problem was the all-day nausea. In the summer months my stepchildren from CA, Stacy and Stephen would walk across the field and buy me sprite, but I was SO sick. I took nausea pills the whole nine months. Quickly, I learned that if I took one at bedtime, that almost always took care of my problem. When school started I did fine teaching first grade unless I tried to give up the nausea pills--then BAM. Sick again. A totally awful feeling.

Phil and I had sold the first home we owned at a small profit to my parents, who moved to Plato from their 40 year home at Briar, MO. We took the profit, rented a temporary home, bought quite a bit of new furniture, and started the process of building a new house. Said all that to say this: The house we rented was much a hunting lodge. It had a living room, kitchen, and bedroom, and it's only heat was from a fireplace (all the heat went up the chimney). Phil engaged a kind friend to build a chimney in the kitchen so we had a wood stove, but this house was cold! Also, did you hear me mention a bathroom? No? Well, there was one; it was a stool and a shower located in a separate building outside the house. That block building also housed the washer, dryer, a freezer, and an extra bed.

So, here I was, expecting my first child, living in a cold, cold lodge with some new furniture and a bathroom I had to go outside the house to enter. I was pregnant, and it was a very nasty Missouri winter. The electric blanket we had put away during the conception effort came back out. And I have to tell you, eventually, my husband insisted I use a chamber pot that we found in an old upstairs of the lodge.

Our baby, Joshua Phillip or Rachel Ann Hall ,was due on Dec. 30, 1978. No tax deduction, though. And although the doctor thought we might not watch the New Year's game, we did.
To Be Continued.

Highlights of My Life--No Particular Order-Josh 1

Josh caused us lots of problems, before he was born, my oldest son. It's a good thing he's been such a delight of us ever since he arrived!

First of all, I just wanted a little blond, green-eyed miniature Phil running around, but after four years of marriage, there was no sign nor seed of Josh. Tests-temperatures-no electric blankets-and more. No results and finally almost no hope, when after both Phil and I had numerous tests, the doctors said, "The chances are very slim you will ever have a child."

Looking back, it's easy to see that God's hand was in the doctor that decided to come from the city of Columbia, MO, to a never heard of community called Evening Shade, south of Fort Leonard Wood, to try to build a business in the country. The doctor just happened to be a well-known fertility specialist. He was involved in the testing, but the last thing he did for me the week he was closing his practice was to meet me in the Waynesville Hospital and flush out my "tubes," for some reason, an acutely painful procedure. Then he went on his way, saying the tubes had been clear all along. (I'll always wonder).

The next month, Phil and I made a trip to our good old family physician because I felt I might be expecting. The nurse said, "No, Maam," and the doctor said, "You can have a thick, thick file, but sometimes it just isn't going to happen." Devastation. I went from his office into the adjoining pharmacy/coffeeshop and discovered my hubby sitting on a stool. I shook my head, "No," and he said (without knowing why--but he believes the Lord spoke), "You are pregnant; I know you are."

From there, we went home, waited 10 days, went back to the doctor, and found out that I had indeed been pregnant all along.
To Be Continued