Some Friends of Note by blairdoug64

Some Friends of Note Memories of doug blair, kitchener ON, 2022

"Wully" Ward

My Dad's best friend lived across the street. Big man. Heavy. General insurance broker. Born in the northland (Burk's Falls)...moved to the big city. College football enthusiast. Time-keeper with Dad at many a Western Mustangs football game. Daily morning "coffee club" partner. Fishing buddy. Cottage enthusiast. Bill was about ten years younger. He died years before Dad from complications with pneumonia. His funeral service was ministered by a friend who gave an honest-to-goodness Gospel hope message. His son and daughter, Bob and Janet handled the reminiscences admirably.

"Wully's" favourite expression in a wide variety of circumstances was "Mercy". That was it. No embellishment. But the way he said it invested it with mystery and respect. He was a fair-minded man with a big sense of humour. Coming from him "mercy" sounded like something good. But I never heard him express a Gospel message or allusion. His life's message had an impact on me and suggested time and again the concept of mercy. Listen to Jesus bawl out the religious formalists of His time: Matthew 23: 23Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone. Share to Facebook Labels: Friends, Milestones, Simple Grace, Witnessing

Laura

She was a friend of ours back in Chatham. Beautiful woman outwardly. Auburn hair. Striking brown eyes. The animated body language of the French in conversation. At one time a hard working farm wife near a small rural village. Four sons in rapid succession.

The great tragedy of her past had been the farm equipment accident taking the life of her one young daughter. Then the increasing unspoken tension with a husband now pouring himself into building construction. The village, largely Roman Catholic, sided with him and ostracized Laura in many ways, after her encounter with Pentecost. A move came into the City. The couple lived under the same roof though effectively separated. She came to my law office with suspicions of infidelity. The husband wanted a divorce. Initially she would not oblige. The litigation was a painful process with all the male faces of her family seemingly in opposition. (In later years some healings did occur with the sons.) My wife became increasingly attached to Laura as Christian mentor. Mighty seasons of prayer transpired in their drives and sessions together. A routine developed for seniors' rest home visitation. Laura's colour, vivaciousness and engaging eye contact proved a refreshing change for many from the gray monotony of the home. In a respectful, friendly way she 'offered words of hope to those that were weary'. Some she led to a saving relationship with Jesus, as did my wife. For years we were blessed in friendship with this compassionate woman. In part, she had turned her suffering into currency for the help of others. Laura imparted unto us an enthusiastic interest in the ministries of Leroy Jenkins, Franklin Walden, Morris Cerullo and R.W. Schambach. I can still see her hand-clapping and dancing at their revival meetings. When difficulties came, she would stick out her jaw and say that the Lord was giving her a test. When the devil needed rebuking, she did it with gusto. When circumstances proved too difficult she could be heard in

prayer saying, 'This one is too much, Lord. I am laying it on Your altar. Undertake for me.' And the Lord WOULD undertake for this woman of simple "Holy Ghost faith". When the good report came, her smiles of joy, praise and relief would light up the room. (Note: The picture bears no resemblance to our friend except for the vivid eyes.)

at August 04, 2010 No comments: Labels: Canadian Greats, Friends, Set Apart, Spiritual Currency, Witnessing

Hunker Wyatt

Her name was Louise Wyatt. Never married. Head of the London Central Secondary School English Department. No children. But a large moving cavalcade of young people drawn into her interest, time, attention and love. One would see her shuffling between classes. Arms full of books. Hair bun slightly askew. Spectacles slipped low on the nose. Her classic "hunkering" posture. But if you had a question or a concern, all would stop and the time would be yours. My mother-in-law Betty Hourd told of how Louise had made her first few weeks of supply-teaching bearable with the class "straight from hell". Miss Wyatt would focus those piercing eyes on Betty, and would see, and would understand everything. Betty finally got the better of that class and came to enjoy teaching. It was as my supply teacher that I first met Betty before starting to date Hilary. Years later Betty and Louise would share a room at Parkwood Senior's Residence. Betty for a short period of convalescence. Louse until her 5

final days. Always books to be read and reviewed in stimulating conversation. I also recall Miss Wyatt from Robinson United Church where she would usually sit with Eloise Cotton, an amazingly upbeat widow who lived around the corner from my parents, and who visited daily their next-door neighbour Myrtle McMaster. If ever I enjoyed a conversation with any of these elderly women, I felt that they had an honest interest in my thoughts and well-being, almost unparalleled in my experience. Robinson United did not show me much of the "Roman Road" of the Gospel, but I was shown unselfishness and true friendship with individuals well beyond my years, individuals who attended and honoured the seasons of Christian celebration. From these women, and particularly from Hunker Wyatt, I learned something about the extraordinary value of stopping, establishing eye contact, listening long and hard and demonstrating simply the affirmation of another human being. We all need this from true neighbours. Do we still have the time? Perhaps this testimony of the old English school-mistress will provoke someone, somewhere to follow suit. Louise, thank you. at June 04, 20 Labels: Canadian Greats, Devotional, Fruit of Spirit, Simple Grace

Remembering Anthony 6

Last month a dear brother passed away after a long battle with cancer and other complications. Our acquaintance began on a faith writers’ forum in 2013. Our sensitivity, one to the other, grew in the writings posted and in the comments and in videos producing a sort of protracted conversation. It was not until June of 2016 that I got to shake his hand in Moncks Corner SC. What a visit we had! Only 4 days but it seemed like much longer. My family had gifted me this trip in recognition of my 65th birthday. AG was about 8 years younger. There were times that it seemed that we were writing in synch although distanced. Difficult situations arose but our postings would come along like hugs and living water. At Christmas time once we enjoyed working on a blog entitled Twelfth Month Joy. At the time AG was home alone, but the Spirit and the five or six pet dogs kept things light. https://twelfthmonth.wordpress.com/ On my 2016 visit I also became acquainted with his partner Jody. She had written things with us periodically on a blog that we co-compiled. Salvoes in Faith.

Stately

He was, perhaps the most handsome man I had ever met. Closing in on sixty. Straight, direct brown eyes. Long braid. Aboriginal. He reminded me of a younger version of Chief Dan George of movie fame. The lines in his tanned face spoke of character; the eyes, of years of gentle assessment of his fellow men. I was a young lawyer on duty counsel at Provincial Criminal Court giving people "off-the-hip" advice on their first court appearance. This gentleman was accompanied by his grand-daughter who had had an unfortunate encounter with the Wallaceburg police. He had arranged her bail. A Saturday night of drinking had led to public disturbance and abusive language to the attending constables. I learned that the young woman had been roughly handled in custody, cuffed and made to fall down a flight of stairs en route to the lock-up. 8

Now she just hung her head in embarrassment while grandfather told the story. He paused and looked directly at me with incredulous, pained eyes as if to say, "Is this the Law? I cannot excuse the child's behaviour. It only goes to add fuel to the sad stereotype. But do decent folk do this in response?" I cannot remember how the short hearing went thereafter. I can only remember the handsome, questioning face. Months later a young enterprising aboriginal farmer from Walpole Island named Bruce came into my office with a problem. His grandmother had died. He could not find a funeral parlour to arrange the final tribute. He and his father presented me with particulars of a lucrative wetlands maize operation in the hope that I could help make the pitch to a mortician. My phone calls and a visit left me with the impression that Wallaceburg business folk were totally disinclined to engage with "those people from the Island". "After all, I must have known what they were like". Well, I didn't...It was probably the following summer that Hilary and little Lauren and I went to a small white clapboard church on the Island (formerly Anglican) where revival was underway. A husband and wife evangelistic team were there from Detroit with a couple of spirited musicians. There in a small gathering of red, white and black we experienced one of the richest times of worship and ministry which we can remember, with the peeper frogs joining in from the marsh out back.

New friends were made. The Body was edified. Jesus was honoured. Tribes and tongues were represented in unity. The only place where multi-culturalism will ever work. Around His throne. (Revelation 5) at July 03, 2010 Labels: Bruised Corn is Bread, Canadian Greats, Das Choich, Gospel of Peace, Law Pains, Revival

One of the Little Pearls from Anthony…

A thought evoked by a poem from friend Anthony Gomez of South Carolina: Rejoicing at the ends. When the body is slipped off like a workman’s well-worn uniform; when the final punch-card is hit; when the task-mates throw at you a “see-ya” wave, and the old acquaintances of sainted influence emerge from the clouds with smiles, songs and eternal embrace. Their Jesus on every pair of lips. And THE MAN shows up.