Ethel's Amazing Umbrella

I just love it when God answers my prayer immediately!!! When HE does that, it's like there's just no doubt in the world that He just answered my prayer--that's what he did for me right now! Let me explain.

You see it's Christmas Eve and, as I was washing up the things for milking, I was thinking that I still have no idea what to post about today. I'd been pondering what to post all day, but not a thing has come to mind that seemed worth taking your time to read about. You see, we don't keep Christmas anymore. HOW SHOCKING!!! We haven't kept Christmas for over a decade in this household.

"Still," I prayed, "there must be SOMETHING that I could share with people to make them think about the Lord instead of getting presents and listening for Santa Claus this night."

Just then one of my favorite radio preachers came on Rejoice Radio. His name is Russell Kelfer and, although he lives in Heaven now, I value hearing his thoughts daily. Well he wrote this story years ago I guess. Every year around Christmas time, they play it on Rejoice and we love it every time we get to hear it.

"I sure wish that I could share that with the folks out there," I thought. That was when Jacob checked for me and sure enough he found it on-line. So you see, God DOES answer some prayers with a, "Yes" immediately. I pray that you'll be as blessed with this story as we are each year. I'll post a couple chapters every day until it's finished. The most wonderful thing about this time of year to me, is that people take the time to think about each other a little bit more than they usually do.

I hope that you'll be blessed by this story of a little country town in the hills who were fortunate enough to have a pastor who taught people the truth about their need for a Savior. I just love how the Lord works to show people that He loves them no matter how hard they try to convince Him that they don't care a hoot about Him. Thanks for coming down here, Lord, and thanks for making a way for us to find peace with you and ourselves!!!

Peace to all this night,

Dawn


Ethel's Amazing Umbrella

CHAPTER ONE

What a difference a day makes! In the case of the little town of Forest Grove that day was Christmas day, a Christmas day so unlike any other they had ever celebrated that the whole town looks back on it as though it were their birthday.They refer to it lovingly as the "Day that Grandpa Was Born", for it was on that cold, icy December afternoon that Grandpa Billy Simpson stood up in a called meeting in the church house and poured fuel on an already simmering fire that was rapidly spreading into life after life in Forest Grove.

Having called that now famous meeting himself, Grandpa Billy's sole intent was to fire the Rev. Thompson and replace him with someone a bit more traditional, someone who could restore the "status quo" at the little church and stop this insane preachin' on "heaven and hell" and bein' "born over" (as his grandson Bobby called it).His grandson Bobby, incidentally, just happened to be the spark that started this blaze of evangelical enthusiasm in Forest Grove.

It seems that one cold, November afternoon, little Bobby paid the parson a call to talk to him about the condition of his soul. What took place began as a comedy of errors, and after a few dozen calamities had left the Parson with a broken leg, and his house a shambles, little Bobby got down to the business at hand, and that business included asking Jesus to come into his life.

Well, that sort of thing just didn't go on in Forest Grove; at least not before the Rev. Thompson arrived, and now our newly "born over" Bobby began behaving like a totally different boy; a fact few people would dispute, but even fewer seemed to understand.Old Doc Forsythe was the next to follow suit. As he was bandaging the good Parson's leg, he began to ponder the issues of spiritual life, and soon the old doctor was praying, asking Jesus into his life too!

Before long there was a rumbling of spiritual freshness in Forest Grove that Grandpa Billy just couldn't handle.So he had called a meeting for Christmas day to give the parson a special yuletide gift, a one-way ticket out of town. That was his plan, anyway.But between the time Grandpa called the meetin' and the time the folks gathered that frosty December 25th, something happened to Grandpa. Something happened, indeed.And what happened made that church meetin' the event of the century in Forest Grove, and Christmas day became such a time of celebration that people from all over came down just to see a town that counted Christmas it's birthday. And those who came down were never disappointed.

What happened that Sunday that so changed the course of Forest Grove was this: As Grandpa Billy stood up to ask the good parson to leave, he astonished the congregation by announcing that he had asked Jesus into his heart, too. And as his gleeful grandson Bobby tore up the Pastor's letter of resignation, Grandpa asked if there might be anyone else in that little church that Christmas day who had missed the meaning of Christmas (and the meaning of life, the way he had).

The ensuing service that went on for some two hours was an experience no one could have planned; no one, that is, but God. Folks who had been feudin' for years wrapped their arms around each other and asked each other's forgiveness.Folks who had been the pillars of the church got up from their pews and literally stood in line to ask the Reverend Thompson how they could be "born over" too.

Before long, little pockets of people were scattered all over that auditorium on their knees askin' Jesus to come into their lives.Pretty soon a song service broke out and you could all but hear the rocks in that old stone building start to shout with joy. They were the same songs they'd always sung in the Forest Grove Church. But my, my, how different they sounded.

Mrs. Peabody, horn-rimmed glasses in place, sat down at the organ as usual, but about half-way through the first song, she went down and talked to Grandpa and Bobby, too. Then big old tears began to form in the old lady's eyes and she knelt down to pray.When she got up and went back to the organ, she started pullin' out stops that hadn't been pulled in half a century . . . and music came out of those dusty pipes you'd have sworn was sent air mail from heaven.

When the service finally ended about five in the afternoon, the people poured out into the village still singing "Blest Be The Tie That Binds", and faces stained with tears were wrapped in smiles so wide they virtually stretched from one ear to the other.It was Christmas Day in Forest Grove, and Jesus Christ had just been invited into so many hearts, no one even bothered to count them. It was Christmas day, indeed.
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CHAPTER TWO

Five years have passed now since that eventful December 25th so lovingly called "The Day that Grandpa was Born". Five long years. Five winters have come and gone, along with all the isolation and solitude that seems to blanket the countryside in layers of ice and snow.Five summers have come and gone, too, along with the frenzied activity that characterizes a town that tries to get a year's work done in seven months.

As is always the case, nothing has stood still in those five years in Forest Grove. Well, almost nothing. It's late December, as we wind our way through those ice-caked highways that twist and turn over Forest Creek, alongside Cloverdale, past River City, and now we begin to ascend into those majestic mountains, so much of the time painted white by the hand of God, carefully etched in ice and snow. And coasting past the tree-lined entrance into the village, we see come into view a little town that seems to have been preserved in ice from a century past; quaint, quiet, and almost obvious in its absence of life's more modern conveniences.

At the top of the hill stands the village's only stop light. Oh, it really wasn't needed. That's why the town's only policeman made sure that it only "blinked" off and on. That way it wouldn't really inconvenience anyone. But it stood as a reminder that Forest Grove could be just as modern as the next town . . . well, almost.

Just a half-block north of "the" traffic light, is Grandpa Billy's Drug Store. In one window is a Christmas tree, perfectly shaped, with tiny-twinkling blue lights flashing off and on. A banner draped above it reads, "Happy Birthday Jesus". In the other window, is a huge replica of a birthday cake, and a sign that says, "Happy Birthday Forest Grove". A bit unusual, you'd have to admit . . . but then Forest Grove has turned out to be an unusual town to say the least.

You can park anywhere you like on Main street. The street is lined with what appear to be antiquated parking meters. They appear to be because they are . . . . they haven't been checked in about twelve years, but Mayor Forrestal seems to think they add a touch of "class" to the street, and about once a month, some unknowing stranger goes and puts a dime in one. It never gets emptied, but it gives the home folks standin' by a bit of a chuckle. "Another visitor just paid his dues," they'll laugh, and they'll mosey on their way.

Once inside Grandpa Billy's drugstore, you see what appears to be a perfect replica of an old-fashioned pharmacy, only this is no replica. This is the real thing. If Grandpa Billy's there, the first thing you see is a smile so big you can't help but think those wrinkles on his leathery face are gonna break in two.

"Hi, stranger," he's likely to greet you, "Welcome to Forest Grove. You passin' through? Or are you just plum lost?" With that, he'll more often than not point to the old aluminum coffee pot in the corner that's resting not so securely on a turn of the century hot plate. It's sending out an aroma of fresh perked coffee so tantalizing, it would send Mrs. Olsen into a coffee fit.And should you take the time to join him for a cup, chances are that within a half hour or so, the kindly old druggist will ask you if you happen to know a friend of his.

You'll imagine he means someone from back in Thorndale where you grew up, but what he's leadin' up to is a question about whether or not you've ever met his best friend, Jesus. And should you so much as express a casual interest, you'd best take off your coat and set a spell, for Grandpa the druggist is fixin' to become Grandpa the evangelist. You just can't imagine the number of strangers who have entered Forest Grove with no consciousness at all of eternity, and driven out the other side with a new Bible in their hand, and a new Saviour in their heart.And to top it all off, the zealous old Grandpa knows that the minute he walks back behind the counter after his evangelistic encounter, he's gonna get a sermon or two of his own.

For just behind the drug counter, almost lost in a sea of pills and powders is Grandpa's dimunitive childhood sweetheart, and wife of 41 years, Ethel Simpson.Ethel stands about five feet two inches tall in high heels (which she never wears) and she wouldn't weigh 100 lbs. if she had on a concrete overcoat.Her hair, about the color of that antique coffee pot in the corner, is swept back into a knot on the top of her head, and any time, day or night, she looks like she's all dressed up to go to church, (though she seldom does).

Whenever you see Ethel, every hair's in place, and every bit of clothing is matched; that's quite a contrast to grandpa's wardrobe which looks like it came from the reject pile outside the Salvation Army store up the road at Duncanville. But don't let Ethel's size lure you into thinkin' she pulls no weight in the Simpson household. Beneath her steel blue eyes and gracious smile, Ethel Simpson is the proud owner of an iron will.

Raised on a farm outside River City, just up the road, the oldest of six kids, Ethel Moorehouse, as she was known before she married, lived a life of suffering and hardship. Her mom died when she was in her teens, and for the next ten years of her life, Ethel raised the rest of the clan as though she were their mother. Her Dad died when she turned twenty, and for those final years at home, she was both ma and pa to the whole family; not to mention housekeeper, farm hand, bookkeeper, nurse, policeman, and plumber . . . and all on the grand sum of about $300 a month.

"A woman can do whatever she makes up her mind to," she would often philosophize, adding, "Nobody's gonna give you nothin' in this world; life's only gonna give you what you go out and get."And her self-reliant philosophy saw two doctors, a lawyer, and a captain in the army emerge from that dingy farmhouse at the edge of River City, as she motivated her brothers and sisters with the crown of her philosophical gems: "God helps those who help themselves," uttered with such authority you'd think she coined the phrase herself. "That's in the Bible, you know," Ethel would modestly add, thinking for sure it really was.

So Ethel was no pint-sized pushover. Beneath that immaculate ball of grey on her head was an IQ that was off the charts and a will that was virtually immovable.She and grandpa make quite a pair. She's a democrat; he's a republican. She's a liberal; he's a conservative. She likes chicken and blueberry pie; he can't stand either one of them . . . and on and on it goes.But for all their incompatibilities, they're inseparable. In fact, their bantering back and forth about their assorted philosophical and political differences seems only to deepen their affections for one another.

There was always, however, at least one thing Billy and Ethel agreed on. It was religion; that is, at least until five years ago. Because up until that fateful Christmas day when Grandpa went and got "born over", he and Ethel raised their kids with Ethel's "God helps them that helps" philosophy, the undertone of which was a basic belief that religion is like cod liver oil; useful if not taken too frequently or in doses larger than necessary.

Grandpa Billy, in years past, had scarcely ever missed a church service, but only because he wanted to be sure nothin' happened that he didn't approve of. Grandma Ethel, meanwhile, saw goin' to church as a misuse of time that could be better spent feedin' the hogs and picklin' pears. (Except, of course, for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter, when, as she piously expressed it, "A Christian ought to pay their respects to God.") So you can just imagine the strain that's developed these past five years since Grandpa got "born over" and told the whole world about it that Christmas afternoon at the little church in Forest Grove.

That strain has been compounded just a bit by the change that's taken place in Melba Peabody, Ethel's best friend for the last thirty years. Melba's the church organist, and it was her conversion that sparked the sudden change of tempo in the music that Christmas day, and it has sparked a change of tempo in her life as well.

Now Melba's not quite as "preachy" as Grandpa. She has taken care to maintain her close friendship with Ethel, and while she often talks about answered prayers and her time alone with God, she always does it in such a way as to provoke Ethel to curiosity, rather than to anger.

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