{"id":3353,"date":"2010-12-27T10:00:00","date_gmt":"2010-12-27T17:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/?p=3353"},"modified":"2022-03-10T19:57:46","modified_gmt":"2022-03-11T02:57:46","slug":"a-sears-and-roebuck-christmas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/a-sears-and-roebuck-christmas\/","title":{"rendered":"A Sears and Roebuck Christmas"},"content":{"rendered":"

A Sears and Roebuck Christmas<\/strong>
\nBy Hal Haralson<\/p>\n

The 40th reunion of the 1953 graduating class of Loraine High School was held in the Senior Citizens Center.<\/p>\n

That was the only place in town large enough to hold us.<\/p>\n

We were the largest graduation class in the history of Loraine High School.<\/p>\n

Actually we were the first "baby boom," born in 1935 after the depression was over. The farmers decided it was okay to start having babies again.<\/p>\n

There were 23 of us.<\/p>\n

Thirteen of the class began in the first grade and went through twelve years of school together.<\/p>\n

Over half of the class (15) was present for the reunion.<\/p>\n

We were going around the circle sharing our "most memorable experience" with the other class members.<\/p>\n

To my left sat a tall, elegant woman with long gray hair. She was nearing sixty years of age. Her name was Beth Narrell when we were in the first grade.<\/p>\n

I fell in love with Beth Narrell in the fall of `42-the second grade.<\/p>\n

As Christmas approached, I searched for a way to make my feelings known.<\/p>\n

I ordered a pin from the Sears Roebuck catalog. It was heart- shaped with an arrow through the heart. "Fourteen carat gold-filled" with three "ruby-like" stones.<\/p>\n

I raced to the mail box every day waiting for the package from Sears. It finally arrived. The most beautiful piece of jewelry ever made.<\/p>\n

It cost $3.73.<\/p>\n

I was certain that giving this symbol of my love to Beth would solidify our relationship forever.<\/p>\n

It didn`t. She married Bobby Price (the football hero) and we went our separate ways.<\/p>\n

That gift was given fifty years ago.<\/p>\n

As I spoke, Beth reached over and picked up her purse.<\/p>\n

She reached inside and took out my Sears Roebuck pin and pinned it on her lapel.<\/p>\n

There wasn`t a dry eye in the house.<\/p>\n

Do something tangible to show your feelings for someone you love. The cost is not important.<\/p>\n

Rusty Lard Bucket and One Spur<\/strong><\/p>\n

Gus McCall was 88 when his wife died. Gladys was 84. They had been married over fifty years.<\/p>\n

Most of those years had been spent on their Big Bend Ranch. Gus took care of the cattle and Gladys cooked and "cleaned house."<\/p>\n

There were always two or three cowboys in the bunkhouse but mostly they lived alone.<\/p>\n

It was a lonely life. The trip to Ft. Davis was made once a month. It was over a hundred miles, round trip.<\/p>\n

The kids had grown, married, and had children.<\/p>\n

Gus and Gladys were frugal and saved their money. They had done well.<\/p>\n

All was rather smooth `till Gladys died. Gladys left a will .<\/p>\n

Gus sat in the lawyer`s office and listened in disbelief as he was told that Gladys left her half of the "estate" to her grandchildren.<\/p>\n

"What half?" "She never done nothin` but cook."<\/p>\n

The term "community property" was new to Gus. He listened as the lawyer explained that half of everything they had belonged to Gladys and she left it to their grandchildren.<\/p>\n

Gus stumbled out on the street. At eighty-eight he was nearly blind. He kept a room in a boarding house in Ft. Davis but preferred the solitude of the ranch.<\/p>\n

That day, $300,000.00 worth of municipal bonds (the kind anyone could cash just by signing) disappeared from their lock box at the bank. Gus got a ride to the ranch and no one saw him<\/p>\n

for a month.<\/p>\n

Gus was too blind to drive but knew the ranch so well he got along fine once he got there.<\/p>\n

Three years later, the father of two of Gus`s grandchildren sat in my office and asked me to represent his children. It seems the $300,000.00 had not been found and none of the land had been divided.<\/p>\n

As far as he could tell, it was all in the hands of a "big law firm in Odessa" and nothing had been done.<\/p>\n

I agreed to take the case. I filed my suit and gave Gus McCall notice I was taking his deposition in Odessa on March 18 at 2:00 o`clock. No one had deposed him since Gladys died. Nothing had been done to find the $300,000.00 in bonds.<\/p>\n

When I got to the conference room of the "big law firm in Odessa" there were five other lawyers waiting to hear what Gus had to say.<\/p>\n

He was nearly an hour late. I could hardly believe what I saw when he came into the conference room.<\/p>\n

His felt hat had grease and sweat all over it. It must have been fifty years old.<\/p>\n

His Levis and shirt were covered with dust and grime and did not appear to have been washed in months. There were patches on the patches.<\/p>\n

Most noticeable were his run-down\/worn-out boots and the one spur he wore.<\/p>\n

After the usual introductions, I identified myself as the attorney representing his grandchildren.<\/p>\n

His look became sullen and his half-blind eyes squinted as he tried to make out what I looked like.<\/p>\n

"Mr. McCall, I`m going to ask you some questions and the court reporter will take down your answers, just like you were in court. Understand?"<\/p>\n

"Yup."<\/p>\n

"Mr. McCall, (this was my misguided effort to "soften" up the witness before I really got down to business) I notice you only have on one spur."<\/p>\n

"Yup. "<\/p>\n

"That`s rather unusual. Would you mind telling me why you are only wearing one spur?"<\/p>\n

He looked at me as if I were a complete idiot.<\/p>\n

"You ever put your foot in the wrong boot?"<\/p>\n

Without waiting for an answer, he exclaimed, "Hurts, don`t it?"<\/p>\n

"If you just have on one spur, you know which boot that foot goes in."<\/p>\n

That logic was a little fast for me, so I decided to go for the heart of the matter.<\/p>\n

"When Mrs. McCall died, there were $300,000.00 in municipal bonds in your lock box at the bank. Do you know anything about that?"<\/p>\n

"Yup. "<\/p>\n

"They disappeared. Do you know anything about that?<\/p>\n

"Yup."<\/p>\n

"Did you take them?"<\/p>\n

"Yup."<\/p>\n

Are you going to tell me where they are?`<\/p>\n

"Nope," he grunted. “When you lawyers and judges back off and leave me alone, they`ll turn up."<\/p>\n

I decided to play a long shot.<\/p>\n

`What did you do? Bury them on your ranch?" The surprised look on his face told me I had guessed right.<\/p>\n

"Yup, but you`ll never find them."<\/p>\n

"Mr. McCall you are nearly 90 years old. Has it occurred to you that you might die and no one will know where the bond`s are?"<\/p>\n

"Yup, I thought about that. They`ve been hunting for that lost gold mine on my ranch for years. Someone will find `em."<\/p>\n

I knew what I wanted to know. I brought the deposition to an end and dismissed Gus McCall.<\/p>\n

The other lawyers left. They knew what they wanted to know. I never understood why no one had bothered to ask for 3 years.<\/p>\n

Two weeks later, Gus`s attorney called and said he had brought the $300,000.00 worth of bonds into his office in a rusty lard bucket and dumped them on his desk.<\/p>\n

I suspect Gus`s lawyer told him after the deposition that now that he had admitted taking the bonds, he could either bring them in or the judge would carve out $300,000.00 worth of land from his ranch and sell it. Either way, the grandkids get what Gladys left them.<\/p>\n

Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and rust doth corrupt\u2026.<\/p>\n

Sunday Morning Suicide<\/strong><\/p>\n

The sign over my door read "Director of Personnel and Public Relations." At age 27, this was my first job after ten years in the ministry.<\/p>\n

My secretary buzzed me and indicated that Don Anderson was on the phone. Don Anderson was a long-time friend who was pastor of Manor Baptist Church in San Antonio.<\/p>\n

"Hal, I`m going to be out of town on May 13 and I`d like you to preach for me."<\/p>\n

"Don, I left the ministry about a year ago and had my ordination revoked. I don`t do that anymore."<\/p>\n

"I`d still like to have you speak on Sunday morning. Why don`t you come on and do something."<\/p>\n

I reluctantly agreed and began to regret it as soon as I got off the phone.<\/p>\n

As the date approached, I was determined not to "preach." I had several sermons I could have preached standing on my head with no preparation involved, but I didn`t want to do that.<\/p>\n

I really wasn`t sure what I was going to do until the service was turned over to me on Sunday morning.<\/p>\n

I had felt more and more like it was time for me to open up and talk about my experience of leaving the ministry. That`s what I did.<\/p>\n

I told the people in the congregation about the struggle that was involved in the decision to leave the ministry. My fear of what others would say. My fear that I would be considered a failure. The long years of preparation for this vocation wasted.<\/p>\n

What would I do to make a living for my family? Judy had married me because she felt God calling her to be a minister`s wife. How would my decision affect her?<\/p>\n

For two years, I had wrestled with these questions. I had told no one of my dilemma. The worst dilemma of all was "God`s call" to preach. I was sure, at age 16, that was my call. I had heard that there is something special about this call. College and seminary preparation had reinforced that feeling. Could God`s call change?<\/p>\n

This struggle led to deep depression. The doctor told Judy, who was 6 months pregnant, to take our four-year old daughter and go home to Littlefield, Texas. She didn`t need to face Christmas with a depressed husband who lay in bed day after day.<\/p>\n

December 16, 1963. Monday morning. No one in the house but me.<\/p>\n

I turned on all the gas jets in the bedroom and went to bed. There was a fire and an explosion resulting in my commitment to the San Antonio State Hospital for three months. There were thirteen shock treatments.<\/p>\n

The turning point after the State Hospital came when Ed Bush, an Episcopal priest who was a member of the prayer group Judy and I were in, came to my house one day and said, "Hal, I have two things to say to you. One, be of good cheer. Two, everything is going to be all right."<\/p>\n

It was as if God said through Ed Bush, "I have been here all along."<\/p>\n

The decision was made. God could not want this for me.<\/p>\n

I left the hospital five days before Brad was born. I wrote the church at Loraine, Texas, where I had been ordained and asked them to revoke my ordination. They wrote back, "We don`t know<\/p>\n

what to do, we`ve never done that."<\/p>\n

My response, "You`re Baptist. Vote on it!"<\/p>\n

Back to San Antonio and the search for a job. After two months of rejections, Bobby Myers, my friend at Trinity Baptist Church, told Lloyd Flood, the Director of Montgomery Wards <\/p>\n

District Operation, about me.<\/p>\n

I was employed.<\/p>\n

As I spoke that day at Manor Baptist Church, I noticed a man on the third row to my right crying. He cried all the way through the service. He got up and left before I had an opportunity to speak to him.<\/p>\n

That afternoon, the phone rang and the voice on the other end of the line identified himself as "the man who cried during the service this morning. I`ve got to talk to you."<\/p>\n

We met at Earl Ables, a well-known restaurant in San Antonio, at 3:00 p.m.<\/p>\n

Over coffee, Eric Wilson (not his real name) spilled out his story.<\/p>\n

"I`ve been an ordained Baptist minister for 10 years. I have been overwhelmingly depressed for the last several months` and yesterday I went downtown and loosened a window on the 20th floor of a building, intending to commit suicide Sunday morning.<\/p>\n

"I told my wife I was going to the grocery store and left. As I drove toward the downtown building, I saw a sign that said, "Manor Baptist Church." Something inside me said I should go to the worship service.<\/p>\n

"I had no idea what I would hear. I had never seen this church before. My struggle over whether to leave the ministry had taken all the strength there was in me. Suicide seemed the only way out. I had been overwhelmed by guilt since I was a college student because of a one-time homosexual experience.<\/p>\n

"No one knew but me, my partner, and God. I prayed and struggled but felt no forgiveness. There was no response from God saying, "I understand; I know your pain; I am with you.<\/p>\n

"Then, this morning, as I listened to you, I was overwhelmed. It was as if God said to me, "I`ve been here all along."<\/p>\n

Eric and I met again at other times. I saw him over the years at various meetings. He became a Chaplain and retired last year, 30 years after his planned Sunday morning suicide.<\/p>\n

I was beginning to see that by sharing our experiences of life, our pain, our fears, and our victories, we voice God`s message to others. Painful and traumatic experiences that are our "valley of the shadow of death" become our gift to those who have been prepared in God`s providence, to listen. This becomes our ministry. <\/p>\n

Through sharing our experience of pain, God can say to someone, "I`ve been here all along."<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A Sears and Roebuck Christmas By Hal Haralson The 40th reunion of the 1953 graduating class of Loraine ...<\/p>","protected":false},"author":21,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,10,34],"tags":[],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3353"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/21"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3353"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3353\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5272,"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3353\/revisions\/5272"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3353"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3353"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/christianethicstoday.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3353"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}