The motto of Hallmark Cards has it almost right. But it isn’t just about sending, it’s about giving. She has the real motto in her heart. She is Elaine Humble. She shared this story May 2004.

A curious little two-year-old stood on tiptoe but still couldn’t see the ivory keys set in an orderly row above her head. Until this moment her aunt had never allowed her to enter the sacred parlor reserved for grown-ups and her cousin’s piano. Making the most of the unprecedented opportunity, she had walked straight to the large instrument and reached up to touch a single key with her fingertip. She played the note again, wonder written on her face. She touched it once more, and excitement lit her smile. Again, with purpose, over and over she played that one note; striking it, listening, stroking it, listening, practicing. “You love it, don’t you!” her aunt exclaimed. Little Elaine Dykstra breathed in awe, “I wuv it wots!”It was inevitable that Elaine would be exposed to the Gift of Music early in her life. She grew up on a large Wisconsin farm in a spacious house bursting with children, bustling with activity, and literally humming. Everyone sang! Her dad sang bass in the choir on Sunday, her mom sang hymns in the house all through the day. Her three brothers, who would hoot ‘n holler like any other boys, could also modulate a joyful noise into tuneful reverence.

   The Calvinistic background that formed the family’s backbone assured household harmony. Their philosophy was taken to heart by all four children: Idleness only breeds problems, and one should be able to show something good for one’s life. The parents set the tone for the family’s spiritual growth with a devotional Bible reading three times a day – spiritual food at breakfast, lunch and supper. They attended church together every Sunday and the children were encouraged to participate in church activities.

   One night, amidst the scarcities of World War II, the family sat down to dinner. Heads around the table bowed in thanksgiving for their daily bread. But Elaine’s eyes were wide-open, staring down at a piece of wood on her otherwise clean plate. She thought it was some kind of prank perpetrated by a brother. To disappoint him she decided to ignore it for the time being. When she lifted her head, though, everyone was watching her. Someone said, “Well, aren’t you going to turn it over?” Reluctantly, she did. Five big letters spelled PIANO. It wasn’t a prank plank after all! It was the announcement she had longed for, a gift deferred because metal for production of anything not war related was limited. There had been no pianos available in the community until her father discovered one at an auction, bought it, and brought it home. She loved it lots!

   Before she was ten, Elaine’s talent for piano had evolved naturally and she could read music and play any key signature. “God only knows how!” she says. “It just happened.” But she had trouble deciphering the musical notations and rhythm codes if she hadn’t heard the piece performed. She began music lessons to learn timing, to study theory, to perfect the talent God had given her. She achieved remarkable expertise long before other aspiring musicians her age. Her music ministry began when she was twelve, and since then she has been a church musician, a pianist, an organist, and a director, giving her gift back to God in His service for 52 years and counting.

   But there was another Gift set aside for Elaine to open. She studied for degrees in Wisconsin and Illinois before moving to Mt.Juliet. Elaine and her husband separated, but she completed her studies at MTSU taking a full class load, while teaching private piano students, substituting at Mt. Juliet Elementary, and raising her daughters Denise and Jodi. The three of them snuggled together in their cottage on Bender’s Ferry Road, and with help from the Cloyd’s Church family she joined in 1970, and some very good neighbors, Elaine humble graduated from MTSU magna cum laude. She had recognized her Gift of teaching and equipped herself to be able to give it back to God in service to the community. She taught primary classes a total of 34 years, 26 of them at Mt.Juliet. She loved it lots.

   Recently, yet another Gift with her name on it came off the shelf. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she thought when she saw an ad in the newspaper several years ago. An art teacher would be giving classes at the Senior Citizens Center. “I’m going to do this!” she said aloud. She signed up and showed up. Everyone else there had little bags of supplies by their sides: paint, paper, and brushes. “I had zilch,” she laughs. A sympathetic student gave her some paper. The instructor provided a brush for three dollars. Paint was shared. Her new Gift was unwrapped. She learned. She practiced. Her watercolors have been displayed at Mt. Juliet Library, craft fairs, artisan shows, the fairgrounds, and in homes of family and friends. “God doesn’t seem to be through with me yet,” she smiles. “Painting has brought me unbelievable pleasure,” she adds. She loves it lots.

   Elaine believes, “If you are given time, you should use it to full and best advantage.” She does. She was given Gifts of Music, Teaching, Art. She works to perfect them in herself, still practicing piano every day, continuing to teach piano students, and filling her artist’s sketch book with real life images and spiritual imagery. Practicing, perfecting.

   God cares enough to give His very best to us. That’s the Hallmark stamped on every precious Gift He gives. Elaine will give no less than her very best back to Him. She loves Him lots.

Miriam had it. David exhibited it. A lame man experienced it. She has it, too. She is Camille Ward. She shared this story December 2003.

Quick! What do you get in two minutes and forty five seconds with a sprinkle of pixie dust over a hairpiece, makeup, a costume and dance shoes?A sparkling performance – if the dancer is Camille Ward! Under three minutes is the time allowed for each segment at a competitive dance event. Beauty suppliers can provide hair in cascading curls or twists. Colorful costumes can come ready-to-wear off the rack. Tap and ballet shoes are special order items. Pixie dust, no longer exclusive with Tinkerbell, is available at cosmetic counters. But it takes something money can’t buy to be a successful competitive dancer.

   Besides talent, it takes time, persistence, focus, and just plain hard work. Camille’s dancing talent was discovered at age three when she began ballet lessons with a friend. Tap dance was added at age 4. Born in Rome, Georgia, Camille lived in ten states in her first ten years as her father’s employer relocated the family. The self-discipline and self-assurance she learned from dancing helped her cope as she grew up. In seventh grade she tried out for a competitive dance team. She completed a competition just before the family clan headed to Alaska together on a cruise ship. She didn’t have a chance to unpack, so when she auditioned for a talent show on board, her costume was already at hand. After this show, her delighted family, many of whom had never seen her perform, applauded an impressed director’s half-serious suggestion she sign on to dance for pay. Thirteen-year-old Camille replied she would only be interested if they sailed somewhere warm!

   It takes persistence to perfect arabesques, shuffles, heel-and-toe taps, quick steps, twists and turns, leaps and glides. It takes strength, agility, and rhythm to perform them. This year, along with others in her competition dance team, Camille will adroitly glide, twirl, swing and sway along the miles long route of the Mt. Juliet Christmas Parade, making something difficult seem deceptively easy to appreciative bystanders lining the street.

   The focus is on the dancers when they perform, but behind the scenes they must focus on training. It’s hard work, but Camille runs, does crunches, lunges, push-ups, stretches, works out with weights, and then practices dance routines six hours a week, with an additional hour of tumbling instruction.

   On weekends February through May, when there is a competition, she and parents Ed and Cathy, along with brother Tyson, block out everything else on their calendars. Her team competes against other dance studio teams from all over the USA. It’s often midnight before they head for home on Sunday. In June and July, the teams go to the Nationals Competitions in Panama City to compete for that special trophy.

   Camille already has an array of trophies, awards, and ribbons to her credit, neatly displayed in her room along with mementos and photos of competitions. She has achieved even more than they suggest, overcoming difficulties that might have discouraged someone less determined. Appropriately there is a framed plaque of her name and its meaning – Nobel Messenger of Truth – with a pertinent scripture: How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things. (Rom. 10:15) She is in the good company of others with the same special gift: Miriam (Exodus 15:20); King David (2 Samuel 6:14); the lame man Peter healed (Acts 3:8).

Last December, poised and graceful, Camille danced to honor Jesus’ birthday at the church’s Christmas celebration. This holiday season she is preparing for a much larger audience at the Coliseum on New Year’s Eve. She will dance with a select group of performers at half time during the Music City Bowl. When asked what the costuming will be for this event, she quipped, “Hopefully, something warm!” But she won’t be cold. Her glow comes from something that doesn’t depend on costumes and choreography. It comes from the spirit, where she is always walking, leaping, and praising God!

You can’t book a spiritual travel agent, but you can put on your walking shoes and get started in the right direction. That’s what she did. She is Vickie Hibdon. She shared this story June 2003.

She stands five feet tall – and her shoes were made for walkin’! Vickie Hibdon has traversed miles and miles from her early childhood in Michigan, through Texas, to Tennessee. Some of the way she dug in her heels, but for the most part she willingly walked the road before her. She took her first baby steps in Michigan, along with three siblings. Her only brother says there are three girls and a keeper! The family moved to Texas, and she changed course to stroll from her father’s house to a Texan husband’s. Then another journey began. Without skipping a beat, she danced through three pregnancies and paced her share of carpeted floors as the children (Lisa and Clark, one year apart, and Blake ten years later) grew into adulthood. Meanwhile, she hiked determinedly through the tangled, difficult territory of her husband’s alcoholism, eventually moving with him to Tennessee. For years she was a busy mother, homemaker, and peacemaker, though emotional circumstances eventually propelled her into on-the-job training in the insurance field. She tiptoed carefully once in a while into the room that was her Self, but not often. She closed the door on being alone. Better to stay on the track she had already begun, she thought.

   Once settled in Tennessee, Vickie returned to the insurance industry, nimbly climbing the stairs to become a claims supervisor. But at home in Franklin her marriage was a darkening alley, not lover’s lane. She sought marriage counseling, which her husband rejected as too time-consuming, but which she continued alone for a year. “It became Vickie counseling,” she says, “and it helped me see how I could face my fear of being alone.” She finally put her foot down and put her signature on the divorce papers. So a new journey began again. She learned that alone doesn’t mean abandoned. It doesn’t mean absent or afraid. Alone doesn’t mean anything, when you have your Self as company, and your Self finds God’s presence in daily life. Vickie had gone to church for years, but church didn’t satisfy her longing for spiritual relationship. She was on a bridge taking her closer to God, but it would be eight years getting to the other side! There were blessings along the way: work, friends, family, freedom to be, and fun. But what waited on the other side was better than anything left behind.

   The spiritual distance traveled between any two points in life is a far different measurement from the physical mileage. It isn’t that far from Franklin to Mt.Juliet, but it was a world away for Vickie. One Sunday evening she put on her dancin’ shoes to meet friends at a premier Nashville hotel. John Hibdon didn’t exactly waltz into her life. He sauntered into the ballroom, late. [See his story Of Blarney and Blessings] She liked his smile. When the call for ladies’ choice came, she could have asked him to dance, but “I’m old-fashioned and I thought, ‘He needs to ask me to dance.’” He didn’t. “Then I thought, ‘Oh, well. . .’” But the next week he returned, late again. When a new country dance was announced, Vicki saw John holding back, and offered to teach him The Watermelon Crawl. A new journey began!

   She discovered that John was late arriving on the dance floor because he attended Cloyd’s Church on Sunday night first. That impressed her. She liked his spiritual strength. She felt drawn to walk with John not just down the isle, but also up the trail of spiritual growth. Now she takes discovery side trips on her own. She studies the Travel Guide of Scripture to understand the Route. She says, “I feel that I’m on a lifelong quest, there is so much more to learn.” Vickie has discovered that one journey leads to another, and she knows that long after her walkin’ shoes have worn out, she (and we) will still be just beginning our journeys with the Lord – and wearing our best dancin’ shoes!

These transplants have thrived on God’s Word and have planted it in the hearts of others. They are Mark and Barbara Howell. They shared this story

November 2003.

Plant where you are blooming!That could be Mark and Barbara Howell’s unconventional motto. Their early friendship budded and developed in the company of their church youth fellowship. They had a lot in common right from the start, including the same birth date, November 10. For Barbara’s Sweet Sixteen party, their friends in Columbia, Tennessee, gave them their first combined birthday celebration. Romance blossomed, and Mark says he wanted to get married on November 10, but it didn’t work out that way. (Their anniversary is February 12.) It was conventional wisdom to “bloom where you are planted,” but while visiting friends Frank and Norma Henderson in Mt.Juliet[see their story Invisible Threads], Barbara and Mark saw a house for sale. They liked it. They liked what they knew about the community. They already knew they liked the minister of the CP Church where they would like to fellowship. He was Rev. Roy Henderson, Frank’s father, and their former pastor – the one who had performed their wedding ceremony in Columbia! They bought that house. With their two-year-old son Jeff, they became transplants. Nurtured by the Christian principles of their families and church, their lives were already blooming when they sent down roots in Mt.Juliet, becoming an active part of Cloyd’s congregation. That was in 1963, forty years ago.

   The new transplants added a daughter, Michelle, to their family tree. Flourishing, they began to plant where they were blooming. Barbara was involved in the children’s activities, working at the elementary school, volunteering where needed, mothering Cub Scouts, and transporting Brownies. Mark helped with everyone’s special projects, while working full time in electronics, engineering, and for the past ten years machine design. They both served the church unreservedly, in almost every capacity possible over the years, but especially enjoyed taking the senior adults on excursions and being Youth Group leaders.

   The Howells moved several times within Mt.Juliet before building their house on Green Hill Road. They learned the history of the antiques they collected along the way. One piece came directly from Nellie D. Bradshaw, a descendant of Ezekiel Cloyd’s family. They have lovingly mended and refinished pieces from both friends and family, beautifully integrating them into their home. Collectibles are displayed or used, and treasured photographs touch the heart and warm the rooms.

   One of their earlier residences has been recycled in a similar way and is now The Taylor Made Café on Mt. Juliet Road. They’ve had the unusual experience of eating a lunch served in Michelle’s former bedroom.

   No matter which house it was, God was always the center of the Howell’s home. “When God is always at work in you life,” Barbara says, “you see Him in everything, you know He is with you all the time.” Their philosophy echoes Psalm 127:1 Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it. God is the foundation, and they have built on that. And built a lot! Barbara declares Mark is always starting new projects, indoors and out, using skills he’s perfected along the way and learning new ones as needed. She encourages the completion of each task and adds the artful final touches. One of their earliest projects at their present home was moving a balled and burlaped Christmas tree from their former address to their new one. With just minimal odds for success, their faith unfaltering, they replanted it. The pine thrived. And the faith the Howell’s planted in their family (growing, now with four grandchildren), their church (growing and growing), and their community (growing, growing, growing!) has an impact beyond local boundaries. It’s the reason we live in “one nation, under God.”

   Now about that evergreen tree. It bloomed where it was planted, reached 60 feet after 28 years, served its purpose, and was recently removed to make room for a new project – one that will no doubt be built upon a firm foundation, started in faith, and seen through to completion. Because it isn’t only blooming that’s important. It’s the planting.

Chickens, flowers, crops and kids flourish with his attention. He isn’t young, but he will never be old. He is William Coley. He shared this story September 2003.

Ask Bill Coley how long he’s lived here and he will tell you, “I came with the dirt!” This is a man who knows how to measure Time. Helping him keep track of its passing is his great-grandfather’s mantel clock. It faithfully records the months, days, hours, and minutes on its face and carries traces of the touch of generations in the patina of its wooden case. Bill’s timekeeping began in 1925. He graduated from U.T. Knoxville in 1948, taught Vocational Agriculture in McMinnville until 1950, served a tour of duty in the Army infantry in Korea through 1952, accepted a teaching position at Mt.JulietHigh School and was accepted by Celia DePriest in marriage in 1953. As newlyweds they joined Cloyd’s Church, serving in many capacities while they both worked as educators and raised two children: Catherine Melear, married, and now an Assistant Professor at BlackHawkCollege, Moline, Illinois; and John William, married and an attorney in Knoxville. There are four grandchildren. From 1965 to 1992 Bill worked with the State Department of Education, retiring after Celia’s death in 1991. He learned to help out when they both had busy schedules, and he still enjoys the arts of the house and hearth as well as of the field and farm. The ten acres he and Celia bought on Faulkner Lane from Mrs. Faulkner, originally her orchard, he says are “too small to farm and too large to mow.” But he did mow them and grow them! He raised cattle as well as kids, and recently harvested (and shared) bountiful blueberries. On one hand, he says, “The tomatoes haven’t done as well this year. It’s the first time they’ve dried up this early.” But on the other hand, his border of zinnias is colorfully prolific, even winning a second place award at the Wilson County Fair. (He generously gave the bloom to a former student to enter, and she won!) On one hand, his newly acquired pullets required the installation of fencing, but on the other hand they have already matured enough to begin laying eggs. On one had, he doesn’t need the hay in the field anymore for cattle he doesn’t keep, but on the other hand his former student, Jim Tate does, and harvests it for him. Things balance as Time passes by. Other former students and their children help him around the place, but he hesitates to work the youngsters too much, preferring to “do a little bit of work then go inside for a coke and conversation.” He keeps up with what they are doing in school and after school, following local athletics closely, attending as many games as he can, faithfully encouraging the young people, for the second time around. Modest about his own accomplishments, he is enthusiastic about theirs. Time passes, but his interest in and influence on the younger generations remains as steady as the ticking of great-grandfather’s clock.

   Time marches on, it never stands still, and neither does Bill. He walks early in the morning at Cloyd’s in the gym and when he warms up, he goes outside to finish his exercise. Then he hurries home to one of his projects or chores, always planting and always reaping, always finding way to share the bounty of his life with family and friends. While the mantel clock hints of the past and keeps up with the present, Bill Coley is a man who knows the true measure of Time is more than that. The Bible says, “The one who sows to the Spirit shall from the Spirit reap eternal life. And let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we shall reap if we do not grow weary. So then, while we have opportunity, let us do good to all men, and specially to those who are of the household of faith.” Gal.6: 9-10. For Bill and the whole family of God, the true measure of Time is timeless.

Whether the weather is good or bad; whether the moment is funny or sad; whatever the joy, whatever the sorrow, she knows who holds tomorrow. She is Jo Ellen Hayes. She shared this story August 2004.

The blizzard of ’51 is remembered for laying down dangerous layers of ice and snow, for interrupting electrical service and paralyzing commerce. But for a seven-year-old girl bedridden with rheumatic fever it was a winter whiteout, blinding the only eye to the world she had, her bedroom window. Jo Ellen watched the palette of white for days before it finally gave way to shades of gray lit by a pale sun. Eventually bold splashes of sky blue and grass green colored her view, before hints of brown began to tinge the scene. Ten long months of confinement finally ended. She recovered, but doctors said she would have a permanent heart condition. With their hearts full of gratitude, her parents celebrated her recovery with the congregation at Cloyd’s. They had lost four children before Jo Ellen was born. They had just relocated from bustling East Nashville to the country calm of Mt.Juliet, and the welcome of the friendly church.

   Jo Ellen recalls trips back into Nashville, necessary for the family business, when she and her mother would ride into town and be dropped off to shop until her father picked them and their purchases up for the trip home. Once her mother learned to drive, Jo Ellen delighted in riding through Mt.Juliet with her in the red Model A Ford they parked on Highway 70 where they caught the bus into Nashville.

   As she grew up she helped after school in her parents’ restaurant on the corner of West Division and Mt. Juliet Road. “I knew just about everyone who passed on the road,” she recalls. “You could see them coming and going through the restaurant window.” Of course, they could see her, too. It was through that window her future was framed.

   One day, when she was seventeen, a young man she didn’t really know drove by on a tractor. She waved gaily at him anyway. “I thought he was cute,” she explains. At school the next day, his younger sister told Jo Ellen he wanted to meet her. Her heart skipped a beat. After a short courtship, she eloped with twenty-year-old Tommy Hayes. They didn’t have much to start with, but they did have a memorable honeymoon – with his brother and sister-in-law and their four children! With a full heart Jo Ellen today is “grateful to God for delivering three perfect children of my own: LeeAnn, Chuck, and Tony,” and mentions with a touch of amusement that she became a grandmother at age 38. There are now six grandchildren to liven up their lives.

   In 1975 Jo Ellen’s doctors delivered bad news. She had a serious health condition from which she might not recover. God had seen her through the months of rheumatic fever. Wouldn’t He help her now? she thought. “I prayed to God,” she says matter-of-factly. “I planned to make some changes in my life when I got better.” She got better. She made the changes.

   There have been times since then when things were as bleak as the blizzard of ’51, and recovery every bit as uncertain as it was from the diagnosis of ’75. But one thing has been consistent. When it comes to conditions of the heart, whether physical or spiritual, the specialist she consults is God.

   It is God who is monitoring the condition of their hearts as the family recovers from the devastating loss of Tony to cancer. Heartened by the compassion and comfort of friends and church family, heart-sore but not hardened, Jo Ellen says, “Thank God for the 34 years we had with him.”

   Many years ago Tommy got off the tractor and into electrical work and cabinetry. Jo Ellen got out of the red Model A and drove a school bus before she began childcare in her home, the very house where she grew up. She and Tommy have seen Mt.Juliet go through overwhelming changes, but Jo Ellen can still look out the same bedroom window that framed her world when she was seven. The world has changed dramatically. But God never changes. He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow, binding up the broken hearted, healing hearts that hurt. Jo Ellen knows whatever the condition of the heart, the heart of the matter for believers is always GOD.

A bivocational farmer and preacher, he faithfully planted the seed and God graciously gave the harvest. He is Rev. Ezekiel Cloyd. His story is history. This story was written Oct. 2003.

What’s in a name?Plenty, when the name is Ezekiel Cloyd. Or Clyde. His mother’s certificate of membership in the Presbyterian Church, 1758, is for Margaret Clyde. Cloyd or Clyde, Ezekiel was born after his Scottish parents immigrated to Virginia, on February 12, 1760. He married Rebecca Williamson in 1785 and in 1789 the entire Clyde/Cloyd group relocated to North Carolina. About 1800 he and Rebecca and their children settled in the newly established Wilson County, Tennessee, at Stoner’s Lick Creek. It was definitely a country place, but it was growing. There was a mill nearby (8 miles) run by a Presbyterian minister, Rev. Robert Donnel. The first church in the county had already been built at Donnel’s settlement, and a year later the first school would join it there. In between Donnel’s and Stoner’s Lick? Trees. Meadows. Rich soil to plant and harvest.

   Rev. James McGready was planting seed of a different kind at Shiloh Meeting-House in next-door SumnerCounty the year the Cloyd’s moved to Tennessee. Ezekiel was deeply moved by the message he heard, and he made a “profession of religion” and ever afterward considered himself to have been converted there. Immediately he initiated family prayers, which he kept with strict punctuality for fifty years. His zeal didn’t stop there. He went into the community to hold prayer meetings – sometimes uninvited! On one occasion, greatly troubled by the prospect of “dancing parties” negatively affecting the youth in the neighborhood, he visited an offending home. Just as the dancing began, he knocked soundly on the door, and was ushered in. Startled guests were stopped in their tracks by his presence and silenced by his confident call for singing and prayer. Now. Without missing a beat or taking his seat, he began a hymn. A Negro assisting the host was the only voice to join his. Then he prayed, delivered an earnest “exhortation,” turned, and left the stunned audience. Some of the young men threatened violence, but the dubious parties never got a foothold. And there was a bonus. The Negro who shared in the singing was converted.

As the seed planted in him at Shiloh grew, the New World Ezekiel named for the Old Testament one became a candidate for the ministry. He was licensed to preach by the spring Nashville Presbytery meeting at New Hope in March 1814. His ordination didn’t come until July 1822, at Sugg’s Creek Meeting House, and characteristically a camp meeting was held immediately afterward, with several conversions recorded. Sadly, his wife, Rebecca, who had been in ill health for a number of years, died before his ordination.

   At the age of 62, newly infused with the energy of his ordination, the Rev. Cloyd traveled as a circuit rider, carrying the spiritual seed entrusted to him, faithfully sharing the Good News of the Gospel of Christ, always trusting God for the harvest.

   He married the widow of a Methodist minister, Nancy White, and settled into bivocational preaching and farming. He served as pastor of Stoner’s Creek, a congregation he founded and nurtured. (In 1895, the name was changed to Cloyd’s Cumberland Presbyterian Church in honor or its founder.) Richard Beard, an early biographer, wrote in 1867, “He labored on his farm during the week, and performed his ministerial service on the Sabbath. The principal portion of this service was a work of love. He received scarcely any pecuniary compensation. Still he lived comfortably, and was always able to minister a generous hospitality to his friends, especially to his brethren of the ministry.” Weeklong camp meetings were held on the church grounds, with robust singing and lusty sermons, tents for shelter and cook fires for meals. Hundreds were fed, literally and spiritually. It was fertile soil for the seeds Ezekiel spread. He died in 1851 at the age of 91. His time for planting in God’s Name was about 40 years. The Harvest has lasted for over 200. What’s in a Name? Plenty, when it’s GOD!

Glimpse of His Glory:Once Upon A Time  

From Tennessee’s blue hydrangeas to Alaska’s blue ice, unique experiences have colored this couple’s life. They are Dudley and Marie Clark. They shared this story July 2004.

Once upon a time, blue hydrangeas bloomed in the hedges and gardens of Sparta,Tennessee. It was the first day of July 1948, when Marie and Dudley Clark were married. World War II put a damper on southern economy, so Dudley and Marie ventured north from Tennessee to Richmond, Indiana to fuel their future. Dudley’s resume eventually included car sales, self-employment, appliance repairs, and a 23-year career with Alcoa Aluminum as a press mechanic. Marie continued her education and added more business courses, taking positions including office work, manufacturing, and her favorite as a successful Richmond realtor. She proved herself adept at mathematics, figuring closings without a calculator. Along the way she picked up professional decorating skills any interior designer would envy. They both played golf but Dudley became a Ranger on the greens as well, and found time to be a licensed auctioneer when he wasn’t busy otherwise. They both still enjoy learning.

   Clouds shadowed Marie’s first pregnancy, at age 19, which ended sadly with the death of their premature baby girl born in April 1952. They named her Nancy. Almost a year later, in January 1953, Dudley was called to active duty in the Army. He completed heavy equipment training, but in the inscrutable way of the military, he was sent to Alaska to drive a bus. Forty below zero is COLD, he says. Few would argue that! He suggests everyone should have to learn to drive on frozen tundra before they get a license. Most would argue that. He returned to civilian life in the milder climate of Richmond in 1955. Two years later, Marie’s second pregnancy, at age 25, brought them a baby boy. They named him Jeff. The clouds disappeared.

   Jeff grew up in Richmond, but when he graduated college he moved away, to work as a photographer in Nashville. The winds of change had begun to blow. Jeff married, and when Dudley and Marie’s first granddaughter was born, they found a strong tug turning into an irresistible pull. They relocated to Mt.Juliet. Then Jeff’s career took him to Virginia. Dudley and Marie stayed where they’ve put down roots and planted their own hydrangeas. There is a second granddaughter now, and everyone keeps in close touch with phone calls, photographs, and visits. They long ago learned to accept change. Marie believes “You live your life from where you are now, not from where you’d like to be or think you’d like to be. You adjust. You make it work.”

   One way they make it work today is to reach out to their neighbors and church family. Dudley’s boundless energy, handiness, and tart humor are welcomed everywhere. He gets fully immersed in multiple projects, sometimes for himself but more often for others. He builds, concocts and creates a surprising variety of useful and sometimes fanciful creations. “Dudley has done about everything – and still can!” says Marie. She calmly retreats to the quiet of the kitchen to create her own masterpieces. Her pies, cakes, breads, and home made chili sauce emit aromas that warm both heart and soul. She shares them with generous bouquets of hydrangeas that delight the eyes and lift the spirit.

   Through 56 years of marriage, she has been his compliment, and he has been hers. He is talkative, she is quiet; he is outrageously hilarious, her humor is gentle. He tells a long tale; she can be terse. He lends a helping hand, she heals with a gentle touch. He flashes a ready smile, hers comes by slow degrees. His energy reaches out and pulls you in, her warmth gently encircles you. Both are ready to respond to another’s need without a moment’s hesitation. Both have unforgettable hydrangea-blue eyes. God’s blessings go to them and through them in different ways to their family, neighbors, church, and the community.

   That’s how God works in the body of believers, once upon a time creating us from disparate beginnings, with different temperaments, distinct skills and talents to compliment one another. But each story has the same ending. You know the one. Happily Ever After!

Glimpse of His Glory:Hit by a Rainbow  

Their introduction to each other was perfect timing. His change in career and her beginning one was perfectly timed. It was perfect timing that found them a home. They know Who timed the rainbow, too. They are Andy and Sue Street. They shared this story March 2004.

Andy reached behind him for Sue’s hand. An arc of color spilled through the sky drenching them in radiant light as it poured itself out upon the earth. Suddenly they weren’t just passengers in a realtor’s car, they were passing through one end of the rainbow!

It wasn’t the first time something ordinary had unexpectedly become extraordinary. One July night Sue and a girlfriend attended a party, interested in party goodies, not partygoers. They arrived in time to eat. Sue wasn’t supposed to fraternize with sailors, but a good-looking one was already there. She liked him immediately, but he had a date. When he left she thought to herself, a little sadly, “Well, that’s that.” It wasn’t. He returned after taking his friend home, intent on talking to Sue. Before the night was over, she wrote her phone number on his forearm with her girlfriend’s lipstick. Just looking for a nice way to spend a summer evening, they found a nice way to spend a lifetime. They were married in December.

Serendipity became an expected part of life. As Personnel Officer on a docked ship, Andy counted the weeks to discharge, unsure what he wanted to do next. The Memphis Post Office offered a pre-employment program and anyone aboard ship could have time off to participate. “I really just wanted the three afternoons off,” he recalls. He went, enjoyed it, and maxed the test while he was at it. Thirty days after discharge, Andy was still looking for a job. Finally, a publishing company offered him the position of Edit Clerk. He went home to tell Sue, opened the mail, and there was an offer from the Post Office. “Timing is everything!” He says. He’s still a postal employee. That little three-day break became the big employment break he needed for a long-term career.

His Naval base was Millington , so they had settled in Memphis . After two babies, Sue began toning her muscles at a fitness center. Watching the aerobics instructor one day, she commented quietly, “ I could do that!” When the teacher failed to show up as scheduled, the manager asked Sue, “Can you take the class?” She could. The student became the instructor, trained for certification, and still works in health and fitness. An offhand comment opened a door to fitness training and a professional position.

When son Chris and daughter Dana wanted to run track, Andy and Sue were supportive. One day the coach didn’t show up. Sue worked with the girls. Would Sue attend the organization’s next meeting? Yes. She was a half hour late. The director had given her the wrong time. Her entrance was met with the announcement that she was the new coach! Sue recruited a coach for the boys from her exercise class, continued coaching the girls herself, and managed the team of six to sixteen-year-olds. Andy became the official timer for the track meets. During the five years Sue was head coach and director, the team went from not quite 40 youngsters to 159, and from never winning to winning four championships four years in a row. A helping hand to a handful became a success story for many more.

Andy’s career dictated a move. With their Memphis home for sale they began looking, unsuccessfully, for a new one in the Nashville area. That’s when they were hit by a rainbow. They knew it was God’s promise that everything would turn out right. It did, though not immediately. A house they liked was in a part of town they didn’t. One day they stumbled upon Willoughby Station in Mt. Juliet . “Sure would be nice if that other house was here,” Sue commented. It was. Same floor plan. Even the same builder. They bought it! But the house in Memphis hadn’t sold. As the moving van rolled out of the driveway, their realtor came running toward them, excitedly waving contract papers. The stressful uncertainties of buying and selling houses had been doubly dispelled with perfect timing.

The serendipitous moments have continued stacking up. Sue was already running in the 70’s and became a serious competitor in 1985. Andy eventually joined her. One afternoon there was a vivacious, loquacious stranger in the group awaiting the race report. Abruptly, Sue told Andy, “I’ve go to go talk to her!” The two women visited. It was a couple of weeks before Sue decided to follow up on the woman’s suggestion that she consider working at Sports Village . When she walked into the Lebanon office and introduced herself, immediately from the back room a voice called out, “ Sue Street ! Where have you been!” Her new acquaintance had prepared the way. She started work the following Monday. An unexpected meeting became and important connection.

Sue and Andy know from experience that it’s the little, unpredictable things that happen without fanfare that shape each day. And it’s the delightful, unexpected surprises that tie a bow around it. When we’re least expecting Him, God may just splash us with a rainbow!

A Glimpse of His Glory:Follow the Leader  

He is confident, his smile is persuasive and he never met a stranger. But he prays for guidance every day as he seeks to serve God as a leader. He is Matthew Chapman. He shared his story August 2003.