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Adversity can drive a life

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While much of my childhood seemed idyllic in a “Leave It to Beaver” kind of way, there were days when I had Eddie Haskells making my life unpleasant.
My Haskells tended to be more than just jerks; in some cases, they were downright difficult.
When I started high school, I dreaded the bus ride to school. Those solid sitting seats were where those with ill intent often began their mischief. And sure enough, for me that is where I often found myself between the cross hairs of their disdain.
I was short and stout and due to my lack of athletic ability; I was the object of those with bullying tendencies. Let’s say, I was an easy mark.
Whether it was a group of jocks using my violin case for a football, a tough guy spitting in my hair or flicking my ears, the daily dread of anticipating those experiences made going and coming from school a less than pleasant experience.
Some days, ridicule was a consistent companion from those who had to tear others down.
I was raised that you didn’t bellyache over one’s plight in life. My dad taught me to stand up to bullies wherever possible, choose the battles, know when to fight and when to walk away to fight another day. My mother was a warrior who always stood up for the underdog.
While bucking up to my experiences, they inspiration became a solid part of my make up. But within my underlying drive, those times planted a mission statement that pushed me forward through my 20s – “I will show you.”
It took me some time to change that mission, but I did. I no longer desired to show anyone. I just wanted to fulfill whatever God’s path for my life was to be.
Adversity in our days, bullies in our lives, no matter the time or place when we face such, we must handle it with grace. My father’s teachings and my mother’s grit forge how I react when I encounter adults who never grew up and chose to bully others. I have always stood up protecting those within their aim. I have taken on slings and arrows thrown to protect others but thanks to all I endured early in life, I have strong shoulders upon which to carry those. God placed below me solid legs upon which to stand my ground in the face of those who wish to bulldoze others.
While I wish that I could have enjoyed a youth free from those experiences, and I would not wish them upon anyone, I would not be the man that I am without them. All those God has allowed me to help, would not have had the champion those created.
If life brings you adversity, chose the battleground, and use it to fight against what may come your way, with the ultimate goal to uplift and encourage others.  

Overcoming adversity

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Often in life there are obstacles which we can never foresee coming our way.
It is often during these times we really come to know what we are made of, whether we can overcome adversity or simply crumble beneath the weight of whatever is thrust upon us.
In the valley below the Gravelly Spur, the prosperity of the 1950s had given way to most folks living comfortably. The desperation faced by many during the Great Depression was long since a memory. The faces of those lost in World War II were slowly moving from being ripped from presence to fondly remembered family members.
Granddad Bill was in his 70s and had given up full-time farming just to keep a few head of cattle and plant a light garden with some of his favorite vegetables.
He rose early one morning, and as usual placed the black cast iron pot on the wood stove to heat water for some coffee.
He turned on the radio to listen to the price of stock as he made his JFG coffee.
He took last night’s biscuit out of the breadbox over the stove and put some homemade strawberry preserves on it. As he reached it up towards his mouth, he dropped a bit of the preserves down on his faded blue overalls that showed more than 20 years worth of trips down to the old barn and hundreds of boilings in Grandma Kitty’s cast iron wash pot.
He took the kitchen towel and wiped it away. He sat with his coffee, sipping it from the cup saucer,and finished his biscuit as he listened to the Martha White Bluegrass Show on WSM.
He then pulled on his old brown work boots, put on his hat and headed off towards the barn.
It was not unusual for him to be gone for quite a spell when he was out with his cattle in the morning. Grandma Kitty had gotten up and prepared a full breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, fresh biscuits and sawmill gravy. When he did not return after a while, she became worried, slipped on her green coat, pulled on her bonnet and took off down to the tattered barn.
As she called to him, she heard no answer; her worries intensified as she called louder and began looking more quickly through each stall.
As she reached the last stall with no luck, she heard a banging coming from outside. She raced towards the sound and found Granddad Bill lying next to his old Farmall tractor. He was banging on it with an old board.
When she found him, it was apparent he had suffered a stroke; his face was drawn, and he could not speak or use his right side. He could only look up at her in desperation.
This man who left home in his teens on horseback to go west wasn’t even able to pick himself up off the ground.
Grandma helped him to his feet and got him to the house. She laid him in the bed near the wood stove and sent to town for the doctor.
Old Doc Lawson said there was not much that could be done except keep him comfortable. Everything was up to God and Bill. The doctor suggested calling all the family in just in case.
When Pearl arrived, she could not get in her mind that her father — the pillar of strength she adored — could be leaving soon. She joined the family vigil around his bed, providing constant care, massaging his affected limbs, helping him eat and coaxing him to speak.
She stayed with him night and day, lending him her strength until he could use his own.
She had dozed off by his bed when she was awakened by the sound of her name: “Pearl, Pearl… water.” She knew then that Granddad Bill was on his way back.
And he did come back, regaining his speech and the use of his arm and his leg, although he did walk with a cane after he recovered, returning to doing what he loved — tending his cattle.

A story from the Randall’s book “A Mountain Pearl: Appalachian Reminiscing and Recipes.”