Wisdom For the Ages

The Beautiful Snow

2011-03-26T19:25:00.000-07:00

I know it has been a long time since I have written a blog, but I wanted to share a poem with you.

The following has been taken from the Union Almanac for 1866 or 1867. The poem itself was published in part in 1869 in a book titled Beautiful Snow; and Other Poems by the publisher T.B. Peterson & Brothers (Philadelphia).

In the early part of the Civil War, one dark Saturday morning in the dead of winter, there died at the Commercial Hospital, Cincinnati, a young woman over whose head only 2 and 20 summers had passed. She had once been possessed of an enviable share of beauty, had been as she herself said, “flattered and sought for the charms of her face,” but alas, upon her fair brow had long been written that terrible word—fallen!

Once the pride of respectable parentage, her first wrong step was the small beginning of the same old story over again, which has been the only life-history of thousands.

Highly educated and accomplished in manners, she might have been helpful in the best of society, but the evil hour which proved her ruin was but the door from childhood, and having spent a young life in disgrace and shame, the poor friendless one died the melancholy death of a broken-hearted outcast.

Among her personal effects was found in manuscript “The Beautiful Snow” which was carried to a man of culture and literary tastes, at the time editor of the National Union. In the columns of that paper, on the morning following the girl’s death, the poem appeared in print for the first time. When the paper came out, the body of its author had not yet received burial. The attention of a leading American poet was directed to the newly published lines and he was so taken with their stirring pathos, that he followed the corpse to its final resting place.

Such are the plain facts concerning her whose poem will long be regarded as one of the brightest gems in American literature.

The Beautiful Snow

Oh the snow, the beautiful snow.
Filling the sky and earth below.
Over the housetops, over the street,
Over the heads of the people you meet.
Dancing, flirting, skimming along,
Beautiful snow, it can do no wrong,
Flying to kiss a fair lady’s cheek,
Clinging to lips in frolicsome freak.
Beautiful snow from heaven above
Pure as an angel, gentle as love.

Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go,
Whirling about in maddening fun,
It plays in its glee with everyone.
Chasing, Laughing, Hurrying by,
It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye.
And e’en the dogs with a bark & bound
Snap at the crystals as they eddey around.
The town is alive and its heart is aglow
To welcome the coming of the beautiful snow.

How wild the crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song;
How the day sleighs like meters flash by.
As with jingling bells they swiftly fly.
Ringing, Swinging, Dashing they go
Over the crust of the beautiful snow.
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky
To be trampled in mud by the crowd passing by,
To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet
Till it blends with the horrible filth in the street.

Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell
Fell like the snow flakes from heaven to hell;
Fell to be trampled as filth in the street,
Fell to be scoffed at, and be sit on and beat.
Pleading, Cursing, Dreading to die,
Selling my soul to whomever would buy;
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,
Hating the living and fearing the dead.
Merciful God, have I fallen so low?
And yet I was once like the beautiful snow.

Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,
With an eye like a crystal, a heart like its glow;
Flattered and sought for the charms of my face.
Father, Mother, Sisters all,
God and myself I have lost by my fall;
And the veriest wretch that goes shivering by
Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too nigh
For all that is in or about me I know
There is nothing so pure as the beautiful snow.

How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go.
How strange it should be when the night comes again
And finds me outside, weighed down by my sin
Fainting, Freezing, Dying alone,
Too wicked for prayer, to weak for a man
To be heard in the streets of the crazy town
Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down;
To be and to die in my terrible woe
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow.

Helpless and foul as the trampled snow,
Sinner, despair not. Christ stoopeth low
To rescue the soul that is lost in sin
And raise it to life and enjoyment again.
Groaning, Bleeding, Dying for thee,
The crucified hung on the accursed tree
His accents for mercy fell soft on my ear.
Is there mercy for me? Will he heed my weak prayer?
O God, in the stream that for sinners did flow
Now wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.

TWO EVENTS AT NORTHWOOD, ND

2010-11-08T21:31:00.001-08:00

Today I'd like to share a review of a terrible tornado which lashed into the town of Northwood, ND, on a Sunday evening, August 26, 2007 at 8:50pm. The National Weather Service estimated that the tornado winds hit 170mph and was nearly a mile wide when it hit Northwood, a town of about 900 people. One man was killed, 14 people were injured and every building was messed in some way.

I'm going to deviate in this story and shall introduce our living in Northwood. We became residents there and our oldest one, Dayton entered 1st grade. Our daughters, LeAnn and Debbie also entered the school and all three graduated there. My husband Chester built a church in which both of us preached. Our children pursued further schooling, married, and settled down in different areas. Chet and I moved to Saint Thomas where we were invited to preach in churches of different denominations. Chester was taken suddenly to his heavenly home on July 16. 2003. I continued to live in my house there in St. Thomas.

I'm sure I did not tune in for the evening news on that August Sunday of 2007 as then I would have heard about the tornado. I immediately called Marsha Gunderson who was the Circulation Marketing Manager for the Grand Forks Herald. I knew her well as she and my daughter, LeAnn, were classmates and had graduated together. She sent me copies of the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday Herald. I still have these copies telling of the horrible event.

The school was completely destroyed. Northwood had about 250 students from kindergarten through 12 grades. It was almost time for school to begin, and the school board voted to send the students to nearby Hatton School. Hours were spent as plans were studied for the building of a new school. A new location was made in the southwest area and the big project was begun.

It took years of completion and then big plans were made to have a celebration. Invitations were made. Articles in newspapers and posters were everywhere telling of the big celebration slated for July 22, 23, 24 and a special Sunday morning service. My three kids who had graduated in the old school planned to be there. Even I went with them as we had all been to the "Opsal Convention" only a couple weeks before this coming school event.

Oh, what a gathering and many class reunions. Even I was blessed by my children's joy of reaching their classmates. A huge banquet was held on the Saturday evening. Now it was time to say goodbye to our children as Dayton returned to Fox Lake, IL and Debbie Sue to Phoenix and I with Bob and LeAnn to Springfield. But there was a very important event to be before the month of July expired, and that was the marriage of Ryan to Kimberly in Montgomery, Alabama. All the Bachmans were there and had part in the wedding, even sweet little four year old Hope was the flower girl. Now it was time to go back home, so we traveled all day of August 1st as Bob had an important appointment Monday.

This has been a long blog as it is now. Monday, Nov. 1st and tomorrow is the big day when great decisions are made. I have had a couple phone calls and they mentioned the need of God in our government, so I trust we see some changes in our voting. God bless each of you. Love and prayers from Avis.

CONVENTION OF RELATIVES

2010-09-22T17:57:00.000-07:00

I'm sure many of you have wondered what has become of Avis Osland. Did she die? Or perhaps her computer has produced its last blog? Or perhaps she had no more stories to tell. Well, none of the above statements are true. I just got over-run in many events and was unable to keep in touch with you. Please forgive me.

In the month of May, on its tenth day, Dawnetta and Travis Cooper and little Hope welcomed a baby girl. I am now a great grandmother for two beautiful girls.

Because of the long lap of days passing in May and June, I had little to write about. But when July jumped on the calendar, activities were multiplied. Bob, LeAnn and I left our homes and headed for Cavalier, ND, way up there, not far from Canada. What a joy it was to attend the Sunday service and receive hugs from so many. Monday, we traveled to Park River and I stayed with Sophie Loftsgard, and Bob and LeAnn picked up close friends and together they traveled on to western ND and spent days, coming back on Thursday and picking me up, we were soon back to Cavalier. The next day we traveled to Sisseton, SD and found a motel there waiting for us. After a good night’s rest, we were ready for the long-planned event called "The Opsal Convention."

Let me tell you about my nephew, Duane Opsal of St. Michael, MN. He had become so interested in Iver and Martha Opsal. They and 3 children had come from Norway in 1872 and settled in Yankton territory, SD, where Iver got employment on river boats, including the FAR West, which later brought supplies for Custer’s men. In the spring of 1879, they moved to Brookings where he farmed, and in 1897, they moved to Sisseton. Now their family had grown to 11 children and were scattered throughout the nation.

Using a computer, Duane began his search and was able to collect pictures of all 11 siblings and found descendants all over the nation. His next move was to plan an Opsal reunion in Sisseton and scheduled it for July 10, 2010. With emails, he listed available motels and airports in Fargo, ND and Watertown, SD. He also secured a large hall and caterer to serve a wonderful meal. The response was wonderful as they came from New York, Texas, South Carolina, Arkansas and elsewhere.

The interesting time was when individuals stood and related his or her Opsal relationship. I, Avis, and my sister Yvonne Carlson (who was not able to attend) were the last ones of the Ole and Ollie Opsal and we had all been born there and only left Sisseton after high school graduation. Uncle Edward Opsal had not married until he was 50 years, and two of his sons were there and were younger than Yvonne and I.

We moved outside to the beautiful South Dakota sunshine and then cameras were busy. The editor of the Sisseton newspaper was there and focused on many groups. Then many drove their cars to the nearby cemetery. Though the stones were old and faded, we could read the names of Iver and Martha Opsal. Other names were Ole and Ollie, my parents, two brothers and Duane's parents, Maurice and Arlette Opsal.

The one day celebration was limited for us to get and remember names and addresses, but a touching has touched us, knowing there are many Opsals, and we trust that some of our paths shall cross again.

As I conclude this blog, I'm thinking of another gathering, greater than any event we have ever attended. It will be the day when ''For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God and the dead in Christ shall rise first. Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air, and so shall we ever be with the Lord." (I Thessalonians 4:16 17) I trust you are ready and looking for that day. God bless you. - Avis Osland

APRIL IS A BUSY MONTH

2010-05-21T12:38:00.000-07:00

Again I am late in sharing a blog with you. I believe my last message with you was April lst. Just a few days later, April 6th, my sister, Wanda Mae Opsal, went Home to be with JESUS. She was 97 years, 10 months and 12 days. She had spent her school days in Sisseton, SD; graduated from North Central Bible College in 1934. She spent her following years in Sioux Falls. She had lost her vision, so life became very empty and she was anxious to go HOME. Yvonne Carlson and I are the last ones in our family, waiting for our homecoming days.

Later in April, Bob, LeAnn and I traveled to Colorado Springs, CO. and were welcomed by their son, Ryan Bachman.

Donald Steiger is Superintendent of the Rocky Mountain District Council and he and his wife Loretta live in Colorado Springs. Also living there is their son, Phil, who is pastor of Living Hope church and Ryan is associate pastor. A very interesting fact is that Brother Steiger and Bob are first cousins and Phil is a second cousin to Ryan

On Monday, April 26th, we all headed to Denver and then on through the beautiful mountains. I had never seen the mountains and was almost over come with their beauty and extreme height. The river rushed by us and then there was the train pulling its many coaches. Going through tunnels was something I had never experienced.

We reached Fruita, Co, where the Convention was held in Victory Life Church. Wednesday evening was the Ordination Service when Ryan Bachman was ordained. It was a precious service and the closing of the convention. We were especially blessed by being invited to share a lunch and visiting time. Brother James Bradford, speaker for the convention was also with us.

Oh, there was one more stop – in Littleton, a suburb of Denver. There we visited Joyce and Larry Wynkoop. Joyce is a sister to Don Steiger and also is a cousin to Bob.

After a nice time of visiting, we were on our way, a long way yet to Springfield, MO. We arrived at our homes, Friday, April 30th.

STORIES OF DAYS GONE BY

2010-04-02T20:24:00.000-07:00

Dear friends, today is April first! I looked over my file with its eleven blogs I have shared with you. I see I sent you a Valentine story and haven't written since. Please forgive me for my failure in not MARCHing to you in the month of MARCH. I'll try to MARCH over those past events.

On February 19th, I flew to Phoenix, and my daughter Debbie Sue Estrada was there to meet me. The flight landed at 11:25 pm (AZ time) and Jeff and 6 year old Raegan were sound asleep. First thing to see next morning was Jeff's garden in his back yards. While there, we had some beet leaves for a meal. I'm sure they are enjoying other foods before the hot weather comes on to destroy.

On Sat, Feb 27th, a Convoy of Hope was held in El Mirage. There was a massive turn out and I hardly knew any one. I was happy to see Pat and Mel Holmquist who were workers at one of the gates. I attended with my family at the Church of the Nation, and there I met a lady who had grown up as a little girl in Sisseton, SD.

Also, there were relatives to visit. There was Adeline, my sister-in-law; Marilyn, a niece; Jason and Natalie Bachman; and of course Bob and LeAnn had been there working with Convoy of Hope.

After 3 1/2 weeks in AZ, I flew back to my apartment in Maranatha. It was late so I didn't see any one until the next morning. While in Phoenix I had received news that Paul Hild had died. He and his wife Myrtle were close friends of mine, having met them many years ago when we were students in North Central Bible School.

There may soon be a great Home-going when the trumpet shall sound and all who had died knowing Jesus and those alive serving Him will rise to meet Jesus and be with Him for all eternity. There will be no more blogs, but together we will sing and shout to our wonderful Saviour.

I want to meet you there!!!

Valentine Day

2010-02-07T19:19:00.000-08:00

A few days ago I looked at my calendar and tore off my January page, knowing that those 31 days were forever gone. And there was February with its 3 less days than January and each day stretching out its length with brighter hours. Probably I welcomed February because of the birth dates of two of our presidents, Lincoln, on the 12th and Washington, the22nd. I enjoy history and have read many books about both of them. I always reminded my husband that my half year birthday came on the 22nd. Well, I'll not tell you about the results.

Of course the day that we recognize in February is the 14th day known as Valentine Day. I assume most of you are acquainted by a physician named Valentine who had been imprisoned by Claudius II, a Roman ruler who hated all Christians. The jailer had asked if he could bring his blind daughter to meet Valentine whom he hoped might be able to teach his daughter. So she came often and asked many questions of Valentine. One day as they were praying together, suddenly a brilliant light filled the cell. Julia shouted, "Valentine, I can see! I can see!" Together they thanked God.

The evening before Valentine was to be killed, he wrote a last note to Julia, urging her to stay close to God, and signed it "From your Valentine." His death sentence was carried out the next day, Feb. 14, 270 A.D. near a gate that was later named Porta Valentini. This special day with its message of love and affection is recognized the world over.

I remember those days with the big decorated box which stood on the teacher's desk and when the special day came and the lovely cards were passed out. With the passing of years, I have seen my children and grandchildren enjoying the giving and receiving of those cards.

But I must tell you of another "Valentine" whom I greatly love. "God so loved the world that he gave His only begotten Son (His Valentine) that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have ever lasting life. (John 3:16) Over and over the word LOVE is used in the Bible. Jesus said, "If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love." "That ye love one another as I have loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." (Verses found in chapter 15 of St. John)

Yes, our heavenly Valentine gave His life on an old rugged tree that we may be saved. I love the old songs which tell of His love. Jesus loves me this I know! Oh, how I love Jesus because He first loved me.

The old Feb. 14, Valentine Day, we remember annually. But our heavenly “Valentine” must be honored daily as we read His word and worship Him in prayer. As I am now completing my blog, I thought of something that makes me excited and happy. When we all get to heaven, we'll meet our Jesus, our Valentine. We will also meet the Valentine who led little blind Julia to Jesus who restored her sight. Oh, what a day that will be! Will you be there?

Once Upon a Time… the Story Continues

2009-12-03T21:36:00.000-08:00

In a previous blog I mentioned my daughter, Debbie Sue of Phoenix, who was with us at ND Bible camp. Now I want you to hear about her. Actually, I must go back several months when she had been diagnosed by a doctor in Phoenix who said she had a brain tumor. Debbie's sister-in law, Susanne Estrada, and a friend, Laura Conner, both had read of tumor surgery done through the nose. Laura told Deb of the University of Pittsburgh, PA, Medical Center, and suggested Deb check out its website. It wasn't long before Deb and hubby Jeffery were air born to PA and on June 4th she underwent an 8-hour surgery.

Bob and LeAnn traveled and arrived in Pittsburgh, June 8th. Deb was released from the hospital but had to stay in the city for further doctors' exams. Jeff flew back to Phoenix and the Bachmans stayed with Deb. Bob, a worker in Convoy of Hope, drove to Harrisburg, capitol of PA, and there he met with a statesman, relating the agricultural program which has interested many farmers.

When Deb was released, she traveled with Bob and LeAnn back to Springfield and then on to Bible Camp and other places which I've told you of. The last I wrote to you was of Debbie and I flying to Phoenix. I was going to stay with her and help her, after her big surgery.

New adventures and new friends were awaited me in Phoenix. While at the camp in ND, Deb had met Grace Walker, an old friend from when they met together at youth camps. Now she was Grace Thompson and lived in Scottsdale. She drove to Deb's home and picked up Deb and me. She drove on to Surprise, AZ and there we met another friend, Grace Jacobson Ritter, who had been a young girl in ND and her family attended the church Chet and I had pastored. We had a great time, reminiscing of years gone by.

Another happy afternoon was spent with Melvin and Pat Holmquist in their lovely home in Sun City. My grandson, Jason Bachman of El Mirage, AZ had been at their home, some time ago where he had helped pick grapefruit which were brought to friends in MO. So Jason took me to the Holmquists. I had learned that Pat was a sister of Thomas Trask, whom I had met in years back and so I was anxious to meet her. Another brother, Ray, and his wife Marjorie were also there and I had met them many years ago in ND. I was so blessed to be with these dear ones of the family of God.

I was in Phoenix almost four weeks with Deb, Jeff and their 8-year-old daughter, Raegan who kept us all happy. The only thing I did not appreciate was the hot temperatures. Chester and I had always made our trips to AZ for Christmas and New Years.

Now, on Nov. 23 we are heading for ND and will be with all the Bachman families. I surely hope we will not have snow storms while up there. The beautiful snow we'll love, but if not wrapped in a storm. So may God bless each of you, and let us all be thankful for His blessings to us. Your writer friend, Avis Osland.

Once Upon a Time... The Story Continues

2009-10-04T20:57:00.000-07:00

Today we shall leave the ND Bible Camp. We've packed and our cases are in the trunk. We've said goodbye. We shall travel farther north to Cavalier, ND, where Bob's parents live. Others of the Bachman clan gathered there for an evening picnic. Dead tired, soon we were all bedded down in different homes.

Now it's Tuesday morning and I was anxious to go on to another town, Saint Thomas. We had moved there in 1987 and were blessed with wonderful neighbors. LeAnn called Donna and asked her if she could get these folks to come to the cafe for a breakfast and fellowship. After a happy time together, we said goodbye. Before we left, LeAnn drove to the nearby beautiful cemetery. We walked to the large stone where Chester's name was engraved, birth date, our wedding date and names of our three children. A beautiful geranium was blossoming, a gift from my friend, Donna.

We went back to Cavalier and there LeAnn's friend, Bonnie, and my daughter Debbie Sue and I said another goodbye and headed toward the interstate toward Fargo, ND, where Deb and I would go on a flight to Phoenix.

But there was another special friend I must visit in Grafton, ND. Willie Jane Angus had moved to St. Thomas, the same fall we moved there, and we became very close friends. Many folks got us mixed up, as to "who was who?" At a church supper, Willie was sitting alone and a couple sat nearby. The man asked, "Your husband is not with you tonight?" and she replied, "No." And he said, "Well, why isn't he here?" and she added, "Well, he's been dead 15 years." Then with a smile, she said, "Oh, you think I'm Avis, and that Chester is not here."

Now she is a resident in a nursing home in Grafton and I wanted to spend a little while with her. It was great to spend our review of years past. She was very generous and gave me many beautiful and useful garments. Let me tell you an event that happened at a ladies meeting at the ND Bible camp. It was called the Maidens Hour and the project was for anyone to bring something of the past and to tell its history. Our superintendent's wife was in charge of the event. "Just feel free to come to the platform and tell of its history or value." The first lady came and showed a beautiful quilt made by her grandmother. Others came forward with photos, dishes, etc. Finally, I stepped up and had nothing in my hands and smilingly said, "I am the best dressed woman in hand-me-down clothes." Then I told of my friend, Willie Jane and named dresses, suits, sweaters, coats, slips, nighties and many more gifts she'd given me. As I started to go off the platform, I raised my right arm and said, "Bless the Lord, oh my body and every thing that is on it."

And my I add, that though I'm now living here at Maranatha, I still have many of those garments in my closet and I wear them.

This chapter is very long and I must say adios until my next blog.

Once Upon a Time... The Story Continues

2009-09-11T10:27:00.000-07:00

I barely introduced you to our arrival at North Dakota Bible Camp. We had come Friday, June l8. The next morning, the men had a breakfast and time of worship. Our superintendent's wife, Dianne Freitag, led in our annual Ladies Luncheon. She introduced our speaker--none other than my oldest daughter, LeAnn Bachman. She and Bob are workers in Convoy of Hope. Need I tell you I was very proud of her as she related many of their journeys, projects, etc.

Sunday, June 21, was a wonderful day. Brother Dan Johnson preached in the a.m. service. He was so much like his father that if you closed your eyes and listened, you could almost think the Rev. Herman Johnson was at the pulpit.

The afternoon was the high light of all the camp days. The building of a tabernacle had begun in 1947 and completed in 1948. We did not attend camp in '48 as our first child, a boy, was born June 6. Upon Johnson's stepping down as superintendent, R.L. Brandt followed and then Kenneth Olson and then his brother-in-law, Lloyd Jorgenson, Marcus Bakke served and in 1999 Leon Freitag became superintendent and has continued to serve until this time.

Brother Freitag began to dream of remodeling the tabernacle. He assumed the positions of architect, contractor, laborer, coordinator and purchasing agent. The big project was on its way in 2006, continued through 2007 and '08. And now in 2009 the Chapel is a masterpiece of carpentry and design. The building is debt free of a total cost of $405,000.

At the Sunday afternoon Chapel dedication Brother Freitag introduced the many who had worked side by side in accomplishing the beautiful transformation. He led in a reading, followed with a response from the congregation. The beauty of the Chapel is beyond my ability to describe. I invite all of you to attend the District Camp Meeting in 2010 and see the grandeur of it all.

In the evening service, the Bread of Life, a singing group of years gone by, comprised of Bob Bachman, his two sisters, Jenny and Linda, and their spouses, sang several songs.

The last sermon of the day was by Sam Johnson, weeping as he challenged that the work of God be forcefully continued in North Dakota.

We will depart from Lakewood Park Bible Camp, tomorrow, and will have other events to blog to you. Until then, God bless each of you. Your old friend, Avis V. Osland.

Once Upon A Time... A Story Continues

2009-08-03T20:10:00.000-07:00

I have spent many days, June 18 to July 20, away from my home here in Maranatha. It's time for me to send a blog and tell of my experiences.

Together with my daughter, Debbie Estrada of Phoenix, my granddaughter Dawnetta and her almost 3 year Hope, my daughter LeAnn and hubby Bob Bachman, I left Springfield, headed northward. Bob drove the Convoy of Hope truck, planning to bring grain back from ND.

Our first stop was to visit my sister, Wanda Opsal, at her apartment in Marian Village in Sioux Falls, SD. Wanda turned 97 years in May. Her greatest desire is to go home to Glory. We had a couple hours of joy and prayers and then back to our travels.

We arrived at the District Bible Camp near Devils Lake, ND, and were soon in our cabins for which we'd registered many months before. We dressed in "our best" and soon were in the beautifully decorated dining hall. There were faces that I'd met many years ago. My fist time at camp was in 1940 as VeOra Kensinger and I were conducting Vacation Bible Schools in the state. It's impossible to name the many I renewed acquaintance with. And all the hugs! Men and ladies! Old and young! A young teenager saw the parked Convoy of Hope truck and excitedly said, "Oh, Mrs. Osland must be here!" Guess she figured that I must have come with the Bachmans. I met her later and received another hug.

The Johnson brothers, Dan and Sam, were the scheduled speakers. Let me inject of our first meeting years ago. After my graduation from North Central in Minneapolis, I had been involved in gospel work in South Dakota, my home state. In September 1944, I received a letter from Pastor Jack Andrews inviting me to come to Jamestown, ND, to have a three-week evangelistic campaign with services every night, except Saturday. I accepted and came to Jamestown. There was no church there, but services were held in an upstairs hall over a business in the downtown area.

It was there I met the Herman Johnson family. He was the first superintendent of ND Assemblies of God and came to the services whenever he was in the city. Sister Johnson, her five sons and baby girl came every night with the two oldest boys carrying the baby in her buggy up the long stairway. Each boy told me his name. In the passing years, I have often met the two youngest, Dan and Sam and now at this camp was another occasion to meet again and always with more hugs! I asked Sam how old he was in 1944 and he said "five."

There were many there whom I did not know. A man and his wife and his white-haired mother shook hands with me and he said, "I heard you preach in Noonan in 1944." I looked at him and bluntly asked, "How old were you then?" He answered "13." I went to my cabin and I couldn't believe someone that young could remember me. Then I remembered what the pastor in Jamestown had told me, saying he had written letters to pastors telling them about me. He quoted, "I told them you were different but that you were OK." And before I was through in Jamestown, the pastor in Noonan invited me. Now I wondered if there was something about my preaching that was different. Anyway, for a year and a half I received invitations from pastors. One of these was a handsome bachelor pastor.

And two years later in 1946 I married Chester Osland and we had a happy life until God took him Home, July 16, 2003. I hope you enjoyed that bit of romance. Also I'd like to drop in this little poem:

Life is one fool thing after another.

Love is two fool things after each other!

Bread From Heaven

2009-06-21T18:36:00.000-07:00

Often Marion Iverson had read the promise of Isaiah 33:l6, “Bread shall be given him, his waters shall be sure.” But she couldn’t find much comfort in it now.

Water? Yes, that was still sure, for she had managed to pay the water bill. But bread? She had none, and there was little money with which to buy some (although she hoped to purchase a loaf on the way home from work).

But all day she had sensed the Spirit of God talking to her about her part in the offering for the missionary service scheduled that evening: Give $5 tonight. She knew it was God’s voice. How she longed to obey, especially since she had experienced the glorious infilling of the Holy Spirit the evening before. She pulled out her checkbook and figured her balance. Yes, it was $5—and that was all.

But what about the bread? She had two young children to provide for. Her cupboard had never been full since her husband deserted her. After he left, she had accepted Christ as her personal Saviour and had managed to get a job. With difficulty she made ends meet.

“Lord, I’ll write the check right now and have it ready for tonight’s offering so I won’t spend it for anything else,” she breathed. And that night she fixed macaroni for supper. “Mama, kin I have a piece of bread with my ‘roni?” asked little Kevin. “Sorry, Honey, but there’s none in the house. We’ll try to get some on our way to church tonight, OK.”

And soon they were traveling the several miles to church. The headlights of her old car beamed down the highway. There was something in the road—not large, but bright. It resembled a bread wrapper. Marion pulled to a stop and stared. Do you suppose…? Could it be...? She ran to it, and found it was a loaf of bread, still wonderfully clean in its tightly sealed plastic wrapper. “Oh thank you, Lord,” Marion’s heart sang. And never had bread tasted so delicious as did that loaf when she and the children snacked after church---and again the next morning for breakfast.

The next day those words went through her mind again and again. “Bread shall be given him.” Yes, the promise was true. God will provide even if He has to send bread from heaven like the manna in the wilderness. The tempter whispered, “That loaf won’t last forever. Remember you put all your money in the offering last night, and payday is still a ways off.” But Marion refused to listen and rejoiced in the goodness of her Lord.

Imagine her surprise when she picked up her children after work and her baby-sitter came out carrying two loaves of bread. “Marion can you use these? I baked such a large batch of bread today and I don’t have room for it all in my freezer.” She could have shouted for joy! But something else happened the next evening. It was a special ‘breaking of bread’ service, and the church had provided several dozen of buns. There was a surplus and after the benediction the evangelist came to Marion and said, “Sister, we have a lot of bread left. Could you use it?”

So she carried home 150 buns. Her joys knew no bounds. Surely the promise was true: “Bread shall be given him”—not just for today, but for all the days to come.

My Graduation

2009-05-27T17:58:00.000-07:00

Only a few weeks ago, we celebrated Mothers Day and I hope many mothers were honored. Though not marked on the calendar, another event will be recognized through the nation in different places, on different days and for multiple accomplishments. I speak of GRADUATIONS! Graduation is the ceremony of conferring degrees or diplomas at a school or college. It is given to someone who has completed a course of study over a span of time.

I have graduated at two events--my first one from the high school in Sisseton, SD in 1935 and the other from North Central Bible School in Minneapolis in 1938.

Let me tell you about my first graduation. We battled dust and drought in the "Dirty 30's" and often walked to and from school in the dusty darkness of so-called days. The economy was affected. At our graduation we did not wear costly caps and gowns. The boys wore their Sunday go-to-meeting suits; and we girls wore cotton pastel-colored dresses. Mine was a pink organdy which my mother had made.

Some one played the piano as we 41 graduates marched through the auditorium, up the steps to the stage where the dignitaries were standing awaiting our arrival. Seated, the program began.

You'll probably think I'm boastful when I say I gave the valedictory speech. I think my classmates were as smart as anyone and I just passed them by a few more A's. Well I gave my memorized talk and sat down.

Immediately an usher was coming up the aisle carrying a large flower bouquet; she approached me and placed it in my lap. Believe me, I was shocked. I noticed a small envelope tucked among some leaves. I didn't pick it up, but waited until I hoped no one was watching me, then I pulled out the dainty card and on it was written "Your Admirer."

Well, that's when I lost the continued program. Who? Who? Who was this admirer? Was it one of the boys in our class? Or, could it be one of my teachers? I was completely enveloped with "who's." I did not hear what the honorable guest speaker said in his 40-minute speech. I rallied in time to march off the stage and out of the auditorium. I found my parents and gave them my bouquet to carry home as all of us were invited to our superintendent's home for an ice cream treat. Remember this was the "Dirty 30's" and there were no elaborate home celebrations such as are held today for a graduate.

Some time went by and one day a lovely nurse, who often visited in our home, came and she told me she was my admirer. I joyfully thanked her and told her of my many guesses as to whom I thought it might be.

There will be no graduation ceremonies in heaven. However the apostle Paul tells Timothy, his son in the gospel, of what his homecoming will be like. He says "The time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." (2 Timothy 4:6-8). I trust you'll be ready.

But even greater than our homecoming, will be the vast company, together with the angels, singing unto the King of Kings. Oh what a heavenly celebration. I love the song which we can sing down here in anticipation of that heavenly chorus: "All hail the power of Jesus' name! Let angels prostrate fall; Bring forth the royal diadem and crown Him Lord of all."

The Best Gift

2009-05-08T16:03:00.000-07:00

Have you ever racked your brain or searched endlessly to find just the right gift for someone special? That special person may be old, one whose needs in life are so limited, that the task is made even more difficult.

Each of us has most likely experienced this at some time. I specifically recall my frustrations as a certain Mother's Day was approaching--the one for 1967. My mother was in her eightieth year and no longer maintained a home for herself. Her personal needs were adequately supplied. Her ability and interest in reading had diminished. It seemed there was nothing I could give her that would be special enough for that honorable day. Too, my finances were limited so the extent of my purchasing power could not afford something fabulous. I was really disturbed about it.

Often my problems receive my best attention in the dead of night when I awaken from peaceful sleep and cannot regain the blessings of slumber. I toss and turn and with my restless body, comes an activated mind. Such was the case one night about a week before Mother's Day. Suddenly an idea lightened my mind, almost illuminated the darkened room in which I lay--I would write Mother a very special message and express my deepest thanks for specific things which she had done for me throughout my lifetime. The ideas came so fast I could hardly wait for morning to begin jotting them down.

I commenced the message by stating that I could think of no better gift to give her than to express myself in this particular way. I titled my message; "Things I Want To Tell My Mother While She Is Still With Me."

Because I was born on a hot August day, I knew it must have been a very inconvenient time as my father was a farmer and Mom always had to cook for the threshers. Despite my having four older brothers and sisters and Mom's busy schedule, she still had time to spend with me, thus giving me such a good start in my life for which I thanked her.

In my message I reminisced about her efforts to keep me tidy and clean even though her laundry facilities were far from modern. The only running water Mother had was that which she ran for--either to the pump for cooking and drinking, or lugging buckets from the old rain barrels to empty into a boiler to heat for the clothes wash. I do not know what kind of a washing machine she had when I was a baby, but my earliest recollection is that of a hand-operated one. But in spite of these inconveniences I knew she had kept me clean and tidily dressed.

Perhaps one of the greatest remembrances any of us have is relative to our mothers' cooking. I vividly reminded Mom of some of the yummy foods she had prepared such as the brown molasses bread which usually had come from the oven just shortly before our arrival home from school. We couldn't wait until supper time to taste it. How we enjoyed it as the home-churned butter melted into its warm texture. I talked about the lefse and all the other special things we made for the holiday feasts. I shared with her my pride as I quoted Chester "Honey, you're a good cook just like your mother."

Mother was a seamstress. She had never taken a single sewing lesson in her life. In fact, her education was limited in every way. As a very young girl she had begun to sew for others. After her marriage it was not strange that she continued to sew for each of her babies and that she continued to sew for us as we grew up. Each new garment, whether a dress, jacket, or coat, whether made from new material or from old apparel, was joyfully received and proudly worn. I reminded Mom that I had never purchased a ready-made dress until I was l9 years old.

I reflected on the dress of dresses which she painstakingly created for me--the one when I pledged my vows to Chester. I shared with her my daughters' wish, hoping they might wear it also on that special day in their futures.

My greatest expression of appreciation was because of her deep concern for each of us in spiritual matters. It was she who asked my two younger sisters and me to give our lives to the Lord Jesus, one Sunday night at the close of a gospel service. How vivid were my recollections of that experience as I thanked her for introducing me to Jesus. To have a Christian mother who is truly concerned over the needs of one's soul is a value for which appreciation is hard to define.

Lastly, I thanked Mother for her kindnesses and blessings which she always extended to Chet, our children and me. Her gifts of homemade garments to our children continued as long as she was able to sit at the sewing machine. But her prayers for us were more important than any material gift, and for this I expressed my deepest gratitude. I mentioned Chester's references to her from the pulpit as a woman of prayer.

I summarized it all by thanking my mother for just herself and signed it, "One of your nine children--the one you named Avis Violet."

Taking a sheet of pink construction paper, I folded it in half and as artistically as I could, inscribed it with my chosen title, inserted the sheets with their typed message, punched some holes through which I laced a pink ribbon, and tied my love message securely together. Then I mailed it to her.

Little did I realize the worth of that gift. Not in dollars, for it had cost me nothing. Those who were with her said she showed that gift to all who came. Later that fall Mother came to spend a month with us. One day in her open suitcase I saw the little rosy-pink booklet. It had become her prized possession.

And that was my last Mother's Day gift to her as she left us the following March. Of her personal effects, the booklet was returned to me. As I reviewed its contents, I had to express my thanks to Him, also, Who had given me the inspiration to pen those words to her for whom I wanted that extra special gift.

What is a Friend?

2009-04-09T19:51:00.000-07:00

Our old friend Webster says: one attached to another by affection or regard; a member of the same nation or political group. In all my years I've had friends. We children in our neighborhood were great friends, especially when we gathered together to play games such as Hide and go Seek, Run Sheep Run and many others. We gained new friends in the community when we entered school and some of those remained classmate friends until the l2 years had passed. After graduation we scattered and some I never saw again.

I left home to enter Bible school in Minneapolis and there I found new friends who also were in God's big family. I corresponded with some after graduation, but many of those have gone on. When I married my best friend, Chester Osland, we began pastoring in North Dakota and then again made new friends.

I can go on and on talking about the addition of friends, but I would like to call your attention to some verses in the Bible which speak of friendship. Proverbs 17:17 states that "A friend loveth at all times." That may be very difficult when someone offends you, but God will give the love that is needed to heal the wound.

The Bible tells how to gain friends: “A man that hath friends must show himself friendly” Proverbs 18:24. How does one show friendship? Smile!!! A smile is beautiful and a frown is not. I remember an old song which we use to sing: “It isn't any trouble just to S M I L E. If ever you're in trouble, It will vanish like a bubble, If you only S M I L E.” Other extensions of showing friendship are kind words and helping hands.

Another phrase in that same verse above says, “There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.” That may be true in an earthly brother, but I like to adapt this to the real true friend, Jesus. He became my best and greatest Friend when I was a little girl of ten years which I told you about in my last blog. I do not have all the friends I previously had because of the passing of time, but Jesus has been my continual friend all these years.

I love the words of the old song, “What a Friend we have in Jesus, All our sins and griefs to bear. Can we find a friend so faithful, who will all our sorrows share?” Do you have this Friend? Just ask Him to come into your life and forgive your sins, and He will become your Friend. Then you, too, will be able to sing "Friendship with Jesus, Fellowship divine, Oh, what blessed sweet communion, Jesus is a Friend of mine."

WAY---BACK---WHEN?

2009-03-20T16:18:00.000-07:00

Today I'd like you to walk with me down paths of yester years. It was the summer of 1926 in Sisseton, SD and a tent had been erected in an empty lot about 4 blocks from our home. In that tent a lady by the name of Blanche Brittian was preaching each evening and always had an altar call for folks to come and meet Jesus. I still remember seeing Mother looking up to Dad's face and I heard her softly whisper, "Ole, would you like to accept Jesus, tonight?" He did. He was wonderfully saved and the joy of salvation was his.

One evening, Sister Brittain preached on "hell" and I, almost nine years old, was greatly convicted. I had noticed that a lady gospel worker would approach someone and ask that one if he or she would like to go to the altar. I hoped she would ask me, but she did not, so I did not go forward.

The tent services lasted for some weeks and then the tent was taken down. Other evangelists came to town and services were held at different times in town halls. Our family continued going to these meetings.

It was January 1927, when Arthur and Anna Berg, return missionaries from Belgian Congo, came to Sisseton and rented a hall over the Golden Rule store. Services continued and summer came on and we were still gathering in the upstairs hall. It was Sunday, August 21, 1927, and I and my friend, Vonnie, were softly whispering together while our parents were at the altar praying. Brother Berg came to us and he asked, "Girls, how old are you?" Vonnie said, "I'm ten," and I proudly offered, "I'm ten tomorrow!"

"Ten years old and you haven't given your hearts to the Lord!" and then he asked us to promise to think about giving our hearts to the Lord. We both promised, but I forgot all about it and I don't know if Vonnie remembered.

The following Sunday evening I and my two younger sisters, Esther and Yvonne, were sitting on a bench just ahead of Mother and Dad. As Sister Berg was giving an altar call, Mother reached forward and endeavored to embrace us and said, "Girls, will you give your hearts to Jesus tonight?"

Yes, we went forward and knelt and oh, how the tears flowed. There were no Kleenex in those days but Mom shared her handkerchief with us. Three little girls started on the "glory road" and have continued through the years. Jesus took Esther home to heaven, Dec. 1998. Yvonne, now 86 years, and I Avis, now 91 are living here at Maranatha in Springfield, MO.

It's true Jesus can make Himself real to a young child. The challenge is given in Ecclesiastes 12:1 "Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth." Jesus says, "Let the children come onto Me."

Love For Our Parents

2009-03-04T19:01:00.000-08:00

Let me first introduce myself: I was born August 22, 1917 in Sisseton, SD. I graduated from the Sisseton High School, and three years later, I completed a course at North Central Bible School in Minneapolis, MN.

September 20, 1946, I married Chester Osland and together we pastored churches in North Dakota. God blessed us with three children whom we dearly love. The Lord took Chester Home to Heaven, July 16, 2003, and since that sad day, I've lived alone. It seems my children's love is more abundant now, probably because I'm alone.

Their visits, phone calls, e-mail, gifts and prayers are such a blessing to me. I've said to them, "I mothered you and now you mother me."

I'm aware there are lonely parents whose children never come to see them. Days and years go by and there are no phone calls, no cards and these lonely parents wait and wonder where that child may be.

Dear friend, if you have a living parent or parents whom you have "put on the shelf" and have made no effort to see them, I admonish you to head homeward. Ask God to help you and direct you. A package of forgiveness and love and both that lonely parent and you will be blessed.

Christmas Day & My Crazy Grandchildren

2008-12-25T13:55:00.000-08:00

This is Christmas Day with my daughter's family who are ganging up on me in an effort to introduce me to blogging. Huh? And me an old 91-year-old great grandma! And what you think of that?

Course I've done a great deal of writing which has been published. A preacher friend, some years ago, suggested that I could become a writer. I was challenged and thought I should try it. And I did and to my surprise one of my early stories was accepted and published. Course I've also received rejects. But it's been fun.

Well, I'll be around again one of these days. Hope you enjoyed my introduction to Wisdom F0r the Ages.