Ties to the spirit

October 7, 2012

Some wonderful memories about my father, Charles Glenn Jacobs, have been floating around over the past week. The first dealt with a story about a horse named Red. Red was gilded way past the colt stage and was one wild horse. My father was finally able to break him and we were able to ride him. We had two horses at that time; a sheltie named Billie, and of course, Red. My good friend Charlie McCullough lived about five miles out of town on the road to Holbrook. One day father saddled Red and gave me permission to ride out to Charlie’s place and visit. On second thought, dad must have let me ride back from Charlie’s. No matter I was out there with Red and after playing all day, I rode Red back to our home in Concho. Just as we were getting into town, Red began to get frisky thinking about water and oats at home. He started running faster and faster and being seven years old I didn’t have the strength to stop him. We went through a wash (dry creek bed), the horse went into the wash and I was left somewhere in mid air as Red scurried on through and back to the house. I landed on my back and lost my wind. I got up to laughter and jokes from several gentlemen sitting around AC Roebush’s gas station.

Another dealt with a round-up dad took me on. This roundup was between Concho and St. Johns and mother made lunch for us. She put a quart jar of raw milk in my lunch and put it on the saddle. After several hours we stopped under a cedar tree to have lunch and to our surprise the milk had churned and turned into warm, sweet butter milk. Unlike the stuff we get in the store, this butter milk was excellent and soon all gone.

This week I received a “Christmas gift” from my sister, Lynda in the form of genealogy, or family history for our family. Over the last several months I have had the great pleasure of indexing, or digitizing parts of the 1940 US Census. I was most impressed with how real these people really were and are. Each has a unique history and life sketch. Each was brought into this world by a mother and father. Some, such as my dear mother never really knew their parents. Others had the blessing of being taught of life, love, heaven, earth, and our Heavenly Father. As I wander through the lives of my ancestors I find, in every sense, their eternal existence. The millisecond of eternity they spent in this earthly life gave them a temporal body and an opportunity to be reunited – body and spirit - in the eternities; a gift beyond comprehension straight from God. I find it such an honor to be part of their progeny. I look forward to the time when I can be reunited with family long past and bask in the love they share through our family ties.

Jean was touched by the fact that two speakers used the same scripture depicting Christ as he talked to Peter, asking Peter if he loved him; then, telling him to “feed my sheep.” What a marvelous lesson we can all learn from this scripture. We need to reach out to those in need physically, mentally, and especially spiritually. I see so many people in crisis that it hurts my very soul. Could it be that we are not doing enough listening and feeling the promptings from the Holy Ghost and ministering angels through God to bless the lives of those around us? Could it be that family members, friends, neighbors, and enemies are in need of spiritual nourishment and we are not making ourselves aware? When we look back in our lives and find stories such as the ones I shared about my father could it be that we are not sufficiently in tune to see the lessons they bring to mind? Could these memories be stirred in our minds through someone who is on the other side of the veil and attempting to share the blessings of life we are missing because we have left the safety of the iron rod?

God bless each of us as we strive to understand who we are, why we are here, where we came from, and where we are going.

Duane Jacobs, father, brother, cousin, grandfather, uncle, and fond friend.