So remember, every picture tells a story, don’t it
Every picture tells a story, don’t it
Every picture tells a story, don’t it, whoo

Rod Stewart, 1971

Hospitality and more…

This morning Rebekah and I are waking up from a quick overnight visit with the Jesse and Heather Alexander family in Jacksonville (always, by the way, epic hospitality).

Not only is Sarah home from college, but both Jared and Seth (and Seth’s girlfriend) came over for dinner. It was a good evening.

Thursday was an all day drive, so I today I need a “quick and easy” post and it’s great timing that today is Photo Friday.

I have a few photographs from the day I cleaned out my dad’s desk. And the first – actually two images – is a great story from around 1986. We were living in Pensacola and I was 30.

Lightening Strike

Dad liked to play golf so I took him to a public course. It was a clear day with no rain and no threat of a storm. On the 9th hole I hit the ball in the middle of the fairway; but dad missed by a mile, ending up under a tree.

He was standing by his ball, club in hand, when a bolt of lighting struck without warning. Either the sound or the shock – I’m not sure which – knocked me to the ground and when I got up my dad was lying on his face, completely still.

By the time I got over to him he was conscious and another cart had arrived and two doctors jumped out. Another cart zoomed up and a man jumped out, “I’m a doctor,” he announced. Then another, “I’m a doctor,” followed by a couple more: “I’m a doctor”… “I’m a doctor.” It was kind of comical.

Turns out it was a tournament benefiting Baptist Hospital!

Between them they determined dad needed to go to the E.R. and the ambulance arrived without delay. On the way I rode with the driver and we talked.

• “It’s been a busy summer for lightning strikes,” I said conversationally. “Wasn’t there a fatality at the beach just a couple of weeks ago, a twelve year old boy fishing?”
• “That’s right,” the EMT replied. “He was my son….”

I can never tell the story of that day without thinking about the EMT, and his son, and praying for the family.

WW2

The next photograph is circa 1940. It’s my dad along with several of the boys from his school after they were “evacuated” to Northern England to keep them away from the bombing/expected invasion.

You can see him – David Maul – in the middle of the second row (blond hair, crouching). He’s around 12 years old.

Dad was away from home for four years. I can’t imagine it. I have written before about the mass evacuation of England’s children, and if you’re interested you can read about it at length in my WW2 novel, “Suddenly the Light Was Gone.” Almost free, and absolutely worth the read!

Missionary Work:

I talked about my grandfather’s passion for and dedication to mission work a few days ago; he never served overseas himself, but my dad’s sister Margaret did.

Auntie Margaret and uncle John served in (then) Rhodesia for a number of years, returning home to the UK when the children were all quite young and Margaret was very sick.

This photograph is of the family (John, Margaret, Peter, Graham, Linda, Alison), still in Africa, just a couple of years before Margaret’s death. It’s one of my favorite images of the Salmon family, and I am thankful I was able to find it in my dad’s Bible.

All these “Photo Friday” images bring a flood of memories, and stories, and love. Love and light and grace and the beauty of life.

We are truly blessed – DEREK