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Miracle in a Hay Field: A Collection of Short Stories
Miracle in a Hay Field: A Collection of Short Stories
Miracle in a Hay Field: A Collection of Short Stories
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Miracle in a Hay Field: A Collection of Short Stories

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Born in 1926, Pastor Roger Burke has lived through the Great Depression, World War II and numerous other joys and challenges. Miracle in a Hayfield weaves together a lifetime of experiences and meaningful bible passages on relevant topics like family and marriage, dealing with death and illness, and faith in times of adversity.

Most of these stories were written weekly from July 11, 2004 until May 28th 2006 from personal experience for the First Baptist Church bulletin, Polk, Nebraska. The purpose for the stories was a kind of entre for the message of that day.

Other stories were written while I endured the pain of a pinched sciatic nerve as I waited from January 1 until February 11, 2010 for spine surgery. It is my sincere desire and prayer that the Lord Jesus will be honored through the stories and that you will find them a delightful and challenging resource for your inspiration and perhaps even a good laugh.

LanguageEnglish
PublisheriUniverse
Release dateNov 24, 2010
ISBN9781450274371
Miracle in a Hay Field: A Collection of Short Stories
Author

Roger Burke

Born and raised in Minnesota, Roger Burke started out as a mechanic and a carpenter before transitioning into a lifelong career as a Baptist Minister. Since 1947, he has served seven churches in Wisconsin, Minnesota and Nebraska.

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    Miracle in a Hay Field - Roger Burke

    Contents

    Introduction

    Special Recognition

    1. THE RUN-A-WAY

    2. ANXIETY

    3. THE HOUSE ON THE FARM

    4. GROWING UP POOR

    5. FIRE

    6. LAZY DICK

    7. Community

    8. PRESSURE POINT

    9. JESUS – SANTA

    10. BOILS

    11. THE REALITY OF DEATH

    12. THE BIKE ITCH

    13. OUR NEIGHBORS

    14. Paralyzed

    15. SALT

    16. SANITIZED

    17. DAD

    18. SOMETHING TO DO

    19. THANKS

    20. HARVEST TIME

    21. TROUBLE ON THE FARM

    22. THE STEAMER

    23. BALANCED

    24. A MAN

    25. FRIENDS

    26. HE MEANT ME

    27. PHARISEES

    28. THE WELL

    29. INSTRUMENTS OF JOY

    30. MIRACLE IN A HAYFIELD

    31. GET ON THE PLANK

    32. BAPTIZED

    33. REPORT FOR DUTY

    34. Blessed

    35. WHERE THE POWER IS!

    36. FORGIVEN

    37. A FAIR SHARE

    38. PERSPECTIVE

    39. DARKNESS

    40. MY MAN

    41. OUT OF THE PIT

    42. A ’36 NASH

    43. ALL TOGETHER NOW!

    44. SANFORIZED

    45. IT’S OKAY!

    46. GOING HOME

    47. THE JOURNEY

    48. TENACITY

    49. HUMILIATION

    50. THE BEST POLICY

    51. CRISIS!

    52. EASTER

    53. DECISIONS

    54. MY CHRISTMAS PRAYER

    55. SOMETHING NEW

    56. DECISIONS, DECISIONS

    57. CANADA HO!

    58. SEEING THE REALITY

    59. ONE FOR THE SHOW

    60. WHOM DO YOU LOVE?

    61. PRAYER POWER

    62. Antidote for Perplexity

    63. SAVED

    64. THE OTHER STAR

    65. SET FREE

    66. MEMORABLE WEDDINGS

    67. MAKING TRACKS

    68. THE TREES FELL

    69. FIRE!

    70. THE CHURCH

    71. FORGIVE ME

    72. THE ACCIDENT

    73. THE MIRACLE LADY

    74. SUFFERING

    75. DUBIOUS EXPEDITIONS

    76. THE ATHIEST AND FAITH

    77. BONDAGE

    78. HOPELESSNESS

    79. PRAYING FOR DEATH

    80. THE HOT SEAT

    81. GOD PROVIDES

    82. REVIVAL

    83. AMAZING WATER

    84. BONDING

    85. THE PLAYERS

    86. THE QUESTION

    87. EYES TO SEE

    88. FOLLOW ME!

    89. THE GAME

    90. WORDS!

    91. THE LIGHTNING BUG

    92. THE PEACH TREE

    93. COME AND SEE

    94. THE FAMILY

    95. LOOK AROUND

    96. AWESOME SOUND

    97. LEGACY

    98. THE STORY OF A HOUSE

    99. ME, A SHEPHERD?

    Introduction

    Most of these stories were written weekly from July 11, 2004 until May 28th 2006 from personal experience for the First Baptist Church bulletin, Polk, Nebraska. The purpose for the stories was a kind of entrée for the message of that day.

    Other stories were written while I endured the pain of a pinched sciatic nerve as I waited from January 1 until February 11, 2010 for spine surgery.

    It is my sincere desire and prayer that the Lord Jesus will be honored through the stories and that you will find them a delightful and challenging resource for your inspiration and perhaps even a good laugh.

    Read and enjoy!

    Roger Burke

    1.jpg

    The Partners (1+1=1)

    Roger and Wilma Burke

    Special Recognition

    I offer my heart felt tribute to my parents, Verdy and Geneva Burke, and grandparents, Joseph and Gladys Gruver, and George and Ellen Burke, who provided the material I needed to meet the one who is the foundation of life itself.

    I am grateful for Wilma, my loving and generous wife of 61 years, and the fruit of her womb: Marjorie, Doris, Timothy, Roxane, and Philip; plus the addition of 24 grandchildren and 29 (and adding) great grandchildren. I am especially grateful for the encouragement and help given by daughter Doris, the pictorial editor and grand daughter Brittany, & her husband Bobby, the editors in chief for this enterprise.

    Finally, I salute my Savior, in the words of a Gospel song, How rich I am since Jesus came my way redeemed my soul and turned my night to day, how rich, how very rich I am.

    Roger A Burke

    2.jpg

    Mom and dad’s wedding party. October 25, 1925

    (Evelyn Burke, Geneva Burke, Verdy Burke, Clifford Gruver)

    1. THE RUN-A-WAY

    My Dad and Mom were married on the 23rd of October 1925 and began as they called it back then, keeping house. Actually, they rented the Larson place about 2 miles west of Grandpa and Grandma Burke’s. They had a few cows and young stock, probably eight in total and Dad bought a perfectly matched team of dapple grey mares, named Polly and Katie (right off the prairie, unbroken and drugged).

    The horses began acting a bit strange about the third day, throwing their heads, etc. That evening, Dad decided to hook them to the bobsled and visit his folks. Mom and the dog were sitting on the sled as they drove to the end of the drive way where Dad got off to open the gate. No one knows what or why, but the horses turned away from the gate and at full speed headed across a small meadow. Mom fell off the sled in 50 feet or so, the dog stayed on until the plank box flipped off the bunks.

    The horses ran into a fence about 300 feet from the gate, one went down, and both were tangled in the wire. Dad cut all the wires but one and gave the cutter to Mom. He stood between the horses holding on to the bridles and said, Cut the last wire. When she snipped the wire the horses reared up and headed north with Dad suspended between them. He tried to climb on top of the neck yoke but it was bobbing up and down too crazily for him to make it. He tried to swing to the side, but the horses front legs batted him down. He knew they would straddle a stump or a tree and run the sled tongue through him. He thought, my only chance is to drop in the snow and hope I can go under the sled.

    He dropped, but a pin through the bolster clipped his head. It was dark enough so that Mom couldn’t see him. She kept calling his name but he didn’t answer until she was nearly hysterical, finally he said, Go to the house and heat some water. Then she knew he was hurt, but could only imagine how much. The horses traveled about a hundred feet after Dad dropped before they stumbled and ran the sled tongue into the ground. Dad caught up with them and managed to get them loose from the sled and the neck yoke off of one before they took off into the night.

    The next morning, when Dad opened the door of the house, the horses again headed away from him, out into the road, headed toward Grandpa’s. The nearest neighbor, Gus Brengelson, had a telephone and saw the horses running with the harnesses dragging and the neck yoke flopping. He called Grandpa and said, Verdy’s horses are coming your way, and they look like they’re running away. Grandpa headed them into a pasture where they were able to catch them.

    No one was ever able to break Katie and she was finally sold to a Fox Farm for fox food. We kept Polly and bought a Bay mare, named Dolly. They were an excellent and stable team. Dolly got Sleeping sickness when she was 32 years of age and died. Polly now 28, fell apart when Dolly died. She roamed the fences hour after hour, day after day, nickering for her partner. Finally the end was so obvious that Dad gave in and called the Fox farm; Take her, but don’t let me know when He told them. We were milking one morning when we heard the shot. We didn’t say a word but I saw the tears running down Dad’s cheeks and if anyone had looked my cheeks were wet too.

    Revelation 6:2 I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to Him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.

    2. ANXIETY

    Our family was having a discussion about memory. I said, I remembered going with Mom to a garage sale at a Mrs. Keene’s home. Mom said, I don’t think so. You weren’t two years old (1928).

    So to preserve my integrity I began describing in detail what I remembered. I remembered that the house was near the edge of town with a railroad track right next to it. I said, When we went inside it was a narrow room with an archway or big double doors with lots of stuff leaning against the walls. Mom stopped me and said, You remember it better than I do.

    The depression hit us in 1929, Dad had just bought the farm and times were tough. Yet, in spite of my good memory I do not remember my parents ever making me feel anxious about our situation. I know they talked to each other about land payments and groceries, shoes, overalls, coats and feed for the chickens pigs and cows. But I never felt like we might lose our home or may not have anything to eat or wear.

    I remember my Dad telling some of the neighbors when the worst of the depression was over (about 1938), how he and Mom had prayed and every time a payment was due, or an unexpected bill came, God faithfully supplied the need. I remember the tender loving way he praised God, giving the Lord full credit for the ability to clear the debt on the farm ahead of schedule.

    Dad and Mom’s tender loving care gave us good memories, teaching us not to be anxious about the things we couldn’t control and to trust the Lord implicitly for everything else.

    Philippians 4:6 Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

    3.jpg

    The Larson Place – My first home

    (Prunes, who was a friendly mut that was also part timber wolf, in the window box)

    4.jpg

    Roger and Prunes on the family farm

    (Purchased in 1928, brother Ken and sister Verly would be born here. Grandpa Burke’s farm is in the background)

    3. THE HOUSE ON THE FARM

    How do you get from point A to point B when there are no marked streets or avenues? That’s the way it was when I came into this world, August 1, 1926. The answer is by personal names and landmarks. I still remember some of those names, Luloffs, Burke’s, Berggren’s, Meyer’s, Knife Lake, Ann River, Alcohol Creek, etc.

    I was born on the Larsen farm about nine miles north-west of Mora, Minnesota, next door to the Hornes. The house, 24’ X 26’, divided ½ living room, the other ½ divided between kitchen and bedroom. It was a shack by today’s standards, but it was my first home. It had a path to the little house and no indoor plumbing. I lived in that house again in 1948. It was still the same shack. The gravel pit was still in the front yard, the toilet facilities were still in the house of many names (back house, biffy, outhouse, privy, two holer). The field mice had their own private entrance through a hole in the kitchen floor.

    We moved from the Larsen place in 1927 to the Berg place just across the road from Grandpa and Grandma Burke. The Berg house, similar to the Larson shack, was a temporary home for us as we waited to move to the farm Dad had purchased. Years later, 1936, give or take a few years, Dad purchased the Berg place. It was the house where Uncle Dick died. It would become a club house for my brother and I and some of our cousins. We pretty much ended its history.

    Sometime in 1928 we moved to the farm where I would spend the next 17 years and where my brother Ken and sisters, Elaine and Verly would be born. The farm buildings included a bungalow style barn, a chicken house, a granary and a house. The house was a two story, hip roof structure about 24’ by 26’ with a screened in porch on the west end and an enclosed entry across two thirds of the south side. The main house was kitchen, dining room, and front room with an area about 8’ by 12’ for a hallway, and pantry and a stairway that led to the three bedrooms upstairs. The lower level was a log structure, covered with beaver board and siding when the upstairs and porches were added. The logs and beaver board made a perfect home for bed bugs. We finally had to fumigate (cyanide, I think), and that solved the problem. We still had the path instead of a bath and until I was nearly through High School, the running water was available if you ran to fetch it.

    We added to the buildings a bigger chicken house, which we eventually moved and attached to the barn for a calf nursery and housing for the pigs. We also built a milk house/garage combo where we installed a 32 volt Delco generator for electricity. This is also where we positioned our DeLaval cream separator and coolers for the milk as well as our shop tools

    My parents and my brother have all gone home to be with the Lord, but my sisters and I still remember nostalgically those days back home on the farm.

    Joshua 24:15b But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

    5.jpg

    The original barn and two-year-old Roger

    (The barn was expanded to house about 35 head of stock)

    4. GROWING UP POOR

    The parsonage for my first Pastoral ministry was the house in which I was born. It gained its notoriety from the amenities it didn’t have: no indoor plumbing, no running water, no electricity, no basement and mice entering and exiting at their leisure.

    We moved from that place in 1927 to another shack before finally purchasing a farm in 1928. Then in 1929 the banks crashed. Money was as scarce as the proverbial hens teeth. Poverty was real. My mother’s folks had homesteaded 80 acres on property owned by the Ann River Logging

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