Slate Creek, Love Garden

By Bruce Wayne Niles

This book was designed and written with three types of people in mind. First, the individual that likes a morally-based humorous relationships and light-easy reading.Second, the person that likes puzzles, twists and turns, plays on words, and is trying to anticipate where the author is going next. The book is designed in little sections with the hint of what may be coming in that section even though sometimes they are very bad hints. See if you can figure out how the hints fit in.And third, people may use it to spark small group discussions dealing with topics like, does our past make us what we are today? Morals, personal relationships, faith, seeing GodaEUR(tm)s guidance, communicating with people, can we be happy in this life? Do we need to stand on someoneaEUR(tm)s shoulders to stand out in a crowd?God bless and enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781098054151

Book preview

1

First and Second

Little did I know, or even imagine, that a little slate creek could play such a large part in one’s life…but it did. In fact, I do not remember it ever not being a part of my life. I know some people think it is a crick, but in this part of the country, it is creek.

First thing I remember is getting spanked with a willow switch for doing what I was told not to do and that was: do not go in the water. My dad (Wayne) was a believer in the Bible verse, Spare the rod and spoil the child. I know now that he disciplined me because he loved me, and I was too young to know, think about, or understand the danger of going in the water of the slippery Slate Creek.

The creek we lived near had a spot on the bank with an old log and a path down to the log made by my parents. They liked setting on that log and enjoying the beauty of the outdoors, reading, talking, and just being together. They watched all the wildlife that would come out as they quietly sat there. There were deer, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, woodchucks, ducks, geese, and a lot of land birds they identified by using a field guide bird book.

The second thing I remember has taken place at the old log spot. It was when I was eight or nine years old. I was permitted to run around and play while my parents sat quietly, enjoying the tranquility of the spot and the outdoors.

Mother. Bruce, do not go over by the creek.

I knew I wasn’t allowed to go into the water. I had been allowed to go over near the water if I stayed on the bank of the creek. Mother must have meant something else other than just not to go over by the creek bank.

I was trying to get a flying grasshopper and ran to the bank of the creek.

Mother. Bruce, do not go over near the creek. Did you hear me? I’m not telling you again.

Dad sat there quietly and did not say a thing.

Well, if she’s not going to tell me again and there’s no punishment for doing it, then I can do it. It was not very long after she told me the second time not to go near the creek that I went over by the creek bank again.

I found it. What a great find. This is what she was trying to keep me from finding. I thought, I know why she didn’t want me going by the creek. It is close to Easter, and somebody has already hidden some eggs for us to find at an Easter egg hunt. These were bigger than any eggs I’d ever seen, and there was a number of them, six or eight or more, lying there on the ground.

I did not have time to count them. I was about to pick one up when I heard a horn honk behind me. There are no roads down by the creek. There can’t be a car down here. Why do I hear a horn honking? If you ever hear a horn honking when you are looking at a bunch of eggs, turn and run away from them as fast as you can; you are about to die.

The Good Book says to honor your father and mother that your days may be long. Knowing this, the opposite would be true also if you dishonor or disobey, then your days would be shortened.

Could I be about to get hit by a car? Could I be about to die? Because I was disobeying my mother as I was? Yes, it was because of a mother. Not my mother—a mother goose.

No. Not the Mother Goose of the collection French fairy tales and English nursery rhymes that teach you things about life. I did learn about life. I did think I was about to die by what seemed to me, at that time, to be a monster mother goose. She had to be as big as a horn blowing fire truck, and her wings were flapping. She was honking and charging at me. I knew I was going to be killed. I was going to die. I could not get away from there fast enough.

My mother and dad, for some strange reason, thought it was humorous and laughed as I was going to die by a monster goose. I did not die as I am the one telling you now about the thing I remember.

2

Stick Over Water

Sitting on the old log and reading with my parents did not happen to me as often as I grew older. I read stories about a big ark that held two of every kind of animal, fish that swallow people, a man that slept in a den with man-eating lions, and water that would part so you could walk to the other side on dry ground. You know, it had to be dry slate, not dry ground.

Many times, I wished I could part the water in Slate Creek and go to the other side. Later on, it became more important for me to get to the other side of Slate Creek. But for now, I was content to run around after the wildlife. Best of all was throwing stones in the water. What boy does not like the splash of a stone hitting the water?

I wanted to become good at throwing or slinging stones because one of the other stories my mother read to me was about a little boy named David that killed that great big giant warrior with a stone in a sling. He must have been good at slinging stones. I didn’t know what slinging stones was at that time in my life.

I practiced throwing stones. I wanted to be good at throwing stones in case I was ever attacked by a big bad giant. The very, very best was when my dad taught me to skip stones across the top of the water. I became very good at skipping stones.

In my early teens, I was permitted to go down to the creek by myself. By then, I could swim but not in the creek, at least, not by the old log.

The water there was only four to six inches deep most of the year, too deep for a small boy that could not swim. But at age thirteen, I was five foot six and a one quarter inches tall. That quarter inch is important to a young man.

I did learn why my dad was concerned about me and the Slate Creek. Slate is very slippery when it is wet. More than once in over three or four years, I would come home all wet from trying to get to the other side of the creek. I tried to part the water by holding a stick out over the water, but it did not work for me like it did for Charlton Heston in the movie Ten Commandments, an epic religious drama film.

When I was fifteen, I made up my mind that this was the year I was going to get to the other side over wet slate or by parting the water. Sometimes God gives us goals to overcome things we think, like, I cannot get through this. It is too hard. My mother said that God gives us goals that are just out of our reach. He will give us the desire to work to meet those goals because we can do more than we think we can. If we will trust Him and do our best, in time, we will see that it is good for our growth, and we can be an overcomer of hard things.

That summer, the desire was given to me to cross the Slate Creek and get to the other side. It would be very, very important to get to the other side of Slate Creek.

3

When You Are Alone

It was the first part of May, and I was down at my spot on Slate Creek, skipping stones. I am pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. Thinking I was the only one there to count the skips, I began counting each stone’s skips aloud to a total of six, nine, eleven, eight, ten, and fifteen. My all high was eighteen.

After skipping a good count of thirteen, I heard a shrill whistle from the opposite shore. I looked to see who it was. I am telling you, I can be wrong a lot of the time as I was about to learn.

Bruce. Hi, guy. What do you want?

Pat. Can you teach me to bump stones on the water like that? And don’t call me a guy. IR a girl.

Bruce. Girls can’t whistle like that, and you don’t look like a girl. (I learned I was wrong on both counts. She could whistle and she is a girl with her long blond hair tucked under a ball cap.)

Pat. My name is Patricia, but you will not call me Patricia, or I’ll thump you hard. But you may call me Pat. I sit behind you in English class. We just moved into the house over here four weeks ago.

Bruce, thinking. Oooh, it cannot be English. That is my worst class. She is new to the school and one of the best students in English class.

The boys at school talk about her being so good looking, all the ones who do not have a girlfriend. Some of the boys with girlfriends think she is hot but would not say it out loud. She is cute, very cute. I cannot say hi to her in class, she is so attractive.

Today will go down as one of the best days of my life. A great looker talking to me. Why is she talking to me? Am I only dreaming? I can’t teach her to bump stones on the water. It isn’t bumping stones, it is skipping stones. But if I correct her, she may never talk to me again. I want to talk to her again and again and again.

Dad told me that honesty is the best policy. If someone does not want the truth or can’t accept it, get away from them. They will not give you the truth, and you should not trust them. I hope Dad is right, and God will work it all for good. I always tell the truth, no matter what the cost might be.

Wake up. She asked you a question.

It is called skipping stones. I can try to teach you, but you need to come over here on this