Hard Knocks and Blessings: As Told by a Pastor’s Wife of 67 Years: 50 Short Stories Including Childhood Memories with a Touch of Humor

By Lorene B. Williford

Hard knocks are not always detrimental as they can sometimes be blessings in disguise. This book of short stories takes the reader on a journey from farm life in the 1930s and 1940s to sixty-seven years as a pastor’s wife, mother, and administrator. The fifty short stories begin with some of the humorous experiences of the author while growing up on a farm in Missouri where her godly parents instilled in her the value of reaping the fruits of hard work, integrity, and good work ethics.
Balancing motherhood and supporting the ministry of her husband while holding secular positions had some challenges. It is hoped that readers of this book will find that the hard knocks we all encounter occasionally, even from Christians, can become blessings. Hard knocks, whether in secular workplaces or in religious settings, are often the Lord’s way of humbling us and teaching us some valuable lessons.
These stories will motivate laypeople in our churches to encourage and pray for their pastor, pastor’s wife, staff, and their families. Pastors may view hard knocks differently when they can view these as opportunities to bless their ministry with a renewed commitment to meet each challenge with a spirit of love and compassion. Secular workers will see that Christians can achieve success and advancement in the corporate world without compromising their biblical standards.
These short stories are laced with some humor that makes for an easy and entertaining read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888326626

Book preview

Adopted?

I was in the first grade when my best friend and I decided that I was adopted. We rationalized that since both of my parents had brown eyes and brown hair and I had blue eyes and blond hair, I had to have been adopted. Furthermore, my brother also had brown hair and brown eyes. It was an easy conclusion—I was adopted. This instigated a lot of questions in this six-year-old’s mind. Who were my real parents? Was my brother really my brother?

After school that day, the chores, supper, and conversations with my parents followed the normal routines without any questions from me regarding my adoption. After I went to bed that night, the conversation I had with my friend at school played over and over in my mind to the point that I became very emotional. My parents heard me sobbing from their bedroom. Mother came into my bedroom and asked what was wrong. Through my sobs, I told her that I knew that I was adopted. I related to her how my friend and I had arrived at this conclusion.

Mother crawled into bed with me and told me all the details about my birth. She explained that I was born in the house where we were still living. She told me how it had rained a lot of days before and that the road that went by our house was so muddy that Daddy had to take the horses and wagon a mile down the road to meet the doctor. He dropped Lewis, my brother, off at a neighbor’s house. The doctor got there in the nick of time and delivered a beautiful blue-eyed baby girl. He took the doctor back to his car and picked up my brother on the way back. She told me how Lewis was so excited to see his new baby sister that he jumped up and down for joy. She said that my daddy got on the party-line phone and announced to the neighbors that they had a baby girl.

I couldn’t wait to go to school the next day to tell my friend that my mother and daddy were my real parents and that I was not adopted. Instead, I had been born into a home with loving parents.

Devotions and Early Teaching

Breakfast each morning began with scripture reading, a daily devotion from the Sunday school quarterly, and prayer. At the time, I didn’t understand the impact this would have on my life. Getting up early to help milk the cows and hurriedly getting dressed for school, I was ready to eat breakfast! After I left home, a morning never passed without me visualizing my parents sitting at the breakfast table praying for me and my brother.

Breakfast was also a planning time. Daddy would discuss what he was going to do that day—plow the back forty, mow hay, cultivate the corn, fix fences, harvest the wheat, and so forth. Mother would likewise plan her day of washing and ironing, canning vegetables, sewing dresses for me, and cooking meals. Daddy was a planner and organizer. He carefully thought everything out before starting a project. In addition to being a farmer, he was also a carpenter. He built everything from cabinets to barns and then began building houses for people in the community. He would draw up his own house plans based on what people wanted. Everyone knew that when he built a house, it would be right. He never signed a contract to build a house as his word was all anyone needed.

Being raised on a farm was an experience that many children do not have. Looking back upon those days, I recall many memories, some of which, though taken seriously at the time, are quite humorous in retrospect. Some were lessons taught by my parents that instilled in me some values and work ethics that have gone with me throughout my adult life.

The Buck Sheep Ride

I had seen my dad being attacked by a buck sheep while tending to the herd of sheep, so I was very leery of getting in the sheep pen or going to the pasture where they were grazing. Even though my dad had gotten rid of the mean buck sheep and replaced him with a younger gentler one, I still didn’t trust the buck.

I was about five or six years old when I went with my brother to the pasture to bring in the cows and sheep to the barnyard. He told me to gather the sheep, and he would round up the cows. He had the easy job as he had a pony to ride. I told him that I was afraid of the buck sheep and asked him, But what if the buck comes after me?

Just jump on his back! he jokingly replied.

Being my big brother, I believed everything he said.

As I neared the area where the sheep were grazing, I kept my eye on the buck sheep. Sure enough, the buck started walking toward me. I expected him to start charging after me at any time. Fortunately, there was a big bush nearby, so I ducked behind the bush and waited for the buck sheep to appear on my side of the bush. As he came around the bush, he was only inches away from me, so I saw this as my chance. I grabbed him around the neck and threw one leg over his back, and off we went! The poor buck sheep was probably more scared than me as he went running as fast as he could toward the barnyard. I held on for dear life with my legs wrapped around his belly and nearly choking him with my arms tightly gripping his neck. I was yelling, Help! Help! as we were approaching the barnyard which got the attention of my brother on his pony and my mother as they both came running to my rescue. They had to catch the sheep as I wasn’t about to turn loose.

The buck sheep entered the sheep pen and circled around the pen as close to the wire fence as he could get, scraping my leg against the fence. They finally corralled the buck and got me off. Mother asked me why I had done such a crazy thing. Through my tears, I replied, ’Cause Lewis told me to.