Proverbs up Close and Personal: The Word to the Wise: Volume 3

By Mary K. Turkington

You’ll love the span of years covered in this book. 200 easy-to-read pages, these life stories start back in the Great Depression of 1929 and cycle right on through 2020. Though the advancements made through this last century were beyond the imagination of those early days, people themselves are faced with many of the same dilemmas faced in the 1920’s--on steroids! However, the Lord God is ever the same and has known exactly what would happen and when. In each generation, He has provided according to our needs. Read the stories of how He has given strength and courage to His children, and about His patience and love as He draws people to Himself. Find yourself relating to the problems of so many years ago which in some cases mirror the mess we find ourselves in today. But God is good. Experience peace and comfort within as you read and enjoy these true to life stories and see how God is there waiting to bless you even in the midst of the storms of life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664203105

Mary K. Turkington

Mary Turkington’s enthusiasm for Proverbs shines forth in the trilogy written concerning this biblical book of wisdom. Proverbs Up Close and Personal, gives a view of how intimately the Lord can be involved in our lives, giving us practical advice for our closest relationships. You’ll love reading stories taken from lessons she’s learned in her own life’s journey.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Whoever oppresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker,

but whoever is kind to the needy honors God.

−Proverbs 14:31

I was a Depression baby, born in 1934 when things were starting to improve. I don’t remember the worst of times, but Mom told me stories of the horrible experiences people suffered through as so many lost all they had, and many of them (such as my parents) were too proud to go on welfare, if indeed there was such to go on.

My parents had lost their house that Daddy had built himself, and one of the houses they had rented for a while had rats. My mom’s brother, who was a contractor, died. My dad, who had been employed by him, was out of work. He managed to get a job with a coal/ice company, delivering coal in the winter to heat the homes and ice in the summer to fill the ice boxes in which families kept their goods before the introduction of the refrigerator.

To those of you much younger than I, this is undoubtedly hard to imagine, and you young’uns might find it interesting to know that the ice boxes weren’t like modern coolers made of plastic that you throw heaps of ice cubes in. Rather, they were wooden boxes lined with metal having a small drain in the floor of the area where the ice was placed. A receptacle was placed underneath that drain to catch the water as the ice melted. Connected to the ice compartment was another compartment where the food was placed. The ice came in large blocks that the ice men carried with big metal tongs. As I remember it, they had a sort of rubber shield on their back to insulate them from the cold.

Unfortunately, along with losing a precious baby from pneumonia in the early days of the Great Depression, Dad slipped and broke his leg while delivering ice, and was unable to work at all for a while. They still had a little girl and a baby boy to care for, and life looked very bleak for them. Newspapers were filled with stories of wealthy people who were committing suicide as they saw their riches evaporate.

In those days milk delivery was prevalent and most people, at least in our little town, availed themselves of this service. Mom said our milkman’s name was Mr. Grasso. He owned a large dairy farm. During that period of time, he graciously continued to bring milk to our door with only the assurance from my parents that he would be paid as soon as Daddy could work again. When Daddy did recover enough to work, he got a job with Mr. Rimmelle (that spelling may not be correct, was pronounced Rim’-mel-ee) at Rimmelle’s Grocery Store. It was only part time but in addition to the employees’ pay, because no stores were open on Sunday, the employees on Saturday night were invited to fill a bag with vegetables, fruits, and other perishables which would not be fresh enough to sell on Monday.

Daddy would wait until the other employees got their produce and then take what was left. Mr. Rimmelle noticed him doing that one Saturday night and asked him why he didn’t get in there and get some of the food that was in better condition. Daddy told him that he realized he was only part time and that he felt the others had priority over him. Mr. Rimmelle was amazed at Dad’s response, and from that Saturday on, Mr. Rimmelle himself picked out the perishables for Dad before anyone else had a chance.

Although Mom’s faith remained strong through those tough days, Dad’s wavered. In fact, at the time Bebe (my sister who died before I was born) passed away, he became very bitter toward God. Not only did his precious little girl die, but he did not have the funds to bury her. (Of course, he did get a plot in a cemetery, for which perhaps the cemetery accepted an IOU.)

As the country started to recover, I was born and a few years later our country became involved in World War II. Dad was hired by a contractor building a blimp base. From that point on, I don’t think he ever lacked work as he easily found jobs with contractors who were looking for a good carpenter.

Years passed and Dad’s heart softened toward God, no doubt because Mom’s prayers continued. In spite of numerous other hardships they faced as they raised their family, long before Dad died he found peace with God, often reading His Bible in the evening. One of the last times I was with him in the hospital, he asked me to read from his Bible, and I read Psalm 91 to him. He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty … It pleased him to know that this psalm was a favorite of his Aunt Clara, my favorite great-aunt.

As I recall this story, I can’t help but think how God used Mr. Grasso and Mr. Rimmelle to show God’s love. I do believe that the kindness exhibited by these two men had an impact on Daddy’s life, and along with Mom’s prayers and the other provisions God made for our family, he was drawn back lovingly into the fold. What a blessing it is when we are kind to the needy for Jesus’ sake. I thank God for those men who brought to life Proverbs 14:31, particularly the second part: but whoever is kind to the needy honors God.

Prayer: Gracious Lord, Thank You for the many times You have used others to show Your loving-kindness and care. May I, too, become Your messenger of love to those I meet who need a helping hand or a listening ear. In the name of Jesus, Love personified, I pray. Amen.

Chapter 2

She opens her arms to the poor and

extends her hands to the needy.

−Proverbs 31:20

By the time I was old enough to recall things, we were living in a nice neighborhood. No one had a lot because we had just come through the Great Depression; however, everyone kept their property nicely, the lawn mowed, and usually a little vegetable garden. In fact, they were called victory gardens, for everyone who had the space was growing at least a few vegetables in an attempt to help in the war effort (World War II).

Those were the days when some foods were rationed. Being a sweetaholic, I especially remember that sugar was one of those items. Everyone was issued books of stamps that had to be used in purchasing the rationed foods. (Without them, you were unable to buy those items.) This was true of gasoline and other fuels, as well. We also had to practice air raid drills in school in the event the enemy should attack. I can remember some nights lying awake as I heard planes flying overhead, wondering if a bomb was going to fall. Everyone had to have dark curtains or shades they could pull over their windows at night so that there was no light which would aid the enemy in knowing where the towns and cities were located.

In spite of this background of unease due to the war, there was still a feeling of safety for the most part. Neighbors were friendly and ready to give a hand to one another, if needed. Schools were safe havens. Generally, the worst thing that happened in the small towns that dotted the country was that someone got drunk and had to be picked up by the police for being a nuisance.

It may have been that I was too young to hear about it, but in those days, cancer was not something that you heard discussed. It seemed rare. However, the mother of a neighborhood friend, Eleanor, who was a few years younger than I, developed the dread disease. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’m sure the adults considered this a death sentence. As far as I know, there hadn’t been a lot of research at that point, and there were no cures.

As Eleanor’s mother became more ill, Mom learned about her cancer and began to take food over so Eleanor’s mom didn’t have to try to prepare meals for her family. Apparently, Eleanor’s father had better things to do than care for his wife or Eleanor, and although he had a local business, he was seldom home. I never heard my mom say anything to the neighbors about this (in fact, I never heard her gossip), but sometimes when she didn’t realize I could hear, she would tell my dad about this man and his unpleasant attitude toward his wife when he did show up.

Finally, Eleanor’s mom became completely bedridden, and Mom would go over several times a day to be with her. At the end, Mom would spend the nights with her until she finally passed away. (Her husband had gone missing in this time of need.) It was a very sad time, and I always felt sorry for my friend.

As a child, I took for granted that my mother would do such things. She had a kind heart and truly loved the Lord. Other friends were very giving also, and it wasn’t until I grew up that I realized how blessed I was to have parents and friends who were so caring.

This world has changed a lot since that time. I see, hear, and read about how dangerous it is even for children in school these days. A police presence or some kind of protection is needed to be in place to prevent harm to our young people.

However, God is still on His throne, and although the world has become fraught with all sorts of evil, which was almost unheard of in our communities in bygone days, nevertheless, there are still many good, God-fearing people who love their neighbors and go out of their way to help others. I am so grateful that God gave me parents who loved Him and loved their neighbor—for a mom and dad who went above and beyond to care for others, who made the Word of God not just a book to read, but a book to live by.

May this little verse I’ve penned remind us of ways to care and become a living prayer as we act them out in our daily lives.

A cup of soup, a friendly smile,

A gentle touch makes life worthwhile.

A minute to say, How’re you doing today?

Brings joy to others along the way.

A prayer alone or with another

Can help your sister or your brother

God wants us all to be His own,

To know that we are not alone.

His hands and feet, we’re asked to be,

To share His love, so rich and free.

Lord, I pray, within me live

To give to others as You give.

Chapter 3

He who walks with the wise grows wise, but a

companion of fools suffers harm.

−Proverbs 13:20

Who is more foolish than a wayward child? No matter how hard a parent tries, as little children we will make foolish choices—and we are often encouraged in this by other foolish children.

I look back to my elementary school days. I think I was perhaps in third or fourth grade—old enough to know right from wrong, but contrary enough to go ahead and choose the wrong if it seemed like fun at the time. One of my best friends was the son of our pastor, full of mischief—not mean, just typically adventuresome with a tendency to get into things he shouldn’t get into. In spite of his escapades, my parents liked Ronnie (my brother’s name was also Ronnie, so don’t get confused if you see that name again in another place). They always welcomed Ronnie into our home. In those days you didn’t have to worry about predators, so we were allowed to roam pretty much as we liked as long as we were where we were supposed to be at mealtimes, etc. We didn’t go very far but stayed generally in the perimeter of our homes which were maybe less than a half-mile distant from one another.

We had trees to climb (yes, I was a tom-boy), and marbles to shoot. There was a wide area of cemented driveway in front of the duplex where we lived, wide enough for two cars to park side by side and probably long enough for the length of 3 cars, if parked one behind the other. Many of the neighborhood kids came to skate with their strap-on-over-the-shoes roller skates. The side yard was a good size and butted up to the yards of other neighbors, so the shared area between them made a pretty good place for a game of softball. That same yard was a little sunken in and when the weather got cold before the snow came, it would rain and the water would lay on the frozen ground and itself freeze into quite a decent-sized pool where the other kids would come to ice skate.

The kids most of the time were pretty good kids, but still kids, and I remember one of the older boys, Frank, loved to climb the big old leafy trees growing between the sidewalk and the road out front. This was in the days when people respected their parents and authority in general, and most mischief was pretty innocent. When Frank was well hidden in one