In Straight Paths

by Georgia McCain

  * * * * *

  My husband and I have been close friends of the deceased, David Leo, and his precious wife, Corrine, for a number of years. I feel it an honor to be able to give a memorial address in his behalf to honor his godly life.

  Brother Leo was saved at the age of forty-one. The pastor of the Nazarene Church in his community, whom they called "Blackie" Edwards, brother of the former governor, Edwin Edwards (he is now the governor of Louisiana again at the time of this writing), took an interest in him and invited him to the Ft. Jessup Camp where Rev. H. E. Darnell was then conducting a revival. David Leo's wife and children had other plans that night. They were going to a movie where all the children got in free, so were looking forward to this entertainment. But their daddy made a choice that night and went to the camp with Brother Edwards. It was all new to him. "People were praying everywhere," he remarked later. But, thankfully for him the praying and straight preaching put him under conviction and shortly afterwards, he knelt by his bedside and gave his heart to God.

  About a year later he was sanctified wholly as he worked at his carpenter's job on Front Street. He told of being so happy and blessed at this time until a passer-by lady, remarked, "Something has happened to you."

  Yes, something had definitely happened to David Leo. His life had been transformed by the grace of God. In 2 Cor. 5:17 we read

  "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things have passed away: behold, all things are become new."

  Not only was there a change in Brother Leo's life, but there was a change in his home. Instead of taking his family to the movie theatre, he now took them to church.

  "We walked two and one-half miles one way to church," his wife told me, "A total of ten miles every Sunday. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, we went to church."

  Brother Leo sat on one end of the pew and his wife on the other, with nine children in between. What a beautiful sight this must have been to Almighty God, and to those who had prayed for and encouraged Brother Leo to get saved. One daughter added, "After Sunday school, some of the children of other families went outside to play. How we longed to follow them to have a big play, but Daddy never allowed us to go out. When our daddy spoke, we knew he meant what he said. He only had to speak once."

  A family altar was set up in the Leo home where devotions were held both morning and night. Brother Leo loved the old-fashioned way and hated every form of compromise. He held onto the old-fashioned principles of holiness until the end. Over and over in church or in the home, we have heard Brother Leo testify of his love for Christ and tell how good God had been to him. He loved the Bible and often quoted Scripture verses as we visited together.

  Brother Leo was a firm believer in prayer. His family mentioned how he would go every Saturday night after he got saved to meet with other men of like faith, to pray. I have heard him speak of fasting and praying for those he loved and carried a burden for. "Many times when I was alone," he stated, "I would spend time fasting and praying. I would walk back and forth through the house praying to God." Not long after my son, Kenny, had gotten saved, Brother Leo told him, "I pray for you every day." This meant a lot to him. He just recently mentioned it to me.

  As often as they could, the Leos would visit our little church at Tioga. Sometimes the song leader would ask, "Does anyone have a special selection they would like us to sing?" "Number 120," Brother Leo would always answer. "Is Not This the Land of Beulah?"

  As we would mingle our voices together in song, the tears would course down his cheeks as he lifted his hand in praise to God and said a hearty "Amen-Praise the Lord."

  And no wonder. Listen to the words;

  "I am drinking at the fountain where I ever would abide

  For I've tasted life's pure river and my soul is satisfied.

  There's no thirsting for life's pleasures nor adorning rich and gay

  For I've found a richer treasure, one that fadeth not away.

  Tell me not of heavy crosses nor the burdens hard to bear,

  For I've found this great salvation makes each burden light appear,

  And I love to follow Jesus, gladly counting all but dross,

  Worldly honors all forsaking for the glory of the cross."

  Yes, Brother Leo forsook all worldly pleasures and honors, and embraced the cross of Jesus. But today he has laid the old cross down and is rejoicing in Heaven because of the choice he made.

  His wife commented, "I haven't a doubt in my mind where David will go when he passes on. He lived the Christian life every day. It was all he talked about." She had utmost confidence in her husband, and who is any closer to you than your companion?

  Death did not slip upon him. He knew what he was facing, but he did not look on death as something fearful, mysterious and full of dread. Instead he thought of death as a glorious homecoming. I can almost hear him shout as he crossed over, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory." Brother Leo was looking forward to Heaven. He had no sad stories to tell. One came away encouraged after talking to him. I heard him say once, not long before he passed away, "I want to look up St. Paul and have a long talk with him. Paul went through a lot and I want totalk to him."

  In Numbers 23:10, we read, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." Thank God, what wonders await the righteous. Even now, Brother Leo might be knocking at St. Paul's mansion door. But whether he is or not, we know that he is having a wonderful time. We wouldn't want to call him back if we could. But, thankfully, we can go to him if we will choose the same path he trod, the path to Glory. It will be worth anything we have to give up here to make it to Heaven.

  In closing, let me tell you a true story:

  There was a wonderful Christian lady who lived in Georgia. She had three sons who marched off to war during the Second World War. She promised with tears running down her cheeks, to pray for them every day. While they fought on the battlefield, they were encouraged at mail time to receive a letter from their old gray-haired mother back home. She told them that every day she went to a special place of prayer up in the woods, and like Jacob of old, she would take a stone and place it in this special place as she prayed for her boys. The days passed and the monument of stones representing her prayers for her boys grew bigger and bigger.

  Then one day, the boys returned home. God had answered the burdened mother's prayers. But sad to say, the boys continued on in their sinful ways. But their mother had prayed that God would save them at any cost.

  Soon after the boys' homecoming, the faithful mother took sick and went to be with Jesus. After the funeral, the boys with laden steps, returned to their mother's home. Oh, how sad it was without her. How empty and lonely was her chair.

  As the boys sat in silence with bowed heads, they thought of how their mother had told them of the sacred place up in the woods where she had prayed for them. Somehow, there seemed to be a magnetic pull in that direction. Slowly, they arose one by one and walked up into the woods in search of their mother's place of prayer. There it was, a monument of stones deep in the woods. They could see the prints of her knees where she had knelt in prayer in their behalf. With subdued spirits and broken hearts, they knelt by the monument of stones and in deep contrition, they yielded their hearts to God. At last, Mother's prayers had been fully answered.

  Brother Leo, too, has built a monument of prayer for his unsaved loved ones. No, not a visible pile of stones, but an unseen monument of prayer. Day by day, the pile has been getting bigger and bigger. Now the last stone has been heaped onto the monument. His voice is stilled. He has prayed his last prayer for you.

  Will his prayers be answered? Will you meet him in the Glory World? He will be waiting for you. The choice is yours. Wouldn't it be wonderful, if just as his whole family marched up the road to church, if all of you would some day march up the streets of gold to meet your daddy on the other shore? What a wonderful homecoming that would be! Praise God forever! Let us purpose to m
ake it to Heaven.

  Georgia D. McCain

  A Poem to My Granddaughter in Nigeria

  My granddaughter, Carmen, daughter of Danny and Mary McCain, who are presently in missionary work in Africa, often pesters me to write another book, also poems. She enjoys writing poems herself, so I thought she might enjoy the following in answer to a letter she wrote me.

  Carmen, Carmen, A great task you have asked of me---

  To write a poem and send a letter, for don't you see

  I'm getting old and I'm very forgetful and slow,

  My mind gets all confused, plus I'm getting senile, you know.

  These excuses should be enough to get me off the hook,

  But since you insist, though I can't, at present, write a book,

  I'll work at the job of composing a poem for you

  And also, answer the letter that you wrote me, too.

  I certainly do appreciate you taking out the time

  To sit down and write your old grandparents a few lines.

  Even though your brother came in to tease and pester you,

  It didn't seem to affect your writing for you sure came through

  With an interesting letter that we surely did enjoy.

  We could never guess that you were being pestered by a boy.

  Anyway, I'm sure he meant no harm to you in any way at all.

  Your mirror probably just reflected him, so handsome and tall,

  Showing him why the girls you mentioned had flipped and fell.

  It must be that pretty hair of his, that handsome face as well.

  I had better quit teasing my grandson before I make him sad.

  I'm only having fun, Daniel, so take it and be glad.

  How is little sister, Laura, doing? Give her my regards.

  Tell her to write Grandma, too, at least a little card.

  Now back to your letter, Carmen, I'm really proud of you.

  Your grades are very good, the C+ in Algebra will just have to do.

  For "Algebra was invented to torture people." Now isn't that what you said?

  But, honestly, it's not so bad, is it? Or some folk would be dead.

  They usually come through like you did, when they have done their best,

  Though their grades may not be as good as you did on your Bible test,

  And English, Spanish, Typing, Choir and all your other grades

  Make me very proud of you, of how you've worked and what you've made.

  So let me congratulate you on your first year of High School.

  I guess by now your teacher knows the American is no fool.

  Now, let's get back to the rest of your letter

  And hope that what I say will do until I can do better.

  You asked if I had read the book, "Anne Of Green Gables,"

  No, I guess I haven't. I should add it to the rest of my fables.

  As for "Anne of Avonlea," I have never heard of such,

  But of course, by now you know I don't know very much.

  About my summer plans, they wouldn't interest you at all

  For there's been nothing exciting that's worthy to recall,

  Unless you like to hear of my picking blackberries, blueberries, peas and beans,

  Shelling, snapping, washing, putting in the freezer, a sight to be seen,

  Dishwashing, housecleaning, washing clothes and all that good stuff.

  Do you want to hear more? You're probably thinking, "Stop, that's enough."

  One thing of interest, I'm praying about taking a trip

  To Pennsylvania to a camp meeting, if one thing I could skip,

  And that is the plane ride of which I'm very much afraid,

  If it wasn't for that scary part, I would have it made.

  It's nice you're learning to drive, Carmen, but be careful as can be,

  For wrecks happen so fast, my dear, as some day you may see.

  I was in a terrible wreck when I wasn't much older than you

  And was disabled many weeks, but thankfully, I pulled through.

  But, hopefully, you'll be a safe driver, as careful as can be,

  And we'll pray to our Heavenly Father that a wreck you'll never see.

  I hope you enjoy your class, as "Hausa" you try to learn,

  But I'll stick with good old English, for as for "Hausa" I do not yearn.

  And when you come to see me, "Hausa," I don't care to hear,

  For I'm an English speaking lady, and "Hausa" is foreign to my ear.

  Your reports on Physical Science and "Atlantis," I would like to see.

  Maybe you can bring them when you come and read them both to me.

  You must inherit Paw-Paw's ability for the spelling of words,

  For he's the world's worst speller, I'm sure you've already heard.

  Now you're the one who said you weren't very good in spelling,

  But don't be discouraged, all of us have certain failings.

  Now about your adventure of walking in the dark,

  I think that you, Ruth and Maria weren't very smart.

  Take an old lady's advice and don't try that stunt again,

  Or next time you may not escape without a little pain.

  I'm glad to hear you're planning to write a book some day,

  Keep that vision before you and never let it get away.

  It's so rewarding to see a book you write in print

  And to receive letters commenting on its contents.

  Just recently I received a letter from a lady in another state,

  Who read my book and got back to God, this she did relate.

  I appreciate all the poems you sent, you are quite a poet,

  But I shouldn't brag on you for you already know it.

  I love to compose poems when it is as easy as it is tonight,

  But sometimes nothing seems to rhyme or to come out right.

  But in spite of the struggles, I have many poems stashed away,

  And when you come to visit me, we'll read them all some day.

  I'd like to write another book, I want to write on prayer,

  But when I take my pen in hand, the thoughts are just not there.

  I guess my age is part of it, My busy life is against it too,

  So it's doubtful if I'll ever write again, I just don't know what to do.

  Folks don't understand, you see, they think all I have to do

  Is pick up a pen and start to write and the Lord will see me through.

  But I can't seem to get going anymore, so I guess it's time to quit

  Though God helped me on my other books or I never would have made it.

  Well, Carmen Dear, it's late at night, and I must go to bed,

  If I don't get some sleep tonight, tomorrow I'll feel nearly dead.

  Thanks again for writing us, it sure did make our day,

  I hope my answer satisfies you and you won't throw it away.

  Keep it for your scrapbook, it will be fun to read these lines,

  For it's not likely you'll get another for a LONG-LONG-time.

  Oh, I don't want to forget to wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

  May you have many more. This is all I have to say.

  Much Love and Prayer,

  From here to over there.

  To Miss Carmen Ruth McCain

  From Me-Maw (last name the same)

  P.S. Please excuse all mistakes,

  I'm not a typist so errors I make.

  A Mother's Day Composition

  Though the following article may deviate from the main line of thought in this book, yet I felt I should include it. This, also, was written by the author, for a church paper in honor of Mother's Day.