Introduction
Howdy, y'all! To readers, in East
Tennessee, don't we need more rain? It's been too dry, for too long!
Okay, that was my dry humor – on yet another partly cloudy day. I
reckon that the rain may come later this afternoon, as usual, unless
it goes around us again.
The inspiration, for this article,
comes from “The
Bull and Baseball,” on Blind Pig & the Acorn, by guest writer,
Garland Davis, 7/22/2022. Please pause reading here, to read
that article. It's down right funny! Garland Davis explains
how the bull “.
. . took up the shortstop’s position.”
His
words created a video image in my mind!
I commented, on that article, on 7/22/2022. Thanks, Tipper,
for publishing Garland's article!
This is Not the Bull
The
photograph, below, is not part of my story. It, however, may help you
imagine the video, which I hope that my story creates, in your mind.
The bull is not “in the barn!” He's
in the barnyard. That bull does look as big and mean – as the bull
that I hope that my mental image video creates for you.
My Hornets then the
Bull Story
The Setting
When I was a boy, Mom and Dad rented
the old Livesay place – just off dead man's curve, near Highway
11W. The old farm house had an upstairs and downstairs. The coal
furnace was in the unfinished basement. (Mom stored her canning, on
the basement shelves.) The pump piped spring water, from the spring
house to the house. (The spring house was about 100 yards or so, from
the house.) Dad heated with either coal or wood. (I busted up a lot
of coal and split a lot of wood.) The wood stove, in the living room,
and the coal or wood stove, in the kitchen, helped the furnace (when
it worked). We knew how to sleep under several layers of blankets in
winter. Mom and Dad moved us to our new home, in 1974, the year that
I started high school. The old Livesay place served Mom, Dad, and us
four boys. (My youngest brother was born in 1973, so he doesn't
remember the Livesay place very well.)
The Livesay homeplace was part of the
Livesay farm. I had a lot of fun, roaming the fields and hills. Two
barns, another barn, for tractors and such, a smoke house, a chicken
coop, and an old two-seater outhouse were meant for exploring –
well, except the outhouse. We had indoor plumbing.
I'm the eldest of four boys. I was
lucky to have two guys, my age, nearby. We all lived within a few cow
fields of each other. One of the guys had a younger brother, who was
about the age of my brother, who is next to me in age. The five of us
boys hiked, camped, built a couple of tree houses, jumped our
bicycles across cow ponds, swung on grapevines, skated on iced ponds,
snow sledded, had firecracker and BB gun wars, had tobacco stick
wars, in barn rafters, and had a lot of fun together. I'm surprised
that we survived childhood.
The “Jump from the Barn
Loft” Game
One game that we played was “jump
from the barn loft.” One of the barns had ladder, to climb up to
the loft. The loft had a door (usually open) that opened, to the
ground below (where humans, cattle, tractors, and wagons could come
and go). Through that door, hay bales could be tossed, from the
ground, up to the loft, or visa versa. The drop, from the loft to the
dirt below, was about six feet or so – as well as I can remember.
My buddies and I played “jump from
the barn loft” often enough. It was fun! Sometimes, we played tag,
while doing it. Often, in a who got tagged order, we'd form a line
and take turns, jumping from the loft to the ground below. We'd go
back around, climb back up, and jump again – several times –
until we got tired.
My Last Jump
On a fine, sunny, summer day, the five
of us boys were hard at our game! We'd been at it a while. It was
getting close to noon, dinner time (or “lunch,” as Yankees call
it). Mom had vittles for us. We were hungry.
I was the last to jump. My buddies had
already jumped and headed to the house. Alone, I must have been
piddling around, a while. (Start your mental
video recording now.) Finally, I smacked the top of the loft,
with my left hand, before I jumped. I remember yelling “Geronimo!”
I was feeling my oats!
The Hornets then the Bull
I don't know why that we hadn't seen
the hornets nest, up in the dark, left corner! I had smacked their
nest. The hornets came after me, as I landed on the ground.
The bull, standing a few feet away,
also greeted me. (We had been warned, to watch out for him, but we
hadn't seen him.) I saw him, about a second after I'd jumped! He was
standing, near where I'd landed, looking mean. He dug one front hoof
into the dirt. He snorted.
I took off running, from the barn,
through the field, and toward the house! The fence line was about 20
yards, away from the barn. The house was about another 50 or so
yards, from the fence line. The hornets stung me a few times. The
bull chased me. I could hear him snort – as I ran -- while the
hornets were stinging me.
I out ran the bull and slid, under the
barbed wire fence, just in time. (Our dogs, Bandit and Blackie, had
dug out that spot, under the fence, so that they could crawl
through.) That effort had saved me, from the bull!
The hornets were still after me. I had
to jump over a gate, to get to the gravel road that led to the house.
(Usually, I'd climb over the gate. I managed to jump over it that
day!) I ran, into the kitchen, through the open screen door. I recall
hollering, “Open the door! Hornets are chasing me!”
Someone held the door open. The metal spring closed the door
automatically, once I was inside. That stopped the hornets. Hornets
bounced against that screen door, a while, but they flew off,
eventually.
Mom, bless her heart, treated my hornet
stings – about four or five, mostly on my neck and head. I ate
dinner, finally. I had to take it easy, a couple of days, while Mom
treated the hornet stings, until they healed. My buddies and I didn't
play “jump from the barn loft” a while – if we ever did again.
(You may turn off your mental video recording.
Be sure to save the tape!)
Conclusion
Over the years, I have told, many
times, my “the hornets then the bull” story. I've told it to
young folks – at youth rallies, at church camps, and so forth –
to make a spiritual point, which I will do next.
The inspired apostle Peter wrote
(emboldening added, for emphasis):
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that
he may lift you up in due time.
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
Be alert and of sober mind.
Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion
looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in
the faith, because you know that the family of believers
throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory
in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself
restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the
power for ever and ever. Amen. (1 Peter 5:6-11, NIV)
The inspired
James wrote (emboldening added, for emphasis):
Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will
flee from you. (James 4:7, NIV)
I “resisted” those hornets and that
bull – by running away quickly! My “resistance” did not force
the hornets and the bull, to flee from me. I had to flee from them!
The devil, or Satan, is a “roaring
lion,” who wishes “to devour” us. Satan, however, is not as
powerful, as we sometimes think that he is. When we submit to God,
cast our cares on Him, endure suffering a little while, and resist
the devil, then Satan will run away from us! Yes, Satan may
“devil” us plenty, but it will be only a little while – when we
think in the everlasting perspective.
Lord, my faith stands firm and
trusts in you! Devil, I resist you, by faith in Christ, so tuck tail
and run away from me! Satan, you lose. God wins. I stand firmly with
the winning team.
Y'all are welcome to share my “hornets
then the bull” story – either just for fun or, more importantly,
to help folks tell the devil to go run off somewhere else and to
leave them alone! That lying Satan will flee from folks, who submit
to God and resist the devil.