Life, Dirt, Dust and Jesus – Ken Williams

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Since becoming elderly I have been writing in my journal with my age and health in view. A friend suggested I share such thoughts with others, admitting my life is returning to the dust I came from while being grateful for the presence of eternity here and now. This is made possible by remaining focused on Christ alone, grace alone, and faith alone.

Speaking of dirt, dust, and Jesus, my father John Perkins Williams trusted God despite his many plans returning to dust. He passed on wisdom to me that have made life worth living no matter how “dusty” things become.

Dad was born April 15, 1900, in Iberia, Miller County, MO. He and his family nearly returned to the dust in the Great influenza epidemic, 1918-1920. Neighbors cared for them and kept them alive. After this, dad contracted pneumonia three times keeping him out of WWI where many were buried in the dirt.

Dad took advantage of gaining a college education, becoming the first in our family line as far back as the 18th century. He graduated with an associate’s degree from the Iberia Academy and Junior College. He excelled in advanced calculus and accounting. He taught mathematics and became an accountant. He prospered and saved his money during the 1920s. He had plans.

Toward the end of the 1920s he bought a cattle ranch near Liberty, Kansas. The Great Depression destroyed businesses, but not dads. His Black Angus cattle ranch provided food and remained profitable. His well-laid plan was succeeding! The Great Influenza pandemic turned his plans to dust but he survived. The Great Depression didn’t hinder his plan but then came the Great Dust Bowl that blew his ranch away. He and his cattle nearly starved to death. He was 6’ 2” and weighed 135 lb., a loss of 50 lb. He paid people in Texas to accept his herd and paid for shipping freight. He moved his parents and siblings to California where there was work.

The third “Great” left him penniless and starving, but not to death and dust.

Dad was not a church going man but trusted God. He didn’t ask, “where is God in all this?” and he didn’t succumb to self-pity. Age thirty-eight he started focusing on his dream of owning some dirt and owning his own business. California had jobs and he went to work cleaning sewers, salvaging the fatty materials for soap and processing castor beans to make castor oil. He and his family were sheltered and received their daily bread with gratitude.

More well laid plans and dust followed

When WWII started, he found work in the San Pedro shipyards in Long Beach, Southern California. He advanced to become superintendent of a crew of fellow shipbuilders and saved his money. He met and married my mother, and in 1943 had twin boys, Johnnie and Joel. They died soon after birth and my parents buried them in a Belflower, California cemetery, dirt and dust. Mom expressed her feelings openly. She was creative, musical, poetic, and alternately given to outward expression of her anger. She entered a prolonged, damaging depression. Dad kept his feelings to himself. His poker face gave him an advantage in poker but not in marriage. He stuffed his grief. Mom and dad withdrew from one another, and this ultimately ended their marriage.

I was born March 14, 1945, at the end of WWII. Dad’s shipyard employment ended, and he used his savings account to buy a used car business. Returning WWII veterans increased the demand for the car market. The “boom and bust” nature of this business led to congressional intervention and turned dad’s used car lot into dust by late 1940s or early 1950s. Broke and unemployed, he took a job driving a laundry truck serving hotels in and around Pasadena, California. He accepted a superintendent’s position at the L.A. Dry Kiln. There were eleven such businesses in Los Angeles. Ten died the following years. He was the last but, more dust.

Dad experienced more life, dirt, dust, and a deeper relationship with Jesus until he died April 17, 1982. He lived his last three years with Nancy and me, attending church service regularly for the first time in his life. This speaks more to his commitment to God than to what he gleaned at his church. Dad’s resilience came from an unseen presence of Jesus. He did not quit. He suffered many times, including the failure of his 2nd marriage, but didn’t allow self-pity to distract him from his lifelong optimistic view of life, opportunity to learn from mistakes, and commitment to God, assured he was with him by grace alone.

To be continued. What I learned from dad and how I applied his lessons.

Ken and Nancy Williams served for some 25 years in pastoral ministry, and then almost another 20 years serving and mentoring other pastors.  With the heart of a pastor Ken continues to write and blog from upstate New York where he and Nancy live close to their grandchildren.