A grandfather tells of his early days No 2

 Thank you Andrew for suggesting that I record   my experiences during boyhood and young manhood.

Before the age of five, we shifted from Quorn to 11 shipster street, Torrensville, living with our grandfather and Mother Dunning.   We attended the Church of Christ Mile End, where Bart Manning , one of the great preachers of the second coming of the Lord pastored.   He became a dear friend, who invited me while doing medicine to preach in his church in North Adelaide, and a generation later invited John to preach as a third generation of bible preachers.   Pa Beiler, my dear wife’s father, had ministered for some years. This dear pastor Bart influenced me deeply, always encouraging me.

I went to Kilkenny school near the drapery shop built in front of our home.   My name was changed by deed poll from George (the former Archbishop of Adelaide was from our family tree); to Steward.   It seemed the reasonable change, especially with Murray and Maureen born of the new relationship with Mother and my dad. We never referred to him as a step-father.   Murray read the Scriptures one night when I preached, from which he went to the Royal Aust Air Force and I to the medical section of the army.

From the earliest days I longed to know a father’s love, and God graciously supplied that when Mother and I became parents of the beautiful children, with which the Lord blessed our relationship.   When Dad died, he generously provided a home for Murray and Maureen, who protested that I and my siblings had been excluded.   Until Dad’s passing, Maureen had not realized we were not full brother/sister, although I carried her on my shoulders for years.   ‘ Harbar;’ she called me.   And still does!

I have gone to school bare-footed, leaving my footprint in a concrete moulding on the Port Road, which presumably is still intact.   I did so because many of the children could not afford shoes during the depression, However, we had all needful for life, during those exacting days.   Food, clothing, footwear, Mother’s strong love and security in a home setting.    Dad worked industriously in his drapery round.

On an ancient bike, costing 35 shillings, I delivered parcels most nights to Wingfield and Plympton.   The riding built up my triceps, especially with the six years riding into the medical school from Broadview. When I was chastised for misbehavior, I was beaten , a practice against which my dear grandmother protested as unwise.   ‘ Harrold, is not a naughty boy, and should be beaten on the botty not the head.   She was my mediator with wisdom that amazed me as a boy.  A Godly gentle-woman.   I was taught to forgive early in life, not knowing that John would major on this in his Rwandan journey.

I do not hold resentment to my Dad , for Mother and Grandma had taught me to love those who care for us.   After our return from Java, my Dad had a coronary which hospitalized him for 3 months, when he asked me to call on him, which I did lunchtime between consults. Years later, a   coronary bypass would have restored him.   One day I found Mother/Dad singing ‘Jesus loves me, this I know , the bible tells me so’.   Dad came to the Lord and we’ll see him one day in glory.   I’ll thank him for a home and shelter/education during depression days.

One of the few family features was listening to the Australian, English test matches by radio, while lying on a mattress in the sitting room.   Radio had become well-established, and cricket broadcasts were one of the main entertaining features.   One by one we drifted off to sleep before stumps at about 3:30 am.   I set the fire each night for my Mother, using newspaper, deal and split timber available once the fire had caught on.   

Bradman and McCabe batted through those years.  I often watched the great Sir Donald Brad man bat at the Adelaide Oval through an entire day, without lifting the ball once.

Sunday mooring we faced alternatives: a trip in the new Austin to a swim at the beach; or a walk to York church of Christ with Mother.   Although loving swimming, I strongly supported Mother and enjoyed her company, walking over paddocks, which today are residential.  Mother had a strong faith in the Lord: I loved her dearly; and it seemed the right thing to accompany her.    Sunday school, Christian Endeavour, a world-wide stirring among young people, which God marvelously used until recently, morning and evening services filled each Lord’s Day.  God gave faithful bible teachers who reinforced what my dear Mother and grandparents had taught.  I shall ever be grateful for the Lord’s provision.  Foundations of faith were laid.

I reluctantly was taken to Horse racing and trotting.   As a boy, I avoided these visits where possible, and rebelled at the evidence of money-loving. Bookmakers, and the alcohol freely available.

The gambling on these events saddened me; and I quietly objected to five shillings passing hands (a small fortune) when a certain horse ran a furlong in x minutes, seconds.   This offended me as a boy.   Today, I always interrupt the TV description of the race via the remote control.      Childhood memories surface.  

A Tent mission similar to what Pastor Jack Bond conducted as Australia’s great tent evangelist and one of my dear friends, was acceptable means of preaching in my boyhood. One was erected near our home.  When I was 10, that is, 80 plus years ago-    I accepted the Lord as Savior, walking the sawdust trail.   As a boyish sinner I came to a boy’s Savior, having loved the Lord Jesus from my earliest days.   I owed an immeasurable debt to my beloved Mother and grandparents.  Remarkably, I with others 30 years later, invited Jack Bond and notable footballer( all Australian junior) and cricketer ( Sturt ) Bill Bowden, to conduct a 6 weeks’ tent mission where our Southern Christian Fellowship ( Mother’s suggested name ) was later raised.

100 lives were touched for the Lord, including our John., during the six weeks’ crusade.  

We often prayed together at 2am on this site over these weeks. God did extraordinary things.   The equinocturnal winds ceased for that six weeks, so that the tent barely fluttered each night.

Did I tell you how I was called to enlist in the Medical unit. During WW11?   I had commenced a morning study of God's Word, which I continue,  I read Matthew 25, and was absorbed with the word.

"When did I see you hungry, thirsty, naked, in prison, a stranger and visited you.".   Then the decisive words, "Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto Me."   I read it repeatedly, unable to fully grasp its personal hold on me.  I turned on the old-fashioned radio, receiving news of the bombing of Coventry, England, the first city to be bombed in WW11.   I linked that with the morning reading. God made his word clear.   Compelled, I decided to enlist immediately, without discussing with my Mother and My dear Gwenda.  All my life I have shared with my beloved- except on this occasion.

They postponed acceptance of me because of inadequate clothing, footwear.   On the day I completed my Economics examination, the call came. Timing precise.   I declined offers of a commission with many advantages on grounds of my study, accepting rank of private as a nursing orderly.    5 Shillings daily.

My first night in army barracks, I knelt to pray. Something hit me: a military boot, regulation heavy leather, nails, ‘if any body hits Steward, they hit me.’  Murray P stood in my defense.  No boot was ever hurled again at me.  The Lord taught me to trust HIM for protection in every hour. Such lessons are invaluable.

Restoration of fellowship with my brother in Sydney.  I had been angry with Merve, my younger brother, and we were not reconciled during the years of the war.   Merve was shot down 3 times in PNG, walking away/from his planes.    Extraordinary.   Unprecedented.   His heart broke when his marriage shattered with an unfaithful wife while he was in PNG.   I went to Sydney, for bible teaching but the Lord told me that settlement was more important in His eyes.  I sought Merve out- asked him to forgive me for my anger, which he readily did.   We hugged and were reconciled.   We visited him on our frequent trips to Sydney.  He told how he longed to do medicine with surgery in mind as a boy, which was not granted.   He had an astonishing mind, and his memory exceptional.   We were close during the years when His lung cancer advanced.  Your father took the memorial service, and I passed Merve’s golf clubs on to your dad.

He would be in the heavenly choral society.   I need a resurrection voice to join him.   Timing in His hands!

I recommend you read  Free masonry on the web site , Our Prime Minister is on 32nd degree ( the pinnacle ) .   I rejected my Dad’s offer to be nominated as a mason.  His special bible remained unopened at the time when mine became my daily charter for time and eternity. ‘Your Word have I HIDDEN IN MY HEART THAT I MIGHT NOT SIN AGAINST YOU.

Free Masonry has no Savior, Intercessor, Mediator as our Lord Jesus Christ.

As your GP Grandpa, I send you our love- assuring of daily prayer.    GP   Gran