My Brother Tom

 

About two years ago, I published a book titled, Growing Up Simple, and on the dedication page I wrote these words: For my brother Tom, who was there with me as we were growing up simple. The book was fiction based on fact; it was based on the stuff my brother Tom and I did as young boys living on a farm. Our parents rented the farmhouse but had nothing to do with the farm itself. But Tom and I ran around all over that property and did some things which got us into our share of trouble. But let’s go back a little in time before this and to my earliest memory of me and Tom and our antics.

We were living in a house in a place called Elders Ridge. There was a bathroom off of the living room and Tom was about two or three and I was maybe four or five. We were playing around just inside the door of that bathroom and Tom fell backwards onto the floor and against the baseboard. There was a nail which had backed out enough that when Tom fell against it, he was scratched on his behind. Well, he started to cry and my dad came in to see what the problem was. Tom told him I had pushed him and he fell. Well, at my young age, I was shocked; how could he tell such a lie and blame me for his clumsiness? Needless to say, when it was all over, I got the spanking and we both had a hurting backsides. And, I never forgot that and always mentioned it to Tom when this kind of stuff came up in our conversation. In a kidding way of course.

But I got even with Tom for that one. In Elders Ridge, he and I were up early one morning and goofing around in our bedroom like all little angels do. I told Tom we should go out onto the roof which was right outside our bedroom window. He agreed and out the window he went in his whitey tighty underwear. Well, as soon as he was out there, I closed and locked the window and started to laugh at him. Then, the trick backfired and he broke the window to get back in. Well, my dad had been working a graveyard shift and hadn’t been in bed that long. He heard that glass break and came into our room to see what we were doing and you can guess what happened after that. Tom always claimed he locked me out on the roof but it was him out on the roof. Either way, we have always laughed about that crazy event.

When we lived on the farm, we had a dog that had puppies. Tom and I thought it would be a good idea to take the puppies with us into the hay loft inside the barn and play with them. The only problem with this was when we left the barn that day, we left the puppies in the hay loft. When our dad came home from work and couldn’t find the puppies, he knew right where to start his investigation. Yes, it started with me and Tom. We confessed to our blunder and thought for sure we were going to get some corporal punishment for this stunt but dad grabbed a flashlight and told us to follow him to the barn and show him where we had them. The puppies were rescued and we received a stern warning that the puppies were off limits.

During the summer months Tom and I would be out behind the house playing with toy cars and trucks. We had our own little empire with roads and towns and big imaginations. We did, on occasion, wonder off and make our way to other parts of the farm. One evening, Tom and I took a walk up the tractor trail which led to an old apple orchard. Coming back, we ate some red berries. When we got home, our mother asked where we were and we told her. The mistake we made was telling her about the red berries we ate. She immediately mixed up some water and Epson Salts and demanded we drink it. (It was to induce vomiting)

Tom and I were not in agreement with this and refused to drink it. Of course, we were not going to win this battle. I had never heard of the stuff but I still didn’t want to drink it. Our mother explained to us we can’t just eat any kind of berry we see since some of them are poisonous. To this day, I can’t remember if we ever did drink the stuff but just the thought of it was bad enough and we learned our lesson about eating unknown berries.

Then there was the day Tom told mom he had found a dead cow. The man we rented the house from had a brother who lived about a quarter of a mile down the road from us and he farmed the property. Our mom was concerned that it was one of his cows Tom had found. So, she told him to take us to the dead cow. He led us all over that farm and we never did find a dead cow. Finally, our mom told him he was making the whole thing up. But recently when I mentioned this story to him, he insisted he had seen what he thought at the time was a dead cow but was probably a deer or some other type of animal.

Tom and I were up early one morning and decided we were going to try smoking a cigarette. We took a cigarette out of our older brother’s pack and headed down behind the old chicken coop. We lit it and took a couple of drags off of it and the next thing we knew, everything was spinning and we felt like we were going to throw up. That was a bad idea. On another morning we went outside to mess around and Tom didn’t have shoes on. He stepped on a piece of glass and cut his foot. There was a lot of blood and I told him to get on my back so I could take him inside for our mom to look at. She and my dad had worked a graveyard shift the night before and were in bed sleeping. I opened the door to their bedroom and rushed in. Our mom woke up and wanted to know what was going on. I told her Tom had cut his foot. She looked at it and told him to get in the bathroom where she cleaned it up and then took him to get it stitched up. Oh, the joy of having two young boys.

But that wasn’t the topper. One day when Tom was about six or seven, I chased him up a tree (we were just goofing around) and he went out onto a limb which would not support him. The limb snapped and he came crashing to the ground with his left hand bent under his body and breaking his wrist. Fortunately, our mom was off and she rushed him to the doctor, Doc Hannah, in Homer City. He set the wrist but his young bones were still growing and he had problems with that wrist. When he was about twelve, we were living in Blairsville PA and our mom took him to Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh and the doctor rebroke it, shaved the deformed bone and reset it.  Tom had a cast on his arm from his shoulder to his wrist. I remember playing a pickup game of football with some other kids in the neighborhood and there was Tom with that big cast on playing football. Well, mom didn’t really like that and he received strict orders not to do it again. I think he had that cast for about six weeks and then another from his elbow to his wrist for another six weeks. And I deserved all the credit for it because I chased him up that tree.

When I was fifteen and Tom was thirteen, we lost our dad in a car accident. Two years later, we lost our mother to colon cancer. Tom was fifteen and I was seventeen. Our Uncle Jack had taken care of everything for my mother when she knew she was dying. Following the funeral, we at Uncle Jack’s home in Indiana PA and my oldest brother, Link, was telling me what my options were. I was seventeen and would be eighteen in six months.

I could go and live with him in East Rochester NY and work on the railroad or stay in Indiana with my oldest sister and enlist in the military when I turned eighteen. I opted for the military simply because I didn’t want to go work on the railroad. As we were discussing all this, someone asked where Tom was. We found him outside sitting on the curb crying. He said, “Where am I going to go now? I don’t have a home.” That was heartbreaking to see. But Link told him he did have a home and it was with him. Link and his wife Louise took Tom in and he became a part of their family. Their two sons, Ken and Jim, looked at Tom like a big brother and to this day, they will tell anyone who asks that Tom was more of a big brother to them than an uncle.

Tom was a wrestler in high school and a very good one at that. That influence carried over to Ken and Jim. It was through Tom’s wrestling that I met my wife, Jeanne. It was following one of his matches in the sectional tournament if I remember correctly. Regardless of when and where, it was me watching him that brought us together.

I had enlisted in the Marines and when I returned from Vietnam and was released from the Corps, I never encouraged Tom to enter the military. The type of draft at that time was some kind of lottery and after Tom graduated from school, he received a draft notice telling him his number, draft number, could come up or something like that. Well, Tom wanted to make his own decision concerning which branch of the military he would enter so he started to talk to an Air Force recruiter. I never attempted to influence him concerning this decision until, I realized the Air Force guy was giving him the round around. It was then that I told him to stop messing around with this Air Force guy and go see a Marine recruiter. I told him something like, “If you are going to go to the military, go with the best and enlist in the Marine Corps.” He did and he always loved the Marines. He just didn’t like being a military policeman.

The two year enlistment option was still available when he enlisted (I took this same option because it was only two years). I always called this the body snatcher enlistment option because it was used to attract young men simply to fill the depleting ranks in Vietnam. But by 1972 when Tom enlisted, all the Marine ground troops were out of Vietnam. Tom told me when he was assigned his MOS (military occupational specialty) he was going to be a cook. He didn’t want to be a cook. Who enlists in the best fighting force this country has to be a cook?! So, he was told he could talk to a career counselor and get it changed. That’s when they offered him the MOS of a military policeman. But they didn’t exactly explain it in those terms. They glorified it and told him he would be working for the Provost Marshal counseling troubled Marines. To Tom, that sounded like a good job, so he took it. He was told to sign a form, which he did and the career counselor told him thanks and he had just added a third year to his enlistment. But it didn’t matter to Tom and he made the best of it and did his three years and departed from the Marines. But he had never regretted being a Marine and he loved the Corps. He always wore Marine Corps hats and shirts and loved talking to other former Marines.

When we talked on the phone or in person, the topic of our time in the Marines always came up and the stories never got old. When Tom came home on leave from boot camp, we picked him up in Harrisburg and for the entire two hour ride home, he and I swapped stories about our experiences at Parris Island and laughed all the way home. A few years ago, I had purchased a Marine Corps T-shirt but it was too small. Instead of taking it back, I decided to make a shadow box with the shirt inside of it and give it to him. He had quite a bit of Marine stuff and I was just happy to add to his collection.

I could write a book on the stuff Tom and I did together in his lifetime and maybe I will someday. But I simply wanted to share a few things about him in this writing. I never expected he would pass on before I did. I always knew I could pick up the phone and we could talk for probably two hours about our memories of our childhood or the Marines or our jobs. I can’t do that anymore and I am going to really miss him. But there is a joy in knowing he knew Jesus as his Lord and savior and is right now in heaven with Jesus. As boys and while growing up and as brothers, we were always kind of competitive. Well, Tom has finished his race (Phil 3:14) and has won his prize. He has had the final victory before me and has beat me to the finish line. He wins but I will someday finish my race and be there with him and Jesus.

Tom never had the easiest life while here in this world, but he never complained. He could be just as happy with three dollars in his pocket as with three million. He was a kind and patient man; he was generous and loving and willing to help where he could. It is my selfish desire that he was still here with us but Jesus gets to make that decision and we cannot argue that. He was my little brother and I will really miss him.

-Bill Petite

Conduct Unbecoming a Christian

  

As a Christian, I’m sure you have heard someone say, “Christians are just a bunch of hypocrites.” Well, that is true in many cases, but it doesn’t mean that only Christians are hypocrites. Christians haven’t cornered the market on hypocrisy but do engage in it more than they should. Hypocrisy is not selective and does not dwell only in the realm of Christianity. I have met a lot of unsaved people who say one thing and do another. But when Christians act this way, it stands out in the unsaved world like weeds in a garden. In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus told His followers,

 “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.   MT 5:14-16

In John chapter 1, John tells us that Jesus is the light and in Him is life. In the passage quoted above, Jesus tells us to let our light shine before others. In other words, if we are Christians and Jesus (Holy Spirit) lives within us, we need to let others see Jesus in our lives. But here's where the problem lies. Far too many Christians only act like Christians when they are in church or around other Christians (most of the time).

I was scrolling through Facebook recently and saw a post from my granddaughter who works as a waitress in a restaurant. She was talking about how much she despises the Sunday Church crowd that comes in for lunch. She said they are the worst customers she waits on. They are rude, obnoxious and cheap. They don’t leave tips or they leave one that is small in comparison to their bill. Others she works with also commented on her post and agreed with her. Now, to my knowledge, she has not accepted Jesus into her life as Lord and savior. If she has, she has not shared that with me. I pray for her all the time. The point is this; if she is still not a Christian, will waiting on a rude Church crowd for lunch every Sunday point her to Jesus? Will it display the true Jesus to her coworkers who might not be saved or even to other customers around them who are not saved? It’s unlikely.

I did comment on her post and told her I totally understood and agreed with her complaint. I let her know how big a problem this is within the Church and made no excuses for their behavior. And this is a very big problem within the Church today. The world has so influenced Christians and the Church that some act this way without even thinking about it. In a related incident, my wife and I had left our home church and went across the country to start a Church planting project. We returned for a visit and were in a restaurant following a mid-week service. As we were talking and sharing our experience, a man at a table close to us jumped up and began to scream at the waitress bringing his food. Everyone in that place witnessed this man acting like he was a special, privileged person who deserved super special treatment. He was complaining that his food had been sitting and waiting for her to bring it to him. He told her, in his loud screaming voice, she should have brought it to him immediately when it was ready.

She was the only waitress working that evening and had been running nonstop. So, while everyone in the place was being patient and understanding, this man jumps up and starts screaming at her. He told her to take it back and get him another order that was hot and not cold.

I thought he was just some rude and ignorant man who thought he was more special than anyone else in there that night. But the pastor I was sitting with told me this man was a pastor at one of the newer churches in town. When I heard that, I was going to jump up and rebuke him in front of everyone and let him know he defiantly wasn’t acting like a pastor. I was determined to let everyone in that restaurant know that evening that this is not a pastor they would want to sit under. My spiritual temperature shot to the top and I was going to tell him what a fool he looked like and how he was portraying Jesus as a bully. But the other pastor advised me not to say anything and calmed me down.

If anyone in that place was not saved and was being tugged by the Holy Spirit and knew or discovered who this guy was, the Spirit would have been quenched. I still believe he should have been told what a fool he was and how he was portraying Jesus that night. So, why do Christians act this way? Well, there are many reasons; some believe they are a little more special than others. They go into a restaurant and think they are there to be served and they can talk to the waiter or waitress any way they want because they are the customer. These service people are beneath them and they deserve special treatment. They should be trying to talk to them about Jesus without trying to jam it down their throats.

It could also be they attend a local church that doesn’t really teach or preach the Bible. Maybe they hear sermons on how good you are or how to be a better you. Maybe they hear sermons on social justice and not the good Samaritan. Or maybe they just aren’t listening at all. There can be many reasons why Christians act more like the world than a Bible believing Christian. The poor waitress can’t challenge them about their conduct for fear of losing their job or getting an undesirable shift. So, they take the abuse and consider Christians as the worst customers and also mean and hateful. Christians who act this way are presenting a terrible witness for Jesus. The problem is this: If one table full of Christians act this way and two tables of Christians present themselves as Jesus loving, Bible believing and are super pleasant, who will the waitress remember? Chances are, she/he will remember the bad apples who gave her a hard time and left a cheap tip.

Jesus told us to go into the world and make disciples. In other words, the great commission tells us to tell the world about Him and let people see Him in our lives by the way we live, the way we talk and the way we conduct ourselves. There’s an old saying, “We might be the only Bible they ever read.” Some Christians don’t like that saying but it is true; people who aren’t Christians are watching us. They are waiting for us to trip up or do something they can hammer us about. They are watching so let them see Jesus.

Here's a sobering thought; salvation doesn’t come with a status symbol. Salvation comes with forgiveness, love and responsibility. What’s the responsibility? The Bible is full of responsibilities. How to act, how to talk, how to relate with others, how to let others know about Jesus and many, many more. But here is the problem with responsibility in far too many Christians. They don’t read the Bible, so they don’t know what God expects from them. They might attend a local church that doesn’t encourage them to read the Bible. They hear watered down messages on Sunday mornings because church leadership doesn’t want to chase anyone away. That would hurt the financial bottom line and they can’t have that.

The New Testament writings are loaded with commands and information on how to live the Christian life. But if Christians won’t read it, then they will, for the most part, act like the world around them. The Apostle Paul gives us the solution to this problem in Romans chapter 12, verses 1 and 2.

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  Do not be conformed to this world,  but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.    Rom 12:1-2  

But for the Christian who never reads the Bible, he/she will never know this or be able to grasp and understand it. The truth is that Christians can find plenty of time to do other things but not read God’s word. And this presents a stunt in their Christian growth and maturity, and they are influenced by the things they do spend time doing or hearing. So, the problem has infected the Church to the point that they aren’t even aware of it. But for those who are, they should either fix it or when they enter a restaurant begin displaying a sign which says, “I call myself a Christian but act like a worldly bully.” At least the service person will have a warning of who they are waiting on when they approach the table. But the preference is that they act like the Christian Jesus wants us to be. 

(I don't exclude myself from this problem. I have had my times of not acting like a Christian but I never made it a way of life.)

-Bill Petite