Category Archives: Grit in My Gizzard

Chapter 24 Let me Tell you of the Pretty Girl Riding in the Front Seat So that was the Holladay girl of whom a would-be matchmaker was quick to apprise me. I can see her now as she and her … Continue reading →

Chapter 23 “And In Conclusion” How does one conclude the story of his life? By his demise? A few rumors have indicated its occurrence. Maybe it has happened and I am just slow to catch on. At least on the … Continue reading →

Chapter 22 Off Into the Sunset Bleak! That was a recurring word. As I was finishing high school to face the world, the Dust Bowl created a bleak landscape and the Great Depression made job prospects equally bleak. There was … Continue reading →

As teenagers when my brother and I slept out under the endless sky of West Texas, a thought of me ever having 100,000 books in print would have been as foreign as the thought of a man walking on the … Continue reading →

I was free at last! Although my pulpit work had been reduced for a while, I never felt the freedom from it before. After a long incarceration a freed prisoner feels an uncertainty about readjusting. I realized more than ever … Continue reading →

The game of musical chairs when preachers vie for pulpits does not come into full play until June when school is out. Weeks and months passed with few leads and no prospects. But as “fruit-basket-turnover” time drew near, Dan Woodroof, … Continue reading →

The invitation to move to Lovington, New Mexico revived our spirits, even though Lea only remembered the area from the little she saw on our honeymoon. We arranged for Mayflower to be at our place at eight in the morning. … Continue reading →

Among the continuous flow of new persons moving into our congregation in New Iberia were a few who knew little of its background but began to promote change. After more than four years after our first broadcast, it was discontinued … Continue reading →

That one, unexpected, direction-changing phone call in Abilene seven years earlier was still affecting my life as Lea and I, with our six-weeks-old Sol, moved a hundred miles farther eastward into the real Cajun country of south central Louisiana in … Continue reading →

The moment that a visitor passed over the bridge of the Sabine River at Orange, the introduction into Louisiana was impressive – but not beautiful. One crossed over a mile or more of marshland on a rickety, rumbling wooden bridge … Continue reading →