by Marvina Randle

Created on: December 03, 2008   Last Updated: May 19, 2009

One of my greatest treasures is my father's bible. When I asked for it after his death I was surprised to find the white leather cover with it's gold lettered title so cracked and worn. As a child I remember opening and closing it with the small round clear glass bead that was attached to the zipper so the pages inside would be protected. Had my brothers and sisters been allowed to play with his bible also? Is that where the wear and tear had come from? I always thought I was special to be allowed that privilege, but apparently not, for obviously the bible had been handled many times.

It did not occur to me that dad had been the person reading it because he never proclaimed himself to be a religious man. In fact, I only remember seeing my father read it one time and he read those passages out loud for the family to hear. I don't remember which passage it was he read, nor does it matter. I do remember him saying that it all boiled down to the Golden Rule, a principle that his father taught him, and that he intended to pass on to us. It was simple he said, "treat others how you want to be treated and you will be fine in the eyes of the Lord."

My father never preached religion and never attended church. Both of my parents worked hard to support our family and they taught us through example to tell the truth, not to steal, to always respect others, and to help out when you can. That meant that the meager living they made was always stretched a little further to make room for a friend in trouble at the table. Our family may have eaten more beans and potato soup than we liked but no one was ever turned away. Many times they helped troubled teens with a place to stay, sometimes for a few days, sometimes months. They were strict but tried very hard to be fair, reminding us that they were punishing us when we were bad because they loved us and wanted us to know wrong from right.

Sometimes it seemed they took being honest far to seriously. Once, after camping in a park where the ranger didn't come pick up the fee as the park entry instructions stated he would, my parents drove around the park for twenty minutes until they found him and paid the money owed. There was never any question about driving away without paying. If you were a camp host would you want someone doing that to you? Simple question, simple answer!

My parents were committed to each other until the day they died. Each placed the other's needs ahead of their own needs. They were a team,

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