Psalm 139
O Lord, You have searched me and known me.
You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thoughts afar off.
You comprehend my path and my lying down,
And are acquainted with all my ways.
Soaking Wet at the Seaside
I arrived in Morecambe in 1964. It was a seaside town trying to restore its former glories. It was best known for the famous comedian Eric Morecambe, part of the well-known double act Morecambe and Wise.
When I arrived, it had two piers, two theatres, the aquatic centre Marineland, and a pleasure park. All of them are gone now.
We settled into Whitelow House, a four-floor nursing home situated in the Bare area of the town. It was next door to a church, which neither my parents nor I ever attended.
The best part was the large garden at the back, with apple and pear trees and a greenhouse where my dad grew tomatoes and cucumbers.
The house had a lift, and Keith spent many hours going up and down in it. No one could ever get into the lift because it was always in use!
We lived right on the promenade, which stretched for up to six miles and had the most beautiful views across to the Lake District hills. The sunsets were amazing, and they remain my fondest memory of Morecambe.
The sea regularly came over the road in front of the house and flooded many homes along the seafront. Our home was largely unaffected until the great storm of 1977, when it was completely flooded. The lift shaft filled with water. This happened on a Friday night and continued for several days, leaving the sea wall badly damaged. Today, there are stone sea barriers that prevent such flooding.
On many days, I used to walk down to the centre of Morecambe and return along the seafront when the tide was coming in. I would stand by the railings and wait for a big wave to hit the wall. Then I would run away from the spray. Sometimes I got wet, sometimes I didn’t. I often returned home smelling of seaweed and salt spray, much to my parents’ dismay.
There wasn’t much sand on the beach—mostly pebbles—but there was a paddling pool where we caught crabs. We used a stick with bait tied to a piece of string, and the crabs would latch on.
One day, I spotted a very large crab. I reached down into the pool and, as you’ve guessed, fell headlong into it.
Morecambe had two piers and many amusement arcades filled with penny falls and one-armed bandits. Sadly, some of my pocket money was spent there—and also at my favourite sweet shop.
My parents loved their work, and I was loved, but work often took precedence over me. I became very unhappy due to my speech problems and the bullying at school—some of which was my fault, but more on that later.
Every Christmas I received the latest craze, whether Action Man or racing cars, but I longed for more time with my parents. A quiet anger was beginning to grow.
To be honest, my parents spoiled me. They sent me to private school, arranged membership at the local golf club, and gave me horse-riding lessons, which I loved. We galloped over the sands until one day, after dismounting near the nursing home, I slipped. The horse was startled, and one of its hooves struck my head, causing a deep cut. I have never ridden a horse since.
Between the ages of 8 and 10, this was one of three occasions when I fell and badly injured my head. Once I was tripped while running at school and went headfirst into a radiator. Another time, I fell headfirst into a bench—don’t ask me how.
My parents took me on holidays to Scotland and on cruises. I am thankful for everything they gave me. I hold no anger toward them. I remember them both with love and gratitude.
Thank you, Eric and Rita.
I especially remember one morning when I was asleep and the night staff were knocking on the door. It must have been about 5 a.m. They shouted for my dad to come quickly. One of the male residents had taken his own life. Events like this affect a young mind deeply.
One thing Mum loved was her music. We had a radiogram with a record player and many classical vinyl records. I loved playing them. Mum was also a great reader, and books were everywhere, including a picture Bible. I read its pages without understanding what it meant.
Now, I have come to love that Book.
Devotional Thought
Many people think that honouring their parents, as outlined in the Ten Commandments, applies only while they are alive. It does not.
After we lose our parents, we are still to honour them by our actions and our words.
Many children carry resentment toward their parents. This is not the right path. Blaming your parents for your problems leads nowhere. I did this for many years.
The best way to honour your parents is to be thankful for all they gave you and all they did for you.
This is how we honour our father and mother.
Jesus honoured His Father and mother. So should we—in life and in death.
Exodus 20:12
“Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you.”