On July 16, 1932, in the small town of Brazil, Indiana, Jim Pierce and his twin sister Jane were the fifteenth and sixteenth children born to Earl and Bessie Pierce. It was towards the end of the Great Depression and times were not kind to Brazil in those days, nor to the Pierce family. My dad grew up not having much materially. But he learned early that some things are more important then possessions, such as character, wits and determination.
Daddy was a Fighter
Daddy grew up without his own father being around. Earl Pierce had to leave home to find work outside of Brazil. So my dad was raised by his hard working mother with the help of his older sisters. He has told stories about being the youngest of the clan. If he was going to get something to eat, he had to
fight for the food that was on the table. "One scrawny chicken didn't go
far when you had that many mouths to feed. If I was going to get a piece,
I had to fight my brothers for it!". He learned to fight for whatever he got. And when he was 16, he took that skill to the ring and became a Golden Glove boxer, winning the
Brazil title. The scrappy 118 pound
youngster fought his way to
Chicago,
creating a name for himself and his home town. Even when up against a
fighter much more experienced and bigger then he was, he didn't give up.
When knocked down, he sprang right back up before they even began
counting, swinging both fists. That was my dad. Never giving up. Never one to be down for the count.
His fighting didn't end when his boxing career did. At the
age of 18 he signed up for the Army and was sent to fight in the Korean War.
He arrived on December 25, 1950. While there, he fought on the
front lines, having the position of being the loader of a machine gun. He
didn't like to talk about his time there, but he often told us the story about
his buddy, who was shooting the same gun daddy was loading. He was shot and killed
right next to my dad. But again, daddy didn't stop. Another man stepped up
to continue shooting, and my dad continued loading. He later carried the
dead body of his comrade to the platoon, risking his own life while doing it.
Daddy was a committed man
While in Korea,
in a foxhole under heavy fire, my dad cried out to a God he had never been
taught about as a child. He told God that if He got him safely home, he
would find a way to live for Him. After returning from Korea in December of 1951, daddy was stationed
in Fort Benning, Georgia for ranger school.
While there, one day in May, he and his buddy were to go out on a double
date in Idle Hour
Park, in Phenix City, Alabama.
Daddy's date didn't show up, so he and his buddy went looking for another
date for him. They spied the beauty, Bobell Boutwell, who was swimming at
the park pool. They asked if she would join them on their date.
Being a good little Baptist, and it being Sunday afternoon, she said she
would be going to church that night, but my dad was welcome to join her. And join her, he did. He may have gone to church for the girl, but
after a few months of Sundays, the gospel touched his heart, and he remembered
that promise that had been made back in Korea. God miraculously saved
him. It was the beginning of his long walk with his Lord as well as his
long life with his bride. He married that bathing beauty after only
dating for 26 days. A marriage that lasted over 63 years. He kept
his commitment to God, and kept his commitment to my mom for those 63 years.
He gave us kids a wonderful example of steadfastness in his life and
marriage.
Daddy was not an educated man. He didn't make it past the
7th grade. But what he lacked in education, he made up for in common sense and
determination. Daddy was a hard worker. He was a factory worker for
over 30 years as well as a painting contractor. For years working both
these jobs at the same time to provide for his family.
Although uneducated himself, he valued education, and made sure my
brother, sister and myself went to college. It was by his hard working
hands that the three of us all graduated from Bible College.
He made sure he gave us the tools we needed to go on and serve the Lord.
My brother was a missionary in Taiwan for 8 years and has been a pastor here in the states for 23 years.
My sister married a pastoral major and he has served faithfully as pastor in the
same church for over 33 years. My husband too serves as an Elder in our
local church.
My dad was a faithful husband, father, friend, neighbor and church
member. He and my mom both diligently served in the same church for 50
years. I think he painted every wall of Calvary
Baptist Church
in Brazil, Indiana several times. He actually
helped lay the foundation of the building back in 1965, taking his own vacation time to help
build it as well as every spare day and hour he had after work until the
building was complete.
He not only served with his hands, but with his heart as well.
He served on the deacon board for 48 of the 50 years they were there.
He taught Sunday School, sang in the choir and sang solos for the worship
service. Growing up in our home, we knew if a missionary or evangelist
was coming to our church, we would have them in our home. My parents wanted us
kids to see these servants of the Lord as examples to emulate in our lives.
Daddy was willing to stand alone
There were several times I remember my dad choosing to stand up
for what he believed was right. He was willing to stand alone. To
paddle his canoe against the current. Not because he liked the fight,
although I have already said he was a fighter, but because he was a man of
conviction. He always taught us to not just "follow the crowd"
but to do what was right. This example made a lasting impression on my
life and gave me courage to take a stand when the need arose.
Even though daddy lived in a little town in Indiana most of his life, he was still a
missionary. He never was shy about sharing the gospel. He
evangelized co-workers, neighbors and family members. God used him to lead men
to Christ on his lunch break at the factory where he worked. I remember
helping my mom pack his lunch in his old metal lunch box. There was a
Bible that got packed along with the sandwich. It smelled of the oil from
the factory and had taken on the shape of the dome lid of the lunch box. Many
men were led to the Lord by daddy sharing verses out of that old, oily,
tattered Bible.
My dad would give the shirt off his back to someone if they were
in need of it. Back when the church was still under construction, they
needed more money to complete their building. My parents didn't have
extra money to give, but daddy took out a personal loan and gave the money to
the church so the church could finish. My mom said their appliances didn't break down, nor did their house need any maintenance while they paid that loan off. God always provided their needs. My sister-in-law tells a story of
him coming by their house when they were trying to get on the mission field.
They were a young family and didn't have a dime to spare. Daddy brought
them a dozen eggs. When Deb opened the egg carton, along with the eggs
was a folded $100 bill. Daddy was always doing things like that to help
others.
He not only gave monetarily, but he gave of himself. He
didn't just shovel snow from his own sidewalk and driveway, he would shovel the
neighbor's drive too. He wouldn't just mow his own lawn, but would also
mow the neighbor's lawn as well, without ever being asked. I can't tell you how many times he
helped us kids by painting our homes, inside and out. He was happiest
when he was giving of himself.
My dad taught us all of these character traits, but there was one
trait he could not teach us. It was how
to let go. Daddy would clasp on tight to all he held dear. His
home town of Brazil,
Indiana, his home church, Calvary Baptist and the sweet people there who loved
him and served next to him. It was so difficult for him to move away from
these dear folks when he and mother moved to Wisconsin to live close to my sister last
year so she could help care for them.
He held tight to us kids. Taking my sister off to college
nearly killed him. I sat in the back seat of the car and listened to him
weep over her, knowing she would be eight hours away and he couldn't be there
right away if she needed him. It was hard for him to watch my brother and his family get on the
plane that would take them to the other side of the world to be missionaries in
Taiwan, knowing it would be four years before he would see them again. He felt like his heart had been ripped out of
his chest. It was hard walking his daughters down the isle. When Scott called to ask for my hand in marriage, my dad said no initially. He wasn't ready for his "baby" to
be given away.
Like daddy struggled to let go of us, we now struggle to let go of
him. How do we let go of that loving man who led us in the ways of the
Lord, taught us to be strong, faithful, committed, giving and to not give up?
How do we let go of that hand that held ours so tightly? The only
way I know to let go, is to embrace all that daddy was, continue in the things
he taught us, be thankful for his legacy he handed down and try to continue
it, by God's grace.
Thank you daddy for being the man you were and for setting such a
beautiful example to follow. May I always walk after you and continue in your
steps.
