Communion charmed me. It pained me to see the perfect little glasses and morsels of wafer in the gleaming trays pass me by. I suspect Mother’s thoughts weren’t sacred as she warned me off with dark looks and shaking head. It seemed wrong to waste communion on adults when those cups were obviously child-sized. Glenda Parker boldly reached in and took two tiny cups right under her mother’s eye. She slurped the juice from one cup, then poured the juice from the other back and forth a few times before spilling it. Her mother sweetly wiped up the pew with a dainty hanky, never shooting her “the look.” With my head bowed during prayer, I saw Glenda stack and restack those cups and slip them in and out of the little slots on the back of the pew in front of her while her mother piously bowed her head in prayer. Why couldn’t God have given me to a mother like that?
Baptism was even more interesting. The first baptism I witnessed took place in a pond. The congregation gathered around as the preacher led the candidates in one by one and dipped them backwards into murky water. I yearned to get in that line, but had been warned not to move from Mother’s side. The next baptism took place in our church’s new sanctuary. The curtains behind the choir loft opened to reveal a glass-fronted tank before a lovely mural of the Jordan River. The preacher stepped in and spoke a few words before assisting Miss Flora Mae down the steps into the tank. Miss Flora Mae’s full-skirted white skirt ballooned on the surface of the water as she descended, revealing chubby legs and white panties, an unexpected thrill for me and other less-holy onlookers. A few even snickered as Miss Flora Mae struggled to recover her dignity.
By the next baptism, the baptistry’s glass front had been painted.
Several ago Mother awoke to a terrible crash! Thinking a car had run into her house, she dashed up the hall to find her door lying in the living room floor and two young men dressed in black standing in her living room. “Give me your purse!” The one with the baseball bat growled.
Ever modest, Mother demanded, “Wait, I need my robe. It’s across the foot of my bed. “You’ll have to help me into it. My shoulder’s hurt!” He dutifully fetched it and helped her into it.
Baseball bat guy looked like he wished he’d never started this. “Where’s your wallet?” he tried again.
“In that bag on the buffet” she pointed.
He emptied out a big bag of books. “Nothing but books here.”
“No,the other bag.”
He opened her wallet, pulling out eleven dollars. Clearly disappointed, “”Is this all you got?” She answered, “yeah and I wouldn’t have that if I hadn’t planned to buy gas tomorrow.”
“What about your ATM card?” he demanded.
That made her mad. “No! That’s enough.” With that they turned and left. In a few seconds, one guy returned. “I forgot my bat. Have a nice day!”
“You, too.” She replied automatically. She called 911 and officers got there right away. She called us and we flew over. She gave her report and at the end remarked, “They were very polite. They seemed like they were raised right!”
Miss Tillie, my Sunday School Teacher held my attention like no other before or since, giving the class candy, bubble gum, and tiny little paper umbrellas if we learned our Bible verses. Mother thought she ought not to bribe us to do our lessons. I thought Continue reading →
Nutsrok 