A  New Home                                                          August 31, 2020

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Someone said, “I’d just as soon be here as where I am.” 

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When I was pastor on Oahu, we had many members who were in the military. The saying was, “There are only two good assignments: the one you’ve come from and the one you’re going to.”

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I guess we have a choice. We can choose how happy we want to be wherever we are.

 

On to the tale of my unhappy move.

 

It was Sunday evening and I was in the back seat of our ‘41 Chevy with my arms on the back of the front bench seat. I rested my head on my arms putting me between Pop as he drove and Mom in the passenger seat. Jerry was in Mom’s lap and had already dozed off from his busy day at church.

 

Pop had the radio turned to the “Top 40 Hit Parade” and we were listening to Doris Day sing “Sentimental Journey.” 

 

Mom and Pop had talked about the service at New Liberty Baptist Church but had not asked me anything yet.

 

We had gone over on Saturday morning so we could “see the field.” That was to look at the community and meet some of the people who were members of that rural church in the heart of cotton farming. We had dinner with one family and supper with another. Each family had invited neighbors to the meal so they could meet the potential pastor. They had been careful to invite people who had children the same age as Jerry and I. 

 

It didn’t matter. I knew I would not like it and I didn’t try to play with any others at the meals.

 

Then on Sunday morning we dressed our best, me with by black suit, wide tie and polished shoes. Pop had preached “in view of a call.” Following his message our family was escorted into the Pastor’s Study to await the congregation discussing the pros and cons of inviting my dad to be their pastor and then voting. 

 

I was restless as there was nothing for a nine year old boy to do in the office. Mom and Pop talked a little about the church and what they were offering in compensation. Then they prayed together and we waited. And waited. And waited.

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It probably was not as long as it seemed to me. I prayed they would vote “No.” and we’d stay close to my grandmother and cousins and I’d go to the school where I had lots of friends.

 

Finally, the Chairman of the Deacons came to the door and said, “You can come out now.” 

 

With the four of us standing at the front of the church, he announced, “The church has voted unanimously to call you as our pastor!” 

 

There were some “Amens” and a “Hallelujah!” or two and someone started to clap as others joined in.

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When it quieted down, Pop cleared his throat and said, “R. A. and I have already prayed about it and we feel the Lord’s leadership to accept your invitation.”

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Everyone was happy except me.

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As we drove back to Peach Orchard, I listened as the Hit Parade played Bing Crosby, “Now Is the Hour.” I thought, “Yes, this is the hour I must say good-bye to Peach Orchard and family and friends there.” I was unhappier.

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“Number 30 on the Hit Parade,” the radio announcer said, “is Kay Kyser singing ‘On a Slow Boat to China.”

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I wondered, “How do you get on that boat?”

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As if reading my thoughts, Mom reached over and put her hand on my arm. “You’ve been very quiet. What do you think about us moving over here?”

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I was slow to answer. I didn’t want to tell her that in the Sunday School class for 9 year old boys,  I had decided not to talk to anyone. I only answered the questions Tiner Lander, the teacher, directed at me. He tried to make me feel at ease as he introduced Harry and Gary and the others to me. My expected reply was so soft, I don’t think anyone heard it. 

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At the close of the class, Gary said, “You can sit with us.”

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I mumbled that I needed to sit with my mother and left them at the door. 

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The inside of the building was about three times as large as First Baptist Church Peach Orchard. It had a huge choir loft and a platform with three large chairs that could have been small thrones for kings. While there were people all around, I felt the emptiness of the building closing in on me.

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I knew how to make friends. I had done it before. But I was not going to do it. Not now. Not at this place. Not where I didn’t want to be.

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I started to answer Mom’s question. I knew I had to be honest but I didn’t have to tell her how I had misbehaved. 

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As I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly tears began to flow. I tried to talk but nothing came out. A giant sob seemed to clear the way for me to say, “I don’t want to move.”

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Mom moved her arm to my neck and pulled me toward her. “We know, but you’ll learn to like it. You’ll make new friends.”

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“But no one lives close to us. Our house and church is out in the middle of a cotton field. It is a long way to the next house and they don’t have any kids our age. I can’t walk to any place. There are no sidewalks, the highway is bust.” All my negative ideas came flooding out.

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By then Russ Morgan and Milt Herth were singing, “I’m Looking over a Four Leaf Clover.”

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Mom identified with me. “I, too, hate to move away from Mother and Paul (her brother), but we feel it is what God wants for us now. If God is leading us, he will bring something good for all of us.”

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Pop added, “If we are doing God’s will, he will bless us and give us happiness as we follow him.”

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“I’ll try.” was my half-hearted promise or hope.

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The following Saturday as we drove back to Blytheville, we listened to Minnie Pearl say, “How-dee.” welcoming us to the Grand Ole Opry. Maybe it was the music or Fibber McGee and Molly cleaning out their hall closet. I felt a little better. I told myself, “I really will try.”

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We commuted for six weeks as both Mom and Pop completed their contract teaching at the schools. The Opry and the hits lifted my spirit some.

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Then we moved into the parsonage. There were no friends close by. It was summer and I only had Jerry as a playmate. The four years difference seemed such a large difference at the start of that summer. But what choice did I have?

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We began to fill our time with activities together.

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With our collection of toy cars we build a little town with a lake and with roads for them to speed down.

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We cleaned an area for our marble challenges.

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One  day I took a new look at the hen house behind our house. The metal roof appeared to be  a good sliding board. Ignoring the smell of the chicken, I climbed to the top and slowly slid down. The six foot drop to the ground added a little thrill.I encouraged Jerry to do the same.

 

He shook his head and said, “No. It’s scary.”

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“So ahead. I’ll stand here and catch you as you come off the roof.” 

 

Finally he made a brave attempt. The thrill made us do it again and again. 

 

“Mom, we’ve been sliding down the hen house roof!” we reported. “It’s fun but it’s slow. Can we make it faster?”

 

“Here’s some wax paper. Sit on it as you slide down.”

 

Many trips and multiple pieces of paper soon had a very slick section that gave us speed and more thrills for Jerry and me.

 

Before school started we had a rainy couple of weeks. Water was everywhere. Our little village was washed away. The ditch in front of the church was running deep. The fields around the church had large pools with cotton sticking out of them.

 

“Look at all the frogs,” Jerry called out. 

 

I looked and saw hundreds of tiny frogs all over our yard and the church property.. Jerry and I began to collect them. Soon our jars were full. We put them in a large bucket which soon reached capacity. Our solution was the bathtub. 

 

“What are frogs doing in our bathtub?” Mom asked.

 

“We ran out of containers.” was the simple answer. So they stayed, except when we needed to take a bath. And we played with them until they grew into huge frogs, then they were out on their own. It was fun for Jerry and me. 

 

One of our great adventures happened during an evening when Mom and Pop had a meeting to go to and we were left alone.

 

We played outside as it grew twilight, enjoying the cooler summer evening. 

 

“I’m hungry.” Jerry noted. So we went into the house and ate what Mom had prepared and left for us. 

 

It was darker when we returned outside. The red of the sunset was fading and the evening stars were beginning to appear. Our single porch light offered little help to see around the yard. The moon was not up yet.

 

“What’s in our tree?” Jerry alerted. 

 

I looked up into the large oak tree behind the garage and in the deepening darkness, I couldn’t tell what it was but it had not been there a few minutes earlier.

 

“What do you think it is?” Jerry asked as we moved closer.

 

The silhouette was very still. We slowly approached the mysterious object.

 

“It looks like a bear to me!” I fearfully guessed’ 

 

We rushed to the protection of our screened in back porch. We couldn’t see the unknown being from there but we knew it had not come down to chase us.

 

“Let’s get the gun.” Jerry suggested knowing we had the hunting 22 in Pop’s closet.

 

“No,” I cautioned, “We are not to bother that gun.” 

 

“Let’s stay inside.” Jerry offered as another option.

 

“Good idea.” I said, but without real conviction. We had to know for sure the animal up there was a bear. 

 

“Stay behind me.” I finally instructed Jerry, as I slowly opened the screen door and moved to the bottom of the steps. 

 

I took a circuitous route with Jerry following in my foot prints, never taking our eyes off the tree. The night had become a little darker and our vision a little worse. We moved closer. One step. Stop. One step. Stop.

 

“I’m going to get a flashlight.” Jerry whispered.

 

“Good Idea. I’ll go with you.” 

 

We rushed back to the house, ran up the steps, flew into the kitchen, opened the junk drawer and searched for the flashlight. Finally at the back, under paper, tools, and other camouflage, we retrieved it. 

 

I turned it on. Nothing. I shook it. Still nothing. I tapped it. Continued nothing. I hit it against the drawer. Nope. I remembered Pop unscrewing the lens once to get it to work. I unscrewed it and screwed it back. We had light.

 

With a little more courage and a great tool, we returned to the yard. Again, slowly we approached the tree. The batteries provided only a limited amount to light. The night had become darker. The crickets had begun to sing. Step, pause. Step, pause as we proceeded, ready to run at any moment.

 

Finally we were close enough to get light on the unknown.

 

Our eyes were adjusting to the night aiding the small area of illumination from the feeble flashlight. I moved it slowly across the tree and the object. 

 

There was a reflection from an eye.  Then another. Then the whole body came into view. We discovered what we had feared.

 

Our three turkeys had chosen a different roosting place for this evening. Together, they had created a profile that looked exactly like a bear, at least to boys five and nine. 

 

We laughed as we returned to the house and put the flashlight into the junk drawer. It was only turkeys and that’s what we felt like.

 

During those couple of years, when there were no friends near us, Jerry and I became close and our relationship changed from being brother to a much different sibling. We began to relate as friends with a lot of good shared adventures and activities.

 

I discovered that God does bring good beyond what we can see and expect.  Now in our late seventies and early eighties, with the foundation of those shared years, we are still great friends.

 

Proverbs 17:17 MSG

"Friends love through all kinds of weather, and families stick together in all kinds of trouble. "

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