Moving                                                                                                                   July 21, 2020

 

“Boys, Mom and I want to have a talk with you.” Pop advised at our Saturday breakfast.

 

“Oh. No. What have I done now?” I thought as I ignored the smell of bacon frying.

 

My mind flashed back to the trick I pulled on Jerry. As we took our Saturday bath, he at one end of the double galvanized tub, me at the other, I grabbed his heels and yanked them toward me lifting them over my head. He tried to yell as he went under the water. I laughed as he came up, blowing a spray of water across the kitchen. 

 

Then I remembered the new suit jacket that Mom had purchased for me from Sears & Roebucks. The first Sunday I wore it she said, “Take care of your new jacket and don’t get it dirty.” Not only did I get it dirty playing around after church, but I had a little tear on the right sleeve where I had snagged a limb as I tried to escape a tag.

 

Somehow, Mom’s pancakes didn’t taste as good as they had a few minutes before. The enticing smells had disappeared. The bites had to be smaller for my throat to accept.

 

I glanced over at Jerry, four years younger, ready to start the first grade. He was enjoying the Aunt Jemima Syrup covering his plate, drowning all on it. His only concern seemed to be getting his stomach full before THE TALK. How could he not be concerned?

 

I carried my half eaten meal toward the dishpan, scrapping the left over in my dog’s bowl. I slid the plate into the soapy water and returned to the table. I sat there quietly beginning to formulate my defense of whatever crime I had committed.

 

It seemed Mom moved slowly, clearing the table. Pop sat there as if going over what he needed to say and how to say it. I moved the salt shaker to the center of the red plaid oilcloth next to the pepper. I moved them twice, trying to keep my hands busy..

 

Finally, Mom took off her lace fringed apron, hung it on the nail beside the wood stove, walked over to the table and sat down.

 

“Well,” Pop began, drawing it out as if it were three syllables. “You know we always try to do what God wants us to do.”

 

“This is it.” I thought. Whatever I’ve done, he and God caught me and I haven’t done what God wants me to do. I could make my defense to Pop, but how am I going to defend myself to God?

 

“Last Sunday a pulpit committee came from a church near Blytheville.” He continued.

 

Now I had something to process. A pulpit committee must have found out something I had done to the pulpit that was so bad they had to make a special trip from Blytheville, wherever that was, just to tell Mom and Pop. I couldn’t think of anything I had done to the pulpit, except I had hid behind it during a hide-and-go-seek game after the Sunday evening service. Actually, I had forced my way into the little opening there, pushing aside books and papers. Maybe I had damaged some of them.

 

“They listened to me preach,” he added, “and wanted to talk with me after the service.” 

 

Wait. This is not about me. It is about Pop. What a relief!

 

“Next Sunday, instead of preaching here, we will be going to New Liberty Baptist Church where I will preach in view of a call.”

 

I was not sure what all that meant. So I asked, “What’s ‘in view of a call’?”

 

“The Pulpit Committee liked the way I preached and they have invited our family to come over next Sunday to preach there. If the congregation likes the way I preach, they will vote to call me as pastor.”

 

“Does that mean you will be the pastor there and here too?” I tried to clarify.

 

“No. I would resign here at First Baptist and be the full time pastor at New Liberty.” 

 

I began to connect the dots. He would just be preaching. He wouldn’t be pastoring and teaching the eighth grade at Lafe School.

 

“How far is Blytheville?” I inquired.

 

“About 70 miles.”

 

“Would we have to move away from here? From Grandma? From Norma Jean? From Sue? From Freida? From Jackie?” naming off my cousins.

 

“Yes. The church has a nice house that we would move into. It’s called a parsonage.”

 

“But,” I continued, “I won’t be able to go to Grandma’s every day. I won’t be able to play with my cousins.” The taste of Grandma’s apple pies suddenly activated my saliva glands.

 

“We’ll come back to see them often. It is only a couple of hours drive.” Mom put in.

 

“But, I don’t have any friends there.” Billy and I enjoyed tag after church. Who would I play tag with? Or maybe they don’t even play tag at Blytheville.

 

“You’ll make new friends. The church is larger and there are more children your age there.” she explained. But I didn’t want new friends. I wanted Billy and other good friends.

 

“But, my school. What will I do about my school? I like Delaplane.” I flashed back to the first day at Delaplane and sitting alone where I knew no one and had to make new friends. I didn’t like the isolation feeling. Now I had friends at school and l liked them and didn’t want to make new ones.

 

Jerry was already sensing that things were not right and slid out of his chair and moved toward Mom.

 

“You’ll like your new school. It is larger so you will have a lot of friends there.” she informed as she lifted Jerry into her lap.

 

I didn’t know what else to ask so I stared at the empty table before me, not lifting my eyes to either parent. A sadness was slowly moving across my heart.

 

“It is not decided yet.” Pop comforted. “We need to pray about it because we want to be in the center of God’s will.  That’s why we are telling you and Jerry. We want you to pray also. The new church will be praying, also, because it is a big decision for them.”

 

“Will our church here be praying that you stay here?” I ventured.

 

“Some will and some won’t.” Pop laughed.

 

“I’ll pray that we stay here.” I ventured in a soft voice.

 

“When we are seeking God’s will, it is okay to let him know what we would like, but we must always be seeking what he wants for us. He knows what is best for all of us.”

 

The conversation seemed to move away from me as Mom and Pop talked with each other about the pros and cons while I sat quietly, the sadness seeming to spread across my whole body. I couldn’t understand why. 

 

We had moved from Arkadelphia to Peach Orchard about two years ago. It was a good move because I already knew my Grandma, my cousins, my aunt and uncle. Now we might be moving to an unknown place with strangers in a new school. There would be no family to walk to their house after school.

 

My head hung so low, the tears didn’t even hit the table. 

 

Mom reached over and gently tugged at my arm. “Come here.” 

 

And I did. As I crawled into her lap, the quiet tears became a sob. Pop reached across the table and ruffled my hair without saying a word. We were quiet for a long time until Jerry got restless and squirmed off of Mom’s lap. 

 

Things were to be different. There were unknown changes ahead. I didn’t understand the fear or anxiety I felt. I couldn’t comprehend life beyond what we had here in this little village. 

 

Mom kissed my forehead as I slowly got out of her lap. Pop pulled me over for a hug that felt so good.

 

That night, I told God I didn’t want to move from Peach Orchard. I told him I wanted to be near Grandma. I told him about my friends. I finished my prayers and started to crawl into bed. Then I remembered. I knelt again and said, “Lord, you know what is best.”

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Somehow, as I drifted off to sleep, I knew it would all be okay.

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Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.