Turning 50 - 57 Days to Go -- My Towns

About a month after my birth, Daddy finished his Master of Divinity program at Chandler and took an appointment as pastor in Lambert, a tiny community in the Mississippi Delta, populated mostly by farmers, and the town folk who provided necessary support -- grocery, pharmacy, bank, lawyer, school, etc.  We were there for three years and frankly, I remember almost nothing about that time. 

My folks loved that community and the people there immensely, and the fact that they remained in touch with several families for many years bears testimony to the fact that they were well-loved, too.  The Puckett family were among our favorites, full of teenage girls who sang, and a much-younger sister who was my best friend.  I would love to reconnect with them and see how their families have developed.

I have two very vague memories of our time there, both of which resulted in fears that I dealt with for many years.  The first involved my brother and I camping out in a pup tent in the yard, which was between the parsonage and the church.  I recall rolling out from under the tent and into the bushes, and being found there by Mama the next day.  Did that really happen?  Was it only a dream?

The second was a night of terrible storms and tornadoes.  Mama was at home with Sammy and me when the tornado passed directly over our house, not touching down, but kicking up quite a mess.  The windows and doors were blown open, and Mama put me in a chair while she rushed to try to find a way to protect us from the fierce winds -- close the door, cover us with a blanket, I don't know.  In those days, there was no advance warning of storms, no sirens, no radio or television alarms, just the sudden on-set of that train-like roar, the severe drop in air pressure, and the ferocious wind.

For years, I was afraid to sleep alone, and many was the night that I flipped off my light switch, ran as fast as I could, and leapt from 10 feet away to land in my bed without getting to close to the monsters under it.  I would not let a hand or foot dangle from the edge of the bed, certain that whatever lurked beneath would use a tiny appendage to reel me in and gobble me up.  Why does it never occur to a child that if a monster is going to get you, it's probably just going to come out and do it, whether you attract it with a finger or not!

I slept with my mother occasionally, especially after Daddy started traveling, until I was 13 years old, and especially if the weather was bad.  My fear of storms was epic.  My seventh grade history teacher, Carmen Haynes, will remind me of that to this day.  When there were storm warnings at school, I would run to her room, with or without permission, to seek shelter.  She was downstairs, yes, but I think it was the comfort of her presence that was the greatest help to me.

When Daddy was appointed to Broadacres UMC in Columbus, following Lambert, we often took family strolls through our tiny, l-shaped street of a neighborhood, especially in the evening.  I often rode on his shoulders, and I remember there being a loud clap of thunder one night while I was on my high perch.  I screamed to get down and he thought it a fun trick - for a very short minute - to keep me up there.  It took a long time for me to forgive him for that mean trick, too.

My fear of storms finally ended, truly, when I was about 26 years old.  By then, I had established Grace & Gladness Ministries and was traveling by myself all around the world.  It does not behoove one to be afraid of things that creep in the dark or of bad weather when one is "adventuring" in mostly remote and dangerous places.  Anyway, in one trip out west, I had crossed the San Francisco mountains just before sunset and found a hotel room in Seligman or Prescott.  I heard quite a commotion on the 2nd story landing and stepped out to find a couple of dozen fellow travelers enjoying a powerful thunderstorm that was coming over the mountains.  It was truly beautiful, a heavenly lightshow that dazzled and electrified.  I made some good friends that night, sharing God's beauty.  Then I took my Chinese take-out in the room and ate dinner in front of the TV until the storm reached us and plunged us into darkness.  That night, as the storm raged around me, I realized that for the first time in my life, I was not afraid.  Somehow, embracing the beauty of the storm, in spite of its potential devastation, had set me free from fear. 

I have a healthy appreciation of the power of weather, and I take appropriate precautions.  But I do not quake with fear as I did for so many years.

Dad and I returned to Lambert for revivals on several occasions through the years, with him preaching and me leading singing.  Those were sweet times and it was fun to be welcomed into the community as an adult by the parishioners my parents had loved so well, so many years before.  Lambert is even tinier now, going the way of so many farming communities as the family farm gets swallowed up by the corporate monstrosities that are so common today.  I haven't been back there for at least 20 years. 

Maybe that's something I need to do as I turn 50 -- make a day-long journey to these wonderful cradles of my childhood.  Most of them are within a 2-3 hour drive.  I think I shall plan to do that.