My mother told me this story many years ago. I am retelling it here as she told it to me. Marcus would be my grandfather. This event took place in rural Mississippi in the 1960’s.
“When I was about 2 or 3 years old, my daddy, Marcus, worked for a seismograph company. He was the head leader. Therefore, his job was to cut the trail. We went to church 4 times a week because daddy was in training to be a preacher. While cutting the trail, Marcus would come across many bad things. He had a machete that helped. Daddy wore long sleeves, long pants, and boots. All of this helped to protect him. Marcus had a wife and two babies at home. He needed to work, and this job paid top dollar at this time. However, Marcus was allergic to poison ivy and poison oak. The trails were covered with both. Marcus would come home covered in a rash. Only his eyes did not get any poison ivy or poison oak in them. Marcus would go to church. While there, he would be prayed for. He always prayed for God to clear the rash up. The next time Marcus cut the trail the poison ivy and poison oak rash would return. Marcus was badly tongue-tied. This made it very difficult for people to understand him. This night was a church night. As usual, Marcus was covered in a bad rash. Therefore, he went down to be prayed for. However, he was feed up with being healed and then getting it again. Therefore after a few weeks, Marcus said to the church and the pastor, “Ju-st Vac-cin-ate me!” The church prayed again. God cleared up the rash. The next day Marcus went back to work. He cut a trail that was full of poison ivy and poison oak. However, he did not get a rash. Marcus lived over 40 years from that night and never got poison ivy or poison oak again. My mother, my brother, nor I ever got poison oak or poison ivy. God saved us from that bad stuff and vaccinated daddy for the rest of his life.”
Edited to add: His grandchildren and great-grandchild have not had any problems with poison ivy or poison oak either.
I had just turned 16 years old. My mom and I were on 16th avenue in Laurel, MS. We were in a 1977 Ford Maverick that we had recently bought for $100. It barely worked. You had to use both feet to drive even though it was an automatic. The car would die at the red lights if you didn’t keep gas going to it. So, you held the brake while tapping to gas at red lights. This was the best car we could afford at this time.
We were stopped at a red light when an 18-wheeler was making a right turn. We could see that it was turning too sharp. There was a car beside us and a car behind us. There was nowhere for us to go. We screamed, “God help us” Our car turned sideways and the car beside us slide over. We heard the screeching of car wheels. It took two light changes with us figuring out how to turn the car back straight. Not one car honked at us. Everyone waited patiently for us to move. Later we heard people talking about this event. It turns out that they were in too much shock to honk or yell at us. The people 1 month later were still trying to figure out how the car turned sideways and how we did not get hit by the 18-wheeler.
God does hear Prayers. Prays don’t have to be long or eloquent. Prayers only have to be sincere and from the heart. Having a relationship with God before you need help is important.
Many years ago, it rained for about 1 month in a small rural town in Mississippi. My grandfather (Marcus) was just a boy. He was the youngest of his siblings. He lived in a 2-room house with his parents (Berry and Pearlie Mae) and his 3 sisters. Yes, I said 2-room house. There was a kitchen and a living room. They cooked and ate in the kitchen. They lived and slept in the living room. The bathroom was in the outhouse behind the house.
During this month of rain, they all went stir crazy. The only excitement was counting the chickens through the floorboards. They didn’t own a television.
On the day that the sun finally came out, Berry suggested that they go on a boat ride. Pearlie Mae agreed. She fixed a picnic Lunch. They all quickly got ready. Now they didn’t own a vehicle, so they got the small boat and the picnic basket and started to the flooded Pearl River.
They put the boat into the river. They put the basket into the boat. Pearlie Mae gets into the boat. The 4 children get into the boat. Lastly Berry gets into the boat. The boat is barely above the water. They row around on the river for about 2 hrs. While on the river, they eat lunch. Water keeps splashing into the boat.
Finally, the come back to shore. A man runs up to them. He is so relieved. He had been there since they had gotten into the boat. He explained that he had not taken his eyes off of them so he could tell rescuers where the boat went down. He had been so afraid that the boat, which was barely above water, would sink from the weight of the 6 people and 1 large picnic basket.
My grandfather, Marcus, told this story many times. He said that God takes care of children and crazy people.
It still amazes me that 6 people could even fit into a boat that size. The boat was only about 5 or 6 foot long and about 2 foot wide.
My great-grandmother was a youth leader and a Sunday School teacher for many years. She finally had to stop teaching because of age related health problems. A few years before she passed away, the church was talking about not having church services on Friday night anymore. They thought that having church services on Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night would be enough.
My great-grandmother did not agree. She said that if you quit having church on Friday nights you might as well close down the church because the youth needed something to do on Friday nights other than get into trouble. If the youth didn’t come to church on Friday night, they would eventually stop coming to church. She was very vocal about this. Everyone knew her position and thoughts on the matter.
The church still voted to stop having Friday night youth services. This was in the early 2000’s. Has anyone noticed the current state of the churches here in the United States? Here is a link to an article about youth and church attendance. Church Attendance Dropped Among Young People, Singles, Liberals – Christianity Today The youth has now mostly left many of the churches.
My great-grandparents helped to clear the land for the brush arbor that then grew into a church. As the church grew, they helped to build the church building. They were very active in the church. My great-grandmother was a youth leader and a Sunday school teacher. My great-grandfather was an ordained minister and a deacon of the church. They put many things in the church such as a fellowship hall with kitchen, a nursery, the pews, and classrooms. The one thing that no one had ever installed was a lock. The people of this church believed that the church should always be open. This was for several reasons.
What if someone was caught in a rainstorm? They could use an unlocked church for shelter.
What if someone needed to pray? According to Jesus, the church is a house of prayer.
What if someone was passing through and needed a place to rest?
What if the women wanted a place to meet?
What if the men wanted a place to meet?
They had the church unlocked for all of these reasons and possibly a few more. This went on for many years. This church was founded in 1940. That is until about the late 1980’s or early 1990’s. A new preacher came in. The preacher asked for the keys to the church. The deacons explained that there were no keys because there were no locks on the doors.
The new preacher was from the city where locks were everywhere. He insisted on locking the church because of the valuable equipment (speakers, microphones, etc.) The preacher insisted so much that he, without anyone else knowing, installed the locks.
The next Sunday the preacher was surprised to see an angry crowed waiting for him. They complained that they had been waiting for the last hour. They complained that the church had never in all their days been locked. Some complained that breakfast was now very late, and the children were hungry. This preacher had thought he was arriving 1 hr. early. He did not realize that this group of people normally came 2hrs earlier than the service for fellowship that including breakfast and prayer.
The dispute was settled by giving a key to every member household.
It was a very hot summer day in the 1950’s. Berry, Pearlie Mae and their 4 young children had been picking cotton. They decided to take a water break. They went to the house to get the water. Berry had a small amount of money. He asked if anyone wanted a coke. Of Course everyone did. He told them to rest, and he would walk to the store. The store was about 2 miles one way.
Berry took off walking to the store. Pearlie Mae told the children to do their housework, while she cooked lunch and supper. She knew all the work needed to be done and they would have to go back to the fields and pick cotton until dark.
Berry had to walk all the way to the store. Back in those days, there were very few cars. He did not see any cars on the way to the store. When he got to the store, the coke truck was there to refill the drinks in the store. Berry was very outspoken. He told the coke man that he had just walked 2 miles for a coke for him and his family. The coke man asked, “Where do you live?” Berry told him. The coke man then said, “If you wait until I fill the drink boxes then I will give you a ride home. I am going to pass your house on the way to my next stop.” Not only did Berry wait, but he also helped the coke man fill the drink boxes.
The Coke man drove and Berry rode on the side of the truck. The coke man drove slowly on the rough dirt road. Berry was very happy not to have to walk home toting the drinks. When they got close to his house, Berry jumped off the truck. Berry then ran ahead of the truck to show the way to his house.
Pearlie Mae and the children heard the truck coming and then saw Berry running in front pointing the way to the house. They started laughing. The coke truck stopped, and Berry got a case of bottle cokes. Pearlie then asks, “I know that you went after a coke, but are you buying the whole truck load?” She had never seen the coke truck deliver cokes to a house before. Berry replied, “No, just a case.’
This story has been passed down through the generations in my family.
In the winter of 1963, my grandparents moved from Winston, MS to Starkville, MS. My Grandpa Paul, who had never been a pastor of a church before, was now the assistant pastor to a new church. The lead pastor Carol and my grandpa were building a new church. They had cleared the land and built one room of the church house. Now they were working to increase the membership of the new church and finish building the rest of the church. My grandparents lived in a 2 bedroom and one bath small 10ft x 32ft trailer behind the church. They had two young children and one on the way.
Grandpa Paul was tongue-tied. This caused him many problems with public speaking. However, he was able to compensate for this. He had an interesting way of making a point. Many times people had to wait until he finished speaking before they understood what he was trying to say because he would start with the most interesting statement. Normally it was also the most unusually statement. This useful strategy caused many people to stop and listen to him.
My grandpa Paul and Pastor Carol would take turns giving the sermons. Pastor Carol never knew what my grandpa would preach on, but he trusted him. One very memorable Sunday, my grandpa was to give the sermon. After the praise and worship was over, Grandpa Paul quietly walked to the pulpit and calmly asked the congregation a very disturbing question. Without any major emotion in his voice he asked, “Is it wrong to beat the fire out of your wife?” Everyone in the congregation gasped at such a ridiculous question. Everybody knew that beating their wife was wrong and you most certainly did not ask that question at a small church in a small town. Remember this is the 60’s and you simply did not speak of things like this. Lead Pastor Carol looked at Grandpa Paul with a questioning look in his eye. Then my grandpa further shocked everyone in that small church house. Grandpa Paul said, “The other night I beat the fire out of my wife and I did right.” Now everyone was looking around wondering why he had been selected to be assistant pastor. Not only was he tongue-tied, but he was also a wife beater. They also wondered how he could even think it was a good idea to beat his pregnant wife. Pastor Carol started to get up and take the pulpit away from Grandpa Paul, but grandpa said, “Let me finish explaining.” Pastor Carol requested that the congregation let Grandpa finish. After a few minutes, everyone got quiet and sat back down. Grandpa Paul started to explain. The only reason Pastor Carol allowed Grandpa Paul to continue is he personally knew that Paul had an unusual way of making a very good point. Unfortunately, he was baffled as to how anyone could stand there, confess to beating their wife, and firmly believe that he was doing what God wanted him to do.
Grandpa Paul continued by saying, “It is not what you do but why you do it. I had a very good reason for beating my wife the other night. By beating her, I saved her life.” Now everyone in the church was scratching their heads and asking each other how beating someone can save their life. Grandpa Paul continued, “It has been cold lately. We put a space heater in the bathroom. My wife went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. While in the bathroom, her gown caught on fire. She screamed for help. I ran in and grabbed a towel. I then grabbed her arm and commenced to beating her with the towel. After putting out the fire that had engulfed her nightgown, I made sure she was not injured. Then I calmed her down and helped her finish getting ready for bed. After getting her to bed, I reassured the children that all was alright. I then reminded the children to be extra careful around the space heater.”
She is here today because I beat the fire out of her literally. Therefore, it is not what you do, but why you do it.” After church, many people asked my grandma, if this was true. She answered that it was and explained how scared she had been. Many members of the congregation later expressed regret for their first reaction. If Pastor Carol had not requested that Grandpa Paul be allowed to explain, the congregation would have thrown, my grandpa out of the church.
My grandpa has told this story at many other churches. Those congregations likewise had the same first impression. They also later expressed regret for jumping to conclusions. Since my grandpa told me the story, he has past away; however, he lives on through his words and actions. I am sure that no one who was there that day and is still living has forgotten my grandpa’s words. When I am baffled by what someone has done, I remember the words of my grandpa. I also remember an old Proverb that says a wise man listens to the end of the matter, but a foolish man speaks quickly. My grandpa took that proverb to heart. Because of the lessons that my grandpa taught me, I try to listen completely before I judge anyone. It is possible that their actions were based on love or good intentions. I wonder how many times people hear part of a story and jump to the wrong conclusion. I hope that more people could learn to listen to the whole matter before jumping to conclusions. My grandpa Paul spent his life trying to teach people to listen to the whole story instead of simple jumping to a conclusion.
When I was about 7 years old, I lived about five miles outside of a small town with my mom. It had one post office, one gas station, an elementary school, and a small meat market. There were no sidewalks, traffic lights, or streetlights. We did not even have a police station or cell phone towers. There were several churches. In addition, a train track went beside the town. My dad was a long-haul truck driver; so, he was always gone. Thus, it was normally just my mom and me. Every Sunday my mom and I would go to church. In own community, all of the churches had two different services on Sunday. There was one in the morning and one at night. Most people, including us, went to both services.
There is one Sunday night that I will remember for the rest of my life. However, it is not the sermon or the singing that I remember about it. I cannot even remember the songs that we sung that night, but we normally sung “Victory in Jesus”. This particular Sunday night stands out in my mind for a different reason. It is the night I first really started comprehending the power of short prayers. I knew that Jesus heard long thought-out prayers, but I did not really know that he heard and answered short, disorganized prayers that are screamed at him. Until this time, I believed that it was wrong to scream at Jesus and expect him to help. Thankfully, I was wrong. I have since learn, that sometimes it really does not matter how you ask Jesus for help as long as you are sincere with your request. I also started comprehending that Jesus controls many things other than wind and rain. I learned all of this after we left to go home on that Sunday night.
Our drive home started out as it had many other times. All of the other people lived a different direction from our home so we said good-by and was on our way. We had to cross the train tracks to go home. We always tried to get across the tracks before the nightly train came through especially in the fall because it was dark outside and everyone knew that it was only a mother and her child in the car. We came to the tracks and started across. The train had not yet come, but it would be coming soon. The car died on the tracks. It would not start. We are the only ones on that road and it is dark outside. The car refuses to start. My mom gets out and tries to push the car. She is not strong enough and I am no help. This is our only car and we live 5 miles further on a dark lonely country road. There are no pay phones around. If we leave the car, there will be a train wreck. If we stay with the car, the train will kill us. I had heard my mom pray many times before, but never like she did that night. She screams for Jesus’ help with fear in her voice. She tells him that we have just come from church, not a bar. She tells him that the train will be here within the next few minutes. She explains what will happen if the train hit the car. All while trying to calm me down. By this time, I have comprehended that we are in trouble. My idea is to leave the car and walk back to church. My mom knows that this will not work because no one is at the church. My mom then calmly tries again to start the car. The car starts. We quickly got off the tracks. After we get off the tracks, we see the headlight of the train. We then thank Jesus for starting the car and ask him to keep the car going until we get home.
When we finally pull into the driveway, the car dies. We are simple thankful to be home. The people that tried to fix the car could not understand how it started back up and then went all the way to our house before dying again. I knew that it was the answer to a very simple yet very different kind of prayer. The car never started again. It cost more to repair the car than it was worth. It was about a month later before we got another car. At the time, I wondered why my mom just did not ask Jesus to fix the car since the car apparently obeyed him.
About 4 years later, my mom and I were coming home from buying groceries and we heard a loud sound from the car. I did not know what it was, but my mom had a really good idea because the steering wheel no longer worked. I noticed that she could turn the wheel all the way around, but it had no effect on the car. There are still no cell phone towers and whom would we call anyway. My dad was working. So, we prayed. I had already learned that Jesus could control cars and make them work. Jesus answered our prayer. He caused the car to go around all of the curves and make all of the turns between there and the house. Later, a mechanic managed to fix the steering column there in the yard because you could not steer the car.
Now I know that Jesus is there to help, and he answers our prayers. Sometimes he answers them immediately and sometimes it takes a little time. Jesus did not just simple fix the old car, he provided us with a newer better car. He also started teaching me to trust and wait for him and his timing. I saw that when there is no one else to turn to he is always just a prayer away regardless of how you prayed.
In the late 1960’s my grandparents moved to an oilfield town with their two children. My grandfather worked in the oilfields in that town. The family rented a ranch style house. The house was sat back about ¼ of a mile from the main road. On Sundays the family went to church. At church they were taught about Jesus and never to lie. In Sunday school, the children were taught to ask Jesus if they needed help, and he would always answer.
When my Uncle Jerry was about 10 years old and in the 5th grade, his sister Karen starts 1st grade. This is going to be the 1st time that she will be going to school, so their father gives Jerry the job of looking out for her. They walk to the end of their driveway where their ride will pick them up. At the end of the driveway is a cattle gap. (A cattle gap is made out oilfield pipe. With the pipe running long ways, about twelve pipes with three inches between that is welded to a pipe on both ends laid flat between two ditches. The ditch is about 12 inches deep.) They had to go across the cattle gape to get to the main road. Karen at this time had never walked across the cattle gap before in her life. Jerry walks across the gap with no problem. Now it is Karen’s turn. She looks at it and is so scared, but there is no other way. Jerry comes back over and gets her by her hand and starts helping her over. Karen’s foot slides in. She is in a mess with one foot on the ground in between the pipes. The pipes come up to her thigh. Her thigh is now jammed in between the pipes with no way to simple pull her out. She screams, but no body hears her but Jerry and she knows that there is no way that Jerry will be strong enough to bend the pipe because oil field pipe is very strong. So, she says, “Jesus please help us”. Jerry then squats down, takes hold of the pipe with his hands, and spreads the two pieces of pipe apart. They then thank Jesus for his help.
When their ride comes, they go on to school as if nothing has happened. That night Marcus, their father, asks about Karen’s first day of school. She shows him her leg and then tells him how she fell in the cattle gap and how Jerry bent the pipe to get her out. Marcus calls for Jerry. He then reminds both of them what will happen if they lie to him. Marcus ask Jerry what happen to Karen’s leg. Jerry tells him the same story as Karen told. Now Marcus is getting upset because he believes they are lying. He works with oil field pipe almost every day and knows that it is impossible for a 10-year-old to bend the pipe. However, he does not feel like walking to the cattle gap to check their story.
Marcus gets the whole family up early and they all go to the cattle gap. On the way to the gap, he tells them if they lied, he would teach them a lesson they would never forget. At the gap, they all get out of the car and Karen shows her father where she fell in. Marcus looks at the bent pipe. He replies by saying, “Something sure spread the pipes apart”. He then turns to Jerry and asks, “how did you spread the pipe apart”. “Well,”, said Jerry, “I got scared that I would get a spanking for letting her get hurt and I had no other choice but to make the space bigger and Karen asked Jesus for help. So, I guess Jesus gave me the strength to pull the pipes apart.” Marcus looked again at the pipe and back at Jerry while shaking his head. Marcus bent down and tried to pull the pipe apart. You know what? He could not. They all went back to the house. Ann said something had to have helped Jerry and Karen. Karen now knew that Jesus would answer her prayers as she had been taught in Sunday school. She was surprised that her parents did not understand how the pipes were pulled apart. She wondered why her parents did not they were remembering the lessons from church.
My mom often told me the story of how I came to be born.
She was scheduled to have her ovaries removed the very next day, when she went out to pray. She often went to an old stump to be alone with God. This day she went out with tears in her eyes crying out to God. She expressed her desire to have a daughter. A voice came to her that seemed to say, “you lack hope”. She also remembered the verse in Hebrews 11:11, Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. She had lost hope of ever having a baby.
When you went back to the house, the phone was ringing. The nurse was frantically trying to reach her. Apparently, someone had finally thought to test if my mom was pregnant. It turns out that she was 3 months pregnant. The nurse explained to my mom that the surgery had to wait until after the baby was born. The nurse also scheduled my mom for an ultrasound.
Time passed quickly as she prepared for my arrival. When she was 7 months pregnant, the unthinkable happened. She was involved in an accident. Someone rear-ended her. She was driving a 1961 Ford Pick-up truck.
This truck didn’t have seatbelt. The Steering wheel is solid metal. Her stomach hit the steering wheel.
Upon examination at the hospital, it was determined that the baby was dead. There was no fetal heartbeat. There were no signs of life. No movement.
The doctors did their best to explain to my mom that I was dead. They explained that the impact had been too much. My mom only cried, “No, No, you are not taking my baby!”
The doctors scheduled the procedure anyway. They had decided to give my mom 3 days to come to terms with her lose. They instructed my dad to take my mom home and make her understand. They explained that if the dead baby was not removed, she would set up infection and die.
This time my mom refused to lose hope. On the appointed day, at the appointed time, she went to the hospital. She demanded another ultrasound. The doctors agreed on 1 condition. The condition was that if no signs of life could be found, the procedure would take place.
During the ultrasound, the technician not only found my heartbeat she saw my mom’s stomach move when I started kicking. The technician called for the doctor. The doctor agreed to cancel the procedure.
Two months later, it was finally time for me to be born. I was jerking in the birth canal. I was jerking so badly that the doctors thought I was in distress. They called in the specialists. The specialists were waiting for me to come out.
When I come out, everyone burst into laughter. They were so relieved that the specialists were not needed. I only had the hiccups.
My mom has told me this story many times over the years. She always ended with “If God gives you a promise, Never Lose Hope!”
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