My folks were strong supporters of the church; so, I was in church a good bit of my life.
I had wonderful parents! My Mom was the primary parent; I always had the sense that she held things together. My Dad was more quiet and far less affectionate. I knew my Dad loved me because my Mom constantly told me that he did!
I rarely had physical contact with my Dad. He had been raised by an alcoholic Dad, so I think he had some deficits when it came to expressions of affection. However, there were two times when we connected physically.
Every night, when my Mom would prepare me for bed, she would send me to kiss my father 'Good-Night'. He would drop his newspaper and I would crawl up on his lap and kiss his cheek. It tickled my lips because of his whiskers.
We also touched with some frequency in church. Occasionally, I would sit between my parents. This allowed me to raid my Dad's suit pocket for candy. I would find prizes like root beer barrels, or those pink 'Pepto-Bismol' candies!
Other times, I would lay with my head on my Mom's lap and play with my Dad's hand - which was draped around her shoulder. I would stick my little fingers in between his thick, rough fingers. Suddenly, they would close like a vice and I was caught. Gradually, he would release me and the game would start all over again!
When I became a Dad, I rarely had the opportunity to sit with my family in church; I was always on the platform. I loved Family Camp, because it gave me the privilege of sitting with my family! Even today, I rarely get to sit with Debbie in church. That's one of the down-sides of being a pastor!
I'd like to encourage dads who still have children at home, and husbands who get to sit with your wives in church. Use this time to show affection for your loved ones. Put your arm around your wife and squeeze her. Hold your children on your lap. Let them hear you pray and sing. I remember that when I would whisper an 'Amen', my kids would often mimic my words. That's a good thing! Make it happen!
My Dad: Leonard Wilson Haire! :-)
Some of the earliest memories I have surround going to church at Oakland Free Methodist Church: Sunday School, morning worship, CYC on Wednesday night, occasionally Sunday evening service - especially when I had to earn a badge - and then occasionally for play or choir practice. However, for the first several years of my life, before I started school and for a few years after that during the summers, I had "church" practically all week at least once a day. My parents both worked, so my grandparents - Earl and Florena Fuller - babysat me nearly every day. And every day they would faithfully have devotions in the living room of the house my grandpa had built. My gram would reach for her worn black Bible - not the big fun "family" Bible that had pictures all through it and treasures of all kinds stuffed in it, but I still looked through it - and pick up where she left off from the day before. I would sit or lay on the scratchy green couch and listen as she read from the King James Version. Her dad had been a preacher and she had grown up on this version herself so the words just flowed out of her in an almost hypnotic rhythm. I was still a little young to understand a lot of the "big" words, but I could grasp a lot of the ideas. But when she was finished, then it was time for her and my grandpa to pray. They would bow their heads and close their eyes (I sneaked peaks and watched them sometimes because they couldn't see me). This to me at the time seemed to go on for hours. She would pray for awhile and then my grandpa would pray for awhile and so forth like listening to a slow motioned tennis match. They would pray for people I knew, my parents, me - which I always thought was cool and made me feel very important, my cousins, my aunts and uncles and then people who I came to know had been their friends and others in the church and the list just seemed to go on and on. But then I finally heard "Amen" and knew I could go back and play. You don't realize how special something is sometimes until it's gone or you can gain a more mature perspective on it. But looking back now, those were some of the most comforting days of my life. My family was all around me and loved me, I was prayed for on a daily basis - which I heard - and all was right with the world . . . I couldn't imagine who I'd be today if it hadn't been for being raised in the church with all those fantastic memories and having God-loving family all around me, protecting me in many ways. ~ Jen :-)
ReplyDeleteThat really touched me. How wonderful it had to be to not only to be raised in church but to be able to relate that to such special times with your family. :)) I think that's one reason why I am so elated when my husband sits with me in worship. Being able to share my love of God and to worship with him beside me, it's indescribable how happy it makes me. Being able to share something so powerful and yet personal with your life partner! wow! Then when you add our kids in, well, can we say 'over the moon'? Although I dont have sweet memories from my childhood such as these, God sure is filling my heart and mind with them now. Thanks be to our God! :))
ReplyDeleteHavent quite figured out how to reply to these? I guess you must have a google account? lol. At any rate the previous post was from me, Tracy. lol btw...........when's the book coming out?
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