When our daughter was nine years old, a movie was released that she just had to see. “The Flintstones” was in theatres in the spring of 1994. Joe and I took Hannah to Roanoke, Virginia on his day off and we enjoyed popcorn, soft drinks, and family time watching the movie.
You know how it is when there’s a movie on HBO that you really, really like? I can watch the same one several times and not think a thing of it. Seeing “The Flintstones” once was plenty for me…but not for Hannah. A few days after our trip to Roanoke, she begged and begged to see it again. Joe told her they’d have a date night and go back for pizza and a movie.
The day before their big date came and she was getting excited. Then the phone rang…
Her daddy was a United Methodist minister, and if you know anything about that denomination you’ll know that there are lots and lots of meetings. Sometimes there are meetings to plan meetings! Joe was closest to the telephone while we were eating dinner, so he picked it up. You could tell from his side of the conversation that a specially called meeting had been set for the next evening. The chairman of the Finance Committee was calling to insure Joe would be there.
I saw Hannah’s face change as the conversation wore on. Her little eyes looked down as if she’d cry…but she didn’t. She was used to her daddy having to spend evenings now and again at the church. I watched her as Joe wrote down the time and place of the meeting. Her date night had been spoiled. I hurt for her because her daddy was very good at making time to spend with her on a regular basis. But this was the Finance Committee! Any preacher knows you don’t miss one of those!
Then he told the voice on the phone that they’d have to conduct the meeting without him. He had a previous engagement that couldn’t be broken.
She was his “previous engagement” and she knew it! When she heard those words Hannah’s eyes lit up! And a smile so big it could’ve lit up the room came across her face! Once again, Daddy kept his promise to her.
That’s his habit. If he gives you his word about something…even “The Flintstones” movie…he’ll keep it. I’ve grown accustomed to this in the 44 years we’ve been married.
When I was a kid, I remember times when my dad’s churches would take up so much of his time that he’d be eating dinner at 9 or 10:00 at night. When he first started as a pastor, he had five churches! Five! When we moved to a place that only had two churches, we thought we had arrived! Ha! But meetings, hospital visits and the like kept him pretty tied up. I’m not criticizing his dedication. His devotion to his ministry and his family were inspiring. But when you’re a kid, there are things that stick out in your mind.
When I was 14, my dad promised that he’d take me shopping to buy a dark skirt for a choral concert at school. My sister was in that chorus, too, and we had one dark skirt between us. I was growing taller and needed a new one. Dad told me what day we’d go after school and he’d take me to Wilsons (my favorite hamburger place) for supper after shopping.
The day came and Dad called the house to tell us that he’d be at the hospital all evening because a church member and their family needed him. No shopping. My heart sank. At the age of 14, I couldn’t understand why he’d need to spend an entire evening with church members!
Now, after being a pastor’s wife for all these years, I appreciate so much more why my dad did what he did. It’s the ministry. It was necessary! He was needed. That was his job and calling!
But what I saw Joe do for our little girl that night in 1994 has stuck in my mind all these years. I can still see the look on her face when she heard about his “previous engagement” and the delight she took in her daddy at that very moment!
Joe has been dedicated to his ministry for 46 years. He has been extremely effective every place he’s been appointed by the UMC. He's guided churches through building projects and renovations. Every church he's ever served has grown! I’m very proud of the pastor he’s been and the man he is. His love for Christ and His church is obvious. But in all that dedication, one thing he’s always done is family first! Over all these years, I’ve come to realize that not every pastor knows how to balance home and church. Joe does.
What you see is what I get! Joe is the same no matter what. He’s happy, dedicated, and a man who totally loves Jesus…and totally loves his wife and his family. Not every pastor’s spouse has this balance, but I can say with certainty that I do!
Now that he’s retired, we don’t know what God has in store for us, but we’ll be waiting to see. Meanwhile, there’s joy in the journey. Part of that joy comes from living with a man who keeps his promises. I am blessed.
i love you, Joe…
(I got my skirt, by the way. That night I dug around in my mother’s sewing patterns, pulled out some dark brown fabric, read the directions and sewed my own skirt on a sewing machine no one in our house had ever used!!! I’d never sewn before! A temper tantrum turned into a lifelong love of sewing!)
If you have a pulse, you have a purpose…so make your life count!
Monday, June 18, 2018
Sunday, June 17, 2018
He mowed the grass in a tie!!!
This is a photo I took of my daddy one summer…and yes, he’s mowing in a tie! 
When I was growing up, he usually had a tie on every single day. And he’d leave it on until bedtime because he never knew when a parishioner would need the pastor! It wasn’t until he retired that I saw Daddy in sports shirts and slacks!
His brother, Virgil, used to tell me that Daddy always looked like he’d “…just stepped off of a bandbox!” He told me that Daddy would press his own clothes so he’d get them just right. Grandma thought he was vain for doing that, and told him so. She was a member of the Friends (Quaker) denomination and pride was a thing to be shunned. (Guess it should be for anyone!) Uncle Virgil said that Grandma’s critique didn’t stop Daddy from looking his best. He was quite a handsome young man, so I’m sure all the young ladies appreciated his extra efforts!!! A few years later, our momma certainly did! Then she started ironing his clothes! (smile)
As a little girl – and even as a teenager – I would help my dad with chores. He’d be on one of those wheeled dollies that you lay down on to slide under a vehicle…and he’d pull me under the car with him on a gray wool blanket, so I could hold the light and hand tools to him as he worked. I still have that blanket. I remember at the age of nine, helping him change the shock absorbers on our 1957 Chevy! I loved it when he’d change the filter on his cars so I could cover them in aluminum foil, to pretend they were swimming pools for Barbie, Ken, Midge, and Skipper!!!
This past Friday, I took lunch to our very pregnant daughter. Sitting at her dining room table, I saw her New Yorker magazine cover and it made me smile and feel tears welling up in my eyes…all at the same time. It looked like something my daddy and I used to do! I was his shadow!
We had our moments – like the time his hearing was better than I anticipated. And the time he tried to teach me to drive a stick-shift, then stormed into the house, threw the keys at my sister and said, “I’m too old for this! YOU teach her!!!”
When Daddy was sick for three months, I spent a lot of time with him. He was in a nursing facility, but the medical folks were gracious enough to let me sleep in his room on a cot at the foot of his bed. I bathed him, helped him in the bathroom, changed his sheets, measured and emptied the bag filled with fluid coming from his liver, and anything else he needed. He cried one day as I bathed him, saying he hated that I had to do that for him. I told him it was my privilege…then to stop his tears, I told him a funny story about Mother. It’s the story I tell in my comedy routines now! He quit crying and chuckled, then laughed.
It was the last time I heard him laugh.
During those three months, we took care of some things. I asked a lot of questions. He answered them. I had a problem with the decision he and my mother made when they moved to take another church between my sophomore and junior years in high school. I asked why. And he told me. I was satisfied with the answer. And, as it turned out, that move was one of the best things that could have ever happened to me.
Another Father’s Day has come and gone without me being able to call Daddy to tell him how much I love him. He’s been gone for 17 years.
So I’ll tell you that I miss the man. I love him to this very day…
And just as I always do at the end of my blog postings, I’ll remind you of this: If you have a pulse, you have a purpose. Make your life count!
His brother, Virgil, used to tell me that Daddy always looked like he’d “…just stepped off of a bandbox!” He told me that Daddy would press his own clothes so he’d get them just right. Grandma thought he was vain for doing that, and told him so. She was a member of the Friends (Quaker) denomination and pride was a thing to be shunned. (Guess it should be for anyone!) Uncle Virgil said that Grandma’s critique didn’t stop Daddy from looking his best. He was quite a handsome young man, so I’m sure all the young ladies appreciated his extra efforts!!! A few years later, our momma certainly did! Then she started ironing his clothes! (smile)
As a little girl – and even as a teenager – I would help my dad with chores. He’d be on one of those wheeled dollies that you lay down on to slide under a vehicle…and he’d pull me under the car with him on a gray wool blanket, so I could hold the light and hand tools to him as he worked. I still have that blanket. I remember at the age of nine, helping him change the shock absorbers on our 1957 Chevy! I loved it when he’d change the filter on his cars so I could cover them in aluminum foil, to pretend they were swimming pools for Barbie, Ken, Midge, and Skipper!!!
We had our moments – like the time his hearing was better than I anticipated. And the time he tried to teach me to drive a stick-shift, then stormed into the house, threw the keys at my sister and said, “I’m too old for this! YOU teach her!!!”
When Daddy was sick for three months, I spent a lot of time with him. He was in a nursing facility, but the medical folks were gracious enough to let me sleep in his room on a cot at the foot of his bed. I bathed him, helped him in the bathroom, changed his sheets, measured and emptied the bag filled with fluid coming from his liver, and anything else he needed. He cried one day as I bathed him, saying he hated that I had to do that for him. I told him it was my privilege…then to stop his tears, I told him a funny story about Mother. It’s the story I tell in my comedy routines now! He quit crying and chuckled, then laughed.
It was the last time I heard him laugh.
During those three months, we took care of some things. I asked a lot of questions. He answered them. I had a problem with the decision he and my mother made when they moved to take another church between my sophomore and junior years in high school. I asked why. And he told me. I was satisfied with the answer. And, as it turned out, that move was one of the best things that could have ever happened to me.
Another Father’s Day has come and gone without me being able to call Daddy to tell him how much I love him. He’s been gone for 17 years.
So I’ll tell you that I miss the man. I love him to this very day…
And just as I always do at the end of my blog postings, I’ll remind you of this: If you have a pulse, you have a purpose. Make your life count!
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