Time Gone By

The phrase "he's fixin' to meet his Maker" means one is about to die. Back in the South when someone died, the body would be laid out at home after being embalmed. The family would sit up with the body until the day of the funeral, which was held at the church.

Saved- sinner- backslider, it didn't matter, when death came, you turned to the church for support (comfort, preacher, facility, grave, singers, food, flowers). If a person wasn't very well-known, church members would show up to prevent the family of embarrassment of a small turnout. The coffin was open for viewing. The corpse would be dressed in his/her Sunday best. Photos were taken for a remembrance. Of course, everyone would wear black attire as a sign of mourning the loss. They hymn Amazing Grace was usually sung.

Often, the church had a cemetery next to the building reserved for loyal members. For the trip to the family or city cemetery, a funeral procession was formed. At the front was the hearse, cars would drive slow behind. All cars would turn their headlights on, oncoming traffic would pull over to the side of the road in reverence and respect to the deceased. At the graveside service, the minister would repeat "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" while throwing a fistful of dirt onto the lowered casket. Family members would drop a flower on top of the dirt as they filed out. All the graves are dug in such a manner that the dead always point eastward for the Lord's return on resurrection day. Church members would all bring dishes of food to help feed the incoming funeral guests. This gave visitors a time to mingle with relatives and friends and reminisce about the dead.

Having recently lost my father, I thought I'd share what I've learned. While you may feel hesitant about intruding on the family during their grief, but it's important to visit, call, write, email, send flowers, or prepare food to offer your condolences and provide emotional support. It lets the family know that while their loved one is gone, they are not alone, that while suffering a great loss, they are still connected to the living and life will go on. Expressing sympathy by a warm embrace and saying kind words about the person who died is always appreciated. Most of all, be a good listener.

Church Summer Camp

For years, I attended church summer camp growing up, from the time I was about six years old. It was always part of my summer vacation experience. The first couple of years were at Camp Cook Springs in AL. This summer outdoor recreational center had 18 wooded acres with an artesian spring-fed lake and pine needle cushioned trails. You slept in a crude cabin lined with cots while listening to crickets and batting chiggers. You ate in the dining hall filled with rows of wooden tables and birch tree benches. Evening services were held outdoors, each cabin sat on a blanket.

I always looked forward to the fun and entertainment. Activities were organized by a loving group of volunteers and parents. I remember over-scheduled days (7:00am - 11:pm non-stop activities) designed to create order by wearing out the campers. I remember the event signals: clanging bell, taps, and revele. Thoughts that come to mind: swimming, forced hiking, music, arts & crafts (lanyards, macramé, leather wallets), games (4 square, kickball, tag, water balloon toss, pillow fights), drama (improv skits, kangaroo court, "Doctor Doctor"), group discussions, talent shows, mess hall duty, devotionals, chapel, worship, and bible classes. Each day an award was given to the cleanest cabin, the reward was having possession of the coveted stuffed mascot. On the last evening of camp, we had a banquet. A boy could ask a girl to attend and you were allowed to sit by him (it was a big deal). Campers had voted during the week and awards were given: king, queen, prince, princess, most talented, camp comedian, etc... On the last day of camp, we would have our friends sign our autograph book with their address so that we could write to them when we got back home.

Music was a large part of camp. We sang silly fun songs and we sung sacred Christian songs. Fun songs like: Do Your Ears Hang Low, Found a Peanut, B-I-N-G-O, Out in the Woods, Boom Boom Ain't It Great to be Crazy, On Top of Ol' Smoky, My Hat It Has 3 Corners, Head & Shoulders Knees & Toes, and Yes We Have No Bananas. Church songs like: Kumbaya, Joy Down in My Heart, Praise Ye the Lord, If You're Saved & You Know It, Do Lord Remember Me, I Have Decided to Follow Jesus, I Am a C I Am a Ch..., Pass It On, So Rise & Shine & Give God the Glory, King of Kings and Lord or Lords, He's Got the Whole World, and This is the Day.

Originally, church summer camp was created to nurture the body, mind, and spirit of youth in a natural setting. It was a setting to teach about Jesus and deepen our walk with Him. Concentrated blocks of time were provided to establish and grow a relationship with the Lord. It gave kids the chance to make new friends, discover interests, and learn about life. It gave a chance to develop personal strength and self-confidence.

It was a period of time away from home, a time to learn from other influences: teachers, counselors, ministers, and friends. For me, it was an enriching childhood experience that contributed to the person I have become today. I have fond memories that I cherish.

For your enjoyment:

Hello Muddah, hello Faddah
Here I am at Camp
Camp is very entertaining
And they say we’ll have some fun if it stops raining

I went hiking with Joe Spivey
He developed poison ivyY
ou remember Leonard Skinner
He got ptomaine poisoning last night after dinner

All the counselors hate the waiters
And the lake has alligators
And the head coach wants no sissies
So he reads to us from something called Ulysses

Now I don’t want this should scare ya’
But my bunkmate has malaria
You remember Jeffery Hardy
They’re about to organize a searching party

Take me home, oh Muddah, Faddah
Take me home, I hate Grenada
Don’t leave me out in the forest where
I might get eaten by a bear

Take me home, I promise I will
Not make noise, or mess the house with
Other boys, oh please don’t make me stay
I’ve been here one whole day

Dearest Fadduh, Darling Muddah
How’s my precious little bruddah
Let me come home if you miss me
I would even let Aunt Bertha hug and kiss me

Wait a minute, it’s stopped hailing
Guys are swimming, guys are sailing
Playing baseball, gee that’s bettah
Muddah, Faddah kindly disregard this letter.

Dressed in Ribbon & Lace

In the spring as a young child, I wore a pretty dress (perhaps smocked), short white gloves, and white patent leather shoes, with a hat or ribbons in my hair to church. Yes, I was brought up in church. My family was faithful church attendees, after all, we were in Bible belt country. In my hand was a little matching purse which carried mints and a quarter for the offering plate. My first church was certainly "old school." The church pews were wooden benches with carvings made by kids. The floors were well-worn hardwood. On the side wall hung a Sunday School banner showing the offering and attendance. There was no air-conditioning. Instead, you used a hand fan to cool yourself. It was made of a stiff cardboard attached to a stick. On one side was usually a picture of Jesus. On the other side was an advertisement usually from either a funeral home or insurance company. Before service, you were greeted with a "fellowship handshake." We sang hymns from the "blue book" like "Victory in Jesus," "I'll Fly Away," "Since Jesus Came Into My Heart, and O, I Want to See Him." People prayed individual prayers out loud, all at the same time. During preaching, many shouted "amen and preach it!" Sunday evening services were more relaxed and interactive. Testimonies were taken, annointing oil, sermons preached, altar calls given, and knees knelt. Wednesday nights were for the "faithful few." I still feel a deep sense of indebtedness to the church of my youth and to all those who instructed me in the Lord. It was a place for renewal and hope. Back in the day, those believers may have not been very "polished," but they were sure sincere, dedicated, and lively. For better or for worse, church gave me a "compass" for my life. It was the launching pad that shaped and built my character and beliefs. It is a part of my heritage I cannot deny.