Dear Jimmy,
Well, let me tell you, I'm still fairly fumin' from a chance meetin' with Doris Morris at the sweet tater bin at Brown's grocery store in town. You may not know Doris, since she and her husband are new. They've only been members about five years. But Doris sings in the choir with me and up until today we've been right friendly to each other. Not what you'd call sisters nor nothin' like that, but close as church acquaintances go.
Well, anyway she kinda sides up to me like she had a secret to share or somethin' and she asked me in a kind of whisper what I thought of Brother Bobby's sermon last Sunday. To tell you the truth she caught me flat-footed, so to speak, and right that second I couldn't remember one sentence he had to say for love nor money. I musta looked at her blank like, so she said, “You, too, huh?” And before I could object or even figure out what she was talkin' about, she went on.
Jim White
“Well, it's like I told Charlie …” Charlie, that's her husband. “Well, it's like I told Charlie” says she, “I just have three things to say about that sermon. Number 1, he read it. Number 2, he read it real bad. And number 3, it wasn't worth reading in the first place.” And with that she was off to the meat counter.
Well, by the time she finished she was no longer whisperin'. In fact, I wouldn't say she was shoutin', but people in the canned spinach aisle could hear her. I know this for a fact because Mable Kearney remarked to me that she couldn't help but overhear our conversation and she was real sorry to hear we were having trouble with our preacher and she had canned spinach in her basket.
Now, maybe you remember Mable from that summer you spent with us on the farm when you were but a boy. She was the one that started the rumor that you were Uncle Orley's boy with some woman over in Bristol who died. She's the only woman in town with a mouth bigger'n her head. I told her we had no trouble at all and we all loved our preacher and she just smiled and nodded her head real smug like. I can see trouble ahead for Brother Bobby and Bluebell Baptist.
I can tell you that experience put an end to a perfectly good day of shoppin' I had planned and I high-tailed it back home so I could explode on your uncle. I'm not sure he appreciates my strategy, but after all these years he doesn't expect anything different. On the way home it came to me. The sermon, that is.
He was talkin' about Peter walkin' on the water and takin' his eyes off Jesus and that's when he started to sink. It's true that he read it more than usual, and I've heard him do better, but on the whole I think it was a pretty good sermon. Uncle Orley does, too.
I've tried callin' Doris, but she must still be out shoppin', and talkin' no doubt. I'm so upset with myself that I didn't just set her straight, but I couldn't think right it seems.
I don't know what all Brother Bobby was doin' last week, but I know for a fact that he made several trips to the hospital in Roanoke when Peachy Simmons was so sick. Oh, I forgot to tell you that Peachy died. Well, before she died, she was real sick and Brother Bobby was there with the family and then afterward with the funeral and all. And, that's on top of everything else he has to do. Even in a little church like ours, there's a lot for a preacher to get done.
I've wondered to myself sometimes what it must be like to have to stand in front of people two or three times every week and give them something challengin' and inspirin' from God's word. And to know while your doin' it that some of those folk are gonna criticize no matter what you say must be hard. Why, my mind goes blank at the sweet tater bin. If I had to stand in front of the church and give folks a message from the Lord every week I'd be comatose. 'Course, I'm not called to be a preacher, but still and all it can't be easy.
Seems to me that church folk outta be a little more inclined to pray for their preacher and a little less likely to criticize.
And another thing bothers me about what Doris Morris did. By sayin' what she did so carelessly in public, she got the rumor mill goin'. I don't suspect that was her intention, but it might as well have been ‘cause the result is the same. I wonder if she even gave thought to how her words might be taken by somebody listenin' in?
In one of his sermons a while back Brother Bobby said rumors are like bustin' open a feather pillow on a windy day. You can never chase down all the feathers and put them back. I think maybe I need to call Mable and talk to her again. Maybe we can keep some of those feathers in the pillow, so to speak.
I wonder, too, if Doris took time to think about what effect her criticizin' might have on some people. Now, me, I've been a Christian a long time and I've been goin' to Bluebell Baptist since before I was born, as I like to say. But a lot of folks might lose their respect for the preacher when they hear criticism like that. They might even start lookin' for faults to point out. When that happens, a church is in trouble.
Seems to me, we need to keep our eyes on Jesus and not look around us for trouble. Come to think of it, that's exactly what Brother Bobby was tryin' to tell us last Sunday. Makes me wonder … I know Doris heard the preacher's voice. I wonder if she heard his words?
Well, I feel better and as soon as I seal this letter, I'm reachin' for the phone. I've gotta keep those feathers where they belong.
Uncle Orley and I will look for you in Richmond at the BGAV meeting. We'll stop by the Religious Herald booth and see if you're there. Bye for now.
Love and Prayers,
Aunt Ida