Yesterday, the precious gentleman (who was my very first pastor as a child) went to Heaven to be with his God and his beloved wife Earline. Brother Daniels was still preaching at tiny Yokena Presbyterian Church until two weeks ago. His sermons were just as relevant and current as those he preached when I was a small child.
The title of this post comes from an incident that happened at the preacher's house when I was about 5. There was a rope swing hanging from a low branch in this wonderful tree in his yard. It was one of those made from a board with a rope knotted through a hole drilled in the middle. I used to spend hours on that swing.
Well one day, I was turning around and around on that swing. I stopped, but when I went to get off the swing, I could not move. I had twisted and turned my "Her Majesty" ruffled panties around that rope until I was stuck tight. Miss Earline had to come out with scissors and cut me out of that swing. My fancy panties were ruined.
Brother Daniel's funeral will be Friday morning. It is now 45 years later, but I can rest assured that one of his children is going to mention the "panty story."
I guess some things are never meant to be lived down.
And sometimes, that is OK.
No comments:
Post a Comment