True Church Funnies and Bloopers: When I Lived As A Pastor's Daughter In Hillbilly Country
These stories ARE true and were real experiences in my own life. The names have been changed.
Some of the most memorable times of my life was when I was a girl and my dad pastored in Missouri. It was a little country church with just a handful of people. Many preachers would have just looked elsewhere, but not my daddy. These people needed the Lord just like anyone else. So our family moved to the country and Daddy pastored.
My dad loved these people, and so did I. His burden for them was so genuine. I loved to watch him preach, and see these dear people respond. But there was a certain uniqueness about this place that's not seen everywhere you go - the church was made up of true, authentic, Missouri hillbillies.
I say this with all due respect and do not mean it derogatory in any fashion. It's just a fact. They were precious, but they sure made our services interesting.
I'll never forget the time that my mom went to pick up a dear old saint for church. Her husband had been really ill, and she couldn't drive. My mom was glad to help out. Mom drove up to the homestead and Ruthie came and got into the car. She was upset. "Ruthie, what is wrong?" My mom showed concern. Ruthie replied with distress in her voice, "Cletus may have to git his prostitute gland removed." My poor mom. Imagine the anguish that she must have felt trying to keep a straight face. But poor Ruthie couldn't help it. She was who she was.
Ruthie's husband, Cletus, pumped septic tanks for a living. He saved the stuff and fertilized his garden with it. No wonder he was sick. The pastor's family never ate any of the produce either, needless to say.
Ruthie and Mildred were sisters. They would sit toward the back and catch up on the latest gossip - out loud. Never mind that church was going on, better say it before they forget it.
Grandma Jamison, another dear saint in her nineties was a spunky gal. She lived in the middle of the sticks all by herself in a tiny mobile home. She would get so happy when she would get up to testify and would get in the aisles and practically preach. She got around great, but to look at her, she seemed very fragile. Well, one night during the course of the service, there was a loud commotion on the left hand side of the building. Ruthie flew down the side aisle and grabbed the back of Grandma Jamison's head. "Jamison, there's a wasper (wasp) on the back of yer head!" I don't know what would have been worse. A wasp sting, or old Ruthie's attack.
If you ever go to a hillbilly church, and it's time to take up prayer requests - well, be prepared. On this certain occasion, different ones were turning in their various needs for prayer, then Mildred spoke up. She had a cousin suffering from a heel spur, and she wanted her to get relief. "Let's all pray fer Agatha. She's got a sperm in her heel."
There were also requests like, "Pray for Marty that God will put a hook in his jaw and reel him in." And others like, "Let's pray that God puts rocks in Martha's bed and makes her so uncomfortable that she'll have to do right."
They meant well. But the funny thing is, when someone talked to Martha she said, "I just couldn't sleep last night, it felt like rocks were in my bed." Also, as you've probably already assumed, Martha did get right.
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