"...The church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth." I Timothy 3:15
A Letter from Parson Jones
Attendance at church last Sunday was mighty poor. I don’t reckon I oughta grumble
‘cause I had a bunch of sick members, and when you add to all that my shut-Ins, we
don’t have a site of pew fillers.
So, I went ahead and preached to what I had. Only thing was the echo in the near
empty church hurt my ears. My Madam said I needed to get out and ride a spell, and
let the fresh air clear my head. It done the trick. Our little ride not only cleared
my head, it made me feel right good inside. What I saw made me rejoice. I saw miracle
Ole Hezekiah, who had been deathly sick that very morning, had roused up and was
riding down the highway with his fishing poles. No, nothin’ but a miracle could have
rescued Old Hez from the jaws of death in such a short time.
Now there's Rufe’s brother. Rufe told me Sunday morning that his brother’s back was
in fowl shape, and that they was afraid an operation was gonna be necessary. Well,
we remembered him in our prayers; and lo and behold, at two o’clock there he stood
at the driving range hitting golf balls. If that wasn’t a quick recovery, I don’t
know what is.
All told, about 20 of my sick folks had roused up and were taking nourishment in
one form or another. But what really made me happy was to see so many of my shut-ins
out riding around and enjoying the world.
Hezekiah’s pa, who don't attend church ‘cause he can’t stand crowds, was headed for
the drag races. Sister Nell’s mama, who was too weak to get outa the house, was in
town shopping. Ellie Nickelsinger’s sister, who can’t come on account of her kidneys,
stood in line two hours to get into the show. It was a show about The Miracle Worker.
I thought it was right appropriate, seeing as how a miracle had happened to her.
Yes, sir, it thrilled my heart to see what I seen. I ought to have a packed house
next Sunday with all my sick folks being healed and shut-ins being set free. I just
hope they don’t overdo themselves before next Sunday and have a relapse.
I gotta go now and play with my smallest young’un. He is gonna be the farmer, and
I’m gonna be the goat. Tin cans will be easy to eat after what I’ve swallowed.