A Young Methodist Lass
Mama grew up in the Methodist church. From what I’ve learned, I think she was a fairly devoted Methodist. Then she met this “Campbellite” farmer who preached on the side. ( We can call ourselves that, but we don’t like it when we hear it from others). Before their marriage, Daddy had been asked to preach for the church at Fairy, a little community near Hico. He was a confirmed old bachelor (all of about 26), but he showed up for church one Sunday with his new lady friend. It’s was a pretty tight knit community, so everybody knew everybody else, and they knew everybody else's business. So the word got around pretty quickly that the preacher’s new girl friend was a Methodist. I can imagine they were probably polite, but somewhat standoffish, and if I know people, they were probably conversing about her faults when the young couple was out of earshot.
Daddy was really smitten with his young follower of John Wesley, whose father actually bore the name of the famous English preacher. Daddy wanted to show her off. The crucial moment came when he was paid for his preaching. I have no idea how much he was paid. It couldn’t have been much. These were depression times. Five dollars would have been an enormous salary for a preacher who only came on Sunday. It was probably less than that. Apparently they paid him out of the offering, which I take it was mostly change. As he told it, they gave him the money in a bag. He simply tossed it to Mama. It was his idea of showing her how much he cared. Of course she was very pleased. That was a little too much for the Fairy leadership to take. They relieved him of his pulpit responsibilities. But he didn’t care. If they didn’t want Ruby, they couldn’t have him anyway. He was smitten.
Within a short time, he baptized her and eventually some other members of her family. However, I will say this about my mother. While she fully believed things taught among Churches of Christ, understood them, and vigorously promoted them, she retained a soft spot in her heart for the Methodist church – especially the experiences of her youth in her Methodist upbringing, and for the Methodist people. She never spoke disparagingly of them.
It’s strange how that influences a person. When I lived in Shreveport, I worked out at a local gym. During that time, I’ve come to know Pat Day, who was the pastor of the largest Methodist church in Shreveport. Pat and I often arrived and left about the same time, so we conversed while we were changing clothes. Pat has more than a passing acquaintance with the Churches of Christ, and he is a native Texan, so we developed a quite cordial relationship. Maybe I’ve got a little soft spot in my heart for the Methodists too. Rarely did I ever talk with Pat without thinking of Mama.
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