Left at Church

Good morning.

As I have told you before, my dad became a gospel preacher; and in my opinion, he made a mighty fine preacher.  He went to Getwell School of Preaching in Memphis, Tennessee, but that’s a story for another time.  Anyway, while my sister and I were growing up, we went to almost every gospel meeting that was held within 30 miles of our house.

Usually, there was at least one other family that would meet us for the service.  I remember one time, this other man, who was also a gospel preacher, his wife, youngest son (whose name was James) and our family all went to Clements Street Church of Christ in Paducah to a meeting.  I guess I was about 10 years old when this happened.

Now, I have to add here that wherever we went, we were usually among the first people to arrive and most likely would be among the last to leave.  So, anyway, we all met at the church and enjoyed not only a good sermon, but the singing, which was A cappella, was absolutely beautiful.

And, as usual, my dad stayed around and talked to almost everybody left in the building.  My sister and I were getting pretty sleepy by the time he decided we should go home.  Now, James had gone to sleep during the church service and was still sleeping on one of the church pews while everybody stood around and talked.

We left the building and decided to stop and get something to drink on the way home. We got to the restaurant and discovered that James was nowhere to be found.  His mom thought his dad had gotten him and put him in the backseat of the car.  That’s right; he was still on the church pew sleeping away.  His parents raced back to the church and got him.  And, the funny thing was that he was still sound asleep and never knew they had left him there.

I don’t think they ever left James at church again; and you know, he wasn’t any worse for wear over it.  He was in a safe place.

See ya next Wednesday.