Remember While You Can

"Two missionary mice walked up on the porch and one of them rang the doorbell.  When the lady answered the door, he said 'We're here to tell you about cheeses' ."

As I've previously described, the summer of 1971 was one of the most eventful summers of my life.  The twelve weeks I spent selling books door-to-door near Owensboro, Kentucky were some of the most challenging and grueling days of my life.  The summer was very rewarding in many ways as well.

The summer of 1972 was relatively uneventful.  I took some classes at my town's junior college and worked for my father's construction company.  It was good to just stay  home.

I spent the summer of 1973 as a "summer missionary" in Eatontown, New Jersey.  This program was sponsored by the then Home Mission Board of the Southern Baptist Convention. Although the summer itself was a significant experience, a couple of things  happened before the actual missions started that were equally important.

 In April I had attended a weekend conference at the Shocco Springs Baptist Assembly in Talladega, Alabama. The itinerary for several hundred college students in attendance included an orientation for a few summer missionaries who would be going all over the country in June. As much as I enjoyed the weekend and benefited from the activities provided, a deeply personal and spiritual incident happened to me that was not a part of anything scheduled("The Lord works in mysterious ways His wonders to perform"). This thing was a profound encounter for me at the time and  looking back I realize was a watershed experience.  It became summer missions orientation in a way I could never have planned or predicted. The other thing that happened before the work actually began was what happened at the orientation in Syracuse, New York. There were twelve of us there who would scatter all over the northeast for the summer.  I had flown into Syracuse on Thursday to leave for Eatontown on Sunday afternoon. . We were told that on Saturday night a singer named Ken Medema would provide a concert for us. When somebody told me that he was blind I didn't know what to expect, especially considering the hotel piano he would be using. All I can say is that at the dramatic and soul-stirring conclusion of "Moses", if I had had an altar and some wood, I would have sacrificed a cow.  "What do you hold in your hand today?  To what or to whom are you bound?  Are you willing to give it to God right now?  Give it up. Let it go. Throw it down".

Anne was my partner for the summer. On Sunday we traveled together to the Monmouth Baptist Church in Eatontown, New Jersey to begin our work together there.  The church was our headquarters for our various projects and ministries in the area. The core of our activities were Back Yard Bible Clubs that we held in various parks and apartment complexes.  Sometimes we had a crowd of ten or fifteen children, but usually it was five or six.  The children were interesting and engaging and made the experience worthwhile for them and for us.

Anne was a much braver missionary than I was.  She took her guitar everywhere we went and often sang Jesus songs in restaurants and other public places.  I never got entirely comfortable with that but it's just something we did. About three weeks into the summer Anne's brother was killed.  She flew home to Virginia for the funeral and returned about two weeks later.  Her demeanor changed somewhat, but she was as determined as ever to spread the gospel  of Jesus in her own unique way.  I've tried to find Anne through the Southern Baptist Convention and the New York Baptist Convention, but no one has any record of her. Dang.

A funny thing happened during Bible school that I have chuckled about over the years.  This Vacation Bible School was actually at the church for church kids and the community. As I recall we had about thirty children enrolled for the week.  Anne's accent could grate on you if you let it.  It  just had an edge to it that was somewhat unpleasant. Some words like the word "God", for example, she strung out in several syllables.  "God" came out something like "Geeahd"  She was teaching a Bible lesson and was saying "Geeahd" every few minutes.  One ten year old girl had finally had enough. She threw her hands up in exasperation and exclaimed, "God. God.  God. All you ever talk about is God!"  Anne looked at me and I looked at her and we both broke out laughing.  I'm laughing now.

That was 43 years ago.  In twenty years or so when I look back at the summer of 2016, what will I have to say about it? Will there be an overarching theme like '71 and '73 or will I just remember bits and pieces?  Or will I remember anything at all? I ran into another Ann recently. This Ann is in her 90s and deep into dementia.  I said something to her about her husband who died not that long ago.  She said, "I don't remember my husband."  Then she took my hands, looked into my eyes and added, "David, you need to remember while you can."

I've attended many Medema concerts over the years and he and I have become good friends.  In 1990 I was involved in a project with him that involved 80 local youth and raised several thousand dollars for Habitat for Humanity. My wife and I had lunch recently with Ken  and Beverly his agent.  He was in town for a concert. We were not able to attend the concert, but it was sure good to see him after so long. Ken's music is incredible, but his person is extraordinary.  Who knew in June of 1973 in Syracuse, New York, that I would be having lunch with him 43 years later in Dalton, Georgia?  Who knew??  I don't know for sure, but I have a good idea.