This is Home, Part 41 - Darksville Church, Easter Service

This is part 41 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004.



Darksville Church

The name of the Darksville Church was Mount Shiloh Baptist Church. It was a missionary church and sent people overseas to preach.

Jean and I were going fairly regularly. Mom, too. Mom was a Methodist. There was a small Methodist church on the way to Jacksonville. Rev. Haney had services there sometimes during the summer months. I liked him because he didn't yell; he just talked.

Anyway, Jean joined the Darksville Church. When she went forward to acknowledge her belief in Jesus as the Son of God and that she wanted to be saved, they kept playing "Just As I Am" and waiting for me to go forward. I wasn't about to do that. Afterwards, several people told me they were praying for me.

Jean was baptized in Lee Webster's father's pond. I would never have done that -- for one thing I am afraid of bodies of water. I did not trust the minister not to drop me and I can't swim. Another thing, most of the skirts that I wore were wool -- they would have fit a doll after getting wet. None of them were washable.

Every time I went after that, they played "Just As I Am," over and over. Not only did everyone watch me, the people in our row moved back so I could get out easy.

I stubbornly stood there and did nothing. I don't like being pushed. Besides, I thought it had to be my feeling that made me go forward. How could I be "saved" if they pushed me into it? I stopped going after a few times of this.

I talked to Rev. Haney years later. He asked what I believed and I told him that I believed that Jesus was the Son of God who had come in order for people who believed in Him to be able to go to Heaven after they died. He said it is belief in Jesus as the Savior, the Son of God, that saves people -- not the church. He told me I was saved.

He also said I should be baptized and join a church so it would serve as a witness to others that I did believe. However, he said the church wasn't absolutely necessary. He was a Methodist.

Easter Service

Jean and I decided to go to church one Easter morning. I must have been in college at that time, because I was driving. The roads were very muddy and the East Fork may have been out, because we decided to take the road past Roscoe's, which would bring us farther north of Darksville than usual.

Anyway, there was a little church with a graveyard behind it just beyond Roscoe's. There must have been infrequent services at the church, because no one was there.

Just a little way past the church, I managed to get the car stuck with the front wheels in a muddy hole. I tried to make it jump out of it but it wasn't working.

Jean and I were all dressed up in new jackets, new Easter hats, new shoes and hose.

People always wore hats, dressy dresses, high heels and hose to church back then. If they wore coats or jackets, they also wore gloves. Our age group only wore hats on special occasions. I usually wore skirts and blouses. Sometimes I wore dresses when I had a date with Edgar.

I finally gave up with the car when it wasn't doing anything. I looked at my high heels and looked at the mud.

I don't actually remember walking in the mud, so maybe Roscoe rescued us.

Uncle Doc had to have a new clutch put in the car. I had burned it out.

I learned later that something such as parts of brush (twigs and sticks, etc.) need to be placed in front of the wheels to give them traction.

This is Home, Part 13 - The seasons change: Colored leaves and holidays, autumn in Missouri, Thanksgiving and snow, Mom sewed, Christmas

This is part 13 of my mother's book about her life, written in 2004.



The seasons change: Colored leaves and holidays

Summer had drifted by. It was autumn or fall. In Missouri, autumn is a spectacular time of year. Very beautiful -- with trees of red and trees of gold. There was a vine that had dark red leaves. There were a lot of trees. There was a wooded area between us and Wayman Hill. It was on the side of a larger hill and very spectacular when all the trees were dressed for autumn. We also had at least ten trees in our yard, but only some changed color. Four were cedars.

In school for years, we were supposed to bring in different kinds of leaves and trace around them and fill in the veins. Then write the name underneath. I also remember vases of colored leaves. Mom used to also send a bouquet of autumn flowers.

For just about every holiday -- major -- we made booklets of pictures related to that holiday. For some holidays, we gave plays. I remember the windows being decorated with witches on brooms for Halloween. Uncle Doc or Daddy actually brought a shock of corn with pumpkins (they raised a few pumpkins, too) that were put around it.

Autumn in Missouri

Autumn back home is like no other place I have lived. There are certain days with a pale drift of sun, a gentle breeze, and a feeling of something lost just beyond the reach of memory. Slightly sad days with something long forgotten that can not be remembered. A drifting kind of a day. I could almost hear voices in the wind. Strange. I never thought that I would ever live any place but there.

Thanksgiving and snow

November and Thanksgiving. I don't remember about what Miss Hazel taught or did but usually there was the mandatory play and the whole neighborhood came.

Finally I was out of school for a few days. Jean and I watched Mom make pumpkin pies by the double kitchen windows while big flakes of snow came down outside. Soon the fence posts were wearing little caps of snow and the bare branches of the trees were wearing snow. The whole scene looked like a winter wonderland. It was beautiful and cold.

The men weren't that thrilled. They swept the snow off their gum boots outside when they got back and headed straight for the stove in the living room. After awhile they took off the mittens Mom had made them, their lined blue jean coats, their sweaters, and caps. They took off their boots and stretched their stocking feet toward the fire. There were always chairs setting around the stove waiting for them.

Frankie headed behind the kitchen stove. The stove set out quite far from the wall because of the stove pipe. It was a nice warm stop. Frankie slept there all year around. Sometimes the men sat around the kitchen stove when Mom wasn't working in there. Frankie sometimes moved his legs and feet when he was asleep. Uncle Doc smiled and told me Frankie was chasing rabbits in his sleep.

Back in those days, dogs were fed scraps from the table. Mom used to tell Daddy not to feed Frankie when we were at the table eating. But Frankie always got under the table and waited. Pretty soon, with a guilty little grin, Daddy would be holding a bite of meat out to him. It was only the first.

Mom sewed

The mittens mentioned above were the only thing the men wanted to wear on their hands. Daddy said Mom's mittens were the only thing that would keep his hands warm. The outside of the mitten was made with what I think was called feather tick. It was the dark gray and white striped material that was commonly used on pillows. Then another material or two was placed inside the feather tick, and finally a soft white material that was called a sheet blanket was placed on the inside. Mom made them on her sewing machine. She brought the edge of the sheet blanket forward, folded it on the outside of the gloves and sewed it down.

They looked good and they did feel warm. She always made them each several pairs a year. The gloves also resisted dampness.

Mom's sewing machine came in handy. She used to make us skirts and dresses when we were little. She also made dresses for herself. She recovered chairs and they looked professional. She made drapes and contains for the windows. She also made cloth dolls to entertain us on gloomy days. they had yellow yarn hair. She also made clothes for our dolls.

She "pieced together" (made) a lot of quilts also. Our pillows were white ones with embroidered flowers on them and sometimes lace along the opening. She made the cases and did the embroidery and lace. She hooked rag rugs in her spare time. They were round and used to be tightly put together. They were throw rugs. They were made from left-over material torn into stripes and sometimes from unfaded material from clothes. Even pajamas.

Mom also made and embroidered dresser scarves and scarves for the lamp tables. She often edged them with lace.

She also made herself new aprons.

Another thing that she made was footstools. She used to buy coffee in tall, wide metal cans. I know each can was at least two pounds, but it could have been more. When she got enough cans -- maybe eight or nine -- she put sand in each can, fastened the lid on, wrapped them in upholstery cotton and tied them together. Put cotton in any vacant space between them. She also cut two solid pieces of cotton the same size as the top and bottom of the foot stool. She had made a pattern that had the top and bottom separate from the sides. She sewed it on the sewing machine as much as she could, then put the fastened together cans in and finished it. When she finished, it was a footstool covered with cotton inside. Nothing ever shifted in it, and one never felt the edge of the cans. The outside covering was a heavy cotton material that didn't seem to wear. I have one somewhere.

Christmas

Since today is Christmas, I am thinking about Christmas on the farm.

We usually had the tree up about two weeks before Christmas and we took it down the day before New Year's day.

When it was time to get the tree, Mom would always say, "Now Ernest, we don't need a great big tree this year. Just a small one." Daddy would smile sheepishly and drive off with the horses and sleigh to get the tree. He loved Christmas just as much as we did. Frankie always went with him.

Sometime later Daddy came back with the cedar tree and yes, he did it again. It was too tall to stand up in the living room. So he had to saw part of it off. It smelled so fresh and wonderful. Of course, it should. It had just been chopped down over in the pasture. Jean and I -- and Daddy -- could hardly wait to get it up. Sometimes he shook snow off it. He always swept the snow off his gum boots before he came in. Gum boots were rubber boots that came up to a few inches below the knee. A couple of pairs of heavy, tall socks were worn with them, but no shoes. They were not made for shoes.

Finally, he had the tree up. We already had the decorations out. No electricity, no electric lights. We had beautiful breakable ornaments to put on it. Some of them were partly frosted. A few had Christmas scenes, a few were half an ornament with a deepening color and design. We also put foil icicles and a garland on it. It always had a silver star on top. Mom helped us decorate.

We knew Christmas was the birthday of Jesus and that he came so we could go to Heaven someday by believing in him. It was fun and exciting waiting for Santa, but still that period of time felt holy. The silence of the snow covered countryside probably contributed to this feeling. There was a peace not found today.

On Christmas morning, there were oranges, apples, nuts and candy for everyone. Two pairs of new overalls for Zack. Plus a sack of all the treats. He was a neighbor who was in college with Daddy and Uncle Doc. Zack got measles or something similar that caused him to run a very high temperature. He never recovered -- he became like a child of probably nine or so years.

He always came to our house to see what Santa had brought him. He ate Christmas dinner with us. His brother Albert was probably enjoying the quiet. Albert stayed a bachelor and spent his life farming and taking care of Zack.

Daddy, Uncle Doc and Charley got new mittens sometimes. I don't remember what Mom got.

When Jean and I were small, we found dolls, stuffed toys like bears, little rocking chairs sometimes, slates and chalk and other things. Plus all the food.

The bears that we had were different than the bears that children play with today. The ones we had were stiff, not soft like the ones today. Their faces were different and they had heavy wires in the legs and arms. The legs and arms were movable. Sometimes the heads were, too. They could sit, stand and walk with help.

As we got older, we found sweater sets, skirts, pen and pencil sets. Also a huge dark blue box for each with powder, perfume, toilet water set on a white silk interior. It was called Evening in Paris and was in dark blue containers. The scent of the perfume "Intimate" that I used to buy reminded me of it.

Back to Christmas. We never had turkey; we had pork roasts, usually. Mom always fixed a fantastic dinner with different kinds of pie. One of them was usually mince pie. At that time it was called mincemeat and actually had bits of meat in it.

One time on Christmas, when I was in early grade school, I followed Daddy outside in the snow. There were sleigh tracks near the yard fence but in the sheep pasture. I showed them to Daddy and told him I thought they were from the night before when Santa brought the presents. He agreed that it sure looked like it. Jean and I were delighted.

Falling down - An astral visit to the underworld

On Friday, December 17, 2010, at around 10:15 PM, I was laying on my back in bed, trying to sleep. Perhaps I did fall asleep, or perhaps not, but I became aware that I seemed to be coming out of my body some. My head and shoulders were forward from my body a little, with my awareness in more of an expanded, diffuse state. There was a strange feeling too, and an odd sound, like from around the ceiling, kind of a continuous sound, maybe something like a choir note extending, kind of an aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh maybe.

I realized that I was trying to have an astral projection, an out of body experience, and tried to keep it going, tried not to dampen it, but becoming aware of it and concentrating on it can be counterproductive. I tried to keep a light touch on it, tried to encourage it, but I felt a slight sensation of it easing, that it was trying to fade, with me settling back a little, more toward solidity, but just a little. I thought, well, if I can't go up, let's try to go down, and I tried to move my head and upper body below my real one, intending to try to rock it up and down and maybe be able to get out of my body that way. I started falling through my body, though, going down. I wasn't sure that was a good thing to do, to fall into the Earth. I wasn't sure how to get back up again from inside the Earth, or how to move around in it. Straightening up so I was in something of a walking position, and turned some to face the west, I tried to to walk, bent forward a little, but didn't make much headway.

Then I was on my back again, oriented as my body on my bed was, my head to the north, and falling through the Earth, falling fairly rapidly. I saw above me a narrow square tunnel, like an elevator shaft, but much smaller, maybe only four feet wide, much too small for my stretched out body to actually be in. Even my head seemed to be outside it. I looked up at it above me, diffuse bands of light and dark and color on it, rapidly going away from me as I fell, the surface somewhat uneven and indistinct, almost like it was made of fog. It was transparent, too, to some extent. A deep, evil voice was saying, to the left and above me, that it finally had me, and was taking me down, and I would never get away, or words to that effect.

I watched with interest, the shaft as I fell, the many layers going away from me. I presumed that they corresponded to something, some kind of levels, though they seemed more narrow than levels that were actually floors. I wondered if they were levels of another kind, and what kinds they might be. The voice was a little disturbing, but annoying more then disturbing. I figured I could get out anyway, somehow.

I eventually ended up in a vast cavern, falling through the ceiling to the bottom. The top was perhaps eight to ten feet above me, though in places it was more, perhaps even over twenty at times, it varied a bit. The ceiling was vague and translucent, with the same unreal feel the shaft had had.

I walked along, slowly. The cavern was full of pale structures, sometimes with short walls and sometimes with taller walls. The walls never reached the top of the cavern, and were usually short enough to see over. Their tops frequently sloped sharply away from central joining points, almost like a very small house without a roof, a roof that sloped on all sides. They were also frequently missing outer walls, and only enclosed or partly enclosed very small areas. Sometimes they had some furniture, also pale and very small. There was also a pale wall to the left, much too high to see over, with maybe more high walls beyond it. It did seem that there were several walls to that side, some intersecting. High walls also enclosed the lower walls to some extent, like rooms within rooms. There was plenty of room to walk along, though, and I continued slowly walking, going around things sometimes, going more or less forward.

I could sense something over the walls, some kind of presence, up near the ceiling of the cavern and beyond it, mostly over to the left and behind me. Something or somethings seemed to be watching me, seemed to be aware of me, seemed to have an interest in me. As I walked along, sometimes going through the rooms and sometimes past them, I became more disturbed and worried, and more and more anxious. It seemed it might not be so easy to get out after all. I still had no idea how I might do it.

I started praying as I walked, to God and Jesus, to come and save me, to come and take me away. I remembered reading of people who had done this, who had been trapped in Hell or with evil entities, and had been saved by the prayer, taken away from where they were and saved, taken back to their bodies.

Nothing happened right away. I continued on, still hoping and praying. I became tireder, and a kind of dreariness fell over me.

After a while, the way seemed to be getting narrower. A tall wall was beside me, to my left, and not far away another tall wall crossed it, partly blocking my path, though there was enough room to go around. To the right was the cavern wall. Ahead of me, beyond the short section of wall, I could see the way continued, at least for a while, though it was becoming much narrower. The cavern began to get darker, the light dimming, fading at the edges, closing in on me to some extent, along with a feeling of closeness, a little stuffiness. My eyelids turned downward, half closed. Whatever was watching me seemed closer, closing in.

Then something happened, something came, a presence, coming down from above, in front of me. It was a diffuse darkness in the dim light, at least as big as a man, but much more spread out, probably covering four or five or six feet, with a greater solidness within it. Even in the less solid outer parts, there was still some solidity, but a diffuse solidity, like a solidity that had no fixed place. It reached out toward me, wrapping dark arms of cloud around me, hugging me, and I was taken up, through the roof of the cavern. I don't remember what happened after that.

Dream - Releasing Jesus from the cross

A little over a year ago I had an interesting dream, in which I released Jesus from the cross. This dream probably occurred on Saturday, March 22, 2008, the day after Good Friday.

In the dream, at some point, I came into a room where I saw Jesus, still on the cross. The wood was very thick, around 6 by 8 inches. The cross was not much taller than Him, and His feet were near or on the floor. His arms were straight out along the crosspiece, and were tied to it with lots of turns of rope around His upper arms.

As I came in, the cross was to the left side of me and facing away from the door, and Jesus turned His head to look at me. He seemed in fairly good shape and did not visibly appear to be suffering very much. I sensed some weariness, though, at being left on the cross for so long, and that He was a little anxious to be taken down from it.

He was not as commonly pictured, being perhaps around 5 feet 9 inches tall and slightly heavier than medium, and gave the impression of strong muscles under a slight layer of fat. His face was not long and thin, but more short. He had a very heavy beard a few inches long. His hair went forward and to the sides in slight clumps and on the top was slightly longer than His beard, but was shorter toward the sides and front, and did not fall much on His face or forehead. His hair and beard were very dark and almost frizzy, and a little dusty looking.

I went to Him and told Him that He didn't have to do this any more, and started to take Him down from the cross. The crosspiece came apart in large sections, and I took two large blocks of it off the ends. He seemed able to get His arms loose Himself after that. I concentrated then on His feet.

I couldn't find any nails sticking out of His feet, but I saw two small holes in one foot where the nails had apparently sunk below the level of his skin. His feet and ankles were a very dark red, almost black, from blood and dirt, and the skin of His foot looked stiff and shiny and loose fitting, almost mummified.

I backed away from the feet a bit, getting a more general view of Him. I noticed that His hands had seemed to heal themselves after being no longer attached to the cross, as there no longer seemed to be any trace of injury, or even any blood stains.

I concentrated again on the feet. I couldn't reach the top of the nails that went through them, and I thought that I would have to get behind them and pry the wood off and somehow then push the nails out from behind. By this time He was no longer attached to the cross at all, except for a small section that had separated itself from the rest of it. This small section, broken slabs perhaps a couple of inches thick and 6 to 8 inches wide and high, was attached to His feet. He had just that piece of wood left to be removed.

I looked at Him standing there, expectantly waiting for me to proceed....