Charlie

Well folks, it's that time of year, when everybody is writing about/posting about/thinking about all the things that they are thankful for. I wanted to do something a little bit different this year, than in times past, and instead of just briefly mentioning the things I am thankful for, I would like to elaborate on those things, one day at a time, throughout the month. Of course you know who the usual suspects will be, First and foremost, Jesus, then my family, my home, and so on, but maybe I can write it in such a way that it will not be the usual humdrum but really articulate my thoughts on these things that make up my life. So here goes.

It was about 1975 or '76. My Auntie was walking down the street when she saw an old man coming towards her. He stopped and told her that she reminded him of his daughter. And then he invited her to a church service that night. My Auntie, thinking he was just a dirty old man, walked on. But she decided to go to that church service. When she got there she saw a lady, a very bohemian looking lady, who reminded her of herself. As it turns out, and you have probably already guessed, it was this man's daughter. He was there, and he introduced himself as Charlie and his wife Audrey. Their daughter's name was Beverly, and she was indeed, very much like my Auntie. Charlie and his family and my Auntie became very close friends (oh gosh, I'm gonna cry). We spent a lot of time with Charlie. He was a very wise man. He even looked like a wise man, with his long beard and handlebar mustache. My Auntie didn't have a car, so Charlie made it his mission to make sure that she (and we, her nieces) made it to church every Sunday. After church we would frequently have dinner at his house. Sometimes they would stand in a circle and pray. I was in awe of Charlie, who spoke of Jesus in such a loving manner and who also spoke in other languages when he prayed. I loved Charlie. Charlie loved Jesus. Charlie presented Jesus in such a way that I wanted to love Jesus. 

When I was about ten years old I spent a night at my Auntie's house. I don't remember how the conversation came about, I just remember she asked me if I wanted to ask Jesus into my heart. I said yes but I didn't really know what it meant. She led my by the hand over to her shiny yellow vinyl couch, where we knelt on the orange shag carpet, and we prayed. She prayed first and I followed. And then I forgot about that prayer.

Some months later my daddy took us to Vacation Bible School at our baptist church. When VBS was over we assembled in the sanctuary to hear brother TC Carroll preach for a few minutes. He preached about asking Jesus into our hearts, and told us if we didn't know Jesus we wouldn't go to Heaven. This offended my ten year old self. Who does he think he is? I mean, I'm saved...aren't I? I began to wonder. Later that night I lay on the floor at my Auntie's house, in the dark and pondered these things. Then I remembered that prayer. I called out in the dark. Auntie? Yes...she replied from the other room...Am I saved? I asked her. A moment of silence. Do you believe you are? Again I thought of that prayer. And I believed. YES. I said. Immediately a rush of peace flowed over me like I had never experienced in my short and quite turbulent young life. And then I fell asleep. My life has never been the same. 

Now I looked forward to the Sundays that Charlie would pick us up and take us to church. At that time I was torn between the two denominations, the Baptist my grandparents and Dad believed in, and the non denominational Assembly of God that Auntie went to. Since that time I have become grateful for both. Those baptists really teach you the Bible. Foundational truths. I am ever grateful to TC Carroll for his preaching at the Dewey Ave Baptist Church and to my Daddy for taking us there those early years of my life. 

And I am grateful for the non denomination Assembly of God church my Auntie would take us to. There I learned how to walk in the Spirit, in freedom, in a way I never knew before. I learned how to hear when God was speaking me or dealing with me about a certain matter. I am grateful to my Auntie who led me in that prayer and was persistent in taking me there, and I am grateful to Charlie who was bold enough to speak to a stranger on the street and invite her to church. 

Throughout the years Charlie remained a faithful friend. In times of need he was always there. When my Auntie lost her health, and was unable to work because she was sick almost to the point of death he brought groceries. He paid the mortgage. He gave my family his car. He drove me to church until I graduated from high school, and only stopped because I stopped going to church. And he didn't even live in my town, he lived a half hour away, far out in the country.

The last time I saw him was at my wedding. He took pictures and made me a wedding album as a gift. I never saw him again. I heard through my aunt that he was ill. He had Leukemia. I was far away in Tennessee and then in California, busy with my new family. When they called to tell me he had died I sat down and cried and let my mind wander back through all the years and all the things he had done for us. I remembered how he had, in the prime of his health, ridden on his bicycle up to fifty miles a day to visit folks who were in the hospital or shut in, or just plain needed visiting. Or how he taught the farmers around our area about which would be the best way to grow their wheat (He had a Master's degree in Agronomy). Even the simple things, like which foods were healthy to eat and what things to stay away from. He was a wealth of information on many different subjects and always willing to share his knowledge. I even called him a time or two from California to ask his advice on a couple of things, not realizing how ill he was. Despite his illness and his pain he was always willing to talk with me. 

I was unable to go to the funeral, but I go out to the grave site he shares with Audrey, his wife when I am in town and just sit for a while sometimes on the bench that has been placed there, and listen to the wind rustle in the roses that were planted. And I remember. And I am thankful that there are Charlies in this world who are willing to stop and be Jesus to a little girl who desperately needs salvation.