A Country Church

Along a winding road in the hills and hollows (pronounced holl-ers) of northeast Tennessee sits a small church.  From the days of no indoor air conditioning to now, this church despite its building and attendance size has shown love and created many pleasant memories.  Summer Sunday evenings would find the windows open and funeral home fans being used while the elderly gentleman from down the road led the singing.  The before Sunday School assembly found the second grade teacher leading a few songs and asking who had birthdays.  The birthday person would get to walk in front of the church and place money in a small Tupperware cup.  Usually this consisted of change equaling the child's new age.  When it was an adult's birthday having the exact change for the new age may not have been as important.  "Happy Birthday" was usually sung as one was walking to the front to put in her change.  The preacher had a very commanding voice.  His voice did not make you feel like you were in trouble...you just sat mesmerized by it...whether you understood the sermon or not.  As a side note we girls must have been very wiggly one morning.  I remember coming home after church and Mother telling us it would not surprise her if Uncle Guy walked down from the pulpit and took us outside to spank us.  He had done that with a boy one time.  I remember the next few weeks being scared to move.  Not necessarily from fear of Uncle Guy spanking me but more from the embarrassment of if it were me he took outside to spank.

The pastor's wife had a vision for a Sunday evening program for the children who were not old enough for the youth group.  The first Sunday evening each child was handed a strip of paper.  We were given three choices for a name for the group....Young Learners, Happy Growers and I can't remember the other one (maybe Eager Explorers).  We were to each write the name we wanted the group to be called.  The votes were tallied and Happy Growers became the name of the program for the new group.  Sunday evenings found us listening to flannelgraph or flashcard stories.  Aunt Evelyn & Uncle Guy both could tell a story.  We were especially fond of Sunday School Charlie and his adventures.   The most exciting part of the evening was the golden nuggets.  What's a golden nugget?  Well I'm glad you asked.  A golden nugget was just a piece of gravel that had been spray painted gold.  But to us children it was worth gold.  We earned golden nuggets for memorizing verses, bringing our offering, Bible, attendance, bringing a friend, etc.  Every so often we got to spend the golden nuggets we had earned.  Aunt Evelyn made sure there was something that every child could purchase.  So for the ones that may have very few nuggets (because of not being there every Sunday or not having as much help from home) there was a small trinket they could purchase.  And for the ones who had earned every nugget possible there was something of a greater value.  Now to an adult these may have seemed to be items which were junky or not really necessary.  But to us Happy Growers they were the best thing (second only to being out of school for a holiday or snow day).  

One Sunday Aunt Evelyn announced that every month we would send our offering to a missionary.  We were then each handed a fold out brochure that had the name, country and picture of each missionary/family for the denomination.  We looked at the brochure and each wrote down which missionary we wanted to help support.  It was decided we would help a single lady in Taiwan (I believe).   She reached out to us Happy Growers.  You know the month change could not have equaled more than $5 but she treated us like we were the group that gave her the most money every month.  We had fun learning of Taiwan and preparing packages to send her.  I'm sure the church probably helped us in that endeavor.

Happy Growers would not have been the same without Edna and Ruby.  They were twin sisters who were the food committee for us children.  If we decided to have a cook out they were the ones to organize & in my mind they prepared all the food for the cook-out.  (Now maybe they organized and church members helped contribute, I'm not sure).  I looked forward to the evening closest to my birthday.  You see Edna and Ruby would have a cake for me (as well as for each child when it was their birthday).  It would be a doll cake.  (The cake would be the dress of a non-name brand barbie doll).  Edna and Ruby made sure the icing was your favorite color also.  

The faith is now sight of each of these ladies who were so instrumental in organizing and running the early days of Happy Growers.  I thank the Lord for them & Uncle Guy (because I'm sure he helped Aunt Evelyn plan and prepare).  I pray that the children I now teach will see the Lord in me just as I saw Him in Aunt Evelyn, Edna, Ruby and Uncle Guy. 

Who Am I? A Look Into My Family Heritage

Martin James Perry, the last born child of Josiah & Emily Perry, entered the world November 1897.    He attended a one room school in Hawley, Pennsylvania.  At the age of 11, he finished fifth grade.  In 1910 he took and passed the Common School Examination.  He and a classmate entered Hawley High School that fall.  Upon encouragement from his high school principal, Martin enrolled in Penn State College in 1914.  Having to spend some semesters working to help pay his college tuition, he graduated in 1921 with a degree in Agriculture (specializing in Dairy Husbandry).

By the time Martin was born, his father had asked the Lord to forgive his sins & be the Lord of his life.  So Martin grew up in a Christian home.  Martin accepted the Lord as his Savior in 1922.

After graduating from Penn State, Martin worked for dairies testing the quality of their cows and milk.  While making his rounds from dairy to dairy, he would often stop and visit a young lady named Ruth James.  On May 24, 1924, they were married.  A daughter, Jane, joined their family May 30, 1925.

In 1922, Martin entered Philadelphia School of the Bible evening school.  He completed his work in 1926.  He and Ruth felt called to the mission field.  They applied to serve in Africa and received no replies.  They had heard of a lady in northeast Tennessee named Miss Anna Lewis.  They wrote her a letter asking for info about her work in the southern mountains,.  She replied saying she would be glad to accept them as workers with the Faith Mountain Mission.  December 31, 1927, Martin & girls arrived in northeast Tennessee.  Martin became the director of Bancroft Gospel Ministry which was an extension of Faith Mountain Mission.  Martin passed away in 1994.

My first memory of Uncle Martin was my first time to go to Bancroft Bible Camp.  Since I had just moved to TN (and the trauma associated with that move), it was arranged that I would spend one night at camp.  I was excited to be there.  And then imagine the pure delight when Uncle Martin found it important to sit with me during every meal!  I since learned that not every one found my Uncle Martin as fascinating as I did.  Some were intimidated by him, others thought him stern.  But he was my Uncle Martin.

Grandpa (Uncle Martin's brother) passed away when I was 6 years old.  Uncle Martin filled that spot in my life.  I don't know if he intentionally set out to do that but he did.  My mother and his daughter, Jane, are first cousins.  We called her Aunt Jane & that is what she was an aunt.  Because she was our "aunt" and her children called Uncle Martin "grandfather", I thought I should call him grandfather too.  So for a while he became Grandfather Uncle Martin.

There was always a present under the tree from Uncle Martin.  And he always acknowledged our birthdays with a mailed card and a small something brought by the house either on the day or close to the day.  Shortly before Christmas one year, Uncle Martin arrived with a small doll.  There were four so we each got one.  From my understanding they were received in a missionary barrel (I don't know if that year or several years earlier). 

Occasionally on a Sunday morning during church, we would hear the squeal of a hearing aid.  We all knew that there would be a visitor for lunch that day.  And on many of those Sundays, Mother would make a banana pudding as soon as we arrived home from church.  Banana pudding was one of Uncle Martin's favorite foods.

Before I left for my freshman year at Bryan College, Uncle Martin gave me the book The Gentlewoman's Choice by George MacDonald.  He told me if I read it, I would learn about men.  I remember reading it upon my arrival at Bryan but I cannot tell you what if anything I learned.  

One year in college, I received a letter in the mail from Uncle Martin.  He had included a picture of himself.  He said he had taken the picture so I would know there were those in northeast TN who loved me and prayed for me.

After arriving home one summer, Aunt Jane asked me if I could come sit with Uncle Martin.  The guy who was sitting with Uncle Martin needed to spend time off and Aunt Jane still had a few weeks before her teaching job was over for summer vacation.  Those 4 weeks were some of the best weeks of my life.  Uncle Martin was in his early 90s and even though he was still alert, he needed a companion during the day.  I would fix his lunch, take him to his doctor appointments & to get his hair cut, help him address his Just A Word publications, etc.  Sometimes he would have me go to town to get a treat for us both.  I often wonder if he thought he was "babysitting" me...I was there to just chauffeur him around.  That summer I noticed a change in my relationship with Uncle Martin.  He became "dependent" upon me.  On Sunday afternoons, our family usually would go visit the older people we knew.  It was a long afternoon for us girls and sometimes we would fall asleep on other people's couches as we were supposed to be listening to their stories.  Up to that point whenever we would visit Uncle Martin, he would always look to Mother or Daddy to tell him what we girls had said.  They would have to speak a little slower, louder & enunciate each word a little more.  After those four weeks, Uncle Martin would look to me to tell him what others had said. 

As a young girl I had always thought I would get Uncle Martin to officiate at my wedding.  My groom would have to meet Uncle Martin and get his approval.  Uncle Martin passed away 4 years before I married but John did know Uncle Martin and has a few memories of him.

I'm thankful the Lord allowed me to be a part of the Perry family and allowed me to have a Grandfather Uncle Martin.

Who Am I? A Look Into My Family Heritage.

I have always been interested in family history...who were my grandparents, who were their parents, etc.  Fortunately I have other family members who know or are working to find out.  When searching through genealogical archives, the name(s) of the previous generations will hopefully be attained.  That tells you by what name that person may have been called but it doesn't tell you who the person was.  Was he a hard worker?  Did she have to wash others' clothes to help make ends meet for the family?  You get the picture.

I can tell you a little about my maternal great-grandfather, Josiah Perry.  He lived from April 17, 1842 - March 1922.  He was a Union soldier in the Civil War (the Battle of Gettysburg).  We have a picture of one of us pointing to his name on the monument there at the Gettysburg battlefield.

You can't see the name very well because of the shadows.  A story that has been told and re-told is that his to-be wife's brother had been shot on the battlefield and as Josiah walked by him, he asked Josiah to loosen his belt buckle.  He knew he would probably not make it off the field.  He also knew there would be some discomfort from bloating as he waited.  After his time in the war, Josiah married Emily Blackmore (b.May 13, 1851-d.December 1918) and they raised 14 children...John born 1868, Eleanor (died as an infant), Mary Ellen 1872, Frank 1874, Charles 1876, Will 1878, Alex 1880, Susie 1883, Cornelius 1885, Wesley 1887, Myron 1888, Florence Tylee (FT) 1891, Elizabeth 1893, Martin 1897 and a grandchild Ed Hawk 1893.  The birth years of each child were given by Uncle Martin at my request.

I was very excited to come across a letter that had been written to a cousin introducing her to our great-grandfather.  Josiah was a small man.  He was much smaller than his wife, but he was a very stern man and ruled his family with a rod of iron.  He was not afraid to physically overhaul his boys when they didn't move at his instant command.  He was a lumberman and eventually became quite deaf.  Most of his sons inherited this characteristic.  Because he lived and worked with a rough crowd, he apparently was a very rough man, unlearned in reading and writing.  But he managed to make a fairly good living considering the size of his family and the type of work in which he was involved. 

Before my grandfather (F.T.) was born, a traveling Methodist minister told Josiah about Jesus Christ and how He wanted to live in Josiah's heart and how He wanted to help him live his life.  Josiah believed.  He learned to read the Bible.  He even told about the Lord at church so that he was called a Methodist lay minister which was quite an honor.  The older children may have resented a little the sudden interest in the Bible, the Lord and the repeating of the Lord's prayer at breakfast on the knees everyday.  They possibly resented the out loud prayers of their mother, Emily, in the evening as she prayed for her rugged sons and their wild lives.  However, when the youngest son, Martin, was born she asked in faith believing that one of her 10 sons would become a minister.  My Grandfather and Uncle Martin never smoked, drank or swore like the others.  Uncle Alex eventually became a Christian and was given the responsibility of being pastor of the Monterey Baptist Church.  Uncle Martin, known as the mountain pastor, stayed in one locality for over 60 years telling the boys and girls (with the help of his wife and various other people) the stories of Jesus, David, Daniel and all the others in the Bible.  My grandfather, F.T., pastored several churches and had some very interesting things happen to him.

When the Lord passes out the rewards in Heaven, probably that traveling minister who took time to tell this rather calloused lumberman about the Lord and probably didn't expect too much in return will receive a great share in the men and women of Monterey, Lake Lamoka, the foothills of Tennessee and the rural regions of Cayuga and Steuben counties of New York State.

Josiah Perry about 1920

Family

As I sat in the shelter Saturday and looked around, my heart was full.  I felt at ease.  I knew I was with people who loved me.

It was our turn to host the reunion held every 3 years.  Weeks, months, years had gone into the planning.  The nights leading up to the event had been sleepless ones.  Would everything go as planned?  Would the food arrive as scheduled?  Would...?  Would...?  Would...?  But sitting there that morning, I realized it didn't matter.  If the food didn't arrive and we had to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that would be okay.  If the cake frosting melted that would be okay.  Whatever happened no one would be upset...everything would be okay.

Before I go any further let me say I do so love the aunt and uncle who have been my parents these past 39 years.  Thank you for letting me call you my parents.  I appreciate them blending us (my sister and me) into their family.  I know they love us as their own.

But yet sometimes I miss my Daddy so much.  I've often wondered why I miss him more than Mother.  Is it because I was a Daddy's girl?  Is it because I was raised by Mother's sister so still had the connection to that side of the family?  Is it a little of both?

When this reunion happens, I know I'm going to be with people who grew up knowing my Daddy.  (Daddy was 16 years younger than his brother.  He was 8 years older than his oldest nephew.)  They will be able to share stories of Daddy.  They also can tell me about Grandma and Grandpa.  Grandpa died shortly after I was born.  Grandma died when I was 3 years old.  I only have one memory of Grandma so I love hearing about them.

I love hearing that Grandpa made doughnuts.  I'm glad to find out why Grandma was in a wheelchair.  It's nice to hear Grandpa & Grandma loved their boys and their grandchildren.

This year my cousin had typed a diary that Grandma had written.  In the back she had a name index.  She put every name in the diary with a brief description of them.  If they are family the name and description is in bold print.  This is a treasure I'll enjoy for years to come.

I love all 3 families in which I was raised.  Nothing will change that.  Spending time with my birthfather's family is a special treasure - a brief glimpse into 1/2 of my DNA make-up.  The 1/2 I don't know as well.  

Max & Stasia Rose

F.T. & Neva Perry

Lessley & Theo Newland

I now have the desire to look at pictures from this weekend, read Grandma's diary, talk to my sisters and parents.  So I'll see you in another post.

A Childhood Friend

Childhood friends...are some of the best friends one can have.  As a young child, I had 2 best friends...my cousin, Matt, and a girl who lived close to me.  I ended up moving from the northern US to the southern US.  My cousin, Matt, still remained in my life but I lost contact with the other friend.  I remembered her name started with an "R" but that was all.  Looking through pictures that came down with us, I found a picture of this girl, my sister and me.  On the back of the picture, I wrote our names but wrote my friend as Rhonda.  

My "new" parents couldn't help me remember her name.  They had not known her.  Whenever we would travel back up north and visit the cemetery, I used to dream that this friend would be driving by the cemetery, see the out of state car, realize it was me, stop & we could re-connect.  Of course that never happened.

The year I turned 30, my uncle passed away.  My sister, her husband, my husband & myself all flew north to the funeral.  Reconnecting with the people who had been in our lives before moving was an emotional experience.  We couldn't remember them but they remembered us.  We met a lady with whom our father taught school.  We also met another lady & her husband.  She told me her daughter had been my friend when I was little.  Her daughter was the friend whom I had missed.  She gave me her daughter's name and address.  The daughter and I wrote letters for a little while.  But as many of you know, I am not a good letter writer.  There were things going on in each of our lives and we lost contact.

This past fall, I decided to look for my friend on facebook and found her.  We spent the first night sending private messages back and forth for about two hours.  I apologized to my husband for not doing anything but sitting in front of the computer for that long.  "That is alright," he told me.  "You have 36 years of catching up to do." 

How thankful I am for a Lord who loves me enough to provide for me.  He has provided wonderful loving parents (two sets), a husband, a cousin Matt and my newly-found long-lost friend, Rushteen.  

"This I recall to mind, therefore I have hope, the LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness."  (Lamentations 3:21-23 NASB)

Ancient Words

We have been singing a "new" song at church recently.  After searching for the lyrics, I see that Michael W. Smith has recorded it on one of his CDs.  Here are the words to the song:

Holy Words long preserved
For our walk in this world
They resound with God's own heart
Oh let the ancient words impart.

Words of Life, Words of Hope
Give us strength, help us cope
In this world, where e'er we roam
Ancient words will guide us home

Ancient words ever true
Changing me and changing you
We have come with open hearts
Oh, let the ancient words impart.

Holy words of our Faith
Handed down to this age
Came to us through sacrifice
Oh heed the faithful words of Christ

Holy words long preserved
For our walk in this world
They resound with God's own heart
Oh let the ancient words impart

Ancient words ever true
Changing me and changing you
We have come with open hearts
Oh, let the ancient words impart.