A Love That Time Cannot Erase (#2 - Eternal Love Series)

That First Sunday Home

That First Sunday Home

Upon entering the church of my childhood, my memories flooded back; memories of Christmas carols and Easter lilies; of baptisms and burials; memories of my Granddaddy singing “How Great Thou Art”, “Power in the Blood” and “Onward, Christian Soldier.” My own baptism had been in this very church, when I was ten years old.

The first person to greet me, other than Mom and Pop, was Pastor McDonald. He was always a very kind man who was never afraid to say the truth. He always did so out of love for every soul.

When I was a youth, I sang in the choir. Upon my return, I was asked if I’d like to join again. Small country churches don’t have a wealth of extra singers, so I obliged. I enjoy singing to the Lord and praising him with my friends and family.

And, playing the piano while singing with the choir is the most angelic person I have ever had the pleasure to set eyes on: Helena McBride. Yep, she is the daughter of the boss; the only teenaged daughter of the boss.

What drew me to Helena was not her smile, though it was beautiful. Nor were her eyes the reason, though they looked like blue glass held up to the sunlight. It was not her blonde hair, radiant as the sun on a summer afternoon. It wasn’t her figure, though she had one of the loveliest shapes God ever had made. What drew me were her quiet personality, her meek spirit and her ability to remain calm, no matter the circumstance. She held a radiance that seemed to come from inside her; and a peaceful air seemed to go with her everywhere she went. She loved life; everything about it. Yes, we’d grown up together, but now, she was grown up; a woman in her own right.

Having finished school early, she decided to help her Paw on the farm instead of going to college. She most certainly had the God-given intellect to do anything she saw fit to try. She chose to help at the farm. She knew everything about running the ranch, as if she were a boy instead of a girl. She knew seasons, planting, husbandry, and she even helped build some of the outbuildings. Yes, she was tough, but she had a certain tenderness about her that I have yet to see equaled in any woman.

Women! Women have been a little problem of mine since moving to Austin. Not so much the carousing type, I tried to stay away from ladies, who were, shall I say, no longer waiting for their own husbands. I did, however, meet many a woman looking for a spouse. Most women attending a University are looking for a mate who will financially meet every need, and spoil them rotten. What they do not want is a poor farmer.

Why am I letting my mind wander during the sermon? Oh, great! Mom and Pop will, as they always have, ask me what I got out of it. I had better listen, and quick:

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Pastor Mac McDonald, “if there is one among us who does not know Christ, ask to receive Him into your heart today. No one knows how long he or she will live on this earth. Make sure, in the depths of your heart, you know you will be with Him in Paradise when this life is over.” Great! I missed it.

One would think a man of twenty-three years would not be too concerned about the interrogation of his mother about a church sermon. You do not know my mother: Rachel Marshall. Mom, sometimes called Maw, is a petite redhead, probably all of ninety pounds, who has the fury of perdition in her. Her parents immigrated before the Civil War and her father died during one of the battles. Later, she, her four brothers, and her mother, would move to Texas for a better life. She met my father just six weeks after moving here. Four short months later, she married Pop. Her mixture of Irish and German can really give it to a guy when he’s wrong. I have never been witness to her giving Pop a tongue-lashing, but I’ve heard her having a “discussion” with him several times behind closed doors, and you don’t hear much from his side. However, in front of me and my brother, she remained quiet and submissive. She didn’t have anyone fooled. Pop loves her to no end. I don’t think he’d have it any other way.

Since I have described Maw to you I will also describe Pop.  John Marshall is about six feet eight inches tall. He owns the Apothecary’s Shop in town, not too much further down the street from the church. He’s owned it for many years, and enjoys his line of work. He comes home to Mom every day and does not have to travel very far for very long when he does leave. Pop is a peaceful sort of  man. He does not ever raise his hand to anyone, and very rarely his voice. He talks, and often, but he is genteel. I guarantee you that you would prefer him to take his belt to your hind end than have to sit and listen to a lecture. The one and only thing that would ever get him riled would be someone speaking unkindly to Mom. He looked ready to fight at any time someone crossed her; not that she couldn’t hold her own, because she could. We dared not more than once or twice growing up. In this circumstance, and only this one, we feared him.

“Well, Jackson? What did you get out of it today?” Mom brought me out of my thoughts suddenly. Ahh, what am I to say?

“Well, er, Mom. I, um, really just enjoyed being back home with you and everyone.” I tried. I don’t think she bought it for a second.

“Well, you’re off the hook today, because you’ve just returned. I’ll not have your mind wanderin’ during the sermon again, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” I looked for a distraction, any distraction. Oh, there’s a lovely one there. I will go get reacquainted with Helena. “I am going to say hello to Helena. I will meet you at the wagon shortly?”

“Make it quick. Roast is in the oven and we don’t want it dry!” What else can a son say but, “yes, ma’am!”

“Helena! So nice to see you again!” I called out. She waved a friendly wave as I approached her and her mother, Leah.

“Hello! Jackson!” Helena exclaimed and hugged me. She sure looks great!

I kissed her hand, which is the gentleman-like thing to do. “How are you? Are you back from Austin to stay, or just visiting?”

I laughed slightly. She didn’t know? “I’m actually going to be working for your Paw starting tomorrow. I moved back to be near Mom and Pop.” I smiled. She’s as sweet as ever!

“I’m so glad! I look forward to hearing you sing again. I have missed your wonderful baritone voice. It sure fills the choir in beautifully when you sing.”

“Well, thank you, Helena. And please, call me Jack. Jackson makes me feel like my Mom is calling me because I’m in trouble.”  I started laughing when Mom called, as if on cue, “Jackson!”

“Goodbye Helena. I will see you soon. Good day, Mrs. McBride!”

“Goodbye, Jack.” They called back in unison.

I can’t stop looking back. What a lovely lady! I climbed on the wagon and drove for Mom and Dad. We didn’t have too far to go, but Mom liked to go riding to church on Sundays.

The roast Mom made was divine. It was the best food in ages, in my opinion.

“Great food, Maw! May I be excused?” I asked, politely. If nothing else, Mom raised gentlemen.

I met Pop out on the front steps for a breath of fresh air. Mom would not have smoking of any sort in her house, and Pop loved his pipe. I didn’t partake. I don’t much care to smoke, but many people do. Pop was saying something about the weather being dryer than last year, but my mind was wandering back to the blonde angel who played the piano this morning. She was so nice.

“Don’t you think so, Jack?” Dad asked, taking me out of my reverie.

“About what, Pop?” I asked, not wanting to sound like a fool, but also not sure what he was asking.

“Where’s your head, boy? I said, don’t you think Helena is nice?” I grinned, and turned a bit red. “Oh, dear. You’re smitten! You watch it, or you’ll wind up at the altar too soon. Enjoy being single a while, son. It will do you better in the long run.  Trust your dad on that!” He said with a big laugh, smacking me on the back. He stood and went back into the house. I think I’m going to just sit for a while and enjoy the view of our little town. I am beginning to think I will most assuredly enjoy being here again.