RIP My Sweet Friend Post #38

     For the past two weeks, I kept feeling an urge to message my friend, Jimmie Morris, to chide him to get started working on a book he had been thinking of writing, "Once Upon Paw Paw".  The thought came up many times and I put it off, thinking I'd do it next time I remembered.  I did remember on Monday.  I sent him a message through Facebook that said,

"Hey Jimmie, I have been thinking about your book - Once Upon Paw Paw.  This is a message from the Angel on your shoulder to encourage you to start writing if you haven't already.  I'm sure there are some wonderful stories in that head of yours that need to be shared with your Grand babies and future generations.  I will definitely read it and share it with my family as well.    Mary Beth"

     I don't know if he ever read it or not.  On that same day, he posted this on his page:  

"For all to know:  Mimi shared her most delightful Tailgate Dessert, Chocolate Pie, with Mee Maw, and a small Paw Paw slice.  Then she brought us a Apple Festival Gift of bread loaf with Cheddar Cheese, most delicious to the taste buds.  We love Mimi!" 

     I had only gotten on to send him that message and wasn't on for the rest of the day - I'm limiting my time near any electronic devices - but, after working on a project all day, I popped on late at night.  The first thing I saw was a post from Jimmie's page announcing that he had died in his sleep.  It must have just happened because his post was less than twelve hours before.

Just found this link on Channel 15 about Jimmie

     I had never met Jimmie in person.  He friended me after someone shared my blog post - "Big Band in the Crystal Ball Room".  Jimmie and his wife, whom he called 'Lady Margaret' lived with their children in Georgia in their elderly years - she still does.  But he is known throughout the Gulf Coast as 'The Voice of Mobile'.  During his history here, he MC'd the Senior Bowls, Mardi Gras Tableau's, and was involved in with the Mobile Pops.  I'm certain I don't know half the details of his life here.  But he, like me, loved Mardi Gras and the light, happy spirit of the City of Mobile and the Gulf Coast and he missed it terribly.

     Jimmie sent me a wonderful, encouraging note on FB regarding my blog and he became an avid reader.  We became fast friends and he cheered me on each time he saw that I was doing any of the things he loved to do.    What amazed me most is that Jimmie's sweet spirit was a light to so many people, even those he never met in person.  He was one of those people whose presence on FB was like a person who walks into a room and and the whole room lights up.  He lit up Facebook.

     But I wondered why I felt so compelled to give him that message - or word of encouragement - if he really wasn't going to have the time to write it.  Then I realized, maybe the message was for me.  So many times, we go through life and we leave things left unsaid; things left undone, unfinished business.  We let things hang like a limb being torn off, always thinking we will have the time to fix it, or say those words.  And then one day we wake up - or jump on Facebook - only to find out that the person we needed to share those words with is gone,  our words left unspoken and perhaps a path left empty that could have been taken.

     A year ago, I had felt compelled to befriend a young man.  I had never really talked to him but every time I saw him, something told me he needed a friend.   I knew nothing about his life or situation but I did know his family.   The man had been through a divorce and I was afraid of being misunderstood, though he could have been my kid.  Over and over I felt I should reach out.  Then one day, we found out he had taken his own life and I wondered, 'Would knowing he had a friend have made a difference?  If we developed a friendship would it have put him on a path to live?'  

     I began to wonder how many times kind words, healing words, offers of friendship, redemption, restoration, and encouragement make a life-changing difference for a person.  Yet we hoard them, allowing our own fear or even greed to keep them to ourselves.   I realize now that regardless of my encouragement to Jimmie,  he was not going to have time to write that book.  But one thing I am glad about is that I did send the message - just hours before he passed.  I'm glad I don't have to live with the regret of words I should have said, but were left unspoken.

Rest in Peace my sweet, sweet friend.

The Legend of the Government Presbyterian Church Secret Post #37

Every church has its secrets.   The Government Street Presbyterian Church is no different.  Yet the secret at our church is one that has been whispered into the ears of each person, one-by-one, over the years.  It was whispered to me after I had been there for a year or so.  I sit and watch as the same secret gets passed along to each new person at some point along the way and I wonder if their reaction mirrors my own.

                It had been about a year after I started attending GSPC and, for personal reasons, I had opted out of communion.  After much soul-searching, prayer, and consideration, I finally decided it was time to take that step of faith.  Our church is one of the oldest churches in Mobile and is in the National Historical registry.  Coming from a Loosy goosy church environment where worship was filled with a myriad of individuals resembling a bunch of intoxicated Roosters running around strutting their feathers, I found the liturgical order of service very intimidating at first.  I also feared it would be extremely lame and boring.  However, it wasn’t long until I found that without all of the ‘noise’ and chaos that was a product of ego and self-exaltation, I was able to hear the true message and cut to the chaff as to why we are there and what I am supposed to be learning.   One day, I did learn something; the secret of GSPC.

                The communion plate was passed and I took my parcel and waited for the plate to make its rounds for further instruction.   A prayer was said and I put the symbol of Jesus’s body in my mouth when suddenly a voice whispered the secret into my ear.   “OMGosh!  What is this?!?  Mmmm!  This is the most delicious, buttery, melt in your mouth communion biscuit ever!     Who knew that Jesus tasted so good?!?  Does Jesus know?  Wonder who makes this stuff?”, followed by a list of names of potential communion biscuit bakers.  Then another whipser, “Wonder what that has in it?  Does anyone have the recipe? I bet those ushers eat the leftovers? (Eyes squinted with a twinge of envy!)  Uh oh!  Will this break my low-carb diet?  How many calories were in that anyway?”

                I was embarrassed to tell anyone for fear of being too carnal until it came up in Sunday school class.  Apparently, my reaction was quite typical, though many also feared the focus would be lost if attention was brought to the secret so it became like the naked Emperor that no one talked about; at least not until a crisis happened!   The story goes like this:  The Scotch bread wafers are the secret recipe of a lady by the name of Merle Cane, a lifetime member of GSPC, who has since passed; but most members no longer remember communion without them.    Years ago, she - or maybe her successor - had to take a leave of absence and made enough dough for six months and put it in the church freezer, portioned for once-a-month communion services.  That morning, the assigned person would roll the scotch bread - portioned-for-that-month -  and bake it, then cut it into bite-sized squares for communion.  

                Our church feeds the homeless breakfast five days a week (and may I say the food is delicious!)    At that time, one of the homeless men stayed after regularly to help clean up.  He had earned his way to be entrusted with tasks unsupervised.  One day, he opened the freezer and saw all that dough in there.  A few months later he saw that it was still there and figured it was old and he was hungry so he decided to roll it out and bake it up for himself.  He enjoyed himself a wonderful feast of which, he had no idea was Jesus’s body and, he did indeed enjoy every buttery morsel.   

                The next time it was communion Sunday, the assigned person went to pull the out the dough and it was gone!  Disappeared!  Shock and horror filled the  prep team as though there were no other options at GSPC for communion.  They pulled out some loaves of bread and tore it apart.  Later that morning, communion was served and suddenly, in the midst of silent reflection, there were audible gasps throughout the quiet church.  Eyes flew open,  eye-contact was made from person-to-person and the mentally telepathic messages that flew around the formal, well to-do and highly educated congregation stripped away all pretenses of solemnity when the savory, sweet, buttery ‘Body of Christ’ that they were accustomed to had turned into mushy, tasteless, white bread.  The naked emperor could no longer be ignored!    Conversations started and people confessed their love of the GSPC communion wafers and many were determined to solve the mystery of the missing dough;  and even more important, to get our delicious communion scotch bread back!

                Various people and groups have access to the kitchen so it took a little detective work to get to the bottom of it and soon word got around.  But what I love more than the communion wafers, and more than the story itself,  is the reaction of the church – which is the part of the story that will probably otherwise never be told.  There was no witch hunt, curt words, insults, or gossip.   Nor were people misconstruing the culprits motives, or mixing their own Molotov cocktail spawning it on to a life of its own and damaging a reputation.   Rather, the members were amused and remember it fondly; and I'm certain many secretly wished it was they, themselves, who enjoyed the feast of the communion scotch bread.  True to southern form, it became a story; part of our story of Government Street Presbyterian Church and of the fabric that is woven into its wonderful history.    The subject once again became mute except for the whispers in the ears of newbies but the congregation grew even more fond of the ‘wafers’ because in the south, it is the stories, the love, and the traditions that makes food even more delicious.   The lady who began the ritual of the scotch cakes understood that food is an offering of love just as Christ offers us His love.   The reality is, that scripture tells us that when we live in Christ, we live more abundantly and I can’t think of a more delicious way to deliver that message!