by ron collins
As we enter the week of Easter, I want to share my story of faith. It is and continues to be a journey. Now before you tune me out, yes, there is some humor involved; see marble above, which leads to a funny, but embarrassing story. And my path, like all of us, has had its struggles. I will reveal some of those struggles. Here is the opening paragraph.
My late parents were God fearing people who were determined for me to fear him also. They did not make me go to church. My choices were two-fold. Go to church; eat and sleep at their house. Don’t go to church; eat and sleep somewhere else. I enjoyed eating and sleeping at their house, so church it was! And boy did we ever go to church! We went every Sunday morning and night, Wednesday night, Friday nights once a month and any time there was a revival, which to me, seemed like once a month. Moreover, my mom was the janitor and clerk, dad was the unofficial (and unpaid) maintenance man and treasurer. I helped mom clean the church and I mowed the church yard. So, if I told you we were church going people, would you believe me?
My goal this week is for you to share your church experiences. I would love to see a good dialogue follow this story.
See you Wednesday. Until then, I hope your week is grand!
just 4 kicks 
Same upbringing EXPERIENCE, Ronnie…FBC HAMBURG. My dad was a deacon and youth dept. leader. One morning when I was about 13, I was exploring with make-up…(Probably from Merle Norman, Mrs. Agnes Watson’s tiny shop at Watson Hardware). Oh, man! I decided to walk to Sunday School instead of riding with my parents, after all. I was a teen now. BIG MISTAKE. I was about half there and I see my dad driving towards me from church down Cherry St. He said nothing. I had the last spanking of my childhood right there. Needless to say, I was speedy with the cosmetics from then on!! A tardy daughter, oh my!
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Looking forward to it. Enjoyed your past writing.
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Looking forward to it. Enjoyed your past writing.
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Ditto for me Ron. My mother was the pianist so we didn’t miss a service. We attended a tiny church in Tillar, AR with a tiny congregation. Many fond memories of hide-and-go-seek games before/after services as we usually arrived early (imagine that LOL) and stayed late. This time of year I am often reminded of the annual Easter Sunday attendances (30+)and the grand Easter egg hunt following the service. As I got older, I entered a “less-disciplined” season of life. However, after the birth of my children, my commitment was renewed. Countless hours preparing for VBS’s, Awana programs and Camp Winnamocka trips. Wouldn’t change it for the world. Hope this commitment is passed along for many generations to come. God is good! Thanks for the post. Time for church😊.
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