The Wizard of Oz was my favorite movie, and I would imitate the characters by putting myself in their shoes. I made up my own scripts in which I imagined myself dealing with their difficulties and accomplishments. I loved acting out all the parts, even though I was an audience of one.
I had a big imagination. Every season of the calendar year was embellished in my fantasy world. Christmas and Easter were especially wonderful. Maybe that's why I became a pastor. I was always able to understand the thrill and mystery of what God accomplished on those days.
My favorite thing to do was listen to stories from the older folks in my family. Everything for me had a story line - the truth or lesson I could hang my hat on forever. I would sit on the floor by the old folks at reunions and listen to them talk about their experiences, struggles, and achievements. I was enthralled. In hindsight, if the same stories had been in book form, I never would have read them. It was the hearing of the stories that held me captive.
Even now, over 40 years later, I can recall stories told by my daddy and my grandpa. My favorite story was about two boys named Piggy and Hoggy who lived with their disabled parents in an abandoned boxcar. The two boys would walk to the main highway to sell peanuts. An old cardboard box served as their stand, and they made just enough money to make ends meet.
One day, a traveling evangelist stopped and bought some peanuts. The preacher invited them to a revival that evening, but the boys declined, embarrassed that they had no church clothes to wear. The preacher nodded and took them across the highway and bought them each a pair of jeans, shirts, and coats and ties--the first new clothes they had ever owned. The preacher even offered to give them a ride to the meeting.
When they got to the tent meeting that evening, the boys were so captured by the Bible stories they sat riveted to their seats, and at the conclusion they gave their lives to Jesus. The local pastor offered his church for the traveling evangelist to baptize the new converts the following week.
Years passed and the evangelist returned to hold another revival meeting. During the two decades he was away, he'd become a successful senior pastor of a large congregation in a big city back East. But he still loved the tent meetings in smaller towns. The pastor of the local church had changed since he had been there last, but the church had grown, and the traveling evangelist was treated to a tour by the new pastor.
The evangelist couldn't get over how much the old church had grown. In one of the packed Sunday school classes, the evangelist asked to meet the teacher, a young man who was obviously enjoying his ministry.
"Don't you remember me?" the Sunday school teacher asked.
The evangelist frowned.
"I'm Piggy!" exclaimed the young man.
Well, the old evangelist couldn't believe it! Tears flowed down his wrinkled face. He'd thought about the two boys he'd baptized many times over the years and prayed for them.
Piggy's enthusiasm for the gospel was greater than he could have ever imagined. During the days that followed, the evangelist learned that Hoggy had become a preacher as well. The Lord had shown the evangelist the visible results of his labor, and he returned to his own congregation with renewed enthusiasm for his work.
Now, you might think that's a pretty hokey story. But I used to ask my daddy to tell it time and again. Deep down, I wanted to be that kind of man, someone who could help others, someone with a life-changing touch. I still identify with Piggy and Hoggy because I've known a lot of people like that old evangelist who have helped me through the years. Even as a young boy, I knew what it was like to be the recipient of kindness. And who knows? Maybe that story was the beginning of my own journey to becoming a pastor.
When I entered grade school, I was always more interested in friendships than in reading and writing, I was thrilled to have 24 new friends because now I had a captive audience to entertain! It was my goal to make sure everybody in class had FUN, FUN, FUN! I would act like I was the Lone Ranger, or I would imitate TV characters - Paul Lyade, Don Knotts, and Andy Griffith. At recess I would imitate television sports announcers. I learned all the facial expressions, and early on I learned that I could make people laugh - especially when I imitated the teacher and the principal.
And even though they always wrote on my report card, 'Talks too much," in many ways I knew I was refreshing to them. Once in a while I'd have to pay the price and sit in the corner, or go to the principal's office, or do extra laps for a coach, even though they were laughing. I didn't fit their mold, but I made them laugh.
I was the life of the party, but I wasn't cutting it in school. In elementary school, I wanted to be first: the first to finish the test, the first to read through a book. But my answers were not always correct, and I didn't understand what I had read by the time I finished. I couldn't seem to concentrate long enough to comprehend anything. I would daydream. I would become interested in the room, the ceiling, the activities outside the window, or the ballgame I was to play that night at the park.
I'll continue my story in the next post. If you want to learn how to handle ADHD children, you can get ADHD Natural Remedy Report.
