Memories

A Stroll Down Memory Lane…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Due to some unforeseen circumstances, Vanessa and I took a flying trip to Morgan City, LA on Saturday. Morgan City’s Pharr Chapel United Methodist Church was the first congregation we served after I graduated from seminary in 1998. The unexpected trip became a stroll down memory lane for both of us as we rode around town reminding ourselves of our time there.

As best I recall, I haven’t been back to Morgan City since August 2013–almost exactly 12 years ago. I returned then for the funeral of a prominent member of the congregation who passed away. His name was “Boogie” Hamilton.

“Boogie” was a great guy. He was a local pharmacist who owned the Standard Drug Co., of Morgan City. As best I can remember, Standard Drugs was a family business that Boogie took over from his dad.

We drove by Standard Drugs yesterday (it was at the end of 8th St. right in front of Morgan City High School. It looked like it was no longer Standard Drugs. I know he sold the business to a fellow pharmacist when he decided it was time to retire, but that was what seems like a long time ago.

Boogie was faithful to Pharr Chapel. He was the “head usher” at the 8:30 a.m., worship service. He was always there on time to get things ready for the service and to line up those who would assist him with ushering for the day.

Better still, Boogie was a guy who took care of his pastor. Well, I can’t speak for all his pastors through the years, but I can certainly speak for this one. At least once a month, Boogie would call me up and treat me to lunch at one of the popular seafood restaurants. Knowing my love for catfish, also about once a month, he would show up at the church or the parsonage with five pounds of fresh catfish filets caught right out of the Atchafalaya River.

I know they were fresh caught catfish because I know where he got them. He got them (most of the time) from Lester Duvall, who was also a member of the congregation. Lester was a commercial fisherman. Lester, on several occasions, took me with him down the Atchafalaya to run his fish traps. I suppose he wanted me to see the lifestyle of the fishermen of the region. I never left a trip with Lester without some fresh catfish.

Boogie was also the guy who kept his ear to the ground for me. Boogie was such a long-time, prominent member of the congregation that if something was afoot, or if someone was upset, or if something needed to be addressed, he was the first to know. He was also (generally) the first to let the pastor know. He would always pass along that information quickly and without judgment on the situation. He just needed the pastor to know, so he made sure I did.

We drove by the church at 517 Federal Avenue. The congregation has cared for the facility very well. The “old” parsonage, that sat directly in front of the educational building on Federal Avenue is gone. It served as a rent house when I was pastor there. I never thought it was a good idea for a congregation to be in the rental business, but I was a young pastor fresh out of seminary, so I can honestly confess I wasn’t savvy enough to know how to approach that battle. It’s good to see one of my subsequent colleagues was savvy enough to accomplish that task.

We drove by the “new” parsonage (which is now actually the “old” parsonage) at 3013 Carrol Drive. We spent three years in that home. I’ll say it was one of the finest parsonages we have lived in through our years of vocational ministry.

The parsonage was a block off Lake Palourde, and a half a block from the levee of the swamp. We remembered the golden lab we rescued from the local pound. Shadow would jump the fence in our back yard and make his way to the swamp. We were forever looking for him. No matter what I did to the fence, he was able to jump over it or climb it to get out. Animal Control even picked him up a few times before we could find him. We ended up rehoming him before we left Morgan City.

Pharr Chapel was/is a great congregation. We had fruitful ministry there. Morgan City is/was a great place to call home. Unfortunately, it is also the only appointment that we requested a move from. It absolutely has nothing to do with the congregation or the community. We loved both. It had to do with family.

We were raising four children, and without going into detail, suffice it to say we were being challenged in our parenting skills. We thought a move closer to family might be helpful to our situation and better for our family. As it turns out, that wasn’t exactly the case, and our move from Morgan City remains one of the biggest regrets of my time in vocational ministry.

For all the good memories this stroll down memory lane evoked, there are a few regrets that surfaced, too. First, there is the regret of leaving fruitful ministry. The congregation was growing. Our faith community was thriving and reaching out into the community.

I was deeply involved in the community, as well. I served on the hospital ethics board and I was the go-to pastor for the two local funeral homes when they had a death and the family had no church connection. By my count, I officiated 37 funerals in the 36 months I pastored in Morgan City. It was in Morgan City that I developed a deep appreciation for the liturgy for funerals. When one performs more funerals for people you didn’t know than for ones you did, the liturgy becomes your friend.

In addition, the local radio station was located directly across the alley behind the church. I became friends with the owner, and through that friendship, became the color analyst for the Morgan City High School football games. Who knows? I could have been the next Vin Scully or Pat Summerall.

Next, I regret leaving (and subsequently not maintaining) the strong friendships we developed in our three short years there. I’ve already mentioned two that were meaningful to me, but there were others that were meaningful to both Vanessa and me together. There were several couples in the congregation who were at the same life stage as us. Our friendship just clicked. We shared Sunday school together. We shared meals together. We shared social functions together. We shared birthdays together. Vanessa even shared work together with two of them. We were, by my account, great friends.

I don’t know why those friendships diminished so through the years. Well, of course I do. First, time does that to all our relationships. We can add distance to that equation, too. We moved five hours away. Five hours is a long way when we were at the life stage (all of us) we were in. Of course, not long after we moved, Morgan City received an evacuation notice for an incoming hurricane. A group of those friends landed with us for two days in our new appointment. It was a fantastic time. Good friends, indeed!

I also want to lay part of the blame on the “system” of the United Methodist Church. It used to be (I don’t know if it still is) that it was drilled into pastors that when you leave a congregation, you leave a congregation. You don’t go back for any reason. You give the new pastor an opportunity to become the congregation’s pastor. Being the good company man I was, I sought to fulfill that expectation to the fullest extent.

I refused calls to officiate both weddings and funerals. I didn’t engage myself in conversations with former church members when they were upset that the new pastor didn’t do things the same way I did. Oh yes, there were the occasional calls back to friends, and the Christmas cards and what not, but the friendships withered. I know I wasn’t intentional in maintaining them.

Of course, the same can be said for every congregation we’ve served. Looking back over our years in vocational ministry, I regret not maintaining the relationships better after we departed. That’s on me. I’ve learned through the years that my wanting to “leave” a congregation well stemmed from my own insecurities about being perceived as a good “company man.”

This stroll down memory lane has taught me that relationships are more important than that. To have friends, we have to be a friend. I don’t think I’ve been a very good friend through the years. Oh, I have lots and lots of acquaintances, but very few friends. That, too, is on me.

We’ve never served a bad appointment in vocational ministry. I say that without equivocation. We’ve been blessed by every congregation…every last one. Each of them has been great in its own way, and I am proud (if a follower of Jesus can be proud) to have served each one. With that qualifier, I’ll say Morgan City/Pharr Chapel is absolutely at the top of the list.

Yeah, I’m probably getting myself in trouble with this blog, so I’ll just go ahead and beg forgiveness from all the other congregations I’ve served. This stroll down memory lane has challenged me to be more direct in building and maintaining friendships.

I’ve also come to realize that we pastors don’t need to be quite so insecure. You don’t want to return for fear of interfering with the new pastor? Get over yourself. Go back. Be in ministry to your friends. In the big picture, they won’t remember you for the friendship you developed. They’ll remember you didn’t minister to them in their time of need.

You don’t want a former pastor returning to the congregation you’re now pastoring? Ha! Get over yourself. You’re not the end all and be all of pastors. Give it time and extend the invitation to former pastors when requested. It’s the greatest ministry you can offer someone in their time of need–to affirm the relationship of a trusted friend. Besides, you’ll develop your own relationships that you won’t want to leave behind. It’ll be okay.

A lot of people will disagree with the two previous statements, but that’s okay. I’m old enough and secure enough now to not care. I’m going to be intentional in building friendships and maintaining relationships in the years I have left.

I’m grateful for the stroll down memory lane that Vanessa and I enjoyed yesterday.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Honoring Mothers: Faithful Women Who Shape Our Lives

/ pastorlynnmalone / 1 Comment

Happy Mother’s Day! Let me take a few lines on this special day to say “Thank you!” to the mothers in my life, and to all mothers everywhere. None of us (and I mean literally none of us) would be who we are without our mothers (for better or worse).

I say “for better or worse,” because I know not everyone has been blessed with incredible examples of motherhood in their lives, and that is truly unfortunate. I, on the other hand, have been blessed beyond measure with those mothers who are shining examples of what it means to be a mother.

Great is Thy Faithfulness

I tell folks that I was raised at the foot of a Methodist piano. My mother, Sonda Womack, played piano for three Methodist churches in our home area. She rode the circuit just like the circuit rider preacher every Sunday so that those congregations had the benefit of music in worship. Most Sundays, my brothers and I had to make that circuit with her, and there we would sit, often listening to the same sermon three times (talk about insufferable!) just for the opportunity to make it to the “big” church so we could be with all our friends.

I didn’t necessarily enjoy all that time at the foot of a Methodist piano, but her faithfulness in serving the Lord by serving those congregations gave me an early example of what discipleship and servanthood looks like. Being an accompanist for all those years was ministry for her. I know that because she was never paid a salary by any of those churches. Yes, there were frequent love offerings the congregations shared, but she never “charged” for her services. It was a gift of love to the Lord.

Her faithfulness shaped me and my brothers. Of that, I have no doubt. She was, for much of our early years, a single mom. She worked long, hard hours to insure that we had what we needed…not always what we wanted…but always what we needed. I can remember her working three jobs when we were little. She worked at the local bank. She would leave that job and head to the local post office where she was a part-time flexible worker. And, if you think playing piano at three churches on Sunday morning isn’t work (whether you’re paid or not), well you’ve got another think coming.

Even now, into her 80’s, she continues to serve two congregations through her gift of music. Still riding the circuit after all these years!

She was, and is, an example of faith and faithfulness and love for which I am forever grateful. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

The Heart of Our Family

Let me tell you something else. When I married, I married up. I mean I married way up! My wife, Vanessa, is the most amazing mother I know (my own mother notwithstanding). Vanessa has throughout our lives together demonstrated the sacrificial love of Jesus in the most profound of ways. I honestly believe that she was born to be a mother…and grandmother.

I have spent the last forty years watching her nurture our children and grandchildren. I can tell you that she raised our children while I was off going to school and pastoring churches and chasing dreams. Anything good our children have attained or become can be credited to her love and diligence in caring for them.

Raising our children was never a sacrifice for her. It was her gift. She was, for many years, the nurturer, the care-giver, the chauffeur, the cook, the cleaner, the confidant, the disciplinarian, the encourager, the helper and the friend to all four of our children, and she has quickly become that to our grandchildren, too. I might also add, she is all those things to me as a spouse. She is my best friend, and I’m not so sure our children wouldn’t also call her their best friend, either.

She is amazing and beautiful and funny and sacrificial and loving. Try as I might, there really aren’t words to describe what she is to me and to our family. She is the heart and soul of who we are as a family. Happy Mother’s Day, Vanessa!

An Enduring Legacy of Love

The examples of love and sacrifice goes back beyond our present generation. My grandmothers…well…what can I say about them?

My maternal grandmother, Aline Johnson Roberts, demonstrated for me how to serve your spouse. My Papaw lived with rheumatoid arthritis for as long as I have any memory of him. He was bedridden for most of later years of life. Mamaw never left his side.

Everyday, she busied herself waiting on him hand and foot. I never once heard her complain (and mind you, my brothers and I lived with them for several years) about his illness, or the necessity of her caring for him. She did it out of love. She did it out of compassion. And, that was after raising ten children and dealing with 18 (I think) grandchildren (nine of which either lived with them or next door to them).

She remains an example of self-giving love that demonstrates the heart of motherhood. Happy heavenly Mother’s Day, Mamaw!

My paternal grandmother, Kittie Oxford Malone, is a saint if there ever was one. We called her “Mama Kit.” Mama Kit earned her sainthood by putting up with my grandfather, my dad and my uncle. Don’t misunderstand me. I love all three of those men dearly, but they could be…oh, let’s just say…challenging to live with (that’s all I’ll say about that!).

When Vanessa and I married, we moved into her backyard. There we started raising our family. She was there when all our children were born. She was the go-to babysitter for our children. Every afternoon when the kids would arrive home from school, their first stop was usually her house. She generally had cheese toast or cinnamon toast prepared for them when they arrived.

She would spend countless hours reading to our oldest daughter and as she would read she would gently rub our daughter’s back. Our oldest daughter is her namesake, and I honestly think she still misses those back rubs today.

We discovered when ministry called us to Kentucky for seminary, that the worst part was not having Mama Kit to care for us from our backyard. Yes, we missed all our family, but not in the same way we missed Mama Kit. I only wish my grandchildren would have had the opportunity to know Mama Kit.

Mama Kit gave me an example of perseverance in the face of adversity, of commitment to life-long marriage and of selfless love. I am blessed to have her as part of the legacy of faithful motherhood in my live. Happy heavenly Mother’s Day, Mama Kit.

Thank You Mothers!

There are so many more memories and reflections I could share, but this is a long post already. Thank you for indulging me in this overly personal blog. And, thank you to all the mothers that we celebrate on this Mother’s Day.

If your mother is still with you, give thanks to God for her and make sure she knows how much you appreciate her. If your mother is no longer alive, then simply give thanks to God for the memories of love and faithfulness you have.

If you have no good memories of your own mother, can you at least be grateful to God that she gave you life? That is a gift unto itself and you should be grateful.

So, Happy Mother’s Day to all our mothers and grandmothers. May God bless you all on this special day.

Until next time, keep looking up…