Here we go again; another that should be an example to our children has taken advantage of the position he held. This is making the trust in leaders fall way to far to the bottom. The Catholic Church has been discovered more times than suitable for the covering up of sexual perverts. I know there has always been sexual evil. Is it that the victims are finally not so afraid to tell the abuse suffered them? I think in the past it was such a nasty thing, that they were afraid to tell. The article states that it has been rumored about this youth minister for a while. Rumors are many times without some truth to them. The teachers, coaches and church people we hear of everyday is totally getting to be more than our young people need to be faced with. In truth the ones in our area were guilty even if they were not convicted; Guilty to me means that, any sexual remark, text or action should have caused them pain; Pain that they brought to the young person. Church is a place that we go for the goodness not seen in everyday life. Church is where even the meanest people are to not be so mean; maybe just be nice until Wednesday at least; but no they choose our place of goodness to do their evil.
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One thing that is making me very happy at this time is that my girls are attending church. They are paving the way for their soon to be babies to be in church. I took them as children; they say you always go back. I went too, because I really wanted to go to heaven. There is something wonderful about dressing babies up for church that gives a mother great joy. There was a time that it was not easy getting them all dressed up. I was far from organized as a young mother. The first babies were twin girls. Twins for sure had to wear exactly the same thing, down to the socks having the same lace on them. I still to this day say the devil helped me get them ready on Sunday morning. Sometimes he won and the shoes and socks were not the same. Church is and always will be one of the great social gatherings in life. The church that I went to when we lived in Wayne Michigan even has great memories for me. I think it was not the church my daddy would have picked for me to go to, but he was not always in a mode to notice much. He knew that they come and picked me up and brought me home. The neighbors were the coordinators of me starting to do this. At an early age, I loved being part of something. I also loved going somewhere clean and warm. Many times we did not have heat at home and a clean house was not the norm. I liked being in neat buildings and churches were one of them. My grandma and grandpa had a problem with this church too; it may have been a Jehovah's Witnesses church. We did go on Saturday. Mama was just glad I was happy, having somewhere to go.
The next church and my favorite, was the little Methodist that I was the star of. I was the only kid in Sunday school most of the time. I hated it when Tim Ritter came on the first Sunday when the preacher was there. That meant that he was back in the back corner of the one room church with me and his Aunt Ofie. He went to Nebo all the other Sundays. He dad being a Ritter, that's where they went. It was Zokie his mom that insisted on the first Sunday, preaching day that their family attends her families’ church. Tim was a chunky little boy and dressed way better than me. He tried to act like he knew more about the Bible Stories in our Sunday school book. I suffered through this pretty easy; looking forward to the great meal that was waiting for us on these first Sunday's. The church pews were strips of rough wood; they were pulled out into the churchyard for tables. Two of the benches pushed together. Reaching over the backs was not that hard. It was the best food in the world. Of, course all the food we had when we came here was good to me. There weren’t that many memorable meals in my mind from Wayne Michigan; to give some credit to the north; which I don't like to do very often. I am a southerner, even if I was born in Ypsilanta, Michigan. My grandma Carte did make great boiled potatoes. She also had a very clean house that I loved to go visit. My Grandpa Carte was a kind man, much better man than the Granddaddy I would meet when we came to Alabama.
When I was in my early teens, I rode a church bus to Rogersville Church of God. This church was criticized by Grandmother, because she knew some of the families that attended this church. It was a spin off church from the old Liverett’s. Mary Liverett was a preacher. A women preacher was something that my grandmother did not find cool at all. She also, had heard of them speaking in tongues. Laying hands on for healing purposes was another thing that she really did not have that much faith in. She did let me go, because we were no longer having church in our little one room church. Bethlehem Methodist was closed for worship. I am not sure who decided to close it, but it was beginning to fall in with the lack of maintenance. The first time I went to Rogersville to church was in the summer. It was to attend the vacation Bible School they were having. There was a prize for the kid that could get the most to visit for VBS. I quickly took my, want to be best attitude and won the prize. It was a ten foot long candy bar. It was really not a piece of chocolate, nuts and cameral. It was a ten feet long piece of plywood with candy bars, of all kinds taped around the wood. I won it and gave all the candy away before leaving VBS that night.
My reason for wanting to go to church here every service was somewhat selfish; I met a boy. The boy that would be the first boy I ever kissed. Thirteen was an exciting time to have a boyfriend at church. You could go to church and see him. Having someone to sit with at church was thrilling also. My grandmother knew of my boyfriend at church and was not so freaked by it. There came one trip to church camp that my daddy refused to let me go. He was bound and determined that I was not going to camp; and that was final. I even went up after church one Sunday night and had prayer said for me to get to go, one time prayers weren’t answered. That was probably a time my daddy knew better than the one’s praying for me did. The boy moved and that was that. I still went to church there until I was married at that church; one of the few times Grandmother went to that church.
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