I asked Ed, and Isaac to get some more Tide. I smelled the freshly, washed clothes, and they had a nice smell. It was a clean smell. I grew up when Mom had a ringer, washing machine, and we had a dryer that stayed in the upstairs of the house. We lived in Kentucky, and we three, girls were all under six years old. Mom had her hands full with three little ones, and Dad had a full job besides family.
We lived in Kentucky, right after Seminary days. I still remember when my memory clicked on, and I decided to save all of them from then on. I faintly remember Atlanta, Georgia days when we lived there. Dad was in school, and he had a big motorcycle which could carry us girls in a buggy on the back. The day we moved was my first memory. I didn’t eat my lunch, and Dad, and Mom gather my older, sister, and the baby in the car, and left me to finish what I started. I ran to the door, and they were leaving. I finished, and ran to the door yelling, “I’m through!”
I was growing up, because Mom didn’t want two, babies. We moved to Kentucky where Dad had 9 churches to watch over, and at times we drove our jeep up the bed of the creek to get to a church. One church had bullet holes all through it. We asked, “Dad, what happened to that church door?”
He said, “The people didn’t like the last preacher.”
We were quiet, and then we started singing.
“When Christ is in the vessel, we can laugh at the storm. Laugh at the storm, laugh at the storm. When Christ is in the vessel we can laugh at the storm, as we go down the creek.”