Author: Dot

This morning I worshiped at two of the small United Methodist Churches that dot the Arkansas countryside. Griffithsville, Dogwood and Ellis Chapel are what is known in Methodism as a three-point charge – three small congragations that share a pastor.  The dedicated, enthusiastic, energetic, recently-called preacher at these churches holds three services each Sunday, at 8:30, 9:30 and 11:00.  This week he is in Pastor’s School at Mount Eagle and asked me to conduct services at two of the churches, presumably hesitating to ask me to do what he does every single week of the year. 

Dogwood had a larger than usualy crowd for its 9:30 service.  This was homecoming, when former members came to gather at the church they grew up in, greet old friends and to walk through the cemetery. The kitchen counter was filled with food for the pot luck at noon. After the 11:00 service at Griffithsville, I drove the five miles back to Dogwood for lunch because I could never pass up a Methodist potluck dinner. The celebration continued most of the afternoon with singing and fellowship. 

It is said that the United Methodist connectional system insures a church for every pastor and a pastor for every church.  This is true, though some churches have more than one pastor and many pastors have more than one church.  God bless our local pastors.

I lived in Nashville, Tennessee for 13 years and during that time, that city’s crime rate rose to among the top twenty in the nation and I was a victim three times.

One day while I was inside my son’s school, someone broke the window of my car and stole my cell phone. That was number one. Insurance took care of everything and I was never in any physical danger.

Next, my purse was stolen in a grocery store parking lot. I was loading my purchases into the trunk of my car when another car pulled dangerously close, a hand reached out and grabbed the purse from the baby seat of the grocery cart.   Again, no physical harm – nothing injured save my dignity and feeling of being secure in my environment.

The third incident happened as I was driving to work down Ellington Parkway. As I neared an overpass/walking bridge to drive under, I noticed a young man standing in the middle of the bridge holding a large object. With perfect timing, he dropped it and I slammed on my brakes. The boulder struck my front bumper, leaving a huge gouge in the paint. I swerved and recovered as he ran across the bridge and disappeared.  Now this was scary. If I had not hit the brakes, the chunk of concrete would have hit the hood of the car, or perhaps crashed through the windshield.

These things happened during the last few years I lived in Tennessee. No wonder that when I retired I moved to small-town Arkansas, where many people leave their houses and cars unlocked. But not me.

I acquired my first cell phone in 1994. My job required me to commute across Nashville, Tennessee and my husband thought I needed a phone. It weighed about two pounds, seldom operated outside the city and the monthly fee for service was $30.00.

I am now on my fourth phone of the same brand, having moved to a pre-paid version a few years ago so I could still have cell phone service for approximately $30 a month.  I might say here that  my phone is very unsophistocated – no text or voice mail. The silence mode requires travel through so many menus, I never bother. When the announcement is made to “silence cell phones” I turn it off. Then it is silent.

Now, if I can’t buy air time, my phone may become obsolete.  I’ll have to update my cell phone capabilities. One thing is sure, though, I’ll never own a Blue Tooth. I saw a woman my age with one of those and it looked for all the world like she was talking to herself.

When  you’re a senior, you need to be careful about that. It can get you put in a home.