The Calling Dream

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It took me a few days to find Miss Moore’s business card. For a while, I was afraid I might have accidentally thrown it away. I decided eventually to take everything out of every drawer and look through every box under the bed. Then I found it where I had previously overlooked it, in the back of my sock drawer.

Things had kind of gotten back to normal, I guess. Momma was doing her normal daily stuff except that now and then she would stop right in the middle of doing something, suck in a quick breath, fight back tears, and then move on with what she was doing. Most of the time, right after that, she would start singing, “I surrender all.”

Daddy actually seemed to be coming out of his depression as though preaching Teddy’s funeral had done something for him. I knew he was stuck in his way of thinking, and nothing I could ever do would bring him out of that. I had such mixed feelings about Daddy. There was a part of me that wanted to hate him for what he said about Teddy and for a lot of other things. However, I couldn’t make myself do it. I had always looked up to him. I had always adored him and would have loved nothing better than for him to have said to me, just once, that I had done a good job or that he was proud of me. That day never came. Whenever my anger rose toward Daddy, I would just say to myself, “Seventy times seven. Jesus said forgive seventy times seven.”

Hannah just stuck her nose in her schoolbooks every night. Christmas was coming, but we didn’t pay it much attention. We never really celebrated it in our house anyway. Daddy always said nobody really knows when baby Jesus was born, and besides, he said what we call Christmas is just a pagan holiday that the Catholics adopted. Still, like as not, somebody would bring us a bag of nuts, oranges, or a coconut, the kind of things you just didn’t find around Arkansas in those days, except on special occasions. Momma would make a few cakes out of the things we were brought, a coconut cake or an orange cake, so it was a kind of a celebration without really being a celebration. Despite what Daddy thought, I never could quite see anything wrong with picking the date to celebrate Jesus’s birth, even if it had been a pagan holiday.

I didn’t know how Momma was going to react to my calling Miss Moore. She had just lost one son, and I was afraid that going off to Nashville might make her feel like she was losing another one. I had already made up my mind that I was going to go. I felt like I had to go. The dream told me that much. I knew it was time for me to take some action. I just didn’t know if I should wait a little while to let Momma get used to the idea first, or if I should just say it. I finally decided to talk to her.

It was actually on Christmas Day that I asked her to sit down. We would usually have a big meal on Christmas Day. Momma would do a big roast or something special like that, which she didn’t do on any other day.

We didn’t exchange gifts or decorate, but we would relax after Christmas dinner. Grandma Miller would either come over to our house for dinner, or we would all go over there. Often, we would sit around listening to holiday radio programming. I recalled days when Teddy and I would sit by the radio listening to Christmas Radio Hour on holiday afternoons. It was delightful to us, even if Daddy didn’t really believe in Christmas, or if he said things like, “Now, there is not one thing that a Frosty Snow Man has to do with the birth of Jesus!”

“It’s still a fun story, Daddy,” Teddy would say.

“Well, I don’t suppose there is any harm in it,” Daddy would return, “but it don’t have anything to do with baby Jesus.”

After Christmas dinner that year, I went into the kitchen to help Momma and Hannah with the cleanup. We got most everything cleaned and put away. Then I asked Hannah if she would go into the other room so I could have a private talk with Momma. Good old obliging Hannah always did as she was asked.

“Momma,” I said. “I think I would like to have an afternoon cup of coffee and maybe another piece of that coconut cake you made. Would you sit down and have a cup of coffee with me?”

“Are you making the coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I responded. Then I got up and began prepping the stovetop percolator for a little time on the hot plate. While that was heating up, I got out a couple of saucers and cut us both a hunk of cake. I set Momma’s cake in front of her and sat down across the corner from her to take a bite of mine.

“We have had a lot of talks at this table over the years, haven’t we, Momma?” I questioned as I chewed the sweet confection and watched for her reaction.

“Yes, we have.” She smiled. “I was usually trying to comfort you in some little turmoil you were having.”

“You’ve been my anchor, Momma,” I affirmed. “I know that the winds of life would have blown me against the stones had it not been for you.”

“What’s bothering you this time, son?” she asked.

I glanced over to see that the coffee pot was beginning to perk. “I’m worried a little,” I said as I got up to turn the coffee off. “Mostly about you.”

“Worried about me?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, pouring coffee into thick porcelain mugs that had been picked up at a cheap auction many years before.

She got a little nervous. “Ronnie, I think I’m handling things okay. I know I still get upset now and then, but it’s not easy to outlive your child.”

“Momma, that’s not what I’m talking about.” I smiled and set her cup of coffee beside the cake she hadn’t yet touched. “I’m worried because I’m going to do something, and I’m afraid it will upset you, especially this close to Teddy’s passing.”

I heard the gasp she tried to stifle. Then she dug her fork into the cake for a bite and took a quick slurp of her coffee before she had finished chewing it. She didn’t ask what I was going to do.

I sat back down and took a sip of my coffee, which I must admit was a little too hot just coming from the boiling pot.

“Momma, do you remember Miss Moore, that city woman who came up from Memphis for our revival meeting?”

“Of course I do,” she responded. “I told you to look for a sign from God.”

“Well, I think I have found one.”

I took another bite of my cake and sat back in my chair. “Momma, Teddy came to me in a dream on the night of his funeral.”

Her face filled with shock, and I could see little puddles of tears floating at the base of her eyes. I leaned forward and placed my hand over hers. “Momma, I know Teddy is in heaven. I know he is. It’s okay.” I proceeded to tell her about the dream and how Jesus lifted little baby Teddy up, and he ascended into heaven.

know “You know,” she said, upon hearing that part, “the Bible says, ‘Lest ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.’ Teddy became a little child again.” She smiled and relaxed a little. I saw more peace in her at that moment than I had seen since before Teddy went off to war. Maybe that’s not really what the Bible verse meant, but if it gave Momma some peace, that was more than all right by me.

I went on. “After Teddy ascended, Jesus was standing right there in front of me. He told me again that I am His Word, and He said that I have much to do and much to learn, and it is not my time yet.” Another worry faded from Momma’s face and then I said, “I think this is my sign, Momma. I think I need to call Miss Moore and go talk to these people in Nashville.”

“I think you are right.” she smiled. “Ronnie, there is no question that you have the calling. When you preach, you move people, and I have been a witness to your healing of the sick. If you can expand that and reach a broader following, who knows how many you could bring to the Lord.”

“I worry about you and Daddy and Hannah,” I said. “I worry that you might not be able to handle the farm without me.”

“Ronnie, whether we can handle the farm or not is not a relevant concern,” she argued. “If this is what you are meant to do, then you need to go and do it. You don’t need to let concerns about this old farm or anything else hold you back. When the time comes that we can’t take care of the farm, then we will think of something else. The Lord will provide.”

I got to my feet, crossed over, and kissed her on the forehead and said, “I love you, Momma.” Then I went back to my chair.

“I love you too, son.” She smiled. “More than you can understand till you have children of your own.”

I dug my fork in for another bite of cake. “You know, Momma, this is a very, very, fine cake. I think you missed your calling. Maybe you should be baking for some fancy restaurant in New York City.”

“You know, if we get to where we can’t handle the farm no more,” Momma grinned wide. “I just might do that. I just might move up to New York City and start cooking for the Ritz.” Then she giggled like a little girl and put two fingers over her lips. “Can you imagine?”

The next day I drove the truck over to Brother and Sister Clark’s place. Then I drove right back home without stopping because I could see they still had company, and probably their kids and grandkids were home for Christmas. I waited another week, and then it snowed a couple of inches just after the New Year. The whole world seems to shut down when it snows in Arkansas. Nothing moves. Even the animals try to find shelter and stay still when the wet, cold white blankets the land like a suffocating glob. Arkansas snows are wet snows. It rarely gets cold enough for that powder snow they talk about in the magazines about ski resorts. The good news is it usually doesn’t last for long. However, that snow didn’t want to go away. It turned off bitter cold, and then it snowed again on top of the first one. This was after it had melted enough to make a glaze of ice over the crust of the first snow when it started to get cold again. We kept our wood stove burning full time, and it still got pretty chilly in the bedrooms overnight. Finally, I just decided I would walk over to Brother and Sister Clark’s since the truck was not safe to drive in that stuff.