We home church now. But I attended Epiphany Episcopal Church in Kingsville, Texas, from birth until the age of six. Then we moved to nearby Corpus Christi, and I would like to share something that happened in Corpus Christi at about the age of eight. I think you will find it interesting.
It was around 1942, and World War II raged on. Gasoline, sugar, meat, shoes, and other products were rationed. Few toys for children were being manufactured, and rubber products and nylon stockings were not available at all.
I dreamed about owning a rubber ball and a yellow, rubber balloon on a string.
We lived near the six points shopping area and attended Church of the Good Shepherd every Sunday morning, and since gasoline was rationed, we made Sunday a special day. We drove downtown to church in the family car or caught a bus at Six Points. After church, we had a fish dinner at a café on the bay, went to an afternoon movie downtown— either the Ritz or the Center Theater, and came home.
I remember how big and fancy-looking Good Shepherd was compared to my little wooden Church of the Epiphany. The altar and choir area was set apart from the rest of the church building by a filigreed partition made of black iron that you could see through. Half the choir sat on one side of the altar, and the other half sat facing them with an aisle down the center going up to the altar. The podium where the pastor stood when giving his weekly sermons was on the congregation side of that see-through partition.
I never understood a word the pastor said in those sermons. He used big words that I didn’t know the meaning of at that time.
During the sermon, I would start on the far left side of that black iron filigree, and slowly, I would allow my eyes to travel over every inch of it. When I finally got to the far right of the partition, the sermon would be over.
I knew the pastor was saying something important, but I had no idea what he was talking about. However, I prayed during or after my slow inspection of the black filigree. I remember telling God that though I didn’t understand what the pastor was saying, someday I would understand, and that prayer was answered because today I understand sermons given by pastors.
God is good.
When I was in the fourth grade we moved back to Kingsville and attended Church of the Epiphany again. One of the things I remember most about services in that little church was that the Hebrew blessing, found in the Book of Numbers chapter six and verses 23 to 27, was given often—perhaps every Sunday. At the time, I knew it was important. Now, I know just how important it is to hear that blessing, and I try to put my hands on the heads of my loved ones and friends often while saying that blessing aloud. I heard that the Rabbis say when you bless someone using the blessing in Numbers chapter six, God is blessing you, too.
Here it is:
May the Lord bless thee, and keep thee. The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.
I have a new book out that I wrote with four other published novelists. The book is titled The Overcomers: Christian Authors Who Conquered Learning Disabilities by Ginny Aiken, Margaret Daley, Jane Myers Perrine, Ruth Scofield and me, Molly Noble Bull.
Yep, I’m dyslexic.
The book tells about growing up in Kingsville with a learning disability and overcoming, but only with God’s help.
If you might be interested in reading The Overcomers and/or telling others about it, click below. The Overcomers is the book with the yellow cover and available in paperback and as an e-book.