Since I am the Preacher’s Daughter, I also have a Preacher’s Wife for a momma, that’s what we call mothers in the South. She is a beautiful Christian woman inside and out, and she’s an ordained minister too. So not only did I grow up with one preacher as a parent, but two. I am doubly blessed, or so I’m told.
I never really considered her to be a preacher in the “behind the pulpit on Sunday morning” kind of way, to me she’s always been more of a “walk the walk and talk the talk” kind of preacher. She ministers to people when they are down and depressed, have fallen on tough times, or just need a kind word and a smile. She’s always willing to fill up a box of groceries out of her own pantry for a complete stranger (or even one of her own children) that has no food. Because she’s been there herself. She knows what it is like to be without, be sad, be lonely, and in need of a kind word or helping hand.
However, she has her faults just like the rest of us.
When I was sixteen it was left up to her to give me driving lessons. She had a maroon late-eighties Chevrolet Caprice Classic. It looked like a boat on wheels. It drove like one too. I’m only 5’2″ now and I could barely see over the steering wheel back then and it was all I could do to keep it on the road. It looked much like the one below.
Now a days the ones you see have been “upgraded” to look more like this:
Now if my momma’s Caprice Classic had looked like the one above, I would have been much less embarrassed while driving it. Plus it would have just been downright hilarious to see my little 5’1″ momma getting in that thing and driving it to Piggly Wiggly.
Back to my driving lesson. So while she was sitting in the passenger seat, seat belt securely buckled, every muscle in her body tensed up, trying to direct me on how to drive and where to go, it just so happened that the car in front of me slowed down. This must not have ever happened to my momma before while she was driving because she yelled out “Jesus!” And to cover her blaspheming she quickly added, in song, “loves me this I know!”
Since that time when my momma gets nervous while riding along with me or my sister and yells out our name, reaches for the dashboard, and puts her foot on her imaginary brake pedal, we automatically start singing “Jesus Loves Me” and she immediately turns red and starts laughing. We love making momma laugh. Bless her heart. 🙂