Last week, I visited with Estha Mae and Porter Parker. They are dear, sweet people from Calhoun County, and they have lived near Pilgrims Rest Church and School almost all their lives. Because Mary Sue Stevens has known the Parkers for a long time, she took me to visit them. After we turned left on Highway 32 out of Water Valley, I began to see places that we had passed on our previous trips. As we drove past the old school at Pine Valley, the road toward Tabernacle Church, and the bridge over Turkey Creek, I became excited. Those spots had become familiar to me. I was beginning to feel as though I was a member of this community, and it seemed like I was on my way to visit some of my own rural neighbors. Like a mule heading for the barn, I was heading home.
When we pulled into the Parkers’ driveway, I quickly scanned the vista and saw a beautiful house nestled in front of trees and beside a tranquil, rolling pasture. I have said this before, but I sense the presence of God when I am in wooded settings, and I have also said before that I am consistently reminded that God has brought me to Water Valley and is driving the car, as I have searched for my church in the wildwood. When I saw that peaceful meadow connected to the wooded area behind the Parker’s house, I was reminded that ‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures….” Psalm 23
As soon as we pulled into the Parkers’ driveway, I knew that the Great Shepherd had led me to a path of righteousness, and my visit with this wonderful couple confirmed that. A few seconds after Mary Sue parked the car, two lovely people spilled out of the door, and everyone embraced. After that, we quickly scrambled for our seats, and Estha showed me an old black and white photo of her mother and dad.
That photograph was over 100 years old, and as I glanced at the clothes and the faces in that image, I felt that I could be looking at snapshots of my own family. Estha’s father was a farmer, and he was wearing a pair of worn overalls and a crumpled straw hat. His young bride stood next to him, and they were positioned in front of their house.
Estha told me that from the time when she was a tiny child, she could remember attending services at Pilgrims Rest. She added that although the church was miles away from her childhood home, the family would walk that distance to worship there. When there was a revival at Pilgrims Rest, Estha and her family would spend the week with her uncle and aunt who only lived about a mile from the church. But before they would begin their trek, Estha Mae’s mother, Myrtice, would work for days, preparing clothes for each child to wear. When Estha Mae was a toddler, Myrtice, sewed three new dresses for her to wear to the revival one year.
Washerwoman – Jacki Kellum Watercolor
For Myrtice, sewing a dress was a laborious project. First, she needed to make tons of biscuits and bread and thereby empty several flour sacks. After that, she would build a fire beneath the iron pot in her backyard, and she would carry buckets of water to fill that pot. Then, she added some lye soap. Making soap was another tedious job for Estha’s mother.
Once the water had begun boiling in the iron pot, Myrtice stirred the fabric with a “punching” stick that she had saved for washday, and then, she scrubbed the fabric on a rub board. After all the fabrics were laundered, Myrtice hung them outside to dry. Hours later, the young mother would build another fire and heat her iron. Before she could sew anything, the fabric needed to be pressed. But even after the sewing was finished, more laundering needed to be done. At that point, it was time to starch the dresses and dry them again. Yet another fire needed to be built to heat the iron once more. Finally, all starched, ironed, and ruffled, the new dresses were ready to wear.
After Myrtice had prepared clothes for all of her children to wear to the revival, she gingerly packed the garments in pillowcases, and Estha Mae’s older brothers carefully toted those treasure-filled pillowcases as the mother and her six young children hiked toward Pilgrims Rest. Because Estha’s father needed to tend the farm animals and the other needs of his farm, Myrtice was the only adult shepherding that long walk.
As any Southern Baptist over 60 knows, revival week is invariably the hottest week of the year. Imagine that a young mother and a gaggle of small children hiked at least five miles in sizzling heat, simply to go to a revival. Because Myrtice was carrying an infant, the toddlers were forced to walk the entire distance, but finally—hours after they had begun their journey, the family arrived at the home of their relatives.
As soon as the wayfarers entered the house, everyone flew into a flurry of hugging, washing faces, braiding hair, tying bows, etc., but there was a problem. Because Estha’s aunt had been rushing around to prepare food and to launder bedding for her visitors, she had not yet ironed a dress for her own little girl to wear to the revival. In a panic, the aunt started to build a fire so that she could heat her iron, but Myrtice stopped her saying: “Don’t worry about a dress for Nola Fay to wear tonight. Estha has three brand new dresses, and Nola Fay can wear one of those.”
With that news, everyone in the house was relieved except Estha, who immediately slipped out of the room to bemoan what her mother had said. Please realize that this may have been the only new dresses that this little girl had ever gotten, and understandably, Estha had imagined that she would be the first person to model each of her outfits in front of her family and their friends at church. When Myrtice noticed that the unhappy toddler was not in the room, she went to find her. Estha was out on the porch. With her head resting on the seat of a chair, the little girl had begun to cry.
“What’s wrong with you, child?”
“I don’t want Nola Fay to wear any of my new dresses.”
“You hush now and get up from there. You need to get ready for church.”
But Estha wouldn’t budge, and she wouldn’t stop crying either. In fact, the situation was dissolving into a full-blown fit, but Myrtice ended that tantrum quickly. She yanked Estha up and gave her a tanning that the little girl never forgot.
“Now come on in here, girl. Let’s get you dressed.”
In a matter of minutes, Estha was sporting a new, colorful dress. It was covered in flowers, and Nola Fay was wearing a dress that was similar. Together, the two little girls looked like a summer garden, tied up with ruffles, starched and ready to go. Uncle Alvin hitched his mules to the wagon, and a herd of aunts, uncles, and cousins climbed in and rode together for that last mile to church.
When the wagonload of kin folks arrived at Pilgrims Rest, Estha’s family filled an entire pew, and just as they always did when they were together, they sang. Harmoniously, they sang, and their singing lifted to the top of the room and floated there. Sweet Angel Band.
“Oh Come, angel band.
Come and around me stand.
Oh, bear me away on your snow-white wings
To my immortal home.”
– To My Immortal Home –