Memories

Memories

          I remember Gin Creek. I assume it was named Gin Creek because at some point in time and someplace in its travel it must have powered a cotton gin. I remember a smooth path alongside this creek where I would walk. I remember crawfish running backward and minnows threading the quick current.

           Long before cell phones and computers, there were creeks with elm leaves and water snakes floating in them. Long before boys entertained themselves with video games, they kept themselves busy damming up creeks to make swimming holes. They also rode bikes with no brakes down steep hills. And now old men have scars and aching bones as a result of the glorious crashes that occurred at the bottom.

           I remember cane poles and catching bream. In those days there was nothing to worry about. As we rambled through the woods, ticks did not bite and people were good. Also in those days, flat screens were used to keep the bugs out of the house and the net was used to catch fish.

           I remember going to church. And preachers who gave out bubblegum and the love of God to children. I remember Vacation Bible School with white-haired ladies and crafts. I also remember Kool-Aid, cookies, and the gospel being served. This is where I decided to follow Jesus.

         I remember Sunday School and a teacher who took his boys squirrel hunting. I remember a pastor who walked with Jesus daily and modeled humility. And the legend of Brother Jack lives on today. He and others like him are the type of preacher that I hope to become someday.

         Memories. I don’t press them in the pages of my mind. Instead, they are running on the screen saver of my heart. They tell of simpler times and sweeter pleasures. They remind me of places and people who have shaped my life. But most of all they remind me of how much Jesus loved that boy who used to play in the waters of Gin Creek.