BED-NIGHT STORIES

BED-NIGHT STORIES

by Brenda Agee

 

          Reverend William Archibald Spooner.  Who?  You say you've never heard of him?  Well, I bet you've heard "Spoonerisms" but you may not have known the term.  A spoonerism is a term used for when a person gets one or two parts of two words mixed up and uses them in a sentence without knowing the difference.  Reverend Spooner (1844–1930), Warden of New College, Oxford, was notorious for this and thus by the year 1921, the term "Spoonerism" was well known.  One of his most well known and quoted was "Kinkering Kongs their Titles Take" but what he was saying was "The Conquering Kings Their Titles Take".  However, my all-time favorite was not said by Spooner, but by an aunt of one of my childhood friends.  It was in the early 1950's and coming home from a vacation, she was telling family that she and her husband were thrilled to have stayed in one of those new "mo-conditioned airtels."  If you haven't figured out, she was actually saying "air-conditioned motels."  Yep, good old Spooner!

          I'm telling you all of this because the title of today's blog is a "Spoonerism" that became part of our family vocabulary.  When my youngest grandson was about three years old, I was living with them.  One night he wanted me to read to him a story.  In my mind, I was thinking that I would read his bed-time story I would then kiss him good-night.  But what came out of my mouth instead was, "Of course I'll read you a bed-night story."  He picked up on it and laughed but I didn't get it until he told me what I had said.  It was so funny to him, and to him mama when he told her, that the term "Bed-Night Story" became part of our every day vocabulary. 

          Stories, no matter what we call them, are part of our lives.  We have bed-time stories, fairy-tale stories, once-upon-a-time stories, family stories, etc.  Again, stories!  Some, like the one I just told, are true while others are just make-believe.  How easy is it for a small child to know the difference, especially when we say we are going to tell them a Bible story right after we've read them a story about fairies or talking rabbits?

          Last year, while still living with my daughter, my two youngest grandchildren came home from a local church and when I asked my four year old granddaughter what Bible story she learned, she answered quite seriously, "But Grandma, we don't ever have Bible stories!"  I asked my eight year old grandson the same question.  He said basically gave same answer.

          You mean, they spent two hours a week at a church youth program and never heard a Bible story?  My granddaughter then said, "We don't have stories, we just learn about Jesus."  My grandson again explained further.  He said the Bible is not made-up stories because it is all true about the people who lived then.  I had never thought of it like that.  However, it made sense and the more I thought of it, the more I liked it!  The Bible isn't made up of a group of stories, but it certainly does tell us the truth about those who lived such a long time ago, the truth about what God wants us to know.

          Recently, I mentioned the incident to one of the children's Sunday School teachers in the church I now attend and I was both surprised and pleased to hear that she does the same.  She said she didn't want the Bible to be listed as one book in a long list of other story books.  She wanted them to know that there is a difference.  I appreciate what she said!

          But I promised you a bed-night story and I want to tell you one of my all-time favorites.  My grandma, on my mother's side, was truly one of the great story-tellers.  I'm sure she could have sat with Mark Twain for days with each telling their stories with equal abandonment and laughter, neither one out-doing the other.

          To give you a time-frame, Grandma was born only a few years after the daughter of Laura Ingalls Wilder.  When Grandma was a child, Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma moved the family from Michigan to Missouri in a covered wagon.  There were numerous stories Grandma told me about their travels.  In fact, if I were to say to you, "Sweet-potato.  Quickly, now tell me a story."  What would you say?  I can remember Grandma telling about the very first sweet-potato they saw, cooked, and ate.  It was a fantastical story of wonder, mystery, delight and I could almost taste that first bite myself.  A sweet potato, for goodness sake, and yet what a story!

          At one point, my Grandma's family lived in a large wooded area.  Great-Grandpa worked at a saw mill - he lost a couple of fingers at the sawmill and even telling that story, Grandma had us on the edges of our seats - and when he got home of course all the children wanted to tell him about their adventures of the day.

          One evening they all gathered around to tell Great-Grandpa about a new adventure.  My grandma was one of the two oldest of a quite a number of children, and I'm sad to say I don't remember how many children.  The children told Great-Grandpa about a new patch of ground they had found that they had previously not seen.  It was greener than the rest of the grass and had water bubbling up from under it.  They told him how they had all jumped up and down on it for hours because it was spongy and gave a bounce.  She said they all stopped talking because Great-grandpa turned white and fell back into his chair.  He reached forward and grabbed her and a couple of the other children who were closest to him and just held them.  When he gained his ability to speak, he sternly made them promise to never go near the spot again and then he took Grandma with him to show him the place where they had been playing.  Returning to the house, he told them what he had feared.  The patch of bouncy, green, watery grass was a quicksand bed that had not yet broken through.  Again, he made them all promise to stay away from the area.

          Immediately the next day, Great-Grandpa started building a low-bridge over the area because they would need upon occasion to cross from one side of the quicksand to the other. And just as he had predicted, not long after he finished the bridge, the quicksand broke through and the danger was very real.

          Now realize that my Grandma and her siblings did what Great-Grandpa had ordered.  They stayed away from that watery, grassy area, but once the bridge was built, they didn't see any reason why they couldn't go look at the quicksand as long as they were on the bridge.  It didn't look so dangerous, she said, and they wanted to see just what the quicksand would do.  They first tried throwing rocks or twigs in it but nothing much seemed to happen.  But, what if one of the little ones were to be safely put into the quicksand?  Grandma and the oldest brother, convinced the little ones to strip down to their petticoats.  Grandma and my great-uncle laid down on the bridge, locked their hands around the wrists of the youngest child and lowered the little one into quicksand.  The little one sank almost up to the neck and then Grandma and my great -uncle pulled the tiny child out.  Since the young ones were so little and no weight to them, thank God, they were able to be pulled out of the quicksand with no problem.  They were all excited!  They found out about the quicksand and what it would do but they also were able to put a child in and pull a child out.  A new game!  What fun! 

          Need I say more?  They played the game for days: the littlest were sucked into the quicksand and then pulled out.  When the games were over, they all went to the creek, or pond, and jumped in so the little ones could wash off the quicksand the older ones could get wet so it looked like they had all been playing in the water.  I do know it wasn't long before Great-Grandpa found out and the game ended quite abruptly never to be played again.

          The Bible teaches us in 2 Timothy 3:16 that "All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness" and I believe we never know what might happen or when God will use a situation to teach us.  Such as . . .

          I want to tell you one last story.  It is a true story.  It happened to me only last Sunday morning, October 19, 2014, at the church I attend.  The date, time, and place will forever be etched in my memory.  Well, maybe not, but the details will for that morning I learned what the time period is for the "twinkling of an eye".  (1 Co. 15:52; KJV)  

          I had been ill and missed almost two weeks of church services.  I was determined to go to church on the Sunday dated above, regardless of my health, and to  stay from start to finish.  We had a breakfast at church before Sunday School and I went.  We had Praise and Worship team practice after the breakfast and I went for that.  So far, so good.  Then, of course there was Sunday School and I was quite pleased that I made it all the way through.  Next, the Sunday Morning Worship service: I played the keyboard, I played the piano. I sat through all of the announcements and a Pastor Appreciation presentation to our wonderful Pastor.  Yea!  Making it so far.  When it was time, I went to the front pew and sat down.  After a short period of time I had to, as delicately as I can put it, go to the lady's room. 

          In our church, as the lady exits the lady's room she has to turn left to go back to the sanctuary. There are all of two steps from the lady's room to the vestibule, or foyer.  After those two steps to the vestibule, there is s a wing-backed chair on the left hand side.  When I left the lady's room, turned left, and took one step, I still felt fine.  But, by the time I took the second step and was beside the chair, I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me and like a runner's metaphor, I hit the wall.  I literally flopped into that chair and could not move.  I felt like crying and barely held back the tears.  Only moments later, one of the gentlemen came out of the sanctuary with his infant grandson.  When he saw me, he asked if I was okay, and don't ask me why, but I said I was.  He reminded me that my son was seated in the back row of the sanctuary and that he would be glad to get my son for me.  I thanked him, he got my son, and I told my son I had to go home.  My son understood and walked down to the front of the sanctuary to get my things.  He came back, and very considerately helped me up, walked me out, and drove me home.

          But when we got home, oh my!  He pulled up to the curb and I got out on my side of the car without help while at the same time he reached over to the floor on my side to get my things.  Suddenly he yelled, "Mom! Stop!"  Shocked, I turned around toward him and heard him yell again, "Mom, the bottom of your skirt is tucked way up into the waistband of your skirt!"  I just screamed over and over, "What?  What?"  So he repeated, adding another ending, " . . . the bottom of your skirt is tucked into the waistband of your skirt and I didn't know grandmas could wear that color of under . . . "  Well, I'm sure you can figure out the rest of the sentence. 

          All I could think about was:

• what if I had not gotten ill and had to sit down immediately after leaving the lady's room,
• what if I had entered the sanctuary like that,
• what if I had walked all of the way to the front of the church with my skirt all hiked up,
• oh no!
• oh no!
• oh no!

          So that's when I decided that in the "twinkling of an eye" between step one out of the lady's room and step two to the chair, God the Father must have said to Jesus, "We've got to do something about this!  We've given her enough strength to hold her up all morning but we better take away some that strength so she doesn't walk into that sanctuary like that all the way to the front for everyone to see!"  So, between step one and step two, in the "twinkling of an eye", I felt too weak to go on and I had to sit down and then go home.

          Well, there it is!  There really isn't a lot more I can say about that.  That is my Bible lesson for the week.  Maybe that isn't exactly what you think God means by the "twinkling of an eye", but for me, it's good enough.  So to close, just let me say . . .

Thank you, God!  Thank you, God!  Thank you, God!

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          Thank you, God, for the truth of Your Word above all things.  I thank you for the stories that are our legacy from our parents, grandparents and all family members.  May we be willing to pass our family legacies on to our children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews.  I thank you for laughter even in the most unusual of circumstances.  How funny things can be at times!  You are the joy.  Thank you, my Lord!

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