It was on the banks of the Jordan, that I had a life-changing experience. Although I did not know what it was at the time, I was overcome with the feeling that I must go forward in a worship service that evening, to make a public statement that I wanted to be a Christian.
Lest you think this happened at the Jordan River in the Middle East, I should clarify that it was the bank of the Dry Jordan, in Harrison, Arkansas, around 1960. My parents had a business on the banks of Dry Jordan, called Home School Supply. The name is misleading these days, because the phrase "Home School" implies one gets their education at home, instead of at a public school. Back when my parents chose that name for their business, it simply meant that they sold items for both homes and schools. (add photo of Home School Supply Building on South Pine Street)
My family had been attending a revival (which in those days meant church at night with a guest preacher, who emphasized making a decision to be a Christ-follower) at the Cumberland Presbyterian Church, just two blocks from our home, at the corner of Maple and Holt streets. I now realize that once I heard this message of how Jesus had died for my sins, but I needed to make a public commitment to Him, in order to take advantage of his gift of salvation, I felt compelled to go the following night, to make such a commitment at the revival. The entire day following that conviction, I remember walking over and over in a small circle on the bank of the Dry Jordan, repeating over and over, I must go forward, I must go forward. I was very scared to take those first steps to "walk the aisle", and tell the guest preacher I wanted to be a Christian. But I somehow did it, and remember feeling such a relief from the conviction I had been under. I now know that it was the Holy Spirit that had convicted me that I had a decision to make. The Holy Spirit had not condemned me, but convicted me. I have since learned it is Satan that condemns us, not the Holy Spirit. After church that night, I remember mother took us to Jerry's Drive-In, to have a delicious Orange Slush frozen beverage, to celebrate. She told me she was proud of me for making that decision, without any outside pressure from her or my father. Arrangements were made for me to have the Presbyterian form of baptism, which is called "sprinkling", the following Sunday. When my Parrish grandparents heard of my decision, they two decided to be baptized ( "sprinkled" ) at the same time that I was, such that we all three joined the Cumberland Presbyterian Church on that same Sunday morning.
I am thankful I made the decision to put my trust in God at an early age, because some of the events that occurred in my life afterwards, made me rely heavily on prayer and God's promises. That is because I developed a skin condition that make me appear very different from my peers, and required frequent visits to a dermatologist in Little Rock. I am extremely thankful for a core group of friends who accepted my condition, with "unconditional" love. Of course, there were a couple of boys who said mean things to me, but I remember the junior high principal, John Wallace Hudson, telling me if anyone was mean to me, to let him know, and he would correct the situation. This was before any organized "anti-bullying" campaigns in school, so it was very intuitive of Mr. Hudson, to make the comment to me.
The next big event that tested my faith was May 7, 1961. I remember Mr. Brandon came to our house in the middle of the night, waking up me and my mother. (My sister was away at college and my father was spending the night on his houseboat at Bull Shoals Lake). Mr. Brandon lived in an apartment building beside Crooked Creek, and had been evacuated because there was a flash flood that covered the apartment building. Since he knew we had a store in the path of the flood, he came to alert us. My mom and I went down to the area while it was still dark, and could not see our business. We got as close as we could to the edge of the rushing waters, where I climbed up on top of a shed, and could see just the top of our two-story business. I had the grim job of telling my mom, that our business was destroyed.
When the waters receded, we were allowed through the police barricades to survey the damage to our store. The entire bottom story had been covered in seven feet of water. We also had a printing business, and the massively heavy metal printing press had been shifted off its base, as a result of the torrent of water passing through the building. All of the typewriters, microscopes, mimeograph machines, cameras, binoculars, slide projectors, movie projectors, sports equipment, school letter jackets, wool letter blankets, and paper supplies that we sold, were all ruined. As a youngster, I could not grasp the degree of loss, but looking back, I can only imagine how completely devastated my parents must have been to see all their work of the past decade destroyed. And there was not flood insurance. We just got to work, mopping out the mud and debris, and picking up the pieces. Yet in all this massive loss, I never heard my father or mother blame God for their losses, or shake their fist at the heavens, cursing their Creator. My seventh grade classes never resumed after that day, as Harrison schools abruptly closed, because the students were needed to help with the clean up efforts. That was the year I was taking geography, so I have always blamed the May 7 flood, on my insufficient knowledge of geography! When I had been of as much assistance as a 13 year old can be to my parents, (or else I annoyed them to their breaking point), they encouraged me to go down to the Harrison square, and help business owners there who had bee flooded. I remember I went to the the Perry Harness shoe store, to help with clean up. Mr. Harness had us separate out shoes that were not completely ruined, and place them in new shoe boxes for a future "Flood Sale". He taught me how to put shoes properly in a box, to that the potential purchaser, could see both the front, bottom, and sides, of the shoes. He even gave my friend and I a few coins for every pair of shoes we re-boxed. It was my first time to "earn" money, from someone besides my parents! There were lots of Flood Sales in Harrison that spring, and I still have one of the shirts I bought at the Flood Sale at Walter's Dry Goods on the square. Normally, the prices for clothes at Walter's was more than my parents wanted to spend, but when the price came down for the Flood Sale, I was able to buy an item there.
As bad as the material losses were, the fact that human lives were lost, is even sadder. I remember, it was on the bank of the (normally "dry") Jordan, that I saw the first dead body I had ever seen outside of a funeral. The body of an elderly man who lived across the Jordan from out store was found a while after the waters receded, and I was standing on the bank, near his home, when I saw an open vehicle drive by with a body in the back that was partially covered, but his swollen and discolored feet were still visible to me. Although I did not know the old man personally (even though he was a reclusive neighbor who refused to leave his home when asked to do so because of the flood) I felt remorseful and never forgot that scene.
Another thing I remember during the time we were at our South Pine store location during the clean-up, was the much-anticipated daily stops by a humanitarian group, such as The Salvation Army, who would come by and bring us donuts, coffee, water, and hot chocolate. It is for this reason, that I like to include them in my charitable giving.
The frustration my father felt was magnified when the federal program called Urban Renewal, came in and took steps to seize his property by imminent domain . They offered a small amount of money to him, but an amount substantially below its market value. So my father sued the federal government, to assure a fair market value for his business. I remember going to the Boone County Courthouse on the day of the trial, and it was my first time to ever be in a court room. The verdict was to increase the amount they paid my father, but no amount of money could make up for the great business location he had on State Highway 7 South, near the high school. The Urban Renewal project paved over Dry Jordan, and created a "weir", called Lake Harrison. I remember my father using that new-to-me word, "weir", saying it was a "weird" thing to do to a free-flowing stream, like Crooked Creek. And apparently, he was right, because decades later, the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission recommended that the dam that was constructed to make the "weir", be removed, so that Crooked Creek could be restored to its natural state! After the Urban Renewal project covered Dry Jordan, and did away with the South Pine street bridge than spanned Dry Jordan, there would no longer be any evidence of my childhood "play house". I would take big cardboard cartons from my parents store, and make a playhouse in Dry Jordan, under the bridge. I still remember the musty smell that the damp cardboard would retain in the humid Arkansas summers. My friend, Betty Sue, that lived next door to our store, and I, would walk in Dry Jordan, down to where it ran into Crooked Creek, and play for hours in the water. We have both commented after we were adults, how amazing it was that our parents left us unattended for hours on end, playing in Dry Jordan, and Crooked Creek!
Fast forward a few years, to when my parents build a new building for their business located at the corner of Central Avenue and Cherry Streets in Harrison. They worked diligently at the business, and became a major supplier of Underwood typewriters, used by many schools and businesses. When Underwood typewriters was bought out by the Italian-owned Olivetti corporation, an incentive plan was offered by the Olivetti company that would give an all-expense paid trip for two to Italy to the salesmen who sold the most Olivetti typewriters and adding machines. My father met their quota and won the trip. Since my mother did not want to go, I had the wonderful experience of two weeks in Italy with my father . ( I wrote about that in a blog that can be found in the archives)
Another church-related activity that helped shaped my development, was when the Harrison Presbyterian youth group that I was a part of, was invited by the Presbyterian Church of Bentonville, Arkansas, to come for a week-end in their town. We stayed in the home of Walmart founder, Sam Walton, and his wife, Helen, gave us a tour of their beautiful home there. The thing I remembered most was that it had SEVEN bathrooms! I also remember Mrs. Walton showing us the bedroom of their daughter, Alice, which was lined all around the top of the walls, with fancy prize ribbons she had won at horse shows. In case you are wondering what would cause such a kind gesture on the part of the Waltons to a church group from Harrison, Arkansas, remember it was the 1960's when racial tensions were very high. My home town was very white, and the Presbyterian Waltons wanted us to see there were other people in Arkansas who might look different from me!
On a beautiful, sunny day in May, my freshman year in college, my room mate, Miss Jeffrey Lynn Taylor, and I went to Lake Wedington (just outside Fayetteville) to sunbathe and study for our final exams. As we were studying, a beautiful young co-ed came over to use, saying she was from Oklahoma State University, and was part of a group called Campus Crusade for Christ, who came to Lake Wedington, to tell people about Jesus. We told her we were already Christians, and she replied, "Great, and would you like to have an even better Christian life than you already have right now? We said, of course, so she told us about John 10:10 that says, "I have come to give you life, and to give it to you more ABUNDANTLY!" So we gave her our contact information and from that point, got connected with Campus Crusade for Christ.
Decades later, it was at Jordan, where I took a scuba diving course called "Rescue Diver". Just as Jesus had been baptized in the Jordan River, my husband and I were "baptized" into the world of being a life-saving diver, by the instructor at Jordan Marina, on Lake Norfork , in Arkansas
