As some of you know, Benson Memorial is the second church that Amy and I have served. Our first church was Rush Chapel United Methodist Church – a beautiful small old country church in Northwest Georgia. Rush Chapel was a country church. We were moving from the big city to the country, and Rush Chapel had a parsonage right across the road. From a suburban neighborhood cul-de-sac to a beautiful, albeit rural country road. Just up the road was a trailer park – in fact many of our neighbors lived in mobile home trailers – single or double-wide models, that had been endowed with some sense of permanence by the addition of a wood deck or skirting around the bottom. This was to be a far different neighborhood, and I dare say it was going to take some getting used to.
As we met with the super-caring people of Rush Chapel about the parsonage and the preparations for our arrival, a few things became evident. First of all, we were the first young family to have lived in the parsonage for about 2 decades. Secondly, we weren’t from around there. The parsonage was in a state of disrepair. We spent the summer cleaning it up. But it needed a few more significant improvements – namely a fenced yard and an alarm system. As parents of two toddlers – Amy and I were concerned that our young wandering ones would wander right down our little hill and out into the country road, where one of the area Dukes of Hazard wannabe’s would be driving too fast. The other improvement was an alarm system. Maybe we’d watched too many movies, but our suburban house had had an alarm system, and we felt like we needed one on that dark country hill even more. Well, we compromised on the fenced yard – and they built a nice deck with a railing around it and a gate – it proved to be a good container for our young wanderers – keeping them from straying down the hill, and providing a barrier against the roaming packs of neighborhood dogs who included our house and yard in their territory. And we got an alarm system, complete with glass break sensors that listened all the time and gave us some peace of mind. And we all lived happily ever after.
Now, you know how kids are. Every once in awhile, they call for you in the middle of the night – for a glass of water, or because of the dreaded nightmare. It was on one particular night that little Grace had a bad dream. Evidently it was the mother of all bad dreams, because she woke up screaming. That woke us up, of course, but evidently not fast enough, because before we could get there, she racheted up the screaming, evidently to a pitch that matched the sound of breaking glass.
Because in addition to her screaming came the deafening siren of our alarm system. Which woke up Noah and started him to screaming. The phone rings, of course, because the alarm company has been notified, and I’m sure there was some cursing because of a stubbed toe, and soon the whole event goes down in the annals of the loudest nights ever spent in a parsonage.
As we met with the super-caring people of Rush Chapel about the parsonage and the preparations for our arrival, a few things became evident. First of all, we were the first young family to have lived in the parsonage for about 2 decades. Secondly, we weren’t from around there. The parsonage was in a state of disrepair. We spent the summer cleaning it up. But it needed a few more significant improvements – namely a fenced yard and an alarm system. As parents of two toddlers – Amy and I were concerned that our young wandering ones would wander right down our little hill and out into the country road, where one of the area Dukes of Hazard wannabe’s would be driving too fast. The other improvement was an alarm system. Maybe we’d watched too many movies, but our suburban house had had an alarm system, and we felt like we needed one on that dark country hill even more. Well, we compromised on the fenced yard – and they built a nice deck with a railing around it and a gate – it proved to be a good container for our young wanderers – keeping them from straying down the hill, and providing a barrier against the roaming packs of neighborhood dogs who included our house and yard in their territory. And we got an alarm system, complete with glass break sensors that listened all the time and gave us some peace of mind. And we all lived happily ever after.
Now, you know how kids are. Every once in awhile, they call for you in the middle of the night – for a glass of water, or because of the dreaded nightmare. It was on one particular night that little Grace had a bad dream. Evidently it was the mother of all bad dreams, because she woke up screaming. That woke us up, of course, but evidently not fast enough, because before we could get there, she racheted up the screaming, evidently to a pitch that matched the sound of breaking glass.
Because in addition to her screaming came the deafening siren of our alarm system. Which woke up Noah and started him to screaming. The phone rings, of course, because the alarm company has been notified, and I’m sure there was some cursing because of a stubbed toe, and soon the whole event goes down in the annals of the loudest nights ever spent in a parsonage. The other thing that happened, not too long afterwards, was that Noah as a 4 year old was climbing on the railing – riding it like a horse – harmless, really, and within arms reach of the gardening that Amy and I were doing; but as he went to get down he miscalculated, his legs didn’t catch him, and he landed the wrong way on his arm, breaking it clean across.
Well, that reminiscing was fun for me – but it does have another point. We get so worried about what’s out there, when the real threats come from within. We were worried about wild dogs, but it was gravity that got Noah’s arm. We were worried about robbers in the night – the alarms were triggered by our own actions.
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