Finally! The silence was coming. No questions, whining, or complaining to hear; no extra seat belts to buckle or bathroom trips; no bottles, diapers, or carriers to load. I had errands to do and thought I would slip into a few antique shops while I was out. I gathered my purse and headed for the door when I heard, “Mommy! Wait! Can I go?”
I looked at Chuck with desperation in my eyes. He smiled from the living room where he had Charlotte in his arms. He said, “That’s up to you.”
The year was 1992. Dad was a full time pastor of Living Waters Fellowship. Apart from this, he also sold jingles back in those days, and worked as a cowboy training horses along with day-working on many ranches.
My father has a fantastic voice and is very gifted with words. It made the perfect combination for commercial jingles, which he and his long-time friend, Brent Parker sold for a time. They were a smash hit. Comical, witty, clever and professional. What more could a company ask for in an advertising add?
Mom went out of town only a few times by herself when I was little, mostly to travel South for a funeral or such. She laid out clothes and daily schedules for Dad to know what to do each day. Mealtimes were a different story.
Dad would feed us Hamburger Helper every night. We were thrilled if he ever took us out to eat!
There were also the occasional evenings when mom would take the night off from the kitchen. Still, dad’s specialty was Hamburger casserole. He would go through the fridge, collecting all the leftovers, and mix them in a skillet with cooked hamburger meat. Dad would pour; hamburger meat, tomato sauce, and veggies over sliced potatoes that lined the bottom of the dish. Then he would top the casserole with Kraft single cheese. Today we give him a hard time over his casserole creations.
Dad had an appointment in Red Wing, Minnesota, to sell a new jingle to a company. Red Wing, Minnesota, is about seven hours from Pierre, South Dakota, where we lived at 314 South Grant Street; in a duplex apartment.
My parents had not fulfilled their dreams of a place in the country yet. Only dingy carpet and paneled walls filled the place where hope was growing.
Dad and mom called me downstairs from the bedroom I shared with Brittney. They had been talking and agreed that I was old enough to make the trip with Dad. Would I like to go along? I was almost nine years old. Of course, I was old enough and thrilled to get the chance to go!
The trip started early the following day. Mom packed my pink lunch box with sandwiches, cheese, crackers, chips, fruit and cookies. The juice was in my thermos with strict instructions not to drink too fast, so dad didn’t have to stop often.
A seven-hour trip equaled three naps for me. I am sure my father’s ears appreciated the silence. I have always been a talker and question asker. Now that I have kids of my own, I understand the sweetness of all their little questions.
Once we arrived, Dad got us settled in our hotel room. I couldn’t remember ever getting to stay in a hotel! Red Wing was much bigger than Pierre, with many fun things to do. Dad took me out for pizza and then to play miniature golf. I can still see the bright lights, green turf, and each hole set up with all kinds of inviting challenges; the windmill, bridges, and tunnels.
My heart was bigger than life. Dad made quality time for just me.
The following day, dad served us cold pizza for breakfast before we headed off to meet with his clients at their office. I distinctly remember crinkling my forehead and asking, “Is this ok”? I knew mother would never approve of such a thing! He responded, “Oh, it’s going to be good, Sis! Try it.” I did, and it wasn’t. I have always been snippety when it comes to breakfast.
Once we reached the office of Dad’s clients, the secretary doted all over me and loaded me up with snacks and juice while dad sold his jingle. After he made the deal we began the long trip back home.
I never thought about the pressure it put on him to take me—the added weight to an already packed schedule. Unique accommodations had to be made.
Be choosey at what you fail at, Sis. Your going to fail at something- make sure you don’t fail your kids.”
Jim Stockdale
Eva ran and threw on her clothes. I grabbed snacks and water, slapped a bow in her curls, and off we went!
Shopping antique booths hand in hand, fulfilling errands, and answering a few “Can I have” questions made for a nice mid-morning trip to town.
On the way home, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Eva putting toys in the new little backpack she had purchased with her spending money. She smiled as she talked to each one about where they would be sitting. My reasons for going to town alone seem small compared to Red Wing, Minnesota.
“Yes, Eva, you can go.”
Welcome Home
“But Jesus said, ‘Let the children come unto me, and do not forbid them; for such is the kingdom of Heaven.'” Matthew 19:14
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