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Open Poetry #42
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The Calling - 1958
| Open Poetry #42 |
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The Calling - 1958 |
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas 
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The Calling - 1958 Sunday morning, summer 1958, found me sitting in a pew midway down the only aisle our church had. I was fifteen, and because she asked, had gone to church with my grandmother. The service was almost over; like everyone else, I was thanking God, though I’m sure my reason wasn’t as altruistic as most. I felt a call, but it was to be knee deep in swamp water pulling crawfish nets off the bottom, eating ham on French Bread with gobs of mayo, half-a-head of lettuce, sliced tomatoes, and washing it down with icy bottles of Barq’s root beer. Sitting in a church pew after a full hour of brow-beating, in the name of God, after fifteen years of seeing Him in the glory of Mother Nature . . .no, my Thanks was definitely not in the same vein. The Call began. The sermon was over, it was time for the Walk. At the end of his hour of telling everyone just how bad they’d been, the preacher figured he’d filled the congregation with inspiration – now he begged them to ‘come on down’. The Walk could take ten minutes, or most of an hour; I was hoping anyone wanting to make it would run, and sure enough with the first few words of “Almost Persuaded” I heard a shuffling a couple rows behind me. Then the couple in front of me began to move, another across the isle, behind them, Becky, also fifteen, looked at me, smiled, tapped her ear . . . listen, she was saying. Not today, I thought. “...almost persuaded, turn not away...” I dimly heard as I smiled back mouthing, c r a w f i s h. Judy and Bobby passed between us, be darn, they were the shuffling I’d heard a couple rows back. He owned the nets! “...angels are lingering near, prayers rise from hearts so dear...” Becky’s hand rose waist high as she stepped into the isle, offering it to me. “...o wanderer, Come.” No, I shook my head . . . not yet for me. “Almost persuaded, now to believe,” the choir began again, “... some more convenient day, on thee I’ll call...” Sunday morning, summer 1958, two-weeks later found me sitting in a pew midway down the only aisle our church had. I was fifteen, and because I really wanted to, I could barely maintain my seat; I wanted the sermon to fly. . . “Come, O wanderer, come”. I was answering the Call ©wesley james beard, jr. may 2008 ...the hymn “Almost Persuaded” written in 1875, by Philip Bliss has always been a favorite of mine. |
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| © Copyright 2008 Wesley James Beard, Jr. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Robert E. Jordan Member Rara Avis
since 2008-01-25
Posts 8541Philadelphia, Pennsylvania |
Jwesley, Yes, those yummy crawfish will draw you in every time. Bobby |
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steavenr Member Elite
since 2003-11-17
Posts 4058 |
I like this for what it says and for what it does not say...anyone who has ever lived these words understands them clearly |
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BluesSerenade Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549By the Seaside |
Your words literally jumped off the page and came alive. I felt like I was there, all restless with a thousand things on my mind, not one being how bad I had been, much less being forgiven. Seems when we were younger we had bigger and better fish to fry. As an adult, I confess, I shamelessly repent.  Great poem, you~ |
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Alison 
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
Jimmy, What a storyteller you are! I never grasped the method of eating crawfish - seems like a lot of work so they must be wonderful to have such a draw! Your poetry seems to call to me - so I can understand your calling. Alison |
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