When I was 12, we moved to Lubbock so my mother could finish her degree at Texas Tech.
She’d just graduated from South Plains College in Levelland, TX. Their first graduation. With two years completed toward a Bachelor’s Degree in Education, she got that degree two years later, then continued to get her Master’s Degree in Education.
During those three years, I was a student at Hutchinson Junior High in Lubbock. Seventh and eighth grades went smoothly and happily for me.
One reason? We’d left the Church of Christ, where I’d been baptized when I was six, believing I was free from going to hell if I happened to die in my sleep. For details, see “What Should I Believe.”
In Lubbock, with Mother studying when she left classes, and my father doing whatever it was he was doing (I can’t remember), she and I didn’t go to church.
The freedom from possibly being told that hell was still a possibility if I weren’t “perfect — without sin,” meant I felt free to enjoy life. And I did.
Bad first year of teaching
Mother’s first year of teaching fifth grade in Lubbock proved to be a disaster. She was placed at a school considered one of the worst for teachers, and found out why it had that assignation.
More than 30 students, who refused to do as Mother asked. No support from her Principal.
She came home crying almost every day.
My father called the Central Office. New teachers had to teach in the assigned school for three years before requesting a transfer.
New job for my father
Mother’s reprieve came as a job offered to my father, based on his expertise in irrigation.
We moved to Seminole at mid-term of my 9th grade year. I went from Junior High to High School Freshman in January.
And, we went back to church. But not Mother’s church. My father’s.
My father’s family had always been Baptist, so we joined the Baptist Church.
This had to be kept secret from Mother’s family, of course. Otherwise, they’d think she and I had turned our backs on salvation, and were doomed to hell because we no longer belonged to the Church of Christ. This was in 1964. I have no idea if they still believe their church is the only way to go to Heaven.
Southern Baptists
I loved the Baptist Church!
The Youth program was extensive, so there was always something to be part of.
Also, they had a really good choir. For the first time, I joined that choir and sang my soprano heart out! Special music every Sunday, plus cantatas at Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
Mother joined a Sunday School class. My father did, too. A different class. I doubted Mother would participate since she worried constantly about the going to hell thing for leaving the Church of Christ.
Then, I heard something from a friend, who was in the class with Mother, that completely stunned me.
“We love having Joy in our class. Her prayers are always so sweet.”
Prayers? MY MOTHER PRAYED IN PUBLIC?
I’d never heard my mother pray.
I asked her about it. Her answer blew my mind completely.
“They ask me to lead the closing prayer almost every Sunday.”
I asked her to pray so I could hear it myself. She wouldn’t.
I never heard her pray. Ever. She lived to 91.
Conversion Experience
In Sunday School, our teacher, whom we loved, asked us to tell about our conversion experience. Our experience of giving our hearts to Jesus so we could be “saved.”
When she got to me, I admitted I’d never had that experienced. I’d just always been “saved.” (cue my first baptism at six)
Our teacher frowned. Oops! Wrong thing to say.
Soon after that lack of an experience I could describe, a busload of high school kids went to a conference in Glorietta, NM.
It couldn’t have been more motivational, inspirational, spiritual. For several days, we attended sessions.
The enthusiasm in me swelled with each session. I knew my heart would burst soon, and I’d turn into a revival preacher!
Almost time to go home. We attended a church service for everyone who’d come to Glorietta. Hundreds.
Halfway through the preacher’s sermon, I started to cry and couldn’t stop.
I have no memory of what he said. My heart just exploded, but not with joy.
My heart exploded with fear and guilt and desperation.
I told my friends, “I’m doing something wrong. I have to find out what that is, and stop doing it!”
Another throwback to my indoctrination from age 6 to 15.
I wandered physically and mentally. What was it? I have to say that I never thought about returning to the Church of Christ. I was Baptist!
Hours later, I sat with my beloved Sunday School teacher, silent. She was praying for me.
I’d hit the end of my self-imposed rope.
“Jesus, I’ll do what you want me to do, and go where you want me to go.”
Warmth rushed through me, head to big toes!
“Saundra! I’m okay! I’m okay!”
Baptized Again
The natural thing to express this incredible feeling of being Heaven-bound, no matter what was to be baptized. Again.
And I was.
Did I feel anything different than being wet? No. Just happiness.
When I graduated from High School in 1967, I went immediately to Texas Tech for the summer session.
The warmth and exhilaration waned. The love of Texas Tech became paramount in my life.
It would be years before I returned to church.
But not Southern Baptist.
Methodist.
Hugs,
Linda
Linda George is the author of 75 books, fiction and nonfiction, for children, teens, and adults. She writes for The Taoist Online, History of Women, and has a newsletter on Substack called Linda’s Heart.
Her favorite place to write is their little piece of paradise in the NM mountains near Cloudcroft.
Wonderful storytelling