Gentle Nudges

Although it has been a couple of weeks, I still have Father’s Day on the brain. Father’s Day was never big to me growing up because I lost my father at 2 years old. It became a big deal when I had children of my own.

The week leading up to Father’s Day is when we traditionally have Bible School in Empire. I don’t think that I have missed a Bible School in my church in the last 50 years. I have gone from student to adult helper; from puppeteer to sound technician and photographer; from a barefooted kid with a crew cut and mischief in his eye to a grey-headed old guy with, well, oh never mind.

There were more than 20 adults that were involved this year with some aspect of Bible School. TWENTY! I couldn’t help but think about what impact that week would have on the children. We had a dog mascot; one night we had a roman soldier, a super hero maintenance man and pizza delivery guy. Oh yes, we also had “water woman.” More than a dozen gave of their time to cook, do crafts, and lead in group games. All of these people had other things to do, but came to make a difference. I also thought about the fact that a lot of parents, some of which I didn’t even know, were entrusting the lives and minds of their precious little ones to us. What a responsibility! Were we up to it? Was I up to it? I wasn’t teaching, but I was there, trying to help in some small way.

When I was growing up in this church, there were many people who looked after me, influenced me, and nurtured me. Bible school was small, and led by a handful of moms like mine. When I became a teenager, Bible school was less important to me. Even with good upbringing, I had become a troubled youth. I don’t remember a lot about that time, but one man stands out as a voice of encouragement to me. He was not a Sunday school teacher or a minister. He didn’t sing or lead the choir. He was an old railroad man with a red face and rough hands. His name was Kanah Belflower.

Mr. Kanah was not always there. His job took him away a lot. Like a lot of other men that farmed, and such, he missed a lot of Wednesday night services. In fact, he was not there every Sunday night. But Sunday mornings after church, he’d always find me and ask what was going on in my life. He didn’t miss much, but he never mentioned my somewhat long and unkempt hair, or my clothes.

“Hey, boy, don’t you have some new wheels on your car?” or “Wasn’t that a new girl I saw you with last Sunday? She sure was pretty!”

When I answer that she was pretty, but had dumped me on Monday, he’d respond with something like, “Oh she’s just immature. She probably wasn’t your type anyway. When you find the right one, you’ll know.”

I am sure that the man I knew from church was quite different from the man his children knew. He was not responsible for me. He didn’t have to do anything, but he did. I can’t think of anything that he did that was openly intended to influence me. I was just a wayward teenager that most adults avoided or admonished. He gently nudged me along in the right direction and expressed interest in my life like no other.

As I saw those kids in Bible school, I wondered, who is their old railroad man? Who is gently nudging them in the right direction? Do they see me as one who cares about their well being, or am I just a white-headed, grumpy old man with a sore back and a bad attitude?

I always look forward to Bible school, but I don’t have to wait till next year for Bible school, or Father’s Day to do something. I can encourage, I can nudge, and I can overlook a lot and give a word of encouragement or at least a smile. You can too. Mr. Kanah would like that.