HEARTLIGHT ® Magazine: Single...Not Alone: "One From the Heart, From Me to You"

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One From the Heart, From Me to You
by Cary Branscum
 
“I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois, and your mother Eunice, and now I am sure, dwells in you.” 2 Timothy 1:5

I just want to shoot straight with you. You are a single person and God means something to you or you wouldn’t be reading this. You may be a seeker, a disciple, or a jaded cynic who’s seen it all and done it all, and yet here you are. Let me tell you something: WE ALL COME FROM SOMEPLACE! Doesn’t sound very profound, does it? Yet where we come from shapes our identity.
You might be from Alabama or Maine. You might be from the ghetto or the farm. You might have had loving parents who taught you about God, or you may have grown up on your own, just doing the best you could. Here’s the point: USE YOUR EARLY LIFE EXPERIENCES AS ENERGY TO GROW CLOSER TO GOD TODAY!
Some folks deny their upbringing, others run from it by achieving success, yet there are those quiet moments when those videos from our childhood flash into view. When I was six years old my father died of a heart attack. My mother, brother, and I moved to a little town in Southeastern Oklahoma, and lived with my grandmother and various aunts. All the men seemed to be out of the picture. These women raised my brother and me. My mother is still a hero of mine. Her sister, my Aunt Belle, is too. I am grateful for the faith of these women, and I use the experiences they gave me to grow closer to God. I want to tell you about my Aunt Belle. I think knowing about her can help you grow closer to God, too!
When we moved to that little town after my father’s death, she took me to church. Many a cold Sunday morning, she would pull onto the dirt driveway of our house, driving her white ‘61 Falcon. Man, that was a cool car. I snugged my coat tight and ran out into the cold. As I jumped into the front seat, I immediately smelled the Aunt Belle fragrance — To A Wild Rose talcum powder, and Lucky Strike cigarettes. On the seat between us was a Gideon Bible she had liberated from some motel room. The first time I ever stayed in a motel room, I was surprised to find a Bible just like Aunt Belle’s! Even today, cigarette smoke makes me think of going to church.
Back in the ‘40s, Belle had married a soldier. They never had any children. My brother and I were a godsend to her. She was absolutely the best aunt two small boys could imagine. She took us to church, she took us fishing, she let us stay up late, and she fed us candy ( I hope my mother isn’t reading this!). She had a little tarpaper house on the edge of town, and raised watermelons, rabbits, and chickens. She taught us how to clean fish, how to raise watermelons, and most of all how to live and laugh.
Belle was a hefty red-haired woman with a ruddy complexion. She knew every joke in the Western Hemisphere. She could cook, clean, do home repairs, and she take care of my grandparents — which she did till they died. She told us to mind our mama or “Doodart” would “get us”. Doodart was her name for the boogerman. It never occurred to us how he would “get us”. We didn’t want to know!
Mom eventually remarried to a great guy and we moved to Northern Oklahoma. My brother and I saw Aunt Belle occasionally as we grew up. While we all move on, I still fondly remember my Aunt Belle who helped out a single mom grieving for her husband and two little boys in the shock of confusion and transition. I can still smell that Aunt Belle fragrance as I remember her, and smile!
Aunt Belle died a few years ago. I preached her funeral. It was held in the little church in town. It was quite a trip back in time for my brother and me. Her death at age 68 was a quick one. She was sitting in the town’s one café, drinking coffee and having a smoke. A farmer came in and they traded jokes. The farmer told a great joke. My Aunt Belle did two things all at the same time: first, she leaned back in her chair laughing for all she was worth, and second, she suffered a heart attack as her chair pitched backwards. She died with a smile on her face and was dead before she hit the floor. Lord, if you’re listening, I want to live a healthy happy life to my mid eighties, and then die just like that. In an instant, she was gone. No more watermelons, no more scattering corn to the chickens, no more sunrises greeted with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. No more time with two little boys with no daddy. No more Hank Williams songs on the radio, and no more fishin’. Not here, anyway.
But you see, I’m like her. I don’t smoke, and I don’t have a ‘61 Falcon, but I am a Christian. I love jokes and sunrises and sunsets on the porch, and I love showing compassion to little kids caught in the loss of a parent. Belle lives on in me. When I travel and entertain audiences, she is joining in the laughter. She had a terminal condition called Life, and I caught it. No one gets out of this world alive physically, and that’s okay. You she, Belle also had an eternal condition called Faith, and I caught that, too.
For a while, my mom was a single mom, trying to handle two boys, continue her education, and deal with her grief. She had some help from God above and several family members here below. Those family members not only helped her, but they also helped two little boys grow up and love Jesus despite their heartbreaks.
I guess all I’m saying is this: if you had ANYBODY in your early life who did ANYTHING to point you toward God, get down on your knees right now and say a prayer of thanks. And if you see some little kids who’ve lost a mom or dad to death or divorce or desertion, remember you don’t have to be somebody the world holds as spectacular to make an eternal difference in this world. All you have to do is share a little of yourself and the love of Jesus with them, just like my Aunt Belle did. And you know what, no matter how you leave this world, you’ll go with a smile on your faith and stay vibrantly alive in those you’ve touched.