CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF SUNDAY MORNING ~ MCVICKER ~ 2012

I was born into a house of strict Dominion, and instructed that preparation for Church and Sunday school the next week was to begin immediately after Sunday nights’ service. The weight of this charge was more than a young boy could bare. It seemed, as the week progressed, I would trip and stumble and rise again and drudge on. In my mind, I felt as though the Angels were trying to lift me up into the air to meet them but the Earth had it’s firm hold on my ankles. By the end of the week the battle was evident by the appearance of my shoes. And as the glorious Saturday sun began to set, I was informed that if my shoes were not shined to star bright I would be dealt with severe punishment. I worked diligently so God would love my shiny shoes. The next day, sitting in the pew, God whispered in my ear, “I don’t wear shoes, I like to go bare foot!”