Another very early memory is Sunday school. How I loved for Sunday to come for then I could dress in my prettiest dress, and I shall have to admit I was very proud and I dearly loved to be “dressed up”. I always had pretty dresses too, for [although] there was a large family, Father made good money in the shop and made a good living for his family.
I must have been a baby when I began but was probably taken by my older sisters. The churches in Patterson were Presbyterian, Old School and Cumberland. The old School Presbyterian is the one we attended. They allowed a Baptist minister to preach there once a month and several people were of that faith, so the Sunday school was a Union Sunday School and they used Union Quarterlies.
My parents did not belong to either of these churches, but Father served as Sunday School Superintendent for several years. My parents belonged to the Christian Church, having been converted to that faith at Marine, Illinois, where they lived the early part of their married life. There was no Christian Church nearer than Piedmont or Greenville at that time.
My first Sunday school teacher was Martha Patterson or “Aunt Mattie” as she was called. She taught all the young children of Patterson to love the Savior and continued to teach all her long life, the most faithful servant of the Lord I have ever known. I’m sure there is a crown up there for “Aunt Mattie.”
When I was about six years old, my father felt the call to preach. My mother was dumbfounded. There were no churches of our belief except in the towns I have mentioned and probably one at Mill Spring, Missouri, which was eighteen or more miles away. No doubt she felt it to be useless to try to preach other than the prevailing beliefs.
Our church was a comparatively young church then, whose leader was a man named Alexander Campbell and the members were often called “Campbellites” by other churches and spoken of in derision by unthinking people. But the good people of Patterson were not that sort, and my parents were well respected (if different).
My father was ordained to preach at Peach Tree Fork, in December 1895, at a neighborhood school house where a meeting was in progress by preachers of our belief. Several members were gained, and they organized a church there. As they needed a regular pastor, my father took over this church and would ride from Patterson on his horse Saturday afternoon and preach Saturday evening, Sunday morning and Sunday evening. He would stay the night and ride back home early Monday morning in time to do a days work in his shop.
One of the happiest memories of my entire life is that of going with my dad to his churches at different places. I was a very good singer for my age; my mother said I started singing when a mere baby. My first song was “tickie-caw”. Translated from baby talk it is, “At the Cross”. No doubt Father was proud of my singing and that had something to do with his wanting to be bothered with me, a small child, but I was so extremely happy and gave my papa no trouble. I felt quite grown up to be going with my Preacher Pa.
In a few years he had organized churches at many country school houses and put in almost every weekend in the work he loved best of all. Many are the converts to Christ he made in those years.
One time when about eight years old, I rode behind him on our beloved “Old Ball” to Peach Tree Fork. There was a convention of ministers there and several ministers. One was Brother Hale from the Hales College Church, several miles away. However I was just a little girl and one night Brother Hale said he was going to preach till the roosters crowed. I took him very seriously and said, out loud, “Well I’m going to sleep then,” and made my word good by doing that very thing.
We were at this convention several days, and we stayed around in different homes. In those days it was a great honor to entertain the preachers and their families. We always had more invitations than we could fill. I remember how Father would be so afraid of hurting someone’s feelings, but he always accepted his first invitations and didn’t change his mind if he got a better one. He loved his people, rich or poor, and showed no favorites.
One place we stayed there was a little crippled boy about thirteen years old. He had what they called “White Swelling” in his leg. He walked some on crutches then, but later he had several operations on his leg. His parents were building a new house at that time and the framework was all that was up. I remember playing on the sleepers and showing off how I could stay on without falling. He would tease me to sing for him continually, and so I did a few times. I suppose he had heard how I sang at church, because there was no organ or music and my father would ask me to start the songs.
No doubt he had heard of this and not being able to go to church, he wanted to hear me sing. This lad became my husband several years later but was cured of his illness, though always had a limp caused from the removal of three inches of bone. I can remember my father talking to Mother about Dave Henson’s little boy, and Father would say “If I was Brother Dave, I’d have that boy’s leg took off”. But old Dr. George Toney held out that he would get well without it, and my husband probably has Dr. Geo to thank for not having a wooden limb.
On the way home from this convention, I was riding behind my dad and the blanket I was sitting on slipped off. We went a long way before missing it and my father turned back and found it about a mile and a half back.
I went several times to meetin’ with my father before I was old enough to ride my own horse. I would be so thrilled and excited each time I got to go. One time we went to a country church in the neighborhood of what is now Silva, Missouri. This was a Methodist neighborhood, but they allowed my father to preach there once a month.
This time we went home with some people named Montgomery. They were Methodist but very good friends of my father’s. They were so nice and kind, and their love for each other and kind voices have made a lasting impression upon me. Their daughter Ethel was about my age, and therefore we became good friends. There were also two small boys, Cecil and Carol, who were younger than I. The youngest of these boys has made a very successful Methodist preacher. For many years I lost track of this family, then one day in the first year of my marriage, Carol Montgomery was hired as the teacher of our school and boarded with my parents-in- laws, David Hensons.
My father didn’t succeed in changing their belief if he tried. Father was very strong in his belief and spared no one, if preaching the truth as he saw it stepped on their toes but somehow everyone loved my Preacher Pa and he had many friends in all denominations.
