Monday, March 7, 2022

Running Home Short Story Series: The Prologue

                         Prologue 

Lincoln County, West Virginia
December 1974
 

 

 

My momma was the center of my universe, my best friend, and the most loving and faithful person that I knew. She was bold! Someone who loved Jesus, and you could tell how important He was to her by watching the way she lived: so full of joy. Momma was not afraid of death. She never wavered. Her faith remained strong until she took her final breath. I wish my faith was as strong as hers. My emotions grew deeper every second.

 

I love you, momma.

 

Thoughts and memories are all I have left now. The funeral service was scheduled for today and I didn’t know I was going to face one person, let alone a crowd. I wanted to escape and got lost in my thoughts completely. I wasn’t aware of what was going on around me. I could make out the silhouette of a man coming my way through the milky fog of the winter day.

 

“Excuse me, sir, I’m looking for someone who can tell me a little bit about Melda Lemaster,” the man announced. He tiptoed over to where I was. “I don’t know her that well and a lady pointed me in your direction.”  

 

He continued to come towards me. “Sir?”

 

When I didn’t respond, the man started to walk away.

 

“Call me Gordon. I’m her son.” I called out in a loud voice, surprised I had responded at all.

 

“I’m Pastor Perry,” he replied, shaking my hand nervously. “Pastor Brown is out of town this week, and I got asked to take over the funeral service for your mother.” He looked at me sympathetically. “I can only imagine how difficult this is for you, and I hate to impose, but I need to know a little bit about her before the service begins.

 

Tears welled up in my eyes as words began to form in my head.

 

“Of course you do. My momma was a true soldier. That word  describes her best.” It forever amazed me how a woman who went through so much could still serve the Lord and live her life to the fullest. I glanced up, realizing that Pastor Perry was waiting for me to say something else. He was a gracious man, motioning me towards a wooden bench under a nearby tree. We sat side by side and I found myself scrambling for words.

 

“ We have plenty of time,” He patted the space on the bench next to him gently. I took a seat. “Why don’t you tell me about this soldier of yours?”


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