Well, Lottie Da!

Today, I will be returning to my former church in Memphis to speak or sing or .. something (I haven't decided .. don't rush me, it's not until 11:30) for the Keenagers, the church's senior adult group.

I served (would you like fries with that?) at Whitten Memorial Baptist Church for six and a half years before moving to Humboldt, and part of my responsibilities included working with this wonderful age group (they had to keep me away from youth .. teenagers tick me off too easily).

There are plenty of memories associated with Whitten.

I worked with three pastors during my tenure (for some reason, they didn't stick around very long with me there .. go figure?) and each had his own unique personality and leadership style.

One of those pastors was Dr. Jack May, a longtime (let's just call like it is .. older than dirt) Memphis pastor who experienced, first hand, my twisted sense of humor (don't be shocked, I actually have one) on more than one occasion. He was so kind and trusting .. a perfect target.

I recall a staff Christmas party we had several years ago. It was at one of my favorite Memphis eateries (Houston's) and one of those dutch treat affairs (that sort of sounds like a tryst with a woman from Amsterdam .. it wasn't).

Before leaving the office, I took several Lottie Moon (Southern Baptist's special offering for international missions) envelopes from the church and put cash in them. When it was time to pay the ticket, I pulled these envelopes from my coat pocket, tore them open one at a time, and proceeded to remove the cash inside to take care of the bill.

I wish I had a camera to capture this beautiful moment. Bro. Jack's eyes were the size of saucers! I assured him, later, it WAS my own money. However, I'm not sure he ever believed me.

Wouldn't you?