I complain a lot about growing up fundamentalist, but what they believed they believed sincerely with all their heart. When they markered up the church library copy of The Hardy Boys they were honestly trying to protect us from sin and the weary world. I get so grumpy about the Shakespeare shortage that I forget all the amazing gifts of love they gave me every day of my childhood.
Children were clearly the priority at our church. To teach Sunday School was a grand ambition, we always had enough teachers to not only divide us by grade, but also by gender. Even so some people could only sit on the sidelines and watch. They had all kinds of trips and outings. VBS was just barely under Christmas as my favorite time of year. They started a school to protect us from worldly ideas and the seeming darkness of the times. Everyone poured themselves into the school whether it was fixing the water fountain, driving a bus, or fixing hot lunch.
Restricting Shakespeare meant there was lots of room for the truth they did want me to have, and they wanted me to have the best. We were Appalachian so we sang, all the time. It was glorious. The saddest thing was not to be able to carry a tune. Songs were a great medium for transmitting love, God’s love, their love, how we were to love each other. I could sing all day, but I’m just going to offer Down By The Creek Bank by Dottie Rambo as an example. I found myself singing “Being Me” and I started missing the whole album. I found it on You Tube, listened to the whole thing and cried until it stopped.
My heart is loaded with treasures of love. My fundamentalist community considered that to be fundamental.
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