My family moved from a country place in Virginia to a Kentucky town when I was in third grade. It was not Momma’s choice. She had been reared in the country and would always remain a country gal. She dreaded the challenge of raising kids in town. There they would be exposed to other kids whom she didn’t know, and certainly to some who didn’t meet with her approval. In the country there would not be so many she didn’t know. I suppose she feared their influence on her own kids.

Momma was a Christian, raised a Methodist. Some people in her Church considered things like card games, dancing, and maybe just having fun as sins. Through Daddy’s persuasion, she joined the Presbyterian Church. Presbyterians don’t mind having fun. Those things that separate one from God are sins. Nevertheless, she clung to her list of sins and was never completely happy living in town. I imagine it was partly because she was separated from old friends and kin.

Our family lived a pretty normal life, I thought. I got along with other kids without picking up many of the bad habits of others.

The whole family went to Sunday School and Church each Sunday morning and back to Church that night. Then there was the midweek prayer meeting we seldom missed. This was not enough for Momma. Each night, just before bedtime we gathered to have our own devotions. I didn’t mind so much except that we had to learn a new Bible verse. Our meetings soon became a tradition. The only time we didn’t have one was after nighttime church, or after a special event, one of which was a revival meeting.

Revivals were fairly common when I was a child. Most all the Churches in town held a revival now and then. Even the Presbyterians had one I can remember. It was my favorite because the preacher was a mountain man who learned to imitate many birdcalls as he grew up and he demonstrated them for us. Momma was big on revivals. She never wanted to miss one. I wondered if she had a revival deficit in her youth.

I found a Baptist revival very interesting. The preacher shined a handful of silver dimes on the carpet every day, and used them to bribe [I meant entice] children to come to meetings. I liked it because there were lots of girls of about my age there. The Baptist Church was by far the biggest in town.

Momma’s favorite revival meetings seemed to be those held by the Nazarene Church. The church was the farthest one from home, and she tended to be late for meetings. That didn’t deter her. She gladly took me along, and when late, we got better seats down front. We were not too late. We always got there in time for offering. The services were of the usual format; hymns, scripture reading, more hymns, and the sermon. The sermon was usually special, I think. When the preacher was done I felt like I was a worse sinner than I had been before the meeting. Then we would sing “Just as I am” or some other hymn with an emotional tune. The preacher seemed to be saying I could be saved if I would come down front. 

”Why don’t you go down?” Momma said. I couldn’t move even though she urged me further.

The week wasn’t over. There would be meetings every night for a week. We went back every night. Each night Momma urged me to go down when the preacher extended the invitation. Finally one night I yielded to her urge. That wasn’t the last time she urged me to go. Maybe she classed me among those backsliders they mentioned. Surely she was concerned for my salvation.

After the meetings were over we continued our tradition of nightly family devotions. We read scriptures, and prayed as usual. I still didn’t understand the concept of going down to shake the preacher’s hand. How could that bring me salvation? I remained confused about that; too embarrassed to ask.

When I was older and began to understand that nobody was without sin, God had already given me faith to believe in his son, Jesus. I was relieved when it finally dawned on me that a trip down the aisle to shake hands with the preacher was nothing more than a public confession of my faith. I believe that Momma’s nightly devotions had far more influence on me than either other kids or her revivals had.