Not Expecting a Miracle Today

When Dad was in the service, he traveled throughout the South-- sometimes on a train, sometimes on a motorcycle alongside his youngest brother.  He used to talk about the tent revivals that he saw in abundance.  He and his brother used to stop at them.  Dad studied the preachers and their methods.  He liked to pay attention to people, what they were doing, what was effective in their sales pitches [even if what they were "selling" was salvation].  Dad used to talk about the emotional hook of the music, folks falling down slain by the holy ghost, people shouting amen.  Those tent revivals were a grand ol' time for two young men looking for a bit of entertainment to break up the monotonous road stripes and signs.

Dad had a girl who was rather religious.  Perhaps even a Baptist or a Jehovah's Witness but I don't properly remember now.  She was straight-laced, too proper for Dad's taste, and so when it became apparent that Dad was not going to convert, she left him to seek her fortune elsewhere.  The whole thing lasted less than two months.

I had an aunt.  She had multiple sclerosis.  There were many things remarkable about her.  She had the use of three fingers and was typing a fictionalized account of her life when she died.  She took college courses via a special television hook-up long before those things were commonplace.  She could talk with the class from her living room and they could talk with her as well.  She was working towards a counseling degree.  She wanted to conduct groups for teens from her home.  Had the m.s. been more co-operative, she would have done it too I bet.  [She died].

My aunt was always watching some televangelist on her teevee.  His name was Morris Cerullo.  His punchline I remember well, it was, "Expect a Miracle-- Today !"  He also delivered an appeal for some of the earthly finances of his congregation.  My aunt responded to his heartfelt beggary with regularity.  The truth of the matter was that he was living in a veritable mansion, being supported in a style that I can hardly imagine by the offerings of television audience.  My aunt never did get her miracle.  She should have.  She was a sincere believer.  But like Charlie Brown-- How can we lose when we are so sincere? left standing out alone in the field-- she died from the multiple sclerosis before Morris Cerullo and his gawd could free her from her disease process.

sapphoq on life