Water and Dust (II)

Dust is the other bare component of life in Lone Oak. During the long dry spells, dust would swirl and blow across the hill country. Many of the back roads in the county are unpaved. Going out to visit a member of the congregations, it was routine for your Michelins to trade asphalt for dirt and rocks. A fine layer of dust rests on most everything. Whenever the wind moved hard over the landscape, dust would get into your eyes and hair. It is strange to run your fingers through your hair and it feels coarse and desiccated.
Initially we didn’t like the idea of our children playing outside on the farms because clothes and kids became so dirty. But as the years went by, both ourselves and our girls went more and more native. By the time we left, they were often playing among the cows and goats and running around barefoot.
On a typical weekend we would arrive early on Sunday morning from Waco and spend the day. Occasionally we would spend a Saturday or a Sunday night out in Lone Oak. But I was always struck by how our minivan looked when we returned. It would be completely covered in dust. We would have to wash Lone Oak off the car almost every week.
I went through a phase when I began to pray for God to take us elsewhere; for us to move on. During this time, the dust symbolized the things I liked least about Lone Oak and I would work hard to keep our car (and ourselves) clean. As soon as we returned to Waco I wanted to remove every last vestige of the dust. But God began to soften my heart and the last year we were there was a wondrous time. I will eternally be thankful that God did not answer my prayers in years three and four. Year five was an immense blessing.
It has now been six years since we pastored Lone Oak Baptist Church. During last weekend's visit, our first in many years, one member with whom I tangled on occasion looked at me bemusedly and said “Do you realize you’ve become our beloved former pastor?” I laughed and said that I was sure many wished I had become a former pastor even sooner. But at the end of the weekend, we were sad when we left Lone Oak. Skeeter was two years old when we moved out of Lone Oak. But this last weekend as we pulled out she said “Daddy, are these people our relatives?” Even she felt the affection they graced us with.

I am finding out now that Lone Oak dust can be hard to leave behind.