Les Ferguson

By Les Ferguson, Jr.

Columnist

 

I got to spend some time with an old friend this week. We laughed, reminisced, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. While visiting, he reminded me of a story…

Many years ago, I drove to Bogue Chitto, Mississippi, and preached at a small country church where my friend Doug was the preacher. If you don’t know where Bogue Chitto is, think Brookhaven and Lincoln County. 

This small church was nestled in the middle of nowhere along a gravel road. I don’t remember whether the revival lasted from Sunday to Wednesday or the whole week. 

I do recall all the necessary lunches and suppers with the church members. It was lucky that I liked fried okra, purple hull peas, and cornbread. I ate plenty of that country cooking during my visit. I suspect some of it still stays with me. 

Because of the mainly rural environment around me, I spent a lot of time with Doug and his family. Also, his brother-in-law, who was also a close friend, preached at another nearby country church. 

I considered not using either of their names to protect the innocent. But then I thought, “Who am I kidding? 

I’ll never forget that week, full of good fun, good food, and even better fellowship. Except for the little fishing trip we took to a church member’s pond. 

That was a miserable experience for Otis and me. The three of us stood on the bank of the pond, not quite shoulder to shoulder. Doug reeled in fish after fish while Otis and I caught nary one. 

Of course, Doug tapped into his evil nature and ragged us continually. And then something strange happened. When Doug would grab our line and rub it for a minute, we would suddenly catch a fish, but only after touching our line. 

I don’t know what that was about. I’m suspicious of the evil, maniacal laughter that followed Doug that day. I wanted to use Jesus’ words to Peter and say, “Get thee behind me, Satan,” but then again, I just wanted to catch fish! 

Every time someone passes away, my dad likes to say, “Precious memories.” That’s his way of reminding folks of a particular comfort one can have. 

I really enjoyed my time with Doug this week. I’m thankful for the precious memories, even if he was infected with a fishing demon!

I hope you smiled at my story. More than that, I hope you’ll get busy this week making some precious memories of your own. 

“Precious memories, how they linger. How they ever flood my soul. In the stillness of the midnight, precious sacred scenes unfold.”