Daddy was the middle child of seven; one brother and two sisters were older than him and three brothers were younger. He was raised in a rural community in Nottaway County and his father was an entrepreneur. My grandfather, Papa owned property, a general store and at one time a lumber mill. Papa had inherited the store from his father, a freed enslaved person who was allowed to run a store.
Daddy received his early education in Nottaway County and later moved to Richmond. He used to joke that Nottaway meant not-a way to get out of the county, but he did. While in Richmond he met and married my mother. She was born and raised in another rural community. While dating, they both joined the same church on the same Sunday. My mother said that they were surprised to see each other at the altar. But I suspect that my father saw my mother get up and decided to join her. My parents had been married for twenty years before I was born and were raising two foster daughters. Back in those days, there were no fertility clinics and people were either 'blessed with children' or not. So I was quite a surprise.
During World War II my father was drafted into the Navy and served as a Seabee in Okinawa, Japan. While serving he answered the call to ministry. He said that he had been running from the call for 20 years. Upon his return, he took some ministry classes at Virginia Union University and was licensed and ordained by Fifth Baptist Church. My father went on to pastor, Salem Baptist Church in Howardsville, Virginia for several years. He also pastored New Prospect Baptist Church in Blackstone, Virginia, and Pottomoi Baptist Church in Ellerson, Virginia until his retirement in 1977, due to a stroke. He pastored for more than twenty years. And for several years he pastored all three of them simultaneously: Salem Baptist on the first Sunday, New Prospect on the third Sunday, and Pottomoi on the second and fourth Sundays. When he resigned from Salem Baptist due mostly to the 90-mile one way commute, New Prospect was moved to first and third Sundays, since it was only about a 60-mile one way commute. Daddy was the hardest working man that I ever knew. He was full time as a school custodian Monday through Friday, a part-time barber on Saturday, and pastored three churches at the same time. I can remember that most evenings Daddy took over the front porch or went to the bedroom to study and work on his sermons.
Sunday seemed like a workday to me. And since Pottomoi had 8:00 a.m. summer services, we often attended another church for their 11:00 a.m. service. I can even remember attending four services in one day: 8:00 a.m., 11:00 a.m., 3:00 p.m. and 7:00 p.m.The earliest memories of my life were spent in church or in the backseat of our car with my two foster sisters. Summers usually meant traveling somewhere in the country for five-night revivals, with no air conditioning and wearing a dress with a scratchy crinoline slip. Many times, Daddy was paid with fruits and vegetables and occasionally a chicken or some smoked meat. It seems like a part of the produce always ended up on the floor in the backseat. Since I was the youngest and shortest, the watermelon was usually placed under my feet, and I was instructed to not press down on it. To this day, I have an aversion to watermelon.
My parents complimented each other perfectly. My father was quiet and thoughtful. My mother was more outgoing and always ready for a good conversation in private but was more reserved in public. Both of them loved God and their family and taught us so much. They were married for 45 years. My mother passed away in 1980 and my father in 1985. They left a legacy of love and faithfulness.
Daddy’s favorite scripture was Psalm 121. He recited it almost every Sunday morning during breakfast devotionals. I didn’t think much about it then, but I have grown to realize what a powerful poetic prayer it is. Daddy baptized me and was my first pastor. One of the reasons that I took so long to answer my call to ministry because I thought that I could never measure up to Daddy as patient, kind, and loving minister, who loved the Word of God.
Recently when I have been preaching I have felt my father's presence and he's saying well done. I am so thankful that God gave me to Mama and Daddy. Their examples of hard work, faith, and a belief in a better tomorrow have sustained and nourished me throughout the good times and the bad times in my life.
So on this Father's Day, I am praising God for my father. He is truly the greatest man that I have ever known. He lived through the indignities of Jim Crow and never let anyone define who he was. He defined himself with his life.
Rest well, Daddy, I miss you. And I thank God that you were My Daddy!