A State Park Becomes a Cathedral

October 15 was a Sunday we will all remember.  It got off to a very good start when we welcomed a new Covenant Participant during our morning worship gathering at our church, Fellowship of the Valley.  Then it just kept getting better. 

Immediately following worship, we trekked over to Tannehill State Park for a blue-ribbon pot-luck dinner followed by a moving (and chilly) midstream baptism.   The first baptism ever for Fellowship of the Valley! It was a brilliant day with crystal blue skies and a hint of autumn color in the treetops.  With great joy and lively conversation, we shared our feast on well-worn picnic tables under shed number three, which was ideally situated amidst a gurgling stream, a dusty road, and a grassy knoll.  The kids couldn’t wait to run and play in such a compelling spot on such a lovely day.    

After we had eaten our fill, a search party went upstream to find the perfect site for the baptism.  When they came back with a good report, we gathered everything up and made our way over to the chosen spot.  It was everything we could have hoped for!  A gentle bend in the clear-water stream was framed by sheltering trees and lined with gently-sloping banks.  The congregation gathered creekside to witness the much-anticipated baptism of two of our beloved “Fellowship Folks.”   

Pastor Mike waded into the water first, Bible in hand.  After reading Romans 6:4-10, he stood still in the flowing stream while Scott led in prayer.  As the church quietly sang “The Doxology,” Brian boldly invaded the stream.  Mike, resting his hand on Brian’s broad shoulders, said, “Brian, I baptize you, my brother, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; buried in likeness to Him, and raised to walk in newness of life.”  Then he dipped Brian backwards into the stream, immersing him completely under the waters, and raising him straightway up.  Murmurs of joy and approval rose up from the congregation. 

Kay was next, and her face registered shock as her bare feet rudely took her into the frigid flow.  After repeating the baptismal prelude, Mike plunged Kay beneath the flood.  She sputtered something unintelligible when she first rose up out of the water; later she told us that she tried to shout “Hallelujah,” but some water got in her throat.  As it turns out, words were unnecessary.  We all knew, and shared, what she was feeling.  

 It took a long time for everyone to leave that newly hallowed place.  It’s funny, isn’t it, how a state park can become a cathedral.  Last Sunday, at Tannehill, it did.  Hallelujah!  

Know Me, Know My Wingtips

For introductory purposes, you should know why I call my blog “Wingtips.”  There’s a story behing the name.  Here it is.

My mother sold shoes for thirty-five years at Meyer’s Shoe Company in Selma, Alabama.  The employees and management at Meyer’s became part of my “extended family,” and I worked there myself, off and on, during summer breaks from school, at holidays, etc.  Meyer’s was an old family-owned business that offered full service to its customers.  Mother knew all her regular customers by name and shoe size. 

One of the brands of men’s shoes they carried at Meyers was “Florsheim.”  I don’t know much about Florsheims now, but back in the ’70s, they were beautifully designed shoes made of the best quality natural leathers with hand-stitching.  The cost was high, so I wore other brands.

My sister got married in 1971, while I was a student in college.  My mom bought me a pair of cordivan Florsheim wingtips for the wedding – my first pair.  She was able to afford them only because Meyers sold shoes by “holding tickets” for their customers, which was a ”buy now, pay as you can” arrangement.  She also got an employee discount.

Whatever mom paid for those shoes, she got her money’s worth.  I still have them.  Moreover, I have worn them on many Sundays for church and almost always for formal occasions.  I have never had them resoled or repaired.  When I wear them, I almost always get a compliment or two, telling me how great they look.

I was in Nordstrom’s department store in Providence, Rhode Island, one Sunday afternoon, wearing my wingtips.  They have a shoeshine station there, so I treated myself to a hand-rubbed shine.  The shoeshine man was thrilled to see my “old” Florsheim wingtips and got me to tell him the whole story about the shoes.  After I did, he wistfully said, “They don’t make them like this anymore,” and promptly chastized me for my lack of proper care for them.  Shoes like these, he said, need to be cleaned and polished after every wearing, lest they get dried out.  He said that, with the proper care, the shoes could last me for the rest of my life, never going out of style.

Since that encounter, I have a greater appreciation for my wingtips and I try to take better care of them.  I’ve never had another pair of shoes that were even in the same league as those.  They are comfortable, perfectly formed to the shape of my big feet, and indestructable.  I joke with people that if there is a global thermonuclear holocaust, all that will remain on earth will be cockroaches and that pair of shoes.

I have a myriad of great memories of wingtip-clad occasions.  On the day of my Auburn University graduation, I proudly strode across the stage in my wingtips.  At subsequent graduations, for M. Div. and D. Min. degress, I was there in my caps and gowns and my wingtips.  For most of the weddings and funerals I have conducted, I’ve worn them, and I have taken them with me on all my travels overseas.  Just in case.

I think I know why someone named this particular style of shoe, “Wingtips.”  The design is somewhat ornate, with curves and patterns that, without too much imagination, could suggest the appearance of angels’ wings.  A very appropriate name for such noble shoes, if you ask me.   

So “Wingtips” is a good name for a blog that, I hope, will be high quality, timeless, enduring.  Not trying to be trendy, but never out of fashion.  Trusted and true.  My intention, as I start out, is that the blog will, like my shoes, reveal  something about me and my life-story.  I may step on some feet sometimes, and I may get mine stepped on.  But I’ll try to polish them off, and continue on.

To celebrate the launch of my blog, I’m wearing my wingtips right now.  And I want to say thanks to my mom for giving me such great shoes.  Thanks, mom.  You’re an angel.