When something is deferred it means that you will have to wait until a future time to ascertain the conclusion of the matter. So, this child had to wait what seemed like a lifetime. Below is PART ONE of this blog post. PART TWO will be featured/printed/posted on JANUARY 2, 2026

Earlier in my blogging career, I somehow found the nerve and the courage to recall a childhood incident that had haunted my memory ever since it happened eons ago. So, as I matured in sacred things and acquired a deeper understanding of how Christianity, God and Jesus Christ worked in someone’s life, I would sometimes inquire of the Holy Spirit why had He allowed certain situations to happen in my life.

Now that I have lived to surpass the age of a mid-octogenarian, I have earned the privilege and the maturity to know the truth about a childhood sordid incident that I now can unabashedly(*) blog about.

  TITLE:  Buried Sordid Memories Exhumed

 As originally told by the Author of 
"Conversations With God Using Scripture"

What you are about to read, I have never revealed to a single solitary soul.  Dead or alive.  It has been just my sordid secret for these past years and would have remained so had it not been for a single sheet of paper handed to me by my writing teacher.

"I want everyone here in class to look down this list of subjects and select one to write about for our next week's memoirs class," Ms. Opal said, as she personally doled out the assignments to each aspiring writer on that overcast morning in June at Richardson Senior Center Building.

Quickly, I glanced at the list and started to set it aside when suddenly a cold shiver penetrated my body.  I almost dropped dead as I read the tenth writing suggestion.  What's with this, I thought as my eyes focused in on the bold printing on the page.  Cautiously, I allowed myself to peak again at the words which read, "How did you learn to drive?  Describe your first car."

My mind voluntarily began to race backwards:  passing early retirement; passing gainful employment; passing raising two kids; passing ending a troubled marriage; passing various institutions of learning; passing high school senior proms and giddiness and dreams.  Oh no...I'm fifteen again!

I can actually smell the leather upholstery and feel the round glass knob on top of the stick-shift- throttle of Mr. Wilson's newly purchased 1950 black Malibu Chevrolet.  I have to write about my secret incident, I thought, if I am ever going to free myself of the guilt feelings which I had buried in my subconscious mind for all of these many years.

When I was a kid in my hometown in mid-America, my dad promised my brothers and sisters that we could all learn to drive his car when we turned sixteen.  Well, I had an older sister that would turn 16 in one more month.  But she exhibited no interest in learning how to drive.  All she did was study, study, study.  You see she was a junior in high school with only one more year to go before college.  And she was wickedly serious about maintaining her grade-point average and qualifying for nursing school.  I was the second oldest and and in that same year, in November, I turned 15.  But since my older sister had let the whole summer go by without learning how to drive, my daddy would not teach me before her when the following summer arrived.

No amount of begging and pleading would convince my dad to acquiesce and take pity on me.  Finally I appealed to momma, and through her, dad finally agreed to allow our neighbor, Mr. Wilson, to take me out on Sunday afternoons for a one hour driving lesson.  I was so excited because Mr. Wilson had just bought a new-used Chevrolet and his wife was afraid to learn how to drive a stick shift.  This was an opportunity for me to prove how brave I was in everybody's eyes.

    PART 2 OF THIS BLOG "God Is An Awesome God" will be published on  Friday, January 2, 2026

(*) NOTE: Not embarrassed or ashamed about openly expressing strong feelings or opinions.

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