Mrs Parker’s school bus

 

I saw a post that had a picture of an old school bus overgrown with vines. The following quote was with the picture post….

“We’re going to sit here until all of you settle down, and I don’t care how long it takes!”

I had to laugh when I saw that because it meant something to me. It brought to memory my school bus driver Mrs Parker, and an experience I have remembered for all my life since.

Each school morning by 6:30am or so I would be ready to get on the school bus. Watching out my front living room window, I could see when the big yellow bus was coming. As soon as I was coming out the front door, the big bus stopped and the double doors would squeak open. I would step up the two big steps into the bus and look at Mrs Parker. I was kind of scared of her. I didn’t know if she would say anything or not. She would sometimes say something quick like “good morning “ but not always. As soon as I started down the aisle, Mrs Parker would zoom on towards the next bus stop. I would hold onto seats until I sat down . She was a no-nonsense kind of person. I don’t remember that she ever smiled, but I didn’t think of her as mean; just grumpy. I’m sure she just felt the need to keep order on the bus. When there’s around 40 or so children on one bus you can imagine how it could be. 

The morning rides to school were usually quiet with just some talking going on. Mrs Parker pulled the bus up to the curb at school to let us off and the day at school started. At 3pm the bus would be waiting to pick us up and then the route was started to take us all home. It just wasn’t quiet like the morning ride. 

 Someone would do something that Mrs Parker felt she needed to yell about. I could see her stern eyes looking into the rear view mirror. “Boys!!! Put the paper airplanes away!!!” The boys put the planes away but then they would tease each other and cause a ruckus until …….all of a sudden our school bus pulled over to a sudden stop! Mrs Parker yelled “ We are going to sit here until you settle down and I don’t care how long it takes!!” She meant that too! Sometimes she stood up and reprimanded whoever was responsible for the chaos and made one of the wild ones sit on the front seat. Eventually, we’d be on our way again but with a quieter bus ride. I never wanted to get on Mrs Parker’s bad side. 

I rode on Mrs Parker’s bus for several years. Even into high school. I lived in a community called Browntown and Mrs Parker would pick up all the children going to the same school. Some were my cousins and some were friends and some I really didn’t know. For some reason Mrs Parker seemed to be kind of nice to me. She even seemed to start smiling at me just a little. That is until the last day of school in 9th grade. 

That last day of school was a good day. Summer was here and I looked forward to my summer break. Most everyone had classmates and friends to say goodbye to. I enjoyed telling my friends goodbye and we promised we’d see each other in the next school year. Some students brought shaving cream to school to use for pranks. They would spray each other or spray lockers, door knobs, etc. One girl that I knew came up to me and asked if I’d take the shaving cream home that she brought. I mentioned that she should just throw it away but, for some reason, she thought she would get in trouble. I reluctantly took it and put it in my backpack. I figured I’d throw it away at home or give it to my dad (like he would really want someone else’s used shaving cream!🫣). I felt like I shouldn’t take it, but I ignored those feelings and kept it in my backpack. 

Mrs Parker’s bus was waiting outside with the big double doors open. Students were saying their last goodbyes and getting on their bus to go home. I got on my bus and sat down. I tried to sit near one of my friends as much as possible. I didn’t like being near the trouble makers. Somehow, someone saw that there was shaving cream in my backpack. The word got over to one of the trouble makers. Then he was asking me for the shaving cream, like he was a friend of mine. I was kind of apprehensive to give it to him but also glad to get rid of it. The boy said he was going to take it home. I gave it to him. I was horrified to see what this boy chose to do with the shaving cream…..

There was a special needs boy on our bus, Donnie, who was the sweetest! He never did anything to anyone and the boy I gave the shaving cream to sprayed it all over Donnie’s face! I was shocked and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Donnie’s face was covered in shaving cream and he was crying. Mrs Parker, seeing the commotion, stopped the bus and started hollering at the boys. Somebody must have told her I brought the shaving cream. She hollered at me saying, “ You have always been so good! And now this!!” I blinked back my tears….. I would have never intentionally hurt Donnie. I was still shocked and couldn’t say anything. I knew there was no point in trying to say anything. 

After that incident I could hardly try to talk to Mrs Parker. I was so embarrassed by what happened and felt bad about but. However, one day, several years later,  Ted and I were at a funeral at the little Baptist church I went to as a girl. Mrs Parker did talk to us there. Could it be she seemed nice? Yes she was! I don’t  remember the conversation except for what she last said…….”Tanya, you were always such a good student on my bus except for that last day of school!!! I couldn’t understand what got into you!!” 

My mouth couldn’t say anything and that was the last I ever got to see Mrs Parker. 

Strangely enough, I look back to those times as good for me. I learned somewhere along the way to sometimes speak up if I need to. More importantly, to listen to my feelings or conscience and not do something that I’m not comfortable with. And also to realize some people may be grumpy because they are having a hard day. 😊

The Little Church 

This little church building is where I attended church as a young girl. Just hearing the name "Temple Creek Baptist Church" brings back memories..........

My grandparents had this church built, and a family cemetery has been there for many, many years longer than the church building. 

Grandma Horne ( as I called her) would be at the church every Sunday she could. She loved singing. My Mama sometimes played the piano and sometimes Grandma asked me to sing. One time I sang the hymn "Standing on the Promises". You know how it goes...."Standing on the promises of Christ my King",  but instead I sang (Cristmy King). I just didn't understand it was saying Christ MY King. No one told me my error and I just kept singing loud as I could over the piano playing. Another time we had a little Christmas program. Several other children nicely played an instrument or sang. It came my turn to play "Away in a Manger" on my clarinet. The reed on my clarinet was dry, and I squeaked and squeaked through the entire song. Afterwards, I remember little older ladies coming up to me, patting my shoulder and saying I did good. 

Other things I recall is walking on the wood floor of that church. It made a clomp clomp sound and I could count how many steps it took to walk to the front of the church or back to the Sunday school room. Sunday school was in a small room at the back of the church. We sat in a circle of small chairs learning about Jesus and Bible stories. 

I only remember one particular preacher. He was short, had dark hair but seemed older. He preached in a fiery way and spit as he would almost jump. The flowers on the piano shook, almost falling and it seemed that the floor bounced. Little old ladies would sit up front staring up at the preacher and I wondered if they were ever spit on.

We all sang as the piano played. They needed that piano playing to keep somewhat of a tune because most of the people did not know how to sing. But it was ok because it was their hearts that counted. The people seemed happy and after church, many hugs were given around. There was also lots of happy chatter and the little fiery preacher became very nice and  greeted each person going out the door. 

My memory fails to give me much more about going to this little church, but my heart remembers the times there as very good. God was good to me to let this church house and the people who went there be a part of my life. The church house has been boarded up for many years now. I wish I could go back in time for one day, go to the little church and feel the good there. 

 So why the title "The Lines Have Fallen..."???

Well it mostly comes from the verse in Psalm 16:6  KJV , "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places: Yea I have a goodly heritage." 

That verse kept coming to me as I think back over stories in my life and present times as well. I have wanted a way to share it with people. But I know how it is when I try to share a story from my life in person. Sometimes it falls flat......it lacks something.....and winds up not being interesting to listen to.

 I started typing out a few stories from my childhood .......and I thought of them as "lines". We all have "lines", you know, our stories. And I love the "pleasant places" our stories can bring! The things I learned from those "lines", the things that makes me laugh today, the things that make me realize just how much God does care for me and each one of us.

 I started a note on my phone of each story and headed it with "The lines are fallen...." I thought it would just fall flat. I shared a couple stories on my WhatsApp status and got some sweet and positive feedback. It was extremely encouraging for me! But I just let the stories be on my phone until I started noticing something.........that note headed with "The lines are fallen" kept coming up as a notification on my phone. Notes on my phone had not done that before. I pushed it aside in my mind, but then it would show up again and again and again! My husband periodically asked if I had another story for him to read and also said I need to start writing them out. Maybe write a book. I don't know about writing a book, but for now I'd like to write on my blog. =)

This verse also means to me ........ God, you have been so good to me! He has most certainly placed those "lines" in my life. It can also mean, " Your sovereign goodness has fenced me in to God himself."     "The borders of my life are boundaries around where God is."                                                                And the goodly heritage is God. God is my inheritance. Definitely, God is our inheritance if we have trusted Him for salvation! 

I hope you'll enjoy what you read on my blog. =)

 Well hey there! 😊

I guess this is my first post for my blog “ The Lines Have Fallen”. I’d like to tell you some things about myself and my family. I am a born again Christian and so thankful for Jesus who paid the price for my salvation!  My husband, Ted is owner of Moen Construction and also one of the pastors at Emmanuel Christian Fellowship. We live right next door to church. =) No, we did not plan on that, but it was what God lead us to and we are grateful. We have 8 children, and home-schooled all of them. Our oldest son married in 2014, and has 3 adorable and lively little boys! In the past few years, our lives have been changing pretty fast. We have two daughters, and a son that were married to their spouses within 13 months.  One daughter also moved to North Carolina. Our 20 year old twin daughters and almost 16 year old youngest daughter are the only ones that live at home with us now. 

I have always loved writing letters to a few friends through the years. Although the last seven years I would say, I have hardly written any letters, due to not having enough time, or motivation. Since we are in a different stage of life, not quite empty nesters, I wonder what to do next. I remember my children would ask me to tell them a story of when I was a girl but it was hard to relay by saying it. I can write out stories better. So this blog will probably have some stories of when I was a girl or teen or even as a wife and mother. I hope it to be encouraging, sometimes funny, and sometimes some life's lessons woven in. Well, I guess that's it for this one. I really hope to hear from you as well! As you read my stories, I'd love to hear yours too!