Dinner on the Ground

I love being from Star, Mississippi, though I will probably never live there again (not saying never, just probably never).  It's a small, unincorporated dot on the map, right next to Highway 49 less than 20 miles south of Jackson.  I've been asked many times over the years if Star is one of those one-traffic-light towns.  (To which I would replay, "No, but we're hoping..."  And there is now a traffic light!)

Star was a happening little town back in the railroad days, but now it's claim to fame is as the home of country music singer Faith Hill.  ("Well, it's a long way from Star, Mississippi..."  Yeah, that's the place.)  

When my nine-year-old son Drew and I were there a couple of weekends ago, he got to experience small town church:

• members coming out on Saturday for church work day
• a visit to the parsonage (had to explain what a parsonage is)
• the church service itself with its open sharing of announcements & prayer requests (which would be chaos in our church!)
• maybe best of all -- dinner on the ground.  Dinner on the ground was quite the misnomer on this day, since lunch was served and eaten inside in the fellowship hall.  However, with temperatures soaring to 100 degrees that day (with the usual central Mississippi humidity), we weren't going to split hairs.

Star is a place where things don’t change much, the new Dollar General (aka the Star Wal-Mart) and the now-annual Christmas parade in December and the Rabbit Run 5K in April notwithstanding.   I've come to value that in many ways.  Don’t get me wrong – I like change and variety in life.  But it’s nice to have my roots in a slow-to-change place that I can call my hometown.  I’ve come to realize something, though.  I don’t think it’s the town that has served as my foundation as much as my family who lived there.

My parents moved into the house where they now live when they brought me home from the hospital over 46 years ago, a little less than a year into their marriage.  Two sisters, a brother, several additions to the house, quite a few “outbuildings” (none of them outHOUSES for you smart alecks not privileged to be from Mississippi) later, it’s still home.  My family reflects my childhood family in many ways.  Growing up, we always had pets; I’ve always had pets.  My childhood family attended each other’s activities; my family tries to do that, as well.  My mom always read to us when we were little, giving us what has been for all of us a lifelong pursuit of learning; my wife and I read to our children when they were little (and still read to Drew).  We learned Bible stories in our childhood home and have taught our children the Word of God.

But do you know what I remember most and believe was more formative to all of us Ainsworth children than we ever could have imagined at the time?  Every day, my dad’s truck would pull into the driveway, and four kids would meet him when he opened the door asking, “Daddy, will you ___________ with me?”  For my brother and me, we filled in the blank with playing whatever sport was in season.  For my sisters, it was often, “Daddy, will you jump on the trampoline with me?”  (I would be remiss if I didn’t say that that meant equal time with each sister, time that was closely monitored.)  He would typically respond with, “Let me have a cup of coffee with your mama first.”  At the time that meant, “Wait.”  We didn’t realize at the time that it really meant that he was prioritizing his relationship with Mom ahead of his relationship with us, as it should have been.

If you’re waiting for the hook that ties Star, Mississippi, and the family I grew up in to orphan care, here it is: Psalm 68:6a -- “God sets the lonely in families…”  Many of the principles I live by didn’t come from conferences I’ve attended or sermons I’ve listened to or books I’ve read; they came from living in a family.  I appreciate that more than I ever have in my life, but I also have an increased awareness that it’s not enough to simply acknowledge the blessing of my family and not enough to simply perpetuate that investment into my family.  I must do what I can for those who weren’t born into the blessing of a loving family to experience the love and grace of a heavenly Father, who has a special place in His heart for the fatherless.  God's Word commands it.

I long for the fatherless to know what it means to have Bible reading time as a family, to go to church as a family, to do fun activities together as a family, to cheer for one another and console one another.  And every child should – at least once in his or her life – experience dinner on the ground.

What values did you learn from your family that children without families could benefit from?  Those children need those values, too.  How will you get involved?

Thanks for reading.
Al