Date: Tue, 22 Jul 2014 08:10:48 -0700 From: Vince Subject: Missionary Man 1 Some people in your life have more profound influence on the person you become than others. This is the story of the man who, in a lot ways, made me who I am. My name is Josiah but since my middle name is Jacob, everyone has always called me JJ. I was born in the mid-70s in a remote rural part of the Missouri Ozarks. At least that's the way it was growing up in 1980s. Nowadays technology has sort of forced everyone closer to the 21st century. This was backwoods and so were all of us. Hicks and hillbillies. And of course, bible beaters and holy rollers. In that sense I was raised even more behind the times than some of the other kids around because my daddy was the preacher at our church. Our church was a charismatic Pentecostal church, centered around the idea that the holy spirit gave the faithful gifts such as the gift of speaking in tongues or the gift of prophecy. Yeah, it was one of those churches. The women weren't permitted to wear short sleeves or anything but long skirts or dresses. They weren't allowed to cut their hair either so many of them wore theirs partially or fully up in some type of bun. Yeah, it was one of those churches. Women weren't allowed to speak, ever, when they were in the sanctuary. It was clear that men were in charge of the church and the home because that was God's command. As a boy I guess I am thankful I didn't have to be bound by so many rules of modesty. No I was never allowed to wear shorts unless I went swimming when I could wear swim trunks. The women and girls of my church couldn't even go swimming. There existed no bathing attire modest enough for that. My daddy was bound and determined to make sure that his family and his church resisted things of the world because those were the domain of the devil. My daddy, Brother Hez to everyone else, didn't bond as well with me as he did with my older brother, Zeke. Yes, everybody had bible names. Hez was short for Hezekiah and Zeke was short for ezekiel. My momma's name was Sarah. Anyway, my brother Zeke was 6 years older than me and exactly like my dad. Convinced the world was full of people mostly destined to end up in hell. Everybody except people who believed and acted just like we did. Daddy and Zeke shared the same interests outside the church, too. They hunted pretty much anything that moved in Ozarks mountain forests. Yes I have been lucky enough to eat some strange culinary delights in my lifetime. My granny's signature pot luck dish was Possum Stew, which was neither possum nor stew. It was actually a meatloaf made of raccoon meat. Someone who thought they were hilarious apparently gave it the misleading name. My daddy, however, was distant with me. We were very different I suppose. I never liked to hunt. Didn't have moral objections or anything, I just didn't have that primal urge I guess. Also, I was the only blonde in the family. My parents and brother all had brown hair and brown eyes. I was blonde and blue. Also, I was fascinated with what most everybody else called "book learnin'". I suppose I was an unusually bright kid, especially given the locale. Every time I had my nose buried in any book that wasn't the King James version of the Holy Bible, I would hear about it from my father. That didn't serve to make us any closer. My momma was more accepting and loving toward me but she never dared chastise my father. You see, women were on the same level as children in our culture. It was the man's job to keep everyone in line and prevent them from eternal damnation. So yes corporal punishment was not only permitted, it was considered sinful not to punish wives and kids physically. The common phrase spoken to a kid or wife who, in the eyes of the father, had committed some sinful misbehavior was "Go cut me a switch." Oftentimes in moments of an especially maddening misstep, the father would just smack the offender across the face a few times. In the summer of 1983, when I was 7 years old, everyone in my church—especially my family—was thrilled by news that our very own missionary, Paul, would be returning to report his evangelistic successes and to take a short break from his work to renew himself spiritually with his home church. In my mind at this time, Paul was larger than life. Pictures of him and dramatic stories of his faith surrounded me both at home and church. You see, when my parents were first married and daddy was only associate pastor of the church, Paul's parents died in a car accident. Paul was just a teenager himself. His folks were what we would have called "unsaved" meaning they didn't go to our church. Paul's daddy was a drinker and one night after a few too many, he drove his Plymouth straight—the road actually curved unfortunately—into a huge oak tree. Somehow or another, my parents actually ended up taking teenage Paul into their home. He was nearly an adult, but my daddy thought he needed saving in more ways than one. Paul's salvation story was legend in my world. Grieving from his loss, he first rebelled against my father drinking and smoking and sinning like devil himself. He ended up getting arrested for something. Here the story differed depending on who was telling it. Some would say drunken brawling at the HB tavern. Others would say it was something worse. They didn't specify, but they somehow knew it was much more serious. Instead of bailing him out, my daddy left Paul in jail. He would only bail him out if he agreed to repent and give his life to Jesus. At first Paul refused, but people in our church apparently took shifts praying outside the county jail, 24/7. It was Hillbilly Holy War to hear it told. 40 days alledgedly passed before Paul miraculously saw the light and agreed to my father's divine commands. Miraculously, just after he was saved, all charges against Paul were dropped (Brother Ed at our church was Sheriff Ed on weekdays). From that legendary day forward, Paul was my daddy's apostle. Studying the bible in every possible moment, getting filled with "the Spirit" right and left. He spoke in tongues like angels, so the story went. He preached the gospel like the original Apostle Paul apparently because in his last year of high school he doubled the number of youth at our church. It was only natural that he become the church's youth pastor. However a year or so into the job, he heard a message from God telling him missionary work was his true calling. My daddy was—and I can totally see this even though I wasn't there—thrilled at the idea of his church having its very own missionary. Sending someone to preach the gospel to the spiritually ignorant native people, causing them to drop their voo doo dolls and pick up bibles was a calling of global magnitude in my daddy's eyes. And I'm sure it was good for his ego as well. From then on, the church funded Paul's missionary work in southeast asia. This homecoming was especially exciting for the church because he had been so busy saving souls in the Phillipines, he hadn't made a return visit in two years. For that reason, memory of him was fuzzy. I was only 5 the last I saw him. I remember him being full of youthful energy and joy. Pleasing the adults with his spiritual conquests and pleasing the youth by giving them loads of attention. I remember thinking of him as somewhere between boy and man because he was just too nice and happy to be any of the adult men I was exposed to at the time. He loved to play games and talk with the preteens and teens almost as much as they loved doing the same with him. The last time he came home, I remember sleeping on the couch and letting him sleep in my bed in the room I shared with Zeke. This time around would be different for a couple of reasons. First of all, my daddy had supposedly gotten a really good deal on an old RV, what we called a motor home back then. Daddy had pictured the vehicle as a spiritual tool for the church to spread the good word, but since you get what you pay for usually, the RV was rarely, if ever, in working condition. So basically it sat by the garage and was useful only as a guest house for church visitors as it could still be plugged into the electricity and you don't need an engine running to pump the waste tank. The second reason Paul needed the RV now was privacy as he had surprisingly married one of his Phillipino converts. A 20 year old girl named Mei (pronounced like May). Paul was 30 by this time. The church was high on the excitement of all of this. They arrived on a Saturday evening and the next morning the church greeted Paul like a rock star. Everyone wanted to talk to him, hug him, meet Mei. I remember Mei as very pretty and exotic to my sheltered eyes. Barely spoke any English at all, but she was dressed the part. She looked just like every other woman in my church. Her long hair in a bun, showing skin only on her face and hands. It was kind of oddly out of place, almost like when children dress up as adults for a school play or something. My daddy welcomed Paul home officially before his sermon and announced Paul would have plenty of pictures and stories during the next week's Sunday service. With Paul and Mei in our usual pew, there was nowhere for me to sit when I came into the sanctuary. I started to sit in the pew behind our normal one, when Paul grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. "I can't believe how big you are now, little brother." he said in hushed voice. I sat on his lap for the entire service with him constantly rubbing my arms and legs gently, pausing only every once in a while to hug me tightly to him. I wasn't nearly as excited as everyone else before Paul arrived, but now I was enthralled because he paid so much attention to me. During the afternoon, he came into my bedroom and played in the floor with me, seemingly more excited by my toys than I was. That evening we had a church BBQ after the service and once again I found myself on Paul's lap, this time in a lawn chair on the grass. Again he constantly caressed me enough to make me take notice but not enough that any of the other adults take notice. At one point, he hugged me into him and whispered in my ear. "You're my favorite. You know that?" I loved the attention. Close to bedtime, my momma fussed about making sure the visiting couple had everything they needed in the RV. My brother's friend Isaac was spending the night with us. I think he was pulled in by the glamour of Paul and Mei because he asked my father for permission for him and Zeke to sleep in the RV, too. My father initially said no because the newlyweds needed their privacy, but Paul reminded daddy that he and Mei had been married almost a year. "Besides," Paul said, "when I come home it's my only chance to be close to my family. It'll be great sleeping under the same roof as my brother for a change." Apparently, Paul was the only person who could emotionally manipulate my daddy because consent was given. I was surprised but also jealous as all get out. The RV only had two beds. The "master bed" was the biggest at the back of the rv. Then there was another that pulled down from above the driver and passenger seat up front. There used to be a single bed along one side but my daddy removed it in hopes of installing forward facing seats to maximize the number of passengers. I guess he thought we would pick up hitchikers and convert them on the road or something. Because of that, I went to bed envious of my brother and his friend. Summer weekdays around our place were pretty quiet usually. My daddy spent Mondays alone with the Lord reading the bible in his office. This particular Monday I awoke to find only my brother in the house. He was at the kitchen table eating oatmeal. "Where is everybody?" "Momma thinks Mei can't survive unless she has a sewing machine, so they went to East Hills to get her a fancy one. It's our wedding present to them I guess." All day long I assumed that Paul had gone with them also, but when momma and Mei pulled in late that afternoon I realized I was wrong. Momma asked me to carry the sewing machine box to the RV. As the three of us approached the RV, the door swung open and out popped Isaac. Once again my assumptions were wrong because I figured he had simply gone back home when I didn't see him with Zeke. "Isaac, are you out here bothering Brother Paul?" Momma asked. "No ma'am." he replied. "Brother Paul was telling me what it's like being a missionary in foreign lands. I think I might want to do that some day.. It's sounds like an adventure for the Lord! " He smiled really big and turned to run to our house. Once again I felt jealous because Isaac was spending time with Paul the whole day and I hadn't known. I was surpised yet again when Isaac not only asked permission to stay over another night but also asked if he and Zeke could sleep in the RV again. This time it was my brother who objected. "You can sleep out there if you want, but I want my own bed tonight. That bed out there is about as comfortable as sleeping on sharp rocks." Isaac looked deeply disappointed until Paul piped in, "Isaac I bet my other little brother would sleep out there with you tonight. He lives for adventure. You can see it in his face." "Daddy, can I?" I asked and with an approving nod I was in my pajamas and headed to the guest house on wheels with Isaac, Paul, and Mei. Once inside, Paul said to Mei simply, "Bed." With that she immediately went to the large rear bed and pulled the privacy curtain without saying a word. Paul pulled out a deck of cards. I probably gasped audibly because we were forbidden to have cards because daddy just knew it would lead to gambling and eventually hell. "We're just going to play Crazy 8's," Paul said. "there's no gambling in that game. It's just for fun." Paul and Isaac taught me the rules and we played a couple of hands before Paul announced it was bedtime. Isaac and I climbed into the front bed while Paul switched out all the lights. Then, strangely, I heard the privacy curtain open and Paul turns on the light above the back bed. Mei was barely visible off to one side but even still I think that was the most exposed female skin I had ever seen. I began to realize she is either naked or in just underwear. I look over at Isaac. His eyes are glued to the scene as well. With the back light on it was almost as if the bed was a stage and we were the audience. It was unlike any play I had ever seen. With the privacy curtain still open Paul removed his shirt. Then his pants. He was wearing white briefs like every male I had ever known. He turned toward Mei and said something I coudn't make out. Then he pulls down his tighty whiteys, steps out of them and turns to sit on the bed. I remember thinking that he must have some sort of tube covering over his dick because what I saw was so incredible large. Slowly I began to realize that it was simply large. At that time, mei moved over close to Paul. She indeed was naked, but I only had a second to be surprised because what she did next surprised me even more. She put his dick in her mouth. Right there in plain sight. I looked at Isaac, who turned toward me with a big smile on his face. "What are they doing?" I whispered to him. "She's giving him a blow job." he replied. Apparently I had a confused look on my face because Isaac continued to explain. "Sex. They're having sex and we get to watch." I knew nothing about sex except that you weren't allowed to even think about it until you were married. Otherwise it was very bad. "Isn't that dirty?" I asked. "Not when you're married like they are. Plus it's fun to watch. Doesn't it look fun?" "Yeah, I guess." I said as my eyes returned to the action. Mei was moving her mouth up and down on his dick while he sat on the bed facing us. In fact, he was looking right at us. I don't know if he could see us in the dark watching them, but he was looking right at us. Then Isaac whispered, "They did it last night for me and Zeke. He didn't like it though. That's why he went back inside as soon as the sun came up." Jealously, I inquired, "Why did you stay out here most of the day?" Isaac looked me in the eye. "Don't tell anyone, but Paul has a bunch of magazines with sex pictures in them. He let me look at them and explained all sorts of stuff." A tingle went through my stomach. Then Paul added, "He wants to look at them with you, too. He told me. He said that you are something really special or something like that."