I gently lift my old Bible out of a musty storage box. Its top cover is loose so I’m careful. It holds a lot of memories. Inside it says: “Given to Patsy from Mother”, December 25, 1944. On the inside first page in fading pencil is written: “BA 1951 .”
Only God and I know what the BA is for.
Although the Anglican Church was where my older sister marched me each Sunday, as a child the Daily Vacation Bible School of every other denomination in town didn’t miss indoctrinating me either. Each summer, D.V.B.S. was the boon of every Protestant parent. It was the answer to safely getting rid of the kids for three hours. And it also made its teachers feel they had reached out to tiny souls and set them on the right path. And they had.
I can’t imagine what my faith journey would have been without these dedicated mothers and grandmothers who gave up one week each summer to “do their duty.”
I turn the pages of my old Bible. A crochet cross is still there, its maker long forgotten. And there is a two by two inch card with the letter “P” in raised velvet. Now that was special!
Beautiful things were hard to come by back then and my teacher, who had the whole alphabet, gave one letter to each pupil. He gave me the letter “P”… much to the annoyance of a boy whose last name started with that letter, and who coveted it. Wouldn’t that teacher smile if he could see that it is still treasured? The same teacher sent me to stand in the cloakroom when I not-so-gently poked my pen nib into the arm of the boy in the seat ahead of me to get his attention. Not a good move.
Inside my old Bible, Jesus’ words are in red. I always read those red words with a sense of awe.
That Bible followed me everywhere … 3,000 miles to Ottawa where I got married and to Germany where we were stationed with the Royal Canadian Air Force for three years. Inside it, passages were underlined, many memorized and sometimes tears were shed as I searched for answers to situations I thought I couldn’t handle.
I’ve had several Bibles since. Ones much easier to read than my old King James Version; but this worn and tattered Bible of my childhood holds a special place in my heart.
And the BA? … of course it means Born Again February 11, 1951.
