Holler, Heaven and Home: A Journey of Faith

By Mary Jenkins

Holler, Heaven and Home is an inspirational book with an Appalachian flavor. Its homespun stories and songs from the hills and hollers of eastern Kentucky will take you on a journey that shows the depths of faith during the good times and the bad. It chronicles the authors journey as her faith was on a firm foundation then wavered through the difficult time of her husbands cancer diagnosis and then, once again, restored. The book also reveals how Gods plan and purpose for our lives are often shown through the building blocks of adversity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Oct 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512795134

Mary Jenkins

Mary Jenkins is a retired elementary teacher from Pineville, Kentucky. She is a Magna Cum Laude graduate of Union College, with a Bachelor’s, Master’s, and Rank I Degree in Elementary Education. She enjoys traveling, songwriting, reading, and singing and playing folk songs on her guitar. She is a former Sunday School teacher and youth leader. She is married to Ed Jenkins, and they have one son, Ben, who plays banjo, and his wife, Kathryn, who plays fiddle. Mary and her husband currently reside in Pineville, with their dog, Mandy.

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Copyright © 2017 Mary Jenkins.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-9514-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-9515-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-9513-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017911169

WestBow Press rev. date: 08/10/2017

To Ed, Ben and Kathryn…who have been my constant source of encouragement.

To Evelyn, Kenneth, Bonnie, Betty, Richard, and Faye…each of whom has taught me so much about life.

To John Matt…who also carries on my daddy’s legacy.

And, to Odell…who saved my life that day.

CONTENTS

Preface

Chapter 1 The Beginning

Chapter 2 Growing Up

Chapter 3 The Darkness

Chapter 4 Into the Light

Chapter 5 More than I Could Ask

Chapter 6 Depart to Serve

Chapter 7 Doers of the Word

Chapter 8 Life Happens

Chapter 9 Challenges

Chapter 10 My Protector

Summary

PREFACE

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under Heaven.

—Ecclesiastes 3:1 (KJV)

T hey say that everybody has a story. I just happen to have a whole bunch of stories. For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a writer. Like many people, I wanted to write that great American novel . I wanted to create characters, to write about spies and exotic places as well as the people and adventures that I dreamed of. I wanted to write fiction. As a child, I would spend hours and hours playing make-believe. My imagination would carry me in so many directions!

But as the years passed and circumstances came and went, I found myself wrapped up in real life. I went to college and got married. Then I became a teacher and then a mother and now an empty nester. I kept telling myself that I would write later—when I finished school, after I got my master’s degree, when my son was grown, or maybe … when I retired. Oh, I wrote a few pieces along the way, such as a few poems in high school and plays for my classroom children to perform, and then I also discovered my love for songwriting.

Now here I am … in retirement. I have no excuses. What is keeping me from writing that great American novel? Well, for the past few years, I have had a thought or a nudge, an irresistible force in my mind and my heart that is urging me to write an inspirational nonfiction book, but this still, small voice cannot be denied. So many events have happened in my life that I want to share to show everyone that the Lord’s hand has been over me every step of the way. So, a couple of years ago, I bought a green composition notebook, and I made an outline.

Even within these few years when I finally decided to put pen to paper, a little voice has said to me, What makes you think that anyone would be interested in your story? You’ve always wanted to write fiction. Now is the time. What if people think you are arrogant or boastful or presumptuous? What if you just waste a lot of time and money? What if—

Now I know where that voice comes from. It is speaking out from fear and from the depths of my own insecurities, and it comes from Satan himself. I know that he tries to discourage us when we would otherwise do good.

However, I have another voice within me, one that cannot be denied, one that says, The Lord is my light and my salvation. Who shall I fear? This voice says, I can do all things through Him, who gives me strength. He says, Be still, and know that I am God. He whispers in that still, small voice, encouraging me to share how the Lord has worked in my life. I wish I could say that my faith has always been constant through it all. I wish I could say that it never wavered. But that would not be the truth. What I can say is that my God has been constant through it all. He was there in the hollers of eastern Kentucky, where I grew up. He is in heaven, sitting on the right hand of the Father, waiting to welcome me home. He lives in my heart, so no matter where I call home, He is always with me. My God has never wavered! My own faith has been like the tides of the ocean—sometimes so strong that nothing, not even the fiery darts of Satan, could break through. At other times I failed, and my faith did begin to waver. But praise be to God, He was there all the time, and His grace is sufficient!

So … whether you receive a blessing or learn from my mistakes or relate through your own journey in your Christian walk, I would like to share with you just a few amazing stories from the hills and hollers of eastern Kentucky. May you taste the Appalachian flavor of faith, which is universal. I hope you are blessed by the stories and songs of Holler, Heaven, and Home.

CHAPTER 1

THE BEGINNING

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

—Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

I grew up in the mountains of southeast Kentucky—one of the most beautiful places on God’s green earth! We are just a stone’s throw away from the Cumberland Gap, where Kentucky, Tennessee, and Virginia meet. It is where Daniel Boone forged his way westward. We lived in a part of history. Although some would consider it a curse and others a blessing, we often stayed there. We were cut off from interstate travel. Our nearest town, Middlesboro, Kentucky, is said to have been built in a meteorite crater. Big business passed us by, and times were simple and sweet.

I was born in the mid-1950s, the youngest of seven children. Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you had been born in a different location or in a different time period or in a different birth order in your family? I mention this because had I been born in a large city, perhaps my dad would have been working, and perhaps we would not have been poor. Also, I wouldn’t have had the gift of the beautiful mountains around me, which have remained a part of my heart and soul. Perhaps I wouldn’t have had the love of nature and the desire to write, which has always been a part of me as well. Had I been born in an earlier time period, I wouldn’t have felt the safety and security that we enjoyed in the 1950s and 60s. My understanding is that Middlesboro, Kentucky, was filled with quite a bit of gangster activity during the 1920s and 30s. I have heard tales that it was not uncommon to have shoot-outs in the streets of Middlesboro. Conversely, had I been born in later decades, then I would have been exposed to the technology that brought the rest of the world into our living rooms—technology such as cable TV, satellites, computers, smart phones, and other devices that connect us to the outside world.

But the most amazing thought is that I was so fortunate to have been born as the youngest child in our family. Let me explain why this one fact is so amazing.

One of my earliest memories is that of a local church—the Binghamtown Baptist Church—visiting our home. Now I have been told that my daddy had been saved years before he married my mother but that he had backslid. That is a term some Christians use to describe when they are no longer faithful. I was only about four or five years old when I remember people from the church visiting our home. My older brothers and sisters attended Binghamtown because the church bus would pick them up and bring them home. Binghamtown had a program called Cottage Prayer Meetings. Thinking back, it must have been somewhat like the small group meetings that many churches have today. Funny—the more things change, the more they stay the same. It was at one of these prayer meetings that my daddy rededicated his life to the Lord and my mommy got saved. My older brother has told me that my dad was impressed that the preacher was so humble, and even though the preacher was wearing a nice suit, he did not hesitate to get down on his knees to pray with my dad. I was only a small child, but I can remember my mommy giving her testimony.

It was like a fight going on inside of me, she said. I wanted to give my life to the Lord, but something was holding me back. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat … for thinking about this war going on inside of me! Finally, I gave in and surrendered my life to Jesus. And I’m glad I did! And I ain’t going back neither!

The point that I want to make is that each of my brothers and sisters grew up in a time when my parents were not in church and were not living Christian lives. However, because I was the youngest, growing up in a Christian home was all that I ever knew.

Once my parents decided to live for the Lord, they were all in! We began attending church as a family—every time the doors were open. My parents wanted to learn as much as they could about Jesus and about the Bible, and they wanted to see that we did as well. So, we attended Sunday school, Wednesday night services, and Sunday night services. One program that Binghamtown had was called Training Union. This was a meeting held an hour before the Sunday night services. They met in one of the Sunday school rooms in the basement of the church. Because my daddy was musically inclined, he sometimes played the piano or led singing during Training Union. It was a service he loved, and in doing so, he taught to me the value of serving.

Even though we attended church faithfully, I didn’t actually accept Christ as my personal Lord and Savior until I was twelve years old. Binghamtown had another outreach program that met on Saturday nights in a particular section of town. A lay minister would bring the message, and my daddy would lead the singing. Often my mom, brother, sister, and I would sing with him. A few faithful members of the church came along, but usually only about twenty-five or thirty people were in attendance. Now since I had been raised in a Christian home, I knew what was required of me. However, I didn’t want to make that public confession until I knew that it was genuine. I wanted the calling to be from the Holy Spirit and not just something to please my family or the church members. I was also painfully shy, and I did not want to get up in front of people. That just gave the old devil a foothold. I must say that my parents did not pressure me to become a Christian. They knew that when the time was right, the Spirit would move me. They just made sure that the opportunity was there for me.

For two or three Saturday nights at the Mission, as it was called, I sort of felt an urging in my mind as the invitation hymn was sung. But as Satan will sometimes do, other thoughts came to my mind too. Not tonight. Look what you are wearing. Everyone will stare at you. This is not real. You can wait until you are older. You don’t need all this unwanted attention. Thoughts like that interfered with what the Holy Spirit was leading me to do. Then one Saturday night, this little old lady who had been a faithful fixture of the church for many years came and sat on the empty chair beside me. My brother Richard had been sitting there, but he had left to go to the bathroom. That’s why there was an empty chair beside me. The old lady took my hand.

I’ve been praying for you, she whispered. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was touched that she cared. I barely knew her. Have you given your life to Jesus? she asked. The tears spilled over onto my cheeks. I knew what I needed to do, but why did I resist?

Oh, no, said the devil’s voice. Now she will expect you to do it. Wait until another time when no one is talking to you. But the calling of the Holy Spirit could not be denied. As the preacher closed his sermon, the people stood up to sing the hymn Only Trust Him. That one was followed with Trust and Obey. I realized that I could not trust my own thoughts and feelings and that God had a plan for my life. And even though in the eyes of the world, I may not have had a lot of what they considered big sins, I knew that I was a sinner. I knew that I needed forgiveness, and I knew that I needed God’s amazing grace. I also knew that without Jesus, I was nothing. So, I went forward. I made a public confession, and on June 30, 1968, I was baptized at the Binghamtown Baptist Church. I remember that date. It is written in the little New Testament Bible that the church gave me on that day. It is the same New