Little Hitch Hikers

Even in a small town, in the 1970s not everyone could be trusted... and even at 7 she knew to be careful of strangers. But this was really important!

“Give me oil in my lamp, keep me burning…..

Give me wax for my board, keep me surfing for the Lord…

Give me gas for my Ford, keep me trucking for the Lord….

Oh Sing hosanna, sing hosanna sing hosanna to the King of Kings…..” As she climbed the steps of the small white church she could hear the songs echoing off the high ceiling. The diminutive Dutch pastor and his tall buxom wife made a striking impression on the young girl. She could sit and listen to their amazing stories for hours without getting bored. Entering the church quietly she slipped behind a white pillar and sang along to the comical verses. The VanHerwaarden couple made it a practice to start all their services with children’s songs before launching into choruses and scripture in song. The girl loved it all, soaking in the peacefulness and the enthusiasm that accompanied each song, each story, each sacrament. At seven she was a serious and curious child. Eager to learn. Always paying attention, eavesdropping. Putting pieces together, sometimes accurately. The unlikely couple had a small congregation but their members were equally enthusiastic. Less than 100 regular attendees, this was a large church compared to their former congregations which consisted mostly of eskimo and inuit natives.

This Sunday was more special than most. Her dad had decided to get baptised and following the service everyone would reconvene at a small lake 10 miles outside of the small city. She had been baptised in the same lake after deciding to give her heart to Jesus at the age of 6. This was an anchor for her. A point of decision and commitment that she held onto her entire life. Her faith was integral to her existence. Now her father was making a similar decision and her heart was filled with joy at the significance of this day. Her parents were happy. Or so they seemed. Her dad sang with gusto this morning as he did most times, clapping and even crow hopping a little bit in time to the music. Her mother with hands raised, her long skirt swishing to the music sang with eyes closed. Soon it was time for Sunday School and the girl and her brother scampered off with their friends. The baby brother stayed with the parents.

“If I were a butterfly I’d thank the Lord that I could fly,” the children all made hand motions for the various critters that were glad to be created by God. The lesson was a simple story and as she tried to soak it in, all she could think about was the baptism and the picnic. Before she knew it, church was over and the adults began their ritual of incessant chatter. “Hey Lydia, let's play until it’s time to go.” The two girls created a world of make believe in the church basement that kept them happy and entertained while the parents talked and talked and talked. “It’s been so long, maybe we should check if they are ready to go yet.”

“Yeah it finally got quiet up there.”

The girls hurried up the stairs to find their families. “Hey, no one is in here,” called the curly headed girl. “Not in the foyer either,” replied Lydia. “They must be outside. Hurry.” As the girls rushed out the front door they saw that the street was devoid of cars. “Oh no.” The girl was worried now. “Let’s check out back.” As they circled the church it became apparent that they had been left behind. Lydia was 8 and Catherine was 7.

“I can’t miss my dad’s baptism!” thought Catherine and she repeated the thought out loud.

“I don’t know what to do," intoned Lydia, concerned but not hysterical.

“Well, I have to get there.” Catherine’s face was set with determination. “Let’s see if we can get a ride.”

“Ummm I don’t know about that,” Lydia was nervous.

“Common. Let’s go ask the old man that lives over there,” Catherine pointed to the house right next to the church. The house itself was in decent repair. Not new but not ancient. The vehicle in the driveway however was another story. Black with huge shiny hubcaps the car looked like it had seen better days. A lot of better days. The thought did cross Catherine’s mind that it might not even actually drive.

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Lydia reluctantly agreed. As the two girls cautiously approached the front door, Lydia reached up to knock. Their quiet tap was not answered. “Try again,” the younger girl urged. This time the door opened.

They had never paid much attention to this neighbor of the church before. Now as they looked up at him they wondered if he was as old as his car looked. “Hello,” started Catherine. “We go to this church and our families forgot us.”

“Ehhh, what’s that?’ he asked, cupping his ear slightly and leaning towards the girls.

She tried again, louder. “Our families forgot us at church today. They all left to go to Jim Smith Lake for a baptism. My dad is getting baptised and I really need to be there. Could you possibly drive us to the lake?”

“Right now?” he wondered.

She explained it all again. Including that it was “really important” because her dad was getting baptised. With no real consideration that they were putting themselves in a potentially dangerous situation, the girls hopped quickly into the back of the rusty vehicle when he agreed to drive them to the Lake. The girls held their breath when the car sputtered several times. Carefully and slowly the old man climbed back out of the car and opened the hood. The girls exchanged nervous glances while he fiddled with something and then dropped the lid with a bang making them both jump. Opening the driver’s door, he mumbled something about cars and the engine while sliding back under the steering wheel. This time the car started up with a sputter and a quiet bang. Catherine felt the reverberation under the seat, but the man quit mumbling and backed the car onto the quiet street. After expressing their thanks repeatedly, they rode mostly in silence as he guided the car out of town and then maneuvered around the bumps and pot holes on the dirt road that led to Jim Smith Lake. With no seat belts to secure them they were jostled to and fro bumping into each other more than once. Catherine stole a look at Lydia, who was glancing sideways back at her. They giggled nervously. This was an adventure and they both knew it. Neither was fully scared, but they did have the presence of mind to at least be a bit concerned.

Before long the car pulled to a stop at the entrance to the parking lot. “There ya go,” he told them matter of factly.

“Thank you so much,” both girls chorused, reaching for the handles of the doors.

“Thank you. Have a good day,” And they hopped out, each on their respective sides of the car and began racing toward the lake. When Catherine looked back over her shoulder and waved, she saw him carefully turning the car around and puttering back the way he had come.

The girls ran toward the lake searching for their families or really any familiar face at this point. “I hope we didn’t miss it!” Catherine thought repeatedly to herself.

“Look! There they are!” she pointed. Sure enough there was a big group of families that they knew. Some were enjoying the picnic lunches they had packed. Others were still getting set up. No one looked concerned and the girls realized that they had acted so quickly they hadn’t even been missed yet! Running up to her parents, Catherine said, “Hi.” Then she told them what had just happened. Her parents exchanged “Oh My Gosh!” glances. “We thought you rode with the VanHerWaardens.” her mom looked quite upset.

“And they must have thought you both rode with us!” that was her matter of fact dad. “Where is the man who drove you?”

“Oh he just dropped us off at the entrance and left.” That look again. Both parents hugged her. “I’m hungry. And I’m so glad I didn’t miss your baptism.” She hugged her dad extra tight and then her mom.

After sandwiches and potato salad, Renus Vanherwaarden, the pastor, led the way into the lake as everyone sang, “I have decided to follow Jesus. …. No turning back, no turning back.”

As her father was submerged in the same water where she had left her sins behind, she felt a gentle joy, coupled with a sense of knowing she had people she belonged with. Her family was not perfect and would never be, but they were on the same road together following the same God. “Hallelujah” cried her dad as he leapt out of the water. “No fishing,” he smiled, “when God forgives our sins we don’t have to dig them up anymore.”

Thank you for reading my true story! If you liked it, look for more of my stories! I would love for you to share it, like it and tips always make my day!