...this one from Tommy Antonelli, writing about my father (Stuart) and his time with my grandparents (Bessie and Chance) when he was invited to speak at Oakland Baptist Church. He writes as a good Baptist, so let the reader be aware of that fact. Special thanks to my Uncle Edgar Weedon for sharing this with me a couple years back.
Oakland Baptist Church
Richardsville, VA
162nd Homecoming
June 5, 2005
Dear Pastor Ayers, Deacons, members, and friends:
Thank you for inviting me to speak at this 162nd Homecoming.
It is with humility and joy that I tell you of a little tyke not quite six years of age, who walked off a bus in downtown Fredericksburg in June, 1941. Upon getting off that bus with his mother, an older woman of 55 and her husband 62 greeted me. You see, I was a latch-key kid who wouldn't have any supervision during the summer months. My mother had known Marie Cooke's father, Stuart, in Washington. Stuart asked his parents if they would take care of me during the summer months. Mr. Chancellor Barber and Mrs. Bessie Maupin Weedon agreed to take a little kid that they have never seen, talked to, or communicated with into their home. When I got off the bus in Fredericksburt, I saw Mrs. Bessie Weedon in her best dress with her usual metal rimmed glasses and she welcomed me into her arms. Mr. Chancellor Weedon was dressed in his khaki work pants, his customary blue work shirt and straw hat. He welcomed me and smiled. My mother and I got into the cab of the Ford truck along with Mr. and Mrs. Weedon. By the way, I asked them how I should address them. Ma and Pa stuck in my mind and those names have been used every since.
Days on the farm were wonderful. Ma would fix me breakfast of turkey eggs, home-made biscuits and jam. As I got older, I helped with the milking, worked in the garden, helped with the hens and the cleaning of the hen house, learned to work in the fields, and in general, assist in farm activities. Days were hot and busy, but filled with work, joy, and love. I was finally accepted by someone for who I was and not because I was a responsibility.
Who was that boy that was loved by the Weedons? I was a lost soul, lonely, wasn't able to communicate with those that I knew in the city. I knew that I had a place on the run. I knew how to be responsible and that I would be held accountable in a loving, deserving way. I was spoiled with kindness that I had not imagined or expected: simple things, caring things like home-cooked meals, acceptance, and an atmosphere of hard work and love for our Savior.
Every Sunday, Ma, Pa, and I got ready for church. A Saturday night bath in the large wash tub was a must. If the run wasn't up, we would travel the dirt road from the farm to the main road leading to Richardsville Methodist Church, where hymns were sung and God's Word was preached. Services were only held every other Sunday. We went to Oakland Baptist on odd Sundays. It was not forced on me, but rather a way of life that taught me to respect my God, myself, and others around me.
Some Sundays, maybe one or two a summer, Pa, Ma, and I would go to Remington or Summerduck to attend an all day meeting with other Primitive Baptists. Ma and Pa never wore their religion on their sleeves, but rather practiced it in their daily lives. Pa didn't say much; however when a comment was made regarding his faith, he set that person straight with a kind word. Ma sang in the choir, and Pa and I would sit together singing and listening to the sermon. After the service, we would go home to have dinner.
Homecoming Sunday, the second Sunday in August, at Richardsville Methodist Church was always welcomed as we had a big service with dinner on the church grounds. The following Monday through Friday found us at the Revival Meetings. If I remember correctly, the children had Bible School prior to the revival service. Ma and Pa always had the visiting minister along with the circuit minister over for dinner. Dinner was a big event. The house would be readied; food was prepared several days in advance. The chicken was slaughtered that day and prepared for dinner. Dinner was served around twelve noon consisting of fresh vegetables, hot corn bread, sweet tea, and pie.
I would be skipping many families and individuals who were kind to me if their names weren't mentioned: the Halls, Hardings, Mastins, Martins, Walkers, Aunt Hattie, Uncle Isaac, Uncle Ashby, Olive Story, Ralph, and above all Stuart Maupin and Edgar Jackson, the Weedon sons who went off to WWII. I was remembered by the Weedon family as a third son - a blessing and a joy.
What was Mr. and Mrs. Weedon's legacy? Does the legacy end? Is there joy in remembering? Is there sadness is one's passing?
To answer the first question:
We are to love and respect a compassionate, soul-saving God, who loves us so much that He sent His only begotten Son to die on Calvary's cross. Rom 5:8-10
We are to accept love and in return love and respect another. 1 Cor. 13:4-7, 13; Rom 12:10; 1 John 4:7
We are to honor our mother and father. Exodus 20:12
We are to enjoy our day and work to our capacity. Psalm 18:24; Deut. 5:13-14
We are to be honest with ourselves and with one another. Proverbs 20:7
Love comes from God and not from material goods. 1 John 4:16
Will the Weedon's legacy end? Never. We were created for a purpose: to love and serve Him, who died for us. Psalm 138:8
Is there joy in remembering? There is joy in remembering positive, godly, true, and sincere situations in our lives. This is what keeps us young, alive, and full of spirit.
Is there sadness in one's passing? Yes, [even though] the physical body is no longer here, there is joy and celebration in knowing that the person is in heaven and we will see that person again - anyone who has accepted Jesus as their Lord and Savior.
Again, I thank you for your invitation to speak. Remember: Jesus loves you and died for you.
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