I Was Stalked When I Was Twelve
I met him in church while Dad was preaching
Growing up a preacher’s kid means there is more than the usual pressure to behave, especially in public. If you add being a missionary kid, on top of that, there are extra demands as we manage cross-cultural expectations, language barriers, and taboos.
For a while, Dad was an itinerate preacher. One fateful Sunday, our family decided to go with him to a small church in the boondocks of Brazil. Why we were going with him, and the reasons he was preaching at such an out-of-the-way place is another story.
As I reflect on the events of all those years ago, I am struck anew how even good, decent people can get caught up in a certain agenda and forget what matters most. Me too.
The church service
Sitting on a hard pew next to my older sister, I had long ago learned that it was important to be on my best behavior during church. Mom and my younger sister were in the back, hoping to catch an errant breeze in the sweltering tropics.
Everyone there knew who we were because we were the only white-skinned and fair-haired kids within miles. We knew the drill — keep quiet and don’t draw attention away from Dad by any shenanigans.
