Prayer Meeting written by Charles Fletcher.
Every now and then you hear an older person say, “You should have seen or you should have had to do so-and-so or such-and-such in the good old days.” I grew up in what is sometimes referred to as the “good old days.” At times the good old days were not that good. The effects of the great depression had something to do with the way we did things everyday.
Not only was the workplace affected by the “hard luck times,” the way we worshiped and carried on our loyalty to our church and God had changed, too. A church and the leadership of an ordained minister weren’t always available. The building that we called the church was always there, but the minister had a family to feed and clothe and had to work, or he had other churches to pastor and had to schedule services so everyone would have a pastor at least once in a while.
However, the worship services never stopped. They were carried on by having what we called “Prayer Meeting.” The faithful of the church would gather at someone’s house at least once every week. There would be singing, reading from the Bible, praying, and lots of testifying and shouting. The church member’s house that was used changed with each meeting. Â
I was not a teenager at this time, but I had to attend most of the meetings with my Mom. She was a very religious person and she attended all of these meetings if she possibly could. And guess who was always with her? Me, the oldest child in our family. Mom could never get Dad to go with her. He always had an excuse and sometimes said, “Ellen, (Mom’s name), you have enough religion for the both of us.”
There was one house where the meetings were held that I liked to go to. This was the home of the lady who played the organ at Oak Grove Church where Mom went, usually taking me, my brother, and the two girls, my sisters. It was Aunt Molly Anderson’s house. The largest crowd would always be there. I guess it was because Aunt Molly had a pump organ, and there was more singing here than at the other places we met. She would pump and play that organ so loud that windows would rattle. Also, she had the loudest voice of all the singers. I loved to hear her play, but after a few meetings, I do believe that whatever the song was, the music always sounded the same. But she did make a “joyful noise.”
One prayer meeting that I will never forget was held at our house. We were living in a section of Canton that was called Mingus Cove. We had a fairly large house at the time. As was the case with a lot of the buildings in the mountains of Western North Carolina, it had a high side off the ground. After all, there were not many level places. Most houses were on hillside.
Well, the side of our house near the narrow dirt road was sitting on wooden posts about four feet off the ground. This was a common for a foundation. Some people used field stone instead of wood.
The night of the meeting Mom sent us to bed early so there would be more room for the adults attending the meeting. Soon there were about twelve people in the living room of our house. The meeting started after the usual handshakes and hugs. Someone was chosen to lead the singing. There was no musical instrument, and the singing was loud and way off-key.
There was a prayer, and then the testimonies started. This was when the shouting, “amens,” and arm waving began. Soon everyone was happy and “praising the Lord.” The house began to shake a little, and then, without warning, one corner of the house fell toward the ground. It dropped about three feet. The bedroom where we children were was on the corner that fell. Our beds moved from one wall to the lower side of the room. Out of the beds came four scared children.
We ran into the parlor with the prayer meeting crowd. Well now, times were hard, and very few people wore pajamas. All of the poor people slept in their underclothes. This was the way the prayer people saw us, in our underclothes. Most everyone was trying to get out of the house. One of the men hollered, “Let the women out first. Amen! Hallelujah!” I don’t think anyone saw the four children trying to get out of the house. It was everyone for himself. Everyone quickly got out of the house and went their separate ways home.
Mom stood staring at us kids. “I think it’ll be all right to go back to bed,” she said. “Your dad will be home soon, and he will take a look and see what happened.”
So, we got back into the beds that seemed like they were on their ends.
The next morning two of the men who were at the meeting when the house fell down came around. “We come over to help raise the house up,” they said. Dad had gone to work in the paper mill, so these two men were going to set things right.
After looking at the problem, they left. Soon they came back with a jack, a long wooden pole, and a short one with a fork on one end (where two limbs joined together). The short pole was the “heel.” The long pole was the lever for doing the lifting.
After several jackings and lifts with the poles, they had the house back on the corner post that it was sitting on before the prayer meeting. “I think that will hold it,” one of the men said. Mom thanked them, and they left.
There were many more prayer meetings after this one, but I do not remember having another one at our house.
I hope you enjoyed the story from Charles. He was a long time reader of Blind Pig and The Acorn and a dear friend.
Charles died in 2018. You can read more about him here.
Last night’s video: How to Make Apple Jelly from Apple Peelings and Cores.
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What a great story! We enjoy getting out and riding out of town in the country and many times I see old, abandoned homes and I wonder what life was like for those living there at the time and all the hard work the families did just to make it through another year. And I also grew up Baptist with three services a week and Wednesday was definitely prayer meeting. Randy mentioned the back pew, I had to laugh cause I’ve seen folks just about have a fit if someone came in visiting and got their spot, LOL. Then I think of myself, for most of my life it’s always the left side of the church, second row from the back. Have a great weekend everyone!!
These are great shares of past adventures which always seem more colorful than the present and I so enjoy reading them!
I also remember my Mother and others saying “new baby” or “new husband”. I always understood that the baby was newborn. “New husband” could be taken several ways, but usually meant they were newlyweds. I like Cheryl’s humorous take.
Randy, you should try sitting up front for a change- just sayin’.
The Holy Spirit comes in the back of the church like everybody else! The back pew (or bench as we called them) gets their dose first!
I prefer to sit in one or the other of the back corners. That way I can see everything that goes on. It’s some kind of phobia I guess.
I laughed so hard! Not funny of course, but I have an old house built on a steep slope. I pictured the mom cleaning the house, sweeping the porch and getting it presentable for the church people. Im sure she told the kids not to come out of their room. Then…boom…and they all scurried out. Of course the men came the next day to help their brother in Christ!
And yet another blog that brings back some of the best memories of my childhood….Thanks
Wow, I’ve heard some stories but that almost takes the cake. I remember my grandparents house that was built out at the old place was set on top of stacked rocks on four corners and in the middle, and as a child I always wondered why but never asked. Prayer meetings and revivals were very much a part of my parents’ lives as they grew up as it was with their parents. I learned the importance of “Faith” and being frugal from my parents and grandparents.
Tipper, I’ve been on vacation to Virginia Beach with some of my Sunday School Class sisters and our former Sunday School Teachers from Montana. We enjoyed God’s beautiful Ocean and Christian fellowship. Lots of laughter and good stories. Back at home now, I’m just starting to get caught up on reading your blog with my cup of coffee. I was happy to see Matt installing your new windows and then on the second video I was really worried about him standing using that ladder. I was afraid he was going to fall. Looking at the scaffolding next to it as he climbed down I was holding my breath. Was going to email you and tell him never to do that again:) Then he showed you how he had that scaffolding anchored to the house. I didn’t see that till he mentioned it. God is good all the time!
I grew up with parents and grandparents that had gone through the depression. I always enjoy Mr. Fletcher’s stories. We also had preachers at times that pastored two to four churches. Several times when I was a teenager the Methodist church and the Baptist church would share one preacher. We met in our respective buildings with the preacher driving the two miles after he preached at one church to the other.
I’ve also seen and been in many of those houses built on the side of a mountain or hill. Any semi level ground was saved for growing something to eat.
I’ve never seen or heard tell of Baptists and Methodists sharing a preacher. I’ve known them to share the same building which also served as a school. Maple Springs had separate buildings and separate preachers but shared a graveyard. I was told the only time they could get along was after they were dead.
I remember going to prayer meetings at homes, and having them hosted in our home when I was young.
There was an unmaried older lady in our Meeting that always saved the toys from her cereal boxes to give to me. I remember Miss Alma Lassiter fondly.
Dad, who was born in 1917 would often say when people begain to talk about “the good old days” that those days wern’t all that good! He said when he went into Smokemont CCC camp that was the first time in his life he had three meals every day and the best clothes he had ever had!
Tipper, one of your reader’s comments today mentioned “new husband.” It got me thinking about when I was a child & would hear “new husband” and “new baby.” I didn’t understand why folks said new, and would just envision an “old” baby looking wrinkled, gray headed & hunched over and that would make me laugh. As far as a “new” husband goes, as a child I could only conclude that either meant the man was young or the woman had many husbands before the new one. Haven’t heard “new” used in these terms in many years. Tipper, readers, do they still use that term in y’all’s areas?
I would have loved to have spent time with Charles Fletcher. I could sit for hours & listen to stories of old times. When I would visit Maggie Valley, I would sit on Hattie Caldwell Davis’ deck with a clear view of Ghost Town & listen to her stories of growing up in Cataloochee Valley before the government took over. I have many of her books. I remember one time when I had bad allergies, she gave me a teaspoon of Moonshine jelly. She said it would unstop my nose. And, it did & I told her I thought it had also burned all the hairs out of my nose, too. All of y’all have a blessed day!
Cheryl- I’ve heard both those! Love your thoughts about the old baby-made me smile!
We all still hear newlyweds. Well, “new” husband and “new” bride has the same meaning. Before the wedding the “husband” did not exist. He was a fiancĂ©e as was the bride. The future husband because newly husbanded. “New” is in reference to the relationship and the roles of the couple not their ages. The same applies to a “new” baby. If the “new” baby has older siblings then the one just before it loses its “new” status to the latest one. In a gathering the “new” baby doesn’t even have to be in the same family. The latest born in the group is the “new” baby. The “new” baby has to be passed around to everyone to hold or until it starts to smell or feel soggy at which time it is returned to the “new” mother for necessary repairs.
We often call the last child in the family the “baby” throughout their life. My youngest sister is 63 and a grandmother but she is still the baby of the family.
My earliest memory of a prayer meeting was us going to Mommy’s uncle Lon’s house. Uncle Lon lived down near the river opposite the mouth of Rattlesnake Creek. We lived at the head of Wiggins Creek. We could have gone around by Lauada and up Highway 28 to Brush Creek Road and down to Lon’s place. We could have gone up Needmore Road to Lost Bridge, back down 28 to Brush Creek and down to Lon’s house. Either way was a considerable distance but since Lon lived right across the river there was one other option. Cross by boat! In the Dark! In a flat bottomed river boat.
I don’t remember how we got there. I don’t remember how we got back home. All I remember is the ride across the river. I remember someone poling the boat. I remember a kerosene lantern sitting at the front of the boat. I remember our old dog “Pooch” swimming alongside. I remember, out past the faint glow from the lantern, a 360 degree wall of utter darkness. I was mortified, frozen with fear. I dared not move, not even to shiver!
That picture has been frozen in my mind to approaching 70 years now and will without a doubt remain. Not a pleasant reminder of “prayer meetings” but it is there, fixed in my psyche, forever. I have other, equally traumatic childhood memories of “prayer meetings” which I will perhaps recount later but for now I will shut up.
As recently as 1958-59 it was customary where I lived to gather at someone’s home to sing old hymns and gospel songs, usually unaccompanied. I was part of a couple of those “singings.” Heard some pretty good harmony at those evening meetings, at which everyone was welcome. “I’ll Fly Away.” “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” Just a Little Talk with Jesus.” “Where Could I Go?” “Precious Memories.” Precious memories, indeed!
Thanks for sharing Mr. Charles story, really enjoyed it.
What a great story! I like the idea of having “prayer meetings” in homes, such a sense of community that many of us long for today. I bet having the meetings in homes developed more memories than having them in the same building every week. The men coming back the next day to fix the house was such a nice gesture, not sure how often that would happen today since everyone these days is “stupid busy” as I often hear. Again, that is a perfect example of “community”. I look forward to reading more from Charles Fletcher. On a similar note as far as ministers having more than one church back then, there is a book by Richard C. Davids, “The Man Who Moved a Mountain” about Bob Childress, a minister who built and pastored six rock churches between 1919 and early 1950’s along the Blue Ridge Parkway and vicinity. Tipper, this sounds like the kind of book you would probably like if you haven’t already read it.
This is Charles at his best, and I miss the man and his tales of a different and arguably better time. It was certainly simpler.
As for frugality, it was a way of life that was standard for those who grew up during the Depression or, as was the case with my parents, had already reached adulthood. Mom and Dad never wasted anything, never threw anything away, and knew the undoubted virtues of that grand adage, “waste not, want not.” I fear we’ve pretty much lost that mindset in today’s world, although I must admit that every time someone suggests I’m a bit of a tightwad, I’m not offended. Instead, I take it as something of which I should be proud.
We need to get back to prayer meetings in our homes and churches. My husband has been a pastor for 47 years but it’s getting harder to get people to attend prayer meetings. Everybody wants to be prayed for but few want to pray ❤
I always enjoy everything that you have shared from Charles Fletcher. He seemed like a man that I could have spent hours visiting with, listening to all of his stories and wisdom on life. You have very amazing commenters, Tipper. Too many to mention here by name. Many long time readers, and many new readers. I love all their memories they share with us, and their opinions. Thank you to each and everyone for sharing bits and pieces from their lives! And thank you, Tipper, for this excellent blog that I am so grateful you gifted us with!
Donna. : )
Those were some good ole days, and I will never be convinced they were not. There weren’t all these inspectors making sure every little detail of your house was perfect, and no HOA’s to make life miserable. Fortunately, Dad was a carpenter, so everything was corrected right away. Not so much at Grandpa’s house, but we thought it to be paradise. The swing would sometimes swing all of us children right out onto the porch, and it had no insulation to keep out cold. We had this great little room where we gathered around a pot bellied stove eating potatoes we baked on top. It was like camping year around, but taught us material things were not necessary. Everybody went to church in the country, and the towns always had tent meetings. The preacher visited often. How can you improve on that? 🙂 It was perhaps a hard life for the grownups, but we children loved it.
I have heard a lot of older people that lived in the so called good old days say you can have them. We complain about the weather being so hot now while now our homes, cars, stores and the ones with inside are air conditioned . Think about having to cook on wood cookstoves, no inside plumbing or electricity, the men working the fields with mules or in the winter time when water would freeze in the buckets if not in a heated room. To me the greatest thing about these times was the closeness of the families and neighbors to one another. Like Rosemary’s comment about being frugal , we had the bare necessities but very little to none for our wants. My grandaddy would even save bent nails or old nails and straighten them out to reuse.
I am a back pew sitting southern Baptist and for all of my life we have had three weekly services, one on Sunday morning and Sunday night and then again on Wednesday night . The Wednesday night service was called prayer meeting. In times past the older men wore either new or their best overalls or clean khaki work pants . to the Wednesday night service. Along with the back pew, to us Baptist visitors are always welcome as long as they don’t sit on my pew!
Laughed at some of yesterday’s comments. To true southerners, there is only one mayonnaise and that is Dukes. Can’t have a sandwich with any other mayonnaise. I said this in fun to each his own.
That should be inside jobs. Sorry I missed this before I posted my comment.
That was such a good story of how things were with prayer meeting held in homes, just like they did in biblical times. I could just picture in my mind them kids run out to the living room in their undies scared and people running out of the house thinking the entire house would fall down. It didn’t surprise me some men came back to fix the house, that’s just the Godly thing to do. I figure it was the husband’s decision that no more prayer meeting or any kind of meetings would be held at their house after that happened. Cute story and sad that Charles is no longer on this earth, but thankful his memories are still enjoyed through the blessing of your post shared with us. Thank you!
I see a lot of old abandoned houses leaning or falling down like that. Now whenever I see one I’m gonna think it’s because they were having too big a prayer meeting.
That’s what you call God moving right there! Lol. I’m a Christian period. All the sects and titles we have brings me down, man. I think church is a small group of believers studying and reading and sharing the WORD. The mega churches really turn me off because they’re catering to paying club members… smh. Ever try to tell the truth to a club? Lol But that’s my belief. Each is free to do his/ her own thinking and reasoning.
Charles was definitely a good storyteller. I bought every one of the books he wrote and published when he was in his 80s. He almost always added a little bit of humor to his stories, however, I could not find anything funny about little kids sliding across the floor in their beds. Charles probably thought that showing up in his underwear was funny in a time when modesty had a different meaning than it does today.
God doesn’t change …He tells us so in Malachi 3.6. He knows the end before the beginning, too!!
Was happy that the brethren were able to set the house to rights.
For a few years we had singings in houses of church members when I was growing up. I don’t think they were set up to be a full-fledged prayer meeting but sometimes turned out that way. My first memory of my wife is of her at a house meeting at their house. I thought she was a spoiled child. She fell down and I got the blame. But the house didn’t fall. Quite a bit later you could say I fell for her. As my Dad would say, “There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then.”
That story of the house falling reminds me of some pranky boys I knew of – old men when I knew them. They were all the time up to something (and never outgrew it). Their Dad had a couple that lived on the place and worked for him. They were awful east to get scared and were very supersitious. One of them mean boys came up with the idea of setting up their little house to fall down in the night. They did it by jacking the house up and putting a big spike between the sill log and the ground. They ganged up behind the house in the dark and waited for them to go to bed and get settled. Then they knocked the spike out.
That story didn’t end well. That couple got up, got out, hitched up the wagon, went and told their Dad they was leaving right then. And they did. Those boys were too scared to ever make any explanation of what that couple described had happened at their place. Had they lived anywhere around Charle’s’ Mom.and Dad there might have been a ready explanation for the house falling.
I live in a very old house & reside next to it’s ‘sister’ house. The ‘sister house’, was built 1st by a revolutionary soldier from Connecticut who mustered out of FT. Stanwix (near me). My house was built a bit later for his daughter & her new husband. Then my relatives from Ireland bought both properties & in 1898 they added a big, Italianate front on. But they added it on offset a bit, to the original structure. Being no building codes at the time, they just studded it out with rough cut & no standard measurement to how the studs were spaced out. There is a stiff wind ALL the time that hits this front of the house. When I was a small child living here, wind storms caused consternation. The front part of the house would actually SWAY in the wind & that was where the bedrooms were. My great uncle, who grew up in this house, used to tell how the house was so drafty that they curtains would billow all the while, just like you left the windows open. Then there was the problem of powder post beetles. (do you all have them?) They ate through the main supporting beams that held the floor up. You could poke a jackknife all the way in to them. We never dared let a crowd gather in one room at a time, for fear the floor would go in. We had a neighbor who weighed about 500lbs & my mother would politely stop him at the back kitchen door to answer his call. She feared letting him in. Hopefully, he never knew why he wasn’t invited in – she wasn’t trying to be cruel, but we couldn’t be living in the basement! My husband & I have completely renovated this poor, neglected home & all the extended family can’t believe the difference. I don’t worry about the floor going in & we regularly have 30+ folks for Thanksgiving Dinner. I prefer old houses, but sometimes they go off their foundations, as Charles so colorfully told. Loved this story!
Loved your share. I can see the old houses and the new improvements too! Quite a tale and interesting too so thanks, Ms. Patty!
Wonderful story of real life, stuff happens! Clean it up as best you can and go on to the next crisis. Life in the mountains.
Wow, what a story from Charles! That had to be awfully scary for a child.
The effect of the depression carried on in families long after it was over. My grandma came to the US from Portugal in 1936 with my mom and her sister (grandpa was already here). I was born in the 60’s but my parents were born in 1930 and 1936. We didn’t grow up poor – both my parents had good jobs and grandma lived with the family to take care of us kids.
I’m still frugal in 2022 and have a hard time throwing things away – I was taught to re-use and recycle at home before it was even popular. People had to do that even more so during the depression. It affected their lives and their childrens’ lives.
I just thought I’d share that. I’m surprised that being frugal has gone out of fashion. You’re younger than I am but must have stories dealing with being frugal because of depression era parents or grandparents – or just because you had to be.
My parents were products of the depression, and I have been frugal all my life. I don’t know any other way.