This past Sunday, Resurrection Sunday, Union Springs Baptist Church observed the Lord's Supper during the Worship. My mind goes back to that last supper when Jesus became a servant and washed the disciple's feet. True to who He was He humbled himself to the lowest of servants. It was a nasty job.
I'm reminded each time of being the one in my immediate family that had to empty the "slop jar" each morning. Some people would call the "slop jar" a chamber pot. Our slop jar was an empty gallon paint can. We couldn't afford an inside toilet nor a store-bought chamber pot. They did not have them in Jesus' day and the lowest of servants would empty the clay jars of human waste at the local dung gate or dump. I emptied our tin gallon bucket in the edge of the woods.
The slop jar resided in my brothers and my bedroom. Our sister had to do "Number Two" in it almost every night. I believe did it because I had to empty it. My brothers and I just went outside to pee and to the outhouse (toilet) when dad built one.
When Granny Hopper would stay with us, she always used the paint can slop jar. There was no modesty curtain and our ten-by-ten bedroom with the army cot which was my bed and my brothers' double bed filled one end of the room. A baby bed used for clean clothes that mama ironed was at the foot of my cot. Each corner beside the door opening (no door) were wires nailed loaded with clothes and coats.
I was ashamed carrying the slop jar especially when we had company. When there was company, I would place the tin bucket through my sister's bedroom window outside on the ground. I would carry and empty it. The edge of the yard was so beautiful green where I deposit my sister's number one and two.
My sister was like one the Buc-ee gas station’s rest rooms sayings, “We are number one at number two.”
Sunday marked the forty-first Easter since my dad died. As were observed Communion, I thought back to the Last Supper I had with dad. It was the Monday night after Easter, and we had convinced momma to take some time off. She had cared two years for dad who had a brain tumor. He was in his last hours. Momma had babied daddy and his nursed could not believe how healthy he was.
Momma had fixed daddy a wonderful meal with his favorite potatoes, green field peas, pepper sauce, corn, tomatoes, cornbread, and sweet tea. I wheeled dad to the supper table in his wheelchair. He was very feeble and could not speak. I prepared him a plate and began to feed him. Every time I watch Driving Miss Daisy, I weep. I think of feeding daddy what would be his last meal.
I would take a fork and point it to his food. If he wanted it, he would nod his head yes. If he did not want it, he would nod no. One time he nodded no to everything. I finally bumped the sweet tea glass, and he smiled and nodded yes. It is a precious moment in his and my being that I will forever cherish.
I feed him some cornbread, and he choked. I thought he was going to die, and I was alone with him. We had a great time not realizing it would be the last time we would communicate. During the night he slipped into a coma. Early Friday around four in the morning, daddy died. I would spend our last moments holding his hand. When he the nurse pronounced him dead, I shook his hand and said, "See you later pop."
Daddy had turned sixty on April 9, 1984. Easter Sunday was April 22, 1984, and I fed dad his last meal on the 23rd which is today's date for this article. He died on the 27th.
Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into his hand, and that He was come from God, and went to God; He riseth from supper, and laid aside his garment; and took a towel, and girded himself. After he pureth the water into a bason, and began to wash the disciples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded. John 13:3-5 KJV
"Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me." John 14:1 KJV
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