Stella -Angel Of Muscoda

 Attending a deacon ordination in Muscoda Baptist Church near Bessemer, Alabama I watched a senior adult lady enter the auditorium. Dressed in an evening gown she was stunning and I thought overdressed but it was a sacred moment for the church.

She was singing for the ordination. As she slowly approached the pulpit I could tell she was older than I thought. Curiosity flooded my mind. I was baffled wondering how this elderly lady would perform.

When she started her performance I sat in total shock at how wonderful this nice lady could sing. She sounded like country music legends Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline. The voices of most people her would be crackled and not vibrant or clear. This lady was amazingly serenading as an angel. Her smile, her hair, and gown glowed mesmerizing the audience.

I left the service proud of the man ordinated He was a friend and former church member of mine. I left that night astonished at the voice and vitality of a senior adult lady. Most people her age cease to serve. She was a wonderful testimony how the LORD uses His people.

Several years passed and I was invited to speak at a ladies' luncheon. I had worker years earlier with some of the women and they heard that I was preaching and they wanted me to encourage their group. It was a good reunion.

One of the women had invited a friend, Stella Hill, to sing. The lady began to sing, and I realized that I had heard her before. When she and I finished the program I said, “I think we have met before. Did I heard you sing at a deacon ordination at Muscoda Baptist Church in Bessemer several years ago?” She said, “One in the same.” We reminisced for a while. She was wonderful. I asked for her telephone number.

Chilton Baptist Association in Clanton, Alabama hosts a Senior Adult Reunion each year. My sister-in-law Kim was the director of the Associational Senior Adults. Since I was serving in another association, she invited me to return home to preach for the annual event. I asked her who she had invited to do the special music. Still in the planning stage, she said she hadn’t secured anyone. I coerced her to invite Stella. I told Kim she would be perfect for the senior adults. Kim did.

I will never forget the morning of the Senior Adult event. It was good to be back home, and the buzz of excitement was electric. When Stella arrived Kim said, “Bobby Hopper what you got me into?” I smiled and said, “Just wait.”

Kim did a magnificent job with the event. A church full of three hundred plus senior adults singing the old gospel favorites was a blessing. As I write I have fond memories of that day and I am sadden that most in attendance that day are now with the Lord.

When it came time for the special music, Kim had me introduce Stella. I smiled, almost giggling, because I could sense the anxiety of Kim and see the uncertainty of the crowd as Stella stood beside me. I stepped aside and let the angel from Muscoda sing.

The look of unbelief spread through the crowd like an old brush arbor revival as Stella sang. When she sang How Great Thou Art she received a standing ovation. Preaching after her rendition was a joy and honor. Going to the dinner senior adults showered Stella with praise and hugs. Kim looked and me and said, “You were right Stella was amazing.”

While we were eating, a young choir director stopped to share with Stella how beautifully she sang How Great Thou Art. He commented that he had never heard the second verse she sang. Stella said, “I forgot the verse and made it up as I sang.” Everyone laughed. She was amazing.

When I was called to be Director of Missions for Bethel Baptist Association in Linden, Alabama I wanted to have Stella come sing at the Bethel Senior Adult banquet. I called her and she was wonderful as always. She was not able to help me, but she did sing for me and associational secretary Pam Gibbs viva the telephone. That would be the last time we would talk. Stella passed away March 7, 2020, at age 94. I thank God for placing Stella in my life.

Marlon Vines writes in her obituary, “What a wonderful Angel that is now singing in Heaven's Choir. I wonder if she's telling Gabriel what key to play it in? She brought much JOY into our lives with her beautiful singing & quick wit.”

I agree!

In the world today there are those that cannot wait for the older generation to be gone. There is wisdom of the aged if younger generations will listen.

 With the ancient is wisdom; and in length of days understanding. Job 12:12

They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing; Psalm 92:14 KJV

"Picking and Grinning"

As I heard the unique sound coming from the steel guitar one Sunday night at a church, memories of Sunday evenings raced through my mind.  During the summer, my family gathered at momma’s for supper and after that some pickin’ and grinnin’.

Momma and my two brothers played guitars.  No, I cannot play guitar or any other musical instrument, but I learned to grin. My sister and I inherited our musical talents of playing from dad who could not play the radio without getting static. 

In fact, in Mrs. Gentry’s fourth-grade rhythm band class I played the triangles.  The triangles looked like a dinner bell.  My part was to hit the triangles, usually twice, during songs the class played.  Notice I said hit, not play the triangles.  Momma tried to raise me right, that is playing the guitar, but she said I did not have rhythm.  You cannot get much rhythm hitting the triangles twice in a fourth grade rhythm band.

At any rate, we gathered every Sunday evening after church to play and sing.  We sang anything we could remember such as church hymns, country/western songs, rock and roll tunes, and folk songs.  There were songs like the Kingsmen Trio’s Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley, Hank Williams’ I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder, and many more.  We actually knew more church songs than other songs.  We even made up a few songs.  My wife Lisa says I still do that when singing hymns at our churches.  I always comment, “They rhyme don’t they?”

We loved to sing together.  The choir director at my home church had my brothers and me learn several songs to sing for the congregation.  My brothers never played their guitars.  We sang either acapella (without music) or sang with what they called canned music. 

My home church considered this canned music as from the devil.  No, we did not make it devilish.  My home church considered anything other than the piano and the organ as evil.  One time a visiting youth group was going to play a trumpet.  The deacons said, “You’re not going to play that horn here.”  The son of one of the deacon’s said, “I wonder what they (the deacons) are going to do when the Trumpet of Lord sounds?”  The deacon consulted with the pastor and decided to let them play the trumpets.

I guess most of our church thought that we were paying the devils his dues by playing the guitars on Sunday evenings.  Momma, like each of us, was a sinner, a saved sinner.  Momma played anything she picked up.  She would play the harmonica, the juice harp, the saxophone, the piano, and the organ.  One time she took a comb, wrapped it with wax paper, and blew the teeth of the comb like a harmonica.

One time daddy traded a steel guitar for a banjo.  Momma played it too.  Not having a steel guitar to play Hank Williams’s heartache songs, momma would take a regular guitar, lay it flat, and use a pocketknife to slide on the strings.  It did not have the exact sound of the steel guitar, but it did the job and she sang she was so lonesome she could cry as she slid the pocketknife up and down the strings.

The only audience we had was dad and ourselves.  That is what we thought.  One Sunday evening we stopped playing after singing several songs.  Down in the holler below us, we lived on the hill, our aunts, uncles, and cousins hollered back, “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”  We had no idea our kin was listening to Mars Hill’s version of American Idol.

Momma often reminded us that we could not afford many luxuries, but we could sing about how good God is.  When momma felt depressed, she would start singing and playing church songs.  We sang with momma until death, time, and different directions separated us.  As I listened to the steel guitar, that night I felt a yearning for home as did the Hebrews did when they were carried away into captivity.

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.  We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.  For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, sing us one of the songs of Zion.  How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land? (Psalm 137:1-4 KJV)