Childhood Memories Friday: Who Sat on the Baby?

childhoodmemoriessummerHow do you like the springy new Childhood Memories Friday header?  Thanks to my daughter for creating it!

Today, a church memory.  Our family spent a lot of time at church.  We went on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday evenings.  I’m not sure if it’s because we now go to a basically non-denominational church or if the times have just changed, but I don’t seem to see many churches even HAVING all those services anymore.  I enjoyed my childhood church experiences, and wouldn’t for anything trade all the verses I learned as a child in Sunday School, Bible School, Wednesday Night Class, you name it …

A few times a year, our church would hold revival services.  Revivals involved a special guest team coming in and holding services each weeknight.  Often, there would be a team from Hardin-Simmons, which I see from Googling is still around.  It was always exciting to see a photo of the team in the church bulletin, learning who would lead music, who would preach, who would lead the kids, etc.

Anyway, one night we were at revival services.  I was probably about 6.  My younger sister had brought along her doll, Plumpy.  Plumpy was a plastic doll who looked a bit like a female Buddha.  She was fat and round, with her hands over her large stomach.  When you squeezed Plumpy, she would loudly squeal.

The revival preacher announced prayer time, and I suppose I had been standing in the pew area, because my dad told me to sit down.  I did – right on top of Plumpy!  She let out an ear-splitting squeal, right in the middle of the prayer.  I almost died!  My mom looked over sternly from her spot on the piano bench, and my dad quickly pulled me down by the arm.

After the prayer, the preacher looked up and asked with a smile, “Who sat on the baby?”

Memory is a child walking along a seashore.  You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things. ~Pierce Harris


8 thoughts on “Childhood Memories Friday: Who Sat on the Baby?

  1. What a hoot!!!!

    Our church still has church on Sunday morning, Sunday night and on Wednesday’s night. 🙂

    You are very blessed to have been raised in church. I wasn’t…I was a teenager before I even heard the name of Jesus. What I mean is, I knew Jesus was God’s Son, but that was it. God was talked about, but not His Son.

  2. Oh, that is so funny! My sister’s and I still laugh about whose stomach rumbled loudly during the service….or who got the giggles and couldn’t stop. Our church still has all those services each week!

  3. I remember Plumpy’s wail too well. It was prior to me being pianist so it was before 1974. I do not think the pastor was from Hardin Simmons, but it was a Revival Service. I sang in the choir and apparently we filed down and sat as a group in the center section, but I certainly was near enough to hear Plumpy!
    Ironically yesterday when Ellen & I toured Gilley’s Antiques at Plainfield, we saw two Plumpys – one pink – one blue!

  4. Susan,
    Had to check your blog and read your latest Jon and Kate Plus Eight review; I just wanted to say I got a kick out of your doll crying in church story. It brought back some early church memories I had as well.

    As a toddler, My youngest brother carried a rubber baby doll around with him everywhere he went (including church). He even teethed on its feet while an infant. It irritated my dad because, “Boys aren’t supposed to play with dolls!” My mom didn’t care. Her attitude was if it makes him happy, just leave him alone and eventually he’ll outgrow the need for it. So “BayBay” was wrapped in a little blue “blankee” and accompanied my baby brother everywhere he went. This went on until he was over 2 years old.

    I don’t recall this little baby doll making any noise, just the sound of my baby brother shrieking and crying bloody murder in church whenever he dropped his “BayBay.” Then there was the time one of my other three brothers mischievously took it away from him during a church wedding ceremony we were attending. Boy, was he in trouble for making the real baby cry!

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