“Grandpa, do you remember the black place on the pole?”
“It's black from top to bottom,” Daddy said.
“No, he's right,” Grandpa said. “There is a darker spot about twenty-five feet up on the side facing away from the house.”
“Am I getting close to it?” Jimmy asked.
“No,” Grandpa shook his head. “It's eight feet or more from the highest white mark.”
Grandpa snapped the training rope to a harness that wrapped around Jimmy's chest. Since installing the safety lines, there had been several instances in which Jimmy became unstable and Daddy had to pull the rope tight to help him regain his position. Before he dug his right hook into the pole, Jimmy turned toward Grandpa.
“If I climb all the way to the black spot, will you go to church with Grandma on Sunday?”
Grandpa chuckled. “Christmas will be here in a few weeks, and I'll be there for the Christmas Eve service.”
“But I want you to come
this
Sunday.”
Grandpa tilted his head to the side.
“Why?”
Jimmy pointed to the line of trees at the rear of the lot. “A Watcher sitting in the tree with the squirrel's nest in it told me to ask you.”
Grandpa looked at Daddy, who shrugged his shoulders.
“What do you do when he says something like that?” Grandpa asked.
“It doesn't happen very often, but I send him to his mother. Wherever the thoughts come from or what he sees, it's real to him.”
Grandpa grunted. “What if a Watcher told him that you should buy him a bike?”
“Could I get a bike for Christmas?” Jimmy asked. “Max showed me a picture of a good one.”
“Climb the pole,” Grandpa said. “If you reach the black spot, I'll be in church on Sunday. In trying to reach your goal, don't forget to climb the right way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jimmy dug his right hook into the pole and leaned back against the belt. He moved steadily up. Jimmy kept his feet positioned in front of him, resisting any urge to let them creep to the side of the pole. Within a few minutes, he reached his previous best height.
“That's record time,” Grandpa said. “If you have the strength, you can go higher. How do you feel?”
“Good.”
“Can you still see your Watcher friend?”
Jimmy turned his head toward the line of trees. “No, sir. He's gone.”
He continued climbing. He looked down at Grandpa and Daddy. They had their heads tilted back watching him and seemed smaller than he could ever remember.
“You're little,” he started up, then his left hook slipped loose. He swung to the side and heard the sound of the safety rope shooting through the pulleys. He leaned back against the safety belt and came to a stop. He looked down. Daddy had stepped away from the pole and was pulling on the rope.
“I'm okay,” Jimmy said, digging his left hook into the pole. “Can you see how much higher I have to go?”
“Not from where I'm standing,” Grandpa replied. “Do you want to come down?”
“No, sir. I want you to go to church on Sunday.”
Jimmy moved farther up the pole. He'd positioned himself on the proper side so that the dark spot would be in line with his climb. He dug his hooks into the wood several more times. Looking up, he saw the blacker area of the pole.
“I'm almost there!” he cried out.
In a few more digs, he came up to eye level with his goal. A double dose of creosote had created the dark stain. He took his can of white paint from his utility belt and shook it. The metal ball in the can rattled back and forth.
“That's enough,” Grandpa said. “Mark the spot and come down.”
Jimmy looked at the arrow on top of the spray button. Twice he'd gotten a face-full of paint when he didn't point the can in the right direction. Aiming the can at the pole, he released a quick burst of white. He returned the can to his belt and descended. Closer to the ground, Grandpa reached up and put his hand against Jimmy's lower back. Jimmy came down until there was only a foot of pole showing above the grass, then hopped to the ground. Grandpa patted him on the shoulder. There was a big smile on the old man's face.
“Jimmy, that was unbelievable. You looked as good as the men who worked with me at the power company.”
“I'm glad I got to watch you today,” Daddy added simply.
After returning the gear to the toolshed, they went into the house to get a drink of water.
“I'll drive you home today,” Daddy said to Jimmy. Turning to Grandpa, he added, “And I'll see you tomorrow morning with a suit and tie on.”
When they arrived home, Daddy quickly changed clothes and left for the golf course. Sitting at the kitchen table, Jimmy told Mama about seeing the Watcher and Grandpa coming to church. She shook her head in disbelief.
“I never imagined God could use that pole for his glory,” she said.
“What?”
“You did a good thing,” she reassured him. “Now we need to pray that God will speak to Grandpa during the church service. He's not getting any younger and needs to get saved while he still has a chance. It would make your grandma so happy if he trusted in Jesus.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he replied.
S
UNDAY ARRIVED, AND
J
IMMY WAS MORE EXCITED THAN USUAL
about going to church. Mama let him wear his University of Georgia tie. Driving to church, he bounced up and down in his seat until Mama told him to fasten his seat belt.
“What will it be like for Grandpa to get saved?” he asked.
“Don't get your hopes up too high,” Daddy answered. “He went to church when he was a boy, and he's had plenty of chances to walk the aisle. I don't want you to be disappointed.”
“But you should pray,” Mama added. “Just like anyone else in the congregation, your grandpa will have a chance at the end of the preaching to go forward and give his life to Jesus.”
“Will Brother Fitzgerald pray for him?”
“Or one of the deacons helping in the service,” Mama replied.
“I hope it's not Jesse Langston,” Daddy said. “I wouldn't trust him to give me directions to the bathroom, much less point me toward heaven.”
“Lee, don't say that,” Mama said. “I know you're not serious, but it sends the wrong message to Jimmy.”
“Can you make sure Grandpa gets to talk to Brother Fitzgerald?” Jimmy asked anxiously.
“It will work out fine,” Mama said. “Don't worry.”
With the start of another school year, Jimmy's Sunday school class had moved to a new room and new teacher. Mrs. Goodwin was a nice lady with no interest in Studebaker automobiles. She never strayed far from the curriculum sent from Nashville and only allowed prayer requests at the end of the class time. Jimmy thought about Grandpa while she read the lesson. He sat between Max and Denise, who passed notes back and forth to each other behind his back. At the end of class, Mrs. Goodwin looked at her watch.
“We have a couple of minutes for prayer requests,” she announced.
Jimmy immediately thrust his hand in the air. Before Mrs. Goodwin could call on him, he blurted out, “Please pray for my grandpa! He coming to church because I did a good job climbing the pole.”
The teacher gave him a puzzled look.
“Jimmy's grandpa used to work for the power company,” Max explained. “He's teaching Jimmy how to climb a pole using those boots that have hooks on them.”
“The hooks aren't on the boots,” Jimmy corrected. “There is a thing that goes around my legâ”
“That's enough,” Mrs. Goodwin interrupted. “Does anyone have another prayer request?”
Several sick relatives and an ailing rabbit made the list. When Mrs. Goodwin prayed, she forgot to mention Grandpa, then dismissed the class. Max continued talking to Denise as they walked out of the room at a slow pace. Jimmy sped past them so he could wait for Mama and Daddy at the doorway to their class. He grabbed Mama's hand.
“Let's go!” he said. “I want to see Grandpa.”
Mama smiled and let him drag her along. They stepped outside onto the sidewalk connecting the educational wing with the sanctuary. Jimmy peered up and down the throng of people but didn't see Grandpa.
“Where is he?” he asked.
“He might not be feeling well and stayed home,” Daddy suggested. “He's been having more chest pains recently.”
“No! He promised,” Jimmy said.
They wound their way through the crowd and up the broad steps to the sanctuary.
“Maybe they're already inside and sitting in our pew,” Mama said.
Still holding Mama's hand, Jimmy entered the sanctuary and anxiously looked toward their pew. A man and a woman with gray hair were sitting beside each other in the center of the pew.
“He's here!” Jimmy exclaimed in a loud voice that caused several people to turn around and stare.
Releasing Mama's hand, he ran down the aisle. He slid into the pew and greeted Grandpa with a quick hug and smile.
“Good morning, Grandpa!” he said.
Grandma touched her index finger to her lips. “You don't have to yell.”
Grandpa held out his arms, and Jimmy scooted next to him as close as when he was a little boy and Grandpa read a book to him.
“Thanks for coming,” Jimmy said in a softer voice.
Grandpa smiled. “A promise is a promise.”
Daddy and Mama joined them. Mama sat on the other side of Jimmy, who happily watched familiar faces enter the
room and take their accustomed seats. The choir entered, followed by Brother Fitzgerald, who strode to the platform and sat in a big chair with a high back and large arms.
“Don't let me bother you,” Jimmy whispered to Grandpa. “I want you to listen to Brother Fitzgerald.”
“You're not bothering me,” Grandpa replied. “I promise to pay attention if you do too.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jimmy had never concentrated so intently on a worship service. He followed along with the hymns and listened to the prayers in hope that his actions could somehow pull Grandpa into the flow of the meeting. When Brother Fitzgerald stood and read the Scripture passage for the day, Jimmy slowed his breathing to focus on the words that so often proved difficult for him to understand.
In his best preacher's voice, Brother Fitzgerald proclaimed, “Our Scripture today is found in John 3:16.”
“I know what that says,” he whispered to Grandpa.
“Me too.”
Jimmy glanced sideways in surprise. He wanted to ask Grandpa a question, but the preacher's voice stopped him.
“âFor God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.'”
The preacher shut the Bible and let his eyes roam across the congregation. Jimmy felt the minister's gaze pause for a second when he reached the people sitting on the Mitchell family pew.
“Many of you have known the familiar words in this verse since before you could read,” the preacher continued. “But knowing the words is not the same as believing the good news they proclaim.”
For the next few minutes, Brother Fitzgerald spoke in a conversational tone so different from his usual preaching style that the sanctuary felt eerily quiet. When he began to warm to the task and his words began to roll like distant thunder, Jimmy sat mesmerized, his eyes fixed on the minister and his attention drawn into the message, not the preacher's method of delivery.
“In conclusion, I want to share my own journey to the wells of salvation.” The preacher once again spoke in a normal tone of voice. “Picture a cool, north Georgia evening in the fall of the year after the corn and the soybeans have been harvested. My favorite uncle took me to a revival meeting beneath a brown tent on the outskirts of Dawsonville. It was a Thursday night, and there weren't many people. My uncle marched down a sawdust aisle to the front row. We sat so close to the platform that I thought the preacher was going to jump into my lap. I'd been to church a few times in my life, but I'd never heard anything like this.”
The preacher paused. “The speaker was an auto mechanic who sold his business and bought a tent so he could tell people about Jesus. As a thirteen-year-old boy, I heard a similar message to the one I've preached today. The call of God came to my soul, and the Son of God came into my heart. I've been preaching the gospel for over twenty-five years, and that revival preacher whose name I've forgotten has a stake in every soul I've led to Jesus. Whether you're thirteen or seventy-three, today can be your day of salvation. Don't ignore the inner witness of the Holy Spirit calling you to give your life to Jesus. Obey God! Come forward and find mercy and grace for your time of need.”
Jimmy licked his lips. His heart was pounding, and he felt shaky on the inside. He'd heard about salvation his entire life, and belief in Jesus had never been a problem for him. But the preacher's message caused new thoughts and emotions to swirl in his head. He felt an ache, a longing for something he didn't have but wanted with all his heart.
Jimmy had never been encouraged to respond to an altar call. The important people in his life assumed his low IQ qualified him for a free pass into heaven. But at that moment, the theology of salvation for those with borderline intellectual ability didn't apply to Jimmy Mitchell. The call of God came to his soul. Brother Fitzgerald prayed; Jimmy closed his eyes. The choir started to sing softly. Jimmy leaned over to Mama.
“I want to go up front,” he said.
“Why?” Mama asked in surprise.
“To get saved.”
Mama leaned over and whispered in his ear. “You're already saved. Pray for your grandpa.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Jimmy peeked sideways at Grandpa, who sat with his eyes closed. Jimmy tried to get his mind off himself and think about Grandpa, but his own uneasiness didn't lift. He tapped Mama on the arm.