Dear Cousin Fred,
Attendance in church last Sunday was my mighty porely. I don’t reckon I oughta grumble cause I had a bunch of sick members and when ya add to all that my shutins we don’t have a site of pew fillers. So I went ahead and preached to what I had. Only thing was the echo in tha near empty church hurt my ears. My Mama said I needed to get out and ride awhile and let the fresh air clear my head. It done tha trick. Our little ride not only cleared my head, it made me feel right good inside. What I saw made me rejoice. I saw miracle after miracle.
Ole Hezedia who had been deathly sick that very morning had roused up and was riding down tha highway with his fishing poles. No, Nuthin but a miracle could have rescued Ole Hez from the jaws of death in such a short time.
Now thar’s Rufe’s ’s brother. Rufe told me Sunday morning that his brother’s back was in fowl shape, that they waz afraud a operation was gonna be necessary. Well, we remembered him in our prayers and lo and behold at 2 o’clock thar he stood at tha driving range hitting golf balls. If that wasn’t a quick recovery, I don’t know what is.
All told, about 20 of my sick folks had roused up and waz taking nourishment in one form or that nuther. But what really made me happy was ta see six or so many of my shutins out riding around and enjoyin tha world.
Hezakiahis paw, who don’t attend church cause he can’t stand crowds, was headed for tha drag races. Sister Nell;s mama who was too weak ta get outta the house, waz in town shoppin. Ellie Nickel’s singer’s sister, who can’t come countta her kidneys, stood in line two hours to get into tha show. It waz a show bout “Tha Miracle Worker.” I thought it was a show right appropriate, seeings as how a miracle had happened to her.
Yes, sir, it thrilled my heart to see what I saw. I oughtta have a packed house next Sunday with all my sick folks bein healed and shut-ins being set free. I just hope they don’t overdo themselves before next Sunday and have a relapse. I gotta go now and play with my smallest young’un. He is gonna be the farmer and I am gonna be tha goat. Tin cans to eat after what I’ve swallered will be easy.
Yor Understandin Cusin
Parson Jones
Christian Writer 