(First of all, I must make a correction for my June article. I put my husband’s death date in 2004; actually it was in 2014. Why does this matter? If you did the math, if he had died in 2004, that would have had me marrying at age five; fifteen was young enough.)
I wonder how summers are different for children today from the way I lived mine as a child. Not long after school was out in spring, my sisters and I started the endless chore of weeding the vegetable garden. Mother was careful to show us the technique of turning the hoe so only the edge or point hit the ground. That way we could hoe out the weeds without damaging her precious tender plants. I say endless, because it seemed as soon as we finished, it had to be done again.
Then came our two-week Vacation Bible School. We received a card each day with many verses to memorize. We always had a bible story and a mission story. We always had a great craft project, sometimes making an apron, building a birdhouse, making great creations with Popsicle sticks, or some sort of interesting venture. We looked forward to our play time where we were served a glass of partially-sweetened Kool Aid (The church couldn’t afford enough sugar to make it really sweet.) and our two cookies – the cheapest store-bought kind. But we did have fun. In different order for different years, a two-week singing school was a requirement. Also our summer revival took place – morning and evening services. This usually lasted one or two weeks. Now don’t get me wrong, all these church activities didn’t get us out of the garden – more hoeing, later picking, shelling beans, and helping with canning.
My dad knew all-work-and-no-play was not good. Often he would take us to Guntersville Lake or some swimming hole for a late afternoon respite. Some years, we would camp at Guntersville Lake for a week or so. Almost every summer, Dad would tell Mother we would go to Panama City, Florida, for a couple of days if she could have us ready in two hours. That meant getting our clothes ready, packing groceries (we didn’t eat out; she cooked our meals), and packing suitcases. He gave this short notice because he didn’t want us blabbing to anybody where we were going. He had a service station and a grocery store with our house attached in back. He didn’t want the thieves or bad guys to know we would be gone. Usually another family would go with us. Dad always rented a little cabin, never on the beachside. Those were too expensive, he would contend. He and the men would go out deep sea fishing and the moms would take us to the beach where I would get severely sunburned (I was the fair one). Sunscreen didn’t exist, only tanning oil that only helped us fry. Then we would make the miserable ride home in our un-air-conditioned cars. I always had to ride home in a t-shirt and underwear sitting forward (no seat belts then) so as to not rub my blistered back on the scratchy seat.
But we did have fun. Would I have swapped places with the kids today? Then I might have said yes, but hindsight says no because my summers were valuable; I learned much and never felt deprived. I certainly was never bored.
I didn’t realize these summers were training seminars for life. I learned the value of the lessons learned at church – scripture, music, and evangelism. I also learned a strong work ethic. I also was well-educated on the importance of family playtime.

Colossians 3:23 Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.
Psalm 33:3 Sing to him a new song; play skillfully, and shout for joy.

Matthew 28: 19 Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”