October 2, 2023 - It was in 1938. Daddy had just moved us to a rent house owned by William Henry Smith located just north of Center, Texas on the Henrietta Road. There were only three Fincher children in our family at that time: Bill was 7 years old, I (Henry Douglas) was five years old, and John was not quite four. We had a dog named “Nellie” and a cow that my Grandmother “loaned” us in those struggling days. We kept the cow behind the house in a patch of grass and yellow bitterweeds. We found that no amount of syrup could kill the taste of a biscuit buttered with bitterweed butter.
One day Bill, Nellie and I were exploring the back woods when we saw some Yellow Jackets flying into a hole in the ground. We didn’t know what they were so we punched a stick into the hole. Suddenly, the bees were everywhere and Nellie fell down on Bill and sheltered him. Bill got stung six times and I got four. We later found a “scaly bark” tree and learned they were great after being roasted near the coals in the fireplace.
While walking through the woods, Bill and I discovered a little church building at the end of a dirt road. We asked Mother if we could attend church there and the next week we walked to the building. I don’t remember what the preacher looked like or much else, but I do remember him repeating over and over, “My cup runneth over.” It was only later that I learned it was from the 23rd Psalm, some of the most beautiful words in the Bible. As I look back, I have wondered why Mother did not attend with us that day. But I later knew why. Times were very hard back then and there’s no doubt she didn’t have a dress to attend church… and that was true for many years later.
Mother, Daddy and all nine of my siblings were wonderfully accepted into the family of God… and then we all understood why David said years ago.
”My cup runneth over.”
