Dad bought Spumoni ice cream which, as a child, I decided was a substance of torture.
I went at him like a spider monkey on a sugar high, but Dad had a different idea.
Our safe toy truck flew like a rocket when we put the juice to it. And nearly killed the neighbor doing it.
Mother scarred me for life when she had me wear second-hand girls clothing and tried to convince me they were boys clothes.
I snuck away from a church picnic to slide down the spillway at the lake and nearly killed myself in the process.
Playing firefighter in the parsonage got too real when my plan went awry.
We launched a tire from the roof of the parsonage during a church ladies meeting. Someone thought a dead body had fallen.
Exploring the church crawlspace on a secret mission. We thought we’d been successful until unforeseen circumstances intervened.
I was ashamed by my first name until I found out the wonderful story of my namesake. Now just call me Lou.
I will confess to painting on the wall of the church, but will claim that I have a defense. My little sister talked me into it.
Preachers kids have the reputation of being ornery or trouble makers. They are on view for the world to see and expected to be angels. Sometimes they aren’t.
Published by John Purvis
I was born and raised in Kansas in a family of 7 children. My father was a minister in the United Methodist Church for 50 years. We moved every few years to a new church. Each new location became a new chapter in the journey. I have had the privilege of knowing so many different people from varying backgrounds. I have also had many friends and close relatives who’ve been able to share this journey. I wanted to share some of the stories and adventures I have had.
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