Maeburl Tincher
Daddy and I were headed to Gibson’s Grocery in my brand new car. It was a beautiful 1965, burgundy-and-pearl white Ford Fair Lane 500, loaded with leather bucket seats, a 289 HP engine and cruise-o-matic transmission.
We were riding in style, but we had more important things on our mind; specifically, the second coming of Christ. Daddy was that one person I could talk to about deep spiritual matters.
He understood their critical nature in our existence.
As we traveled along Topton Road, we talked about the times we were living in, the second coming of Christ and the need for salvation. About this time, he began telling me of a life-altering experience he had when he was in his early 20s, while delivering moonshine to a residence in Cherokee County.
In the moonlight he walked along a familiar path with cargo in tow. While passing through a field near Red Marble Road, a ball of fire suddenly lit up the night. Falling from the sky, it landed in the pasture near him.
With no warning and no time to run, the meteorite came so close he not only felt the heat – but also felt the burn on his shirt sleeve from a small fragment that had been projected in his direction.
He didn’t say whether he finished that haul, but he did say he never hauled again.
God, in His providence knows, what it takes to turn His elect in toward Himself. For daddy, it was the meteorite that ended his moonshine-hauling days and set his life on a new course.
This new direction led him to a well-known church just up the same road where he not only began a closer relationship with the Lord, but also formed a deep connection to a young woman named Ada Holloway, who would eventually become his wife and my devoted mother.
I don’t know how many people can thank meteorites and moonshine for playing a part in God’s providential plan, for bringing about salvation, but I can – and I am.
Maeburl Tincher writes a monthly column for The Graham Star. She is a native of the Jack Branch community.