Flatwoods - Part 3

It was a typical rural Louisiana home of the period - unpainted clapboard, with steep-pitched tin roof and customary earthen chimney. Taking advantage of the slight breeze, Mrs. DuBoise was on the back porch, deep in concentration, busily snapping beans. Clearing his throat to gain her attention, Dad said, "Good afternoon, Mrs. DuBoise, I'm a Pentecostal preacher and I understand you're of our faith." Without looking up, she shyly responded in broken English, "We's Casholic." Now, here they were, far from the small town with a French-speaking lady who was Catholic! What were they to do? Take the long walk back? Then what? With no money and not the slightest acquaintance in this strange community, it appeared utterly hopeless.

Disregarding the bewilderment, Mother quickly stepped upon the porch, making friendly small talk as she began helping Mrs. DuBoise snap her beans. Unaware of the stressful situation, the toddlers now busied themselves in play. Dad pointed to a dry stream bed and said to Mother, "I'm going down to that branch to pray! I'll be back in a little."

The outstanding thing in Mother's mind at that moment was that she counted twelve grown cats on that porch. She was to emphasize that fact as she told and retold us the story in years to come. "Twelve grown cats!" even now, I can hear her say.

Then, in a whirlwind of dust, a sedan drove up in front of the house. Striding from the car, the young driver came to the back porch and announced that the proprietor lady from the store had sent him to take them back to town. Not knowing what to expect, yet feeling the Lord was answering Dad's prayer, Mother could hardly await his return from prayer at "that branch!"