THEY CALL ME FORREST

 4584

Pt. 1

Well, that's not exactly accurate. They call me William, or Bill, or Royce, (but they definitely don't call me late for dinner).

However, the implication of my title is that just as Forrest Gump seemed to consistently be in the middle of "what's going on" in the world, and consistently "rubbed shoulders" with a host of famous people, I have, strangely enough, found myself emulating our admittedly simple, but well-meaning movie character.

I mean, I can't account for it. But again, and again I have been cast into the presence of the famous, and the near famous among us.

Now, we won't count people such as Colonel Harland Sanders, (who spoke in our university chapel service in the late 60's), or George Beverly Shea, (whose concert I attended twenty years before his passing), or Kathryn Kuhlman, (who evangelistic meeting I experienced, (yes, 'experienced' is a fitting word), in the early 70's. After all, I wasn't what you would call an active participant in these cases.

However, (as I have inferred), there have been numerous occasions when 'Forrest' might easily have replaced my given name.

Pt. 2

It may have been 1985 or 1986, and I was employed by United Parcel Service in central Florida. This particular mall has been replaced by a Lowes and Staples by now, but at the time I spent a couple of hours a day delivering packages to the back doors of a variety of stores there.

One day I pulled behind a sports shop, cut off my engine, and opened my bulkhead door to retrieve whatever clothing, shoes, footballs, etc. which they had ordered. As I stepped down with the merchandise, a late model sedan pulled up next to me.

With this, a middle-aged lady stepped out of the vehicle, and she indicated she knew the owner of the sports store, and that we both had business with him. And now, while we were waiting an unusually long time for the owner to open the back door, we made our introductions.

I spoke.

"Hi, I'm Bill, the UPS man."

She replied.

"Hi, I'm (the) Cornelia Wallace."

Of course, I recognized her name.

Governor George Wallace's wife. And of course, I had seen the photo of Cornelia kneeling by George after the assassination attempt on his life. Ultimately, the door opened, and she and I went about our separate business at hand.

Whereas, I didn't get Mrs. Wallace's autograph at that time, a friend of mine procured it for me later, as the latter attended the former's church.

Pt. 3

Ultimately, my UPS career, and my pastoral counseling career overlapped. (I began my second career in the early 90's, and retired from my first career in the late 90's).

A year or two after I "set up shop" at Calvary Assembly in Winter Haven, Florida, I received a call from a man my pastor had referred to me; (who I cannot name here in order to preserve his identity). Suffice it to say that he was a well-known major league baseball player who had played in a memorable World Series. Would I be willing to take on his adolescent son? I did. And I spent some amount of time interacting with this family over the next few weeks.

Pt. 4

During the first couple of years of the new century, I contracted my counseling services to a second church; First Assembly of Lake Wales; where I met with clients each Saturday.

One Saturday I was scheduled to meet with a couple of clients, and happened to have a free hour in between the two.

I had just finished the first client, and settled back in my recliner with the thought I would take a short siesta. Suddenly, there was a knock on the outside office door. I got up from the chair, walked to the door, and opened it. A fairly non-descript middle-aged man stood there.

He spoke.

"Hi, is the pastor here today?"

I responded with,

"Uhmmm, no. He's never here on Saturday."

The fellow continued.

"I'm Rev. Jim. Rentz."

I encouraged him to come in, and over the next hour, we engaged in an interesting conversation.

"I was Jimmy Swaggart's associate pastor."

And with this, he began to spin quite a tale for me. Rev. Rentz had been there during those tumultuous years during which the lead pastor had, (to say the least), made some very bad choices involving the opposite gender. One particular observation is indelibly etched into my psyche.

"I begged Jimmy to get help!"

Pt. 5

Speaking of fallen religious figures, during that time period another notable evangelical pastor, of the same denomination, engaged in similar activity, and like the preacher with the initials J.S., his activities were "found out."

One Sunday my wife and I decided to do lunch at a particular restaurant. The receptionist seated my wife and me, and a waitress took our order.

Suddenly, an older man was ushered to the table next to us. He looked strangely familiar. And then, I knew who he was. The man, Richard Dortch, was a late night prayer host on Channel 2, and had served as Executive Vice President for the PTL Television Network, and associate of Jim Bakker. He seemed unusually pensive, and rather sad. He had long since been indicted, and served time for covering up the misdeeds of his superior, and for the misuse of ministry moneys.

Sometimes I wish I had engaged the man in conversation. However, we finished our lunch, and left him "to his own devices." He passed away a few years later.

Pt. 6

Sometime during the ninth decade of the 20th century, my wife and I registered to attend a Ruth Graham conference on the west coast of Florida. Of course, she was, (and continues to be), one of the daughters of Rev. Billy Graham.

The day long conference included opportunities to attend various hour long seminars relating to sundry topics. And it so happened that I found myself "first in line" to one of the seminars which Ruth Graham hosted that day.

Now, I found a seat in the empty auditorium. 3rd row, center. (Exactly where I like it). Suddenly, who should appear than the well-known lady of the day. Ruth Graham, came walking across the stage, right to left. And suddenly, she stopped, center stage, looked out at me, and said,

"I'll be right back!"

To which I mumbled,

"Uh, okay."

No doubt, Ruth Graham has long since forgotten that day, much less our momentary conversation, (but I never will).

Pt. 7

My wife, and I attended a church in the little town of Bartow, Florida, and only moved on a decade ago.

While we were there, we met a wonderful, elderly man named Andy Bos, (who we were, ultimately, privileged to spend time with, as he prepared to depart this life).

It so happened that I had the opportunity to speak on numerous Wednesday nights, and Andy was always second row, right cheering me on.

Sometime after my years long series of Wednesday night messages began, Andy informed me that his grandson was, (and is), the actor Taylor Lautner, famous for the "Twilight" movies, and that he had been sending him cassette tapes of my sermons.

I called the original version of this story, "Preaching to the Stars." I hope I at least impacted one star with the most important and enduring message of all time.

Pt. 8

About the same time that I was "preaching to the stars," I had the opportunity to meet another one; long distance to be sure.

I have always liked the tv series, "Little House on the Prairie," and most especially the character, "Mrs. Harriet Oleson," portrayed by Katherine MacGregor.

One day I decided to write her a fan letter. Of course, by now several decades had gone by since the television series concluded. Problem was, I didn't know her mailing address. However, I had an idea. I sent a social media message to the former "Nellie Oleson," Alison Arngrim. She messaged me back with her TV mother's address.

I promptly wrote "Mrs. Oleson" with the slight expectation that I might hear back from her. I was not disappointed. A couple of weeks later I received a post card from the wonderful character actress. Ms. MacGregor had drawn a familiar caricature of herself on the post card. Over the next couple of years, she and I exchanged several more letters.

As the result of our correspondence, I learned that Katherine and Harriet had a great deal in common.

by Bill McDonald, PhD