Tomorrow, September 23, 2018, the annual fall festival known throughout the Armstrong Churches of God as the Feast of Tabernacles, begins tomorrow evening at sunset
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Back in those days, it was on a night like tonight that I literally would not be able to sleep - until I remembered very distinctly a phrase that my mother told me that worked every time. She said "If you go to sleep, the next thing you know it will be morning and we'll be ready to go."
It worked every time. The next thing I knew, I would be awake - and with all the energy of a growing child (oh, to remember those days - these days, it takes time to get about half of that burst!) I'd be up and excited - ready to begin the journey to wherever we were going where "the Lord has placed his name".
There were many reasons why this was an exciting time for me. This was our only vacation of the year - the rest of the year was a trench of an experience which was enshrouded in an endless, dull routine completely smothered in the chains of poverty. We took our tenth of our yearly earnings (which for us, was a big amount - probably scrapings to others) to live in a way we never were able to the rest of the year.
This wasn't why it was important to me as I got older into my teens. What was important to me was that I knew it was commanded for us, I knew God placed His name there, I knew that it marked my identity, and I knew I was specially called to go there to enjoy this "foretaste" of the Millennium that any time now was going to be foreshadowed by the world war that I had to be protected from. In my younger childhood, it was a big deal because of fun. In my teen years, it was a big deal spiritually.
In the many festival sites that I went to - The Lake of The Ozarks, Niagara Falls, Mt. Pocono, Wisconsin Dells, and Dayton (Yes, I was consistently jealous of those most fortunate to go to the Well-To-Do sites such as Pensacola, St. Petersburg, and Hawaii) - I soaked in the many traditions that I had developed throughout the vacation.
It had become a yearly ritual as a family to all go out to the car just after Atonement to take the thick envelope with the yellow offering envelopes, the Headquarters-sent letter, and the Parking Stickers - and take out the parking sticker and gently apply it to the (then metal) bumper of the family vehicle. I'd beam with great pride about that sticker. It meant we were set apart, and the only time of the year we'd know when we were passing other set-aparts. It gave one a mighty good feeling, I'll tell you that.
The tradition of family packing was just as important to me. Mother would be very methodical about this - creating a detailed packing list, ensuring that nothing was missed - especially the Bibles and the notebooks.
Of course, depending on where we were going, and how long, would dictate the other vacation traditions - all of which I categorized neatly in my mind. Mostly, in my earliest days, they would focus on the smells of the places I visited on the way. That would be the smell of fresh roasted coffee in the morning at restaurants, the smell of clean hotels, and the smell of fresh clean morning crisp air.
We would constantly take photos of the same things on the way. The first car with a parking sticker we'd pass (as long as it wasn't ministerial), the interstate highway signs, a billboard of a hotel - and particular landmarks we'd pass each time we went there.
But the event I looked forward to the most was when we were driving to Church opening night, getting lost in a large line of Feast Cars all heading to the same location, rounding the bend, and seeing the glorious sight of the holy tabernacle or arena in view, with the parking attendants and their hats and cones leading people exactly where they were to park.
Getting out of the car, grabbing the Bibles and notebooks, hearing the command to "Stay close" because of all the people - and walking up to the building made the excitement even more palpable in my youthful mind. On entering the building, hearing the typical loud - but much more energetic hum-drum, mixed with the smell of perfumes and colognes - yes, it was a sensory overload. Simply so much to take in.
Would this be the last time before we'd all end up in this fantastic world tomorrow? What will we hear from God's One and Only Chosen End-Time Elijah and Apostle of The Work? Will I fall asleep when they cut the lights and I hear the voice of Art Gilmore and Orchestra Songs with the latest film? Will I watch with great interest the choreography of scripture-based note taking as the heads rise and fall? Will I be fascinated with the movement of the ushers as they walked in unison during Announcements? Will I hear the same voice of the same Festival Coordinator as I did last year? So many questions!
When an experience such as this is all that you know when growing up, it certainly etches deeply on your brain as far as it's intensity and vividness goes. There are portions, even today - many decades later - that are as clear to me as if they happened yesterday. I pen these memories with the mindset not of sadness and wistfulness of memory - but of the mindset of an experience that shaped a lot of who I am today.
As I reflect on my childhood in the Worldwide Church of God with our version of Church Disney, I think back on the times as a solace and break of life - not as the fantasy it was in an adult way of logic - but as a rare opportunity as an adult to break down and remember Armstrongism in a first-hand experience, thanks to the power of memory, and use that experience combined with the knowledge that I have now about Armstrongism - for those who need to know there are others who have gone through it too, and are recovering, and who probably thought the same way about the same things that I did. After all, that's what we are here to do - to use our experiences, and memories, in every circumstance - as much as we are able to do so in our life situations - to help others.
And if we can't help, just to give a nod of "I've been there, too."
