Holy Water...

This story is inspired by the song Holy Water by Michael Ray. I do hope you enjoy.

Well, this is one story that I do not plan on telling my grandkids one day but it is a story and so I'm gonna tell you then I'm gonna deny I ever said anything about it. I used to go to this small little church in my hometown in southern Mississippi. The pastor there, his name was Timothy, he was a real stand-up man. He took good care of his congregation and cared a lot about us and that church. He'd come to us with about 20 years experience pastoring, had just lost his wife and little girl in a car crash the year prior and so he'd taken a year off to get himself right.

The bartender took a step back and asked, " Was he still pissed at God?" The bar was mostly empty now and I'd been coming here for months so I trusted the old gal. The lights were a dim yellow glow and the place stunk of beer and sweat but it was better than home where the absence of her was so loud it's all I could hear.

"He was still sad darling. That's for damn sure but I think him and God had mostly worked through that anger part." So, he came to us and was immediately adopted into our church. We'd been without a pastor for probably bout near going on 6 months. Our last pastor had moved on to another church as they do. So, me and Shirley, God rest her soul, would take turns with the other women being sure he had supper cooked at least 2 times a week. Pastor Timothy tried to tell the ladies that he'd been figuring out food for hisself for goin on a year and he'd be fine but they wouldn't hear of it. So, we knew Pastor Timothy would have to have another job cause obviously a small town church in Mississippi wouldn't be able to pay all his bills. He never really told us much 'cept he worked nights and though he never really lied he made it sound like he worked in the next town over at a factory maybe. Well, things were going pretty well. I was a deacon back then see and so it was my job along with another man's job to keep up with the church's finances. I'd say about three months in, our air conditioner unit broke. The church was trying to figure out where the funds were going to come from and had just begun to discuss plans to raise the money when suddenly one Sunday we came in and bam! New AC unit.

"Did y'all not ask Pastor Timothy how this happened? Where the money came from?"

"Of course we did. He said it was an anonymous donation and they didn't want their names known." That of course, left people scratching their heads but we were so grateful that we didn't ask too many questions. Pastor Timothy was so passionate about the church and God. He had good messages too. They were strong and full of knowledge. After the AC unit incident me and Bill who was the other deacon started talking together though. Well, the ladies in the church had started to stir up a bit so it required a bit of investigation. My Shirley and the other ladies wanted to know how Pastor Timothy could afford to dress so nicely, how it was he drove a brand new 1962 Lincoln Continental and where did that new AC unit for the church really come from? I mean we loved Pastor Timothy but we needed to be sure nothing fishy was going on ya know?

"So, what did y'all do? I mean how do you go about figuring that sort of thing out without being obvious?"

"A stakeout honey. First, me and Bill figured we'd stakeout his house so we did..." One dark, dark night when there wasn't a lotta light we drove Bill's ole' Chevy pickup truck and found us a spot under some trees some ways from his house but not too far see where we couldn't see the house. Well, it was for sure odd what we saw that night but that wasn't anything compared to what we saw at the church stakeout. That night though, we saw Pastor Timothy come out of his house well past when we thought was time for him to leave for work. It was about midnight when he finally left and when he did he came out with two wooden crates which he put in the trunk of his Lincoln. Then, he took off in the direction of the church which is when we followed him. There, he took the two crates out of the back of his Lincoln and lo and behold he went into a cellar that had been used to hide slaves 'bout near a hundred years ago and everyone had forgotten about it by now. Me and ole' Bill hid behind a tree near the wheat field which was behind the church. We had no idea what was in those crates or what he was hiding in that old cellar but we knew we had to find out. So, the very next night we would stakeout the church and get to the bottom of this. After Pastor Timothy hid the crates in the cellar, he got into his Lincoln and drove off back towards his house so we didn't follow. The next night, we were sure to get to the church after dark but before Pastor Timothy. We found the cellar to be locked with a very good lock to which we didn't have the key obviously so we broke the lock with some hedge clippers we'd brought along just in case. Inside, I won't ever forget what we found....

"What? What was he doing?" the bartender asked as I had her on the edge of her seat by now. She was neglecting her cleaning duties but had managed to lock up the bar at least so it was just me and her.

"Well, it was something that would change my life forever..." There was one bare, dusty bulb hanging down in that cellar and I reached out and pulled it first. The first thing I saw was an old distillery, the pressure gauges, the pipes running to the two separate canisters...then all the wheat, sugar and the multiple jars of mason jars full of well it was obvious at this point...Pastor Timothy was making moonshine. Bill and I discussed the best way to handle this and we decided that Pastor Timothy was a stand up man and we were stand up men too so we'd wait and confront him when he got there that night. We took a jar of moonshine with use just for proof I reckon then sat on the front steps of the porch and waited. We were a nervous wreck as we sat and waited and discussed how to bring it up to him. Finally, at around 1 am Pastor Timothy drove up and when his headlights hit us I reckon he knew the jig was up. He could've drove away but he didn't. He got out of his Lincoln and simply said, " Evening gentlemen..." Bill spoke first as he grabbed the moonshine and held it in his face and said, "Just what is the meaning of this?" The Pastor smiled, shrugged as he gestured to the cellar and said, "Well, reckon you've found out my secret." I realized at this point that he wasn't scared and he was just as calm, cool and collected right now in this moment as he was in front of the congregation on Sunday. I spoke slowly, "Pastor, this goes against everything a church should stand for...you know we can't turn a blind eye here." Pastor Timothy suddenly showed a flicker of emotion across his face and said one thing I'll never forget, "Some of us don't have an easy life, matter of fact few do. I ain't saying it's right but I ain't saying it's wrong. The fact is money, it's evil if used in the wrong way but to hell if we don't all need it. You either kill yourself making it or you do something that makes you and others have a little happiness. I sell a couple towns over only, never here. I'll cut you in if you stay quiet and we can make this church stronger and better." Bill and myself actually looked at each other on that one. Bill was the first to speak, "Give us a minute..." The pastor nodded. We walked over to a nearby tree and did so very slowly watching our backs as we went. About 5 minutes later, we had made our decision. We wouldn't drink the stuff, just sell it and that way we could keep our heads about ourselves too. It took us about an hour to discuss the details with the Pastor on what we needed to do. The Pastor agreed with us on the not drinking the stuff, he said that was key to a good business. He said he only indulged every once in a while, so that way he could keep a clear head. We had a plan and our cut.

"I can't believe y'all went along with it. What did your wife say when that happened?"

"Honey, she helped pick out my Lincoln the next weekend." Soon, the church had new pews, new stain glass windows, new Sunday school material for both the kids and the adults and we had a big Homecoming that year. No one said a damn thing.

"So, what ended up happening? Is this church still running? Is Pastor Timothy still there?"

"Well, it's time to go home sweetheart. I'm beat. If your ever in Corinth, Mississippi look me up."

"Wait! What's your name? And didn't you say your wife was deceased, but her name was Shirley?"

Smiling and somewhat laughing to myself, I had already walked out the door. She would be the only person I ever told and I hadn't even given her anyone's real names. I'd never see her again but now the story wouldn't be eating at me. Time to go back to business. A business I had now been at for 20 years and was about to take over as "Pastor Timothy" was getting on up there in years. Life was good...