Last night we were immersed in nostalgia as we attended a drive-in movie! The local Christian radio station had sponsored God's Not Dead, the movie about a college freshman challenging his professor's stance as an atheist. We had already seen the great movie, but we couldn't resist this opportunity to experience this blast from the past, an outdoor theater, besides which, it was free!
The Drive-In had been closed for many years, but volunteers had refurbished and readied it for this special finale, a four-night showing of the film as a ministry outreach to the community. And did they turn out! I think every slot of the 500-car lot was filled! Even though the movie wouldn't start until dark, we got there early to get a parking space. People were milling around in the pre-dusk, groups of teens eagerly striding along and parents with kids in tow heading to refreshment stands and portable restroom facilities.
In the hum of conviviality and snatches of conversation floating on the breeze through our open car windows, I was transported to my childhood when Daddy would drive the old pick-up truck loaded with us kids to the Drive-In for a Saturday night treat. We scattered to seating areas around the projection booth or lolled on blankets and chairs as folks were doing tonight. I remember the warm intimacy of leaning close to the speakers attached to our car windows and feeling magically connected to the romantic figures on the screen. (Now we listened through our FM station on our car radio.)
That morning we had gone to a fellowship gathering for seniors (not high school!) at the church and got to know some very interesting people. I brought my Scrabble game and Howard brought his guitar. He was in his element, strumming and mesmerizing the group with his song and patter routine. The words on his guitar strap, ONE OF THEM, were echoed in the song by that name, smoothly interspersed with stories of those who were One of Them, kept his audience smiling and praising the Lord.
After snacks and conversation, several white-haired oldsters headed for a round table for their regular session of Mexican Train, their favorite domino game. Some looked on warily as I set up my huge Scrabble board, a deluxe edition with one-inch tiles on a revolving base. A perky lady of about 90 tore herself away and joined Howard and me at our table, as did an 80-something gentleman. ("He's smart!" the lady whispered.)
They were both smart, tying to win the game! Occasionally I glanced at another table where two women bent over a jigsaw puzzle, an ongoing project that would be rolled up later and continued next week. When finished, it would be framed and added to others as artwork on the wall. Puzzles were a favorite activity and Christmas present when I was growing up! I still like them, but hadn't done one in years.
We were late getting home from the "last picture show," since dark didn't come until nine o'clock, putting us home at way past my bedtime. (I reminded myself of Mama, who always fell asleep at the drive-in movie, exhausted from her day as a busy farm wife.) I could hardly keep my eyes open as the hour grew late--something we must do in these last days, reaching out to the lost, even as we draw strength from our fellow travelers in the faith.
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