Sunday March 14th, 1971
This morning when we got up one of M.G.’s preachers was here waiting for us. He wanted to schedule a baptismal service for next Sunday. Also, he was asking for his notebook. Yesterday M.G. gave all those present a notebook to use for their class and he was not there so he wanted to get his. I went to the Tigoni church for M.G. was not feeling well and we did not go to Mimosa as we had planned. Tonight we attended the Christian Communications Congress service which is in session here. The Kijabe choir sang. The Minister for Communications was supposed to come but did not show up.
Mom was gullible at some times, but even she was not fooled by this preacher and his sudden urging to baptize the multitudes. This guy wanted his notebook! I can only imagine the stories that he thought up and discarded before he landed on the baptism ploy. He realized no Baptist missionary in his right mind could turn down a surprise visit when there was even a small possibility of a baptism in the offing. He also knew that the notebook would be forthcoming once the plans for immersion had been finalized.
Dad was not feeling to good after his discourse so Mom just went to the local church instead of traveling as they had planned.
After church and lunch came the Sunday afternoon nap. This time honored tradition has held sway with my family since I was but a wee child. Alan and I both knew that after lunch on Sunday the house had to be kept as quite as a tomb. We knew that the wrath of Dad would fall on us with swift and merciless abandon if we disturbed this sacrosanct time.
Both parental units rested up for the evenings meetings and went out to hear the Minister of Communication deliver his message. However, he did not show up at the get-together. Does anyone but me notice the irony in the fact that the Minister of Communication evidently miscommunicated?