Dad sat in the opposite corner reading our denominational newsletter from the world headquarters of the PCCCCUSA, our new denomination, because we had split again and our part of the split was now called the Presbyterian Church of the Calvinist Confirmed Confession United States of America. This split had been over the issue of whether Hodge or Warfield had a better idea of how to interpret Calvin’s position on Total Depravity and Regeneration. I think we went with Hodge but I’m not sure. The main thing was we knew we were right, and the only real believers in Reformed doctrine left, so Dad and the other leaders made a new church.

Dad was reading about Pastor Bob White of Gabon. There was a picture of him on the back of the newsletter. He was in a white short-sleeved shirt and had on a thin black tie. In one hand he held a big Bible. His other arm was draped over the skinny shoulders of a black native man who only came up to his waist and was smiling a big smile full of happy teeth between thick lips. Under the photograph was a caption that read: “The Good News comes to the village of Wangogo—Pastor Bob shares the love of Jesus with a native.”

Maybe it was this picture that reminded Mom that Jesus had died for everyone, even the French, even ones who smoked. So she stopped glaring at the Gauloise man and instead started smiling at him as if she were Pastor Bob and he was the headman of the village of Wangogo.

The Frenchman looked a question at her because Mom was smiling and smiling so hard. She cleared her throat in a meaningful way and said, “Excusez-moi, est-ce que vous parlez anglais?” And the man said, “Oui, I speeks the Eengleesh a leetle.” Then Mom asked him if he would like to see something interesting. When she did this I suddenly got a feeling of panic like I was drowning because I realized what Mom was about to do. And she did it too. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a large walnut.