Momma Kiss Willy

Dear Mr. Abbey,

This June will mark the 13th year since my graduation from Calvary Baptist Christian Academy. I know that many different people have many different stories in regard to their experience at Calvary. So, voluntarily, I will share with you mine. I remember my first day attending an actual school for the very first time. I was 13 years old, in the 8th grade, and was wearing a red Izod polo with black pants, a black belt, and brown Hush Puppy dress shoes. (I know that doesn’t match, but at least I was trying) When school let out that day, I walked straight out to the car my dad was sitting in. Sat down in the back and said, “Dad, you’ve GOT to get me out of here!” Simply put, he didn’t, and I continued into something that, to this point, has been one of the most refreshing things of my life: your bible classes.

I enjoyed them. You made them exciting and challenging. You would crack jokes that made everyone laugh, jokes I still remember twelve years later. You maintained discipline and structure. You spoke with authority and confidence in the truth of God’s Word. I remember you patiently would put up with my antics and jokes. How you would tease me (which I enjoyed) and would play along. I remember standing up and singing “This Little Light of Mine” with you. I remember how you would answer my questions and boy, I had many. We both know that I wasn’t the brightest knife in the box (pun intended), but you didn’t care. You would answer them. You helped awaken a curiosity, and you were gracious enough to see that in me.

I remember once at our end-of-the-year award ceremony. I sat in the back of the auditorium so I would least be likely to get in trouble for cracking jokes with my friends and laughing. It was going great until something happened that shook the very core of my existence. You began giving away awards. Calling the smart kids by their names. And then, out of nowhere, you said, “…the Bible award goes to…Jacob Walton…” It felt like out of your mouth, you flew a 2x4 across the isles and smacked me in the front of my head. I was in shock! I walked up, received my pin (which I’ve lost…surprise), and walked back down to my seat.

As I sit here and type this I am a firm believer in telling people how I feel about them while they are still alive. Mr. Abbey, that curiosity has blossomed in my life with such a passion for seeking the truth. Not man made truths, but God’s truth found in His Holy Word. You believed in me. You gave me a chance. I have not and will never forget that.

This was a special year for me, as I opened up a package sent to me in the mail. It was a degree. It is not a degree from Harvard University. It is not a PhD from a seminary. It is by no means the most impressive of things someone could earn. But it is indeed a shock to me. Never in my wildest dreams would I ever believe I would get something like this. It is far beyond what I ever thought capable.

I just want to say thank you. God has given me a passion to learn His Word so I can teach it to the upcoming generation. I am not impressive, I am not smart, but I have something that I caught from my old Bible teacher: passion. I believe one of the main things a teacher wants to give their students is inspiration—to inspire them to become more than they ever thought possible. You have done that for me. I am eternally grateful.

Today, as the sun came up, I knew that somewhere out there, Mr. Abbey was teaching students. He was cracking jokes and singing songs. But more importantly than anything, he was showing them that he truly has a deep love for the Word of God.

From my heart, thank you!

“momma, kiss Willy.”