An Introduction

As usual, my mind is wandering in one hundred different directions as I stare at the  dark walls for the 5^th  night in a row continuing to fight off the famous “Christmas Crud” that has graced the house of so many in our area. Like my Dad, I often lay awake at night solving world problems; many that seem so monumental during the night, but are often tedious by sunrise. Those who know my parents well are aware of the health issues that have plagued them over the past several years. Processing their current health concerns night after night has resulted in much reflection upon my life with them. These moments of reflection have led me to begin this blog.

I am one of the lucky ones. Not many people can say that they were awarded the type of childhood I was graciously given. Two loving parents; one a preacher, one a teacher. They actually stayed together. Not that it was always easy, as you will see throughout my reflections. However, they stuck it out as they vowed to do in front of God almost 50 years ago. Being a Baptist preacher’s kid, I found myself in the walls of First Baptist Church in Clinton, TN more than I was in my own home: Sunday School, Sunday morning church, youth choir, Sunday night church, hand-bells, Wednesday night supper, Wednesday night church, “Girls in Action” (yes, I can still sing the song), choir tours, youth beach trips, etc. I loved being there. In fact, I still found myself hanging out for lunch in Dad’s office with Donna Cloyd up until the day I got married. Living with my Dad, listening to him preach at least 3 times a week, and watching his actions definitely have shaped the person I am today. To say the very least, I am the Webster’s Dictionary of a Daddy’s Girl. I can be honest in saying as you read this collection of reflections, you will become acutely aware that he has touched the lives of many around him. You may already be one of them.

Before we begin, I must step into the confession booth on two items. First, my Dad is not a real Rabbi. Of course, he is not! He is a Baptist minister!!! Over the years, this term has become, I guess what you would call, a pet name for him. His real name is Samuel Dean, and I am fortunate enough to call him my own. Before moving to Clinton, Dad was minister at First Baptist Church in Jonesboro, TN. His secretary there was named Becky Good. My Dad says to this day, she is still one of the dearest souls that has ever walked Earth. Her husband’s name is Jim. Jim has always been true to himself, never feeling the need to be different around my Dad simply because he was a minister. Over the years, Jim came to call my Dad “The Rabbi.” Please know, that this term is not meant in any way to belittle the system of organization for another denomination. It is not meant to be blasphemous in any way. Those of you who know Dad well also know that he would never stand for such. He is true to his faith and to his love of the Lord. I think Jim created this term because he knew Dad was different than any other Baptist minister. He has never fit the typical mold of what you envision a Baptist preacher to be. He is one of a kind. And for those of you who were ever able to be a part of his congregation, you need no further explanation. You know exactly what I mean. So over the past few years, well into his retirement, the term “Rabbi Sam” became the term we jokingly use around the house when he is reflecting or teaching us a life lesson.

Second confession: I am not a great writer, nor will I ever claim to be. My Dad is one of the most eloquent speakers and writers I have ever encountered. His vocabulary is light years ahead of mine. His writing and speaking ability put me to shame. He is beginning to work with my daughter, Mallory, to create his own book of reflections and life experiences. His will be much more interesting, intriguing, and stimulating than this blog. I can only predict that I will have to get out my dictionary on several occasions to dissect an intelligent word he has used that I am too ashamed to admit I don’t know! My intentions for this blog are to share with you in simple thoughts and stories what I have learned from being fortunate enough to grow up with Sam and Marie Dean. Some will surprise you, coming from a Baptist minister! However, I guarantee that they will make you ponder.

My prayer is that through one of the following weekly reflections, Dad will continue to touch people’s lives. Several years ago, Dad was diagnosed with a horrible case of the shingles, which has left permanent nerve damage. He also has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. While neither have affected his brilliant mind, he doesn't do public speaking anymore. However, there is so much to share about the “Baptist Rabbi” who overcame poverty, set out on a seven year plan to graduate with a college degree and Masters in Divinity, and touched individual’s lives over the course of 50 years of ministry. God continues to work through Sam Dean, and I look forward to sharing some of the wonderful things he has taught me over the past 43 years. I often joke and say, “When I grow up, I want to be just like my Daddy.” Now I know that is simply impossible. There will only be one Sam Dean. But there is certainly a great deal to be learned from his knowledge, his spirituality, his outlook on life, his beliefs, and his actions.

I look forward to sharing these thoughts with you. I am honored for each of you who have taken the time to read. Have a very Merry Christmas!