The Upper Room

It was a privilege for two years of my life to enjoy living in two different upper room two-story homes. The first was the one shown in Monticello, the other was at Asbury College in Wilmore, Kentucky. In 1963 after living eight wonderful years in the little block parsonage in Sopchoppy, Florida sharing a bedroom with my two year older sister Paula Jean, daddy told us the town we were moving to had a large two story house. There were several two story homes along Rose Street in Sopchoppy, the Jones and the abandoned "haunted" house next door to us. Though told not to, I would often climb the rickety stair case and sit in the upper left room and peer down below at the seldom passing auto or person. When Robert Strickland, my best friend was along, we would usually play tricks on the pedestrian and moan like ghosts.
Arriving in Monticello in June as all new pastors did, my father to my delight assigned me the upper left bedroom all to my own facing East Washington Street. And there, just like in the Sopchoppy haunted house, I could peer down toward the majestic Jeffersonian courthouse the town revolved around literally.
With no air conditioning, the window was usually up as I would just sit and watch the somewhat quicker pace of this beautiful town. We only lived in the house a year for soon after my father arrived, plans were already underway to construct a new brick "one story" parsonage further down Washington Street. It was a sad day when we moved from Monticello to the duplex apartment in Wilmore, Kentucky.
It was in Wilmore in September of 1975  after living there two years earlier that I attended one year at Asbury College. And there, I had the great honor of living with the past President of Asbury, Dr.Zachary Taylor "ZT" Johnson in his two story home. This time I stayed in the upper right room, perhaps a good analogy as to my recent conversion in June of that year. Dr Johnson was a close friend of my father and while preaching a revival in Williston where we were located in 1975, Dr Johnson offered the room if I came to Asbury. Since my father and mother and sister had attended, it was an easy decision for me. Dr Johnson had recently lost his wife and we spent many a day reminiscing and traveling about, enjoying his company and wisdom.
Every boy sometime in his life needs such a home with a slick banister to slide down, with a closet under the stairway to hide in, high, spacious rooms to spread out train tracks and toys, a closer view of the stars and cars that travel below, a place to haunt the passerby.
The upper rooms I shall always hold dear.