A Search For A Loving God Part lV

Jan 22 1964 I was dropped off at Buckner Baptist Boys Ranch, Burnet, Texas. I remember the date well because it was my birthday. I watched as my grandparents drove out of sight, and had I been alone, I would have screamed loud enough to reach heaven. Although there were 23 other boys in the home, the loneliness was almost unbearable. I thought I must be unlovable, my essence undesirably ugly, and it consumed me.
I was a new item and, everyone was curious and clamoring around to find out about me. What’s my name, where you from, why did you come here, what grade and age. Finally I was showed to my room of which was shared with 2 other boys. I had a bed, and a small closet with a few shelves. The orientation would keep me too busy to wallow in self pity. My life was being created page by page and for the moment pages were flipping much faster than I could comprehend, and I was but a few steps into this plight.
That 1st night I was so completely overwhelmed, and lay awake reflecting on the days events. Sometime late that night my emotions cornered me with the reality of where I was, one drop was swallowed by an ocean of tears. Had it been possible just by wishing to eliminate my existence prior to conception, I wouldn't have hesitated to do so.
I thought since it was late everyone was sleeping. I tried my best to keep my weeping silent. WT was a couple years older and he came sat on my bedside, and assured me it would get better. He shared that he too cried his first 2 weeks there, he patted me on the arm, and went back to his bed. At some point the storm subsided and I drifted off to sleep. I needed the sleep, tomorrow I would need the energy to climb out of the depths of my despair.
It doesn't take long for the new to wear off anything, and that which was a novelty yesterday is old news today. I have learned this to be a truth for anything, from a new car, job, house, and people.
I began to settle in to the routine of the Boys Ranch. We were awakened at 5:30am, unless your job was helping in the kitchen/cafeteria, and you were awakened at 5am. Everyone had a daily chore/job and there was prescribed punishments if you didn't do it, and do it well. Every 3 months your job assignments were changed. It was arise, dress, make your bed, and when the bell gonged line up and wait for the buzzer. Once the buzzer was sounded we filed in and sat at the tables quietly with head bowed and awaited prayer. We ate and returned to complete our chores, get dressed for school and line up for inspection. Your shoes better be shined, your shirt tail tucked in, your belt on, and you better not miss a belt loop, smile for teeth inspection, and turn head to check you cleaned your ears. Any violation was dealt with by paddling, or a belt line.
My 2nd or 3rd day Bro. WB. the ranch superintendent came down to administer punishment to 2 that had attempted to run away. I sat at a table doing my homework assignment, but I couldn't concentrate on my assignment for the screams. The 2 boys screams sent chills down my spine & I sat motionless staring at a text book page. When the door opened & the boys emerged, I could see they were completely washed out, & their faces were red & covered with tears. One of the boys was in my suite & while washing my face I saw him head for the shower. Whatever was used to administer his punish had wrapped around to slap his front calf. Looked more like someone had tried to skin him alive. Later it was black as coal from the ass to the front calf.
The above incident unnerved me, and if I listen I can still hear the blood curdling screams. This punishment carried out by a minister that was supposed to teach us about God. You can’t force a loving God into someone’s heart by beating their ass. My time in that room would come soon enough, and somewhere in my psyche I knew. The rules were rigid and there seemed no way to completely dodge the bullet.
Seems most of the boys were placed here by their parents because they had been in and out of trouble, and they were afraid the state would place them in a correctional institute. I was here not for getting into trouble, but because I had been abandoned, and it was chosen because it was a religious institute. My dad was proven unfit after beating me, and now I'm in a place that is sanctioned to beat us within an inch or our life.
There is always some glimmer of light even in the darkest of places and times. I loved sports and when we had free time it was never hard to get up a game of baseball, basketball, or football. There was also the forest just over the fence out back and provided you had stayed out of trouble you would be allotted time to romp through the woods, and even fish at the lake that was just past the thicket. Once I was out of sight, and in the woods my imagination could take me anywhere I wanted, and I could be anyone I chose. My time here was filled with curiosity, wonderment, hopes, and dreams, but I also had to keep a careful watch on time because over staying the allotted time would subject me to harsh punishment or at least a belt line.
Belt Line or Beltline had a different definition for us than a highway that
encircles a city. 23 boys lined up on 2 sides and the houseparent at the end. You were to run or walk down the middle and each boy would swing his belt to administer a swat to your ass. The houseparent would get in the last swat. Walk through, and the belt better hit your ass, cause if it hit your back of legs the one that missed was subject to going through the beltline also. Run through and they were given some leeway. I ran through all but one of the many times the punishment was imposed upon me. When I ran over half would miss, but when I walked everyone had their shot. I missed a belt loop when I dressed one morning and the houseparent noticed, and set up the line before going to school that day. To walk through was a show of courage, and you gained some measure of respect. I walked slow and absorbed each lash, and although every nerve in my body yelled run I continued to walk and swallow my whimpers. The last was the houseparent and this day he did not wield a belt, but horse reins, his lash wrapped slapped my front calf and genitals as well, and it was all I could do to stand and not cry out. I was vaguely aware that a couple of tears rolled down my cheek, but I stood gathered my composure and walked to the school bus.