Bro.Word was our pastor for most of my growing-up years. I have a couple of memories that stand out. When I was a Freshman in High School, we did a haunted house in the church basement. I was a mummy (because of a broken arm). Bro. Word had hung behind a group, and was so quiet, I didn't know anyone was there. I sat up to ask my sister a question, and he scared me half to death! About a year later, I was a bored teenager who had been in the hospital for a week, and he came to visit every day. I had an orange and a syringe to practice giving shots with. He asked if I wanted to practice on him, and I said "sure, why not!" He patiently help out his hand while I drew up a syringe full of saline, then shot it like a water-gun directly into his face. He just smiled, and got his handkerchief, and wiped his face. I'm sure he thought I was awful, but he never let on.
Lori (Honey) Bohannon