During our entire lives we carry with us our memories - all the people, places, and events that have made up our existence. Some of the most precious ones are those of our childhood.I wish I could say this is the church steeple on the church I grew up in. Sadly, the church that gave me sustenance as a child is no longer standing. Lightning struck the bell in the church tower and the church burnt down many years ago. The congregation got together and rebuilt the church that stands here today. On completion because of community involvement it was free of mortgage payments.
I can still imagine the inside of the church and where everything was placed. The altar, the piano, the curtain that was pulled to separate Sunday School classes. I can picture where everyone sat. We all had our own little spot every Sunday. I sat on a pew near the gas stove that heated the church in winter. When my Grandma came to church she sat in a pew that faced mine. As I write this I can see the people and friends and hear their voices. I can see us stand to sing and hear the melody of favorite hymns.
Walking on the grounds I can close my eyes and see the yearly reunion and the picnic tables filled with food. I can picture my little brother hunting Easter eggs. I relive funerals and burials of family members. Most of my grandparents and great-grandparents are buried here as well as a baby sister. I can feel the sun shining brightly on my face as I stood on the front steps of the church as guests hugged me and wished me well on my wedding day.
The church I knew is gone. The loved ones in the sacred grounds beneath these skies are in my heart as well as the childhood memories that still give me sustenance and joy each time I stop and remember.
