A Memory: Home Church

(Further thoughts about having Eternity in Our Hearts.) 

Isn't it funny how we can go places in our minds, even places that don't exist anymore?
Even without closing my eyes, I can go to the church building I grew up in...


Credit: Sarah Joy

I run my hand over the chipping white paint of the outside railing.  As I open one of the double glass doors, I smell the mustiness of the fake wood panelling, the vintage curtains, the red and black flecked carpeting.

My friends and I crawl along the carpet under the old fashioned, wooden pews with goldy-tan cushioned seats, hiding from our parents so we can stay and play just a little longer.  The cross at the front of the sanctuary with the buzzing back-light that looks nice, but isn't necessary.  The tall windows let in plenty of natural light on a sunny day.  We sneak down the stairs at the back of the stage, past the big wooden chairs where my father and the worship leader sit during the service - a curiously formal custom for our little country church.  We are a family. 

Downstairs I feel the damp of the basement Sunday School area peppered with posters, still smelling somewhat of chalk used in good old-fashion Bible lessons as well as games of hangman. 

I can see, too, the giant bulldozer crashing through the wall of this beautiful building, piling its remain in on itself, burying it completely. 

Yet it stands in my mind.  I go there often. 

What places can you only get to by going there in your mind these days? 
When was the last time you visited?