Not far from my cottage is a small country church. It came to mind several months ago and thought - Miss Callie and I will drive out the country road to take a look.
There it was just like she remembered. This church must be somewhere near 200 years old.
Took a picture of the wreath on the door. It was on my header at one time.
The stain glass on my header at this time - is an image captured.
If the door had been unlocked would have loved to have gone inside.
Enter through the door and sit quietly by myself. Could not do this (it was locked) but have a vivid imagination. Imagine all the voices she would hear and emotions that would touch her heart.
Wish it was possible to be invisible. One Woman sitting alone during worship - totally unobserved. She would pray, listen to the special hymns and sing from her heart - like in the past...
Thoughts of visiting during the holidays.
So many thoughts from the past would arise.
Truth is - she is no longer that person. Not the person she was a year ago, 10 years ago, 20, 30 and on and on. We are continually changing ...... that is the way it is suppose to be.
Sometimes she wonders - that person years ago - was that me?
Then she remembers children, grandchildren
And that yesterday she was young and today old.
Whoever she is - kind of nice at this time of life....
Hundreds of Sunday's spent within walls like this.
Their Sunday clothes, every hair in place, mother quieting them.....
When she would spend summers with grandma - it was Sunday morning, evening and middle of the week. Hand held fans moving rapidly and dress so starched it "itched" when she sat on it.
Do not know if emotionally she could take this trip - back..
Memories surface at unexpected times....
16 comments:
It is okay to venture back into time and to cry now and again...the sun will appear on your face and you will see it is another new and precious day. These are beautiful and thoughtful photos.
Tabor, you are special. Wish you lived near :) Wrote this post several months ago. Raining and warmer.
i recall the itchy starch and the hand held fans waving on hot summer days. we all have places in our past that can elicit complex feelings. every trip we make back to GA seems to uncover another for me, and now that Mother's gone i find myself remembering things i didn't even know i had forgotten!
word verif is i sigh! (and i do!)
Sky, thanks for visiting. Yes, we remember things that we did not know we forgot. Life is an interesting journey:)
Would you go back in time if you knew your Divine Mother, Goddess of Compassion was with you?
Ernestine, let the sadness out, even in silent tears. Even 10, 20, 30, 40 years ago, you were and still are safe and loved.
Mermaid, you are dear and special.
All is well.
I just love how reflective your life is today. Isn't that such a beautiful thing? Enjoyed your musing about that sweet old church. How nice it would be to sit there alone and meditate on times past, as well as on the present.
Ah, the starched dresses, perfect hair, and the smell of the flowers, rays of sun across the pews, and oh, how I loved Christmas in our church. So special and the decorations, real and scenting the air.
Wishing you a lovely Christmas season, Ernestine, and thank you for your friendship.
I'm find myself wandering back through childhood, a passionate observer now, wishing some of those carefree days to rub off on me.
The little church is beautiful. I wish it had been open for your visit.
Alas, we are none who we were, as you say, even a year ago. Change is our constant.
Life slows for us in these crone days and there is time to think, less interruption, for me this can be scary. But I wander back it time often.
Absolutely wonderful post!
Wishing you comfort, joy and peace this day. Be warm and safe!
Blessings
Dear Sandra, thank you !!
Memories--especially this time of year. The church is the kind that I like--small enough to be comforting and with the old hymns.
The little church looks beautiful and makes me want to go inside. Like you, memories keep coming back of churches and people stretching back over the years.
Judy and Freda - Welcome
The miracle of memory is when it comes unbidden, but leaves behind cherished gifts.
I wonder if the adults of the future will remember their brick and mortar churches with the same fondness as we remember the white wood and steeples.
Deborah, your comment spoke directly to my heart.
I do not think they will remember with the same fondness of these old churches. Thanks for visiting me.
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