I still live within a mile of this little church, it is where we placed our wedding vows, I found salvation, said good by to friends and family, and so much more.
Churches do play or perhaps did play a pivitol role in the village. Our village was no exception. It was involved, as your poem recalls, in every aspect of community life. Indeed, it was pit money that built our church, as it did also the school and village hall. The minister was known reverently as Mr Campbell, and we also knew and respected our sunday school teacher, Miss Huskie - ah the names come pouring back: Mr Wallace her Sunday school colleague, and Mr Liddell the verger. Names that only mean something to the villagers but you too could reel off your familiar faces. Yes, the little church with a big heart and even bigger store of memories to share.
"The preaching fed the soul and sometimes it was close…
But nevertheless it did the job; the word convicted the souls."
I understand this piece to convey the gracious beauty of what we find wonderful, and memoried, in our pasts. The author allows our own stretches of imagination to read with her own words, a powerful talent.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Reviewed by Dove JoAnne Cromp (Reader)
Reviewed on October 1, 2006
Joyce, I truly agree with Victor on his review. With your vision you can give good memories from the ones that truly walk with the Lord.Thank you for this beautiful piece!!!
Love & Peace,
Dove
Reviewed by Victor Buhagiar (Reader)
Reviewed on October 1, 2006
You have captured my attention right from line one. Today so many churches are empty, moral values lost. But you still achieve memories from yours. Great poem. Victor
It is one of those things that modern living steals from us - a sense of community. A place where people live and work and worship and die together. I believe it was the way that our Lord God intended it to be in the beginning.
I, too, was part of a church of this ilk, and have nothing but powerful and lasting memories from the experience.
Poignantly written ...
Brava!
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
Praise The LORD, for your wonderful penning of your memories, Joyce!
My heart grabbed, as I recalled the little white church on the hill of my own youth...and where my father now lies, with all his ancestors..I could hear my grandmother Estella, telling me all about the pews and piano, the preacher, and the potluck dinners, as my little white-gloved hand, held tightly to hers. I still get nostalgic for those old fold-out fans the elder women carried, be it summer - or Revival Meetings!
It is good, Joyce; and we're fortunate that you share it. Thank you for this gift. Love and peaced,
Reg
Reviewed by Jane Rodway (Reader)
Reviewed on October 1, 2006
This is so lovely, I can picture a novel written around this church, it seems just ripe for that inspiration-I feel like this about my church, too, all those years of memories of growing in age and faith between those walls, it really is a sanctuary. Thanks for this.
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on October 1, 2006
Joyce, OH {tears}}}}}}}}} Your poetry always soothes my soul this is so beautiful I too grew up with a small white church and a tall steeple a country one. Still stands today... Humble yet beautiful full of memories and revivals.... This part touched me in your verses.
"If they could speak…
I often thought, this is what they would say.
I watched you as you sang and shout…
The spirit that did fall,
A holy invitation…it was given…
Come one and come all!
Revivals like no others…
Some lasting only nights…
While other weeks they did cover.{{Especially}}}}
Thankyou for this blessing and your gift you share also my friend.....
Blessings,
Joselyn
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on October 1, 2006
Brilliance I can so relate, just up road from me is a little old church the Saxons built in 850. I often sit there looking at graves of nearly 1000 years ago, and wonder how each generation lived.
For some reason I always think of Chrismas time and snow...
Join me as we travel together on the road called "Aging." I will be sharing my personal experiences with you and offer ideas on how we can better navigate the complex byways of our older years. Grief, healing, generations, ancestors, and more.
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Michelle~
Love Tinka
But nevertheless it did the job; the word convicted the souls."
I understand this piece to convey the gracious beauty of what we find wonderful, and memoried, in our pasts. The author allows our own stretches of imagination to read with her own words, a powerful talent.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Love & Peace,
Dove
It is one of those things that modern living steals from us - a sense of community. A place where people live and work and worship and die together. I believe it was the way that our Lord God intended it to be in the beginning.
I, too, was part of a church of this ilk, and have nothing but powerful and lasting memories from the experience.
Poignantly written ...
Brava!
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
My heart grabbed, as I recalled the little white church on the hill of my own youth...and where my father now lies, with all his ancestors..I could hear my grandmother Estella, telling me all about the pews and piano, the preacher, and the potluck dinners, as my little white-gloved hand, held tightly to hers. I still get nostalgic for those old fold-out fans the elder women carried, be it summer - or Revival Meetings!
A most glorious write, Sister!
Love, Rhonda
Reg
"If they could speak…
I often thought, this is what they would say.
I watched you as you sang and shout…
The spirit that did fall,
A holy invitation…it was given…
Come one and come all!
Revivals like no others…
Some lasting only nights…
While other weeks they did cover.{{Especially}}}}
Thankyou for this blessing and your gift you share also my friend.....
Blessings,
Joselyn
For some reason I always think of Chrismas time and snow...
Love,
CJ