Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Faith of My Father

There are many things I love about West Virginia...any season...  One of the things that have always charmed me about West Virginia are their churches...


Little, white wooden churches with simple names...dotting the hillsides on old country roads...


with wooden pews, people still singing out of hymnals--no megachurches here with flashy, audio-visual displays.


And the church is the pillar of the community...the center of  community life.


Four years ago today, I woke up for the first time without my father in this world.  This is him being baptized by his minister and a visiting evangelist.


I miss him every day...but his faith that he lived daily, continues to live in me...all because of this (the actual church) country church of my father.


There's a little mountain church in my thoughts of yesterday
Where friends and family gathered for the Lord
There and old fashioned preacher taught the straight and narrow way
For what few coins the congregation could afford
Dressed in all out Sunday best we sat on pews of solid oak
And I remember how our voices filled the air
How mama sounded like an angel on those high soprano notes
And when the roll is called up yonder I'll be there.
   Looking back now that little mountain church house
   Has become my life's corner stone
   It was there in that little mountain church house
   I first heard the word I've based my life upon
.

5 comments:

  1. This is so precious, especially the photo of your father's baptism.
    Do you think our Dads are up there somewhere reading our blogs?

    xoxo

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  2. Truly beautiful, inspirational and emotional. When we drive through the mountains I see these sweet white churches...so picturesque...they give hints of gentle times. I think the whole state of WV is of a "gentle time". Thank you so much for sharing!

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  3. Beautiful post! I love to run across old country churches!

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  4. Awesome post. Country Churches are beautiful and so quaint. I loved seeing the one your father attended and his baptism photo. My dad has been gone nearly 16 years and while the pain of his loss has lessened I still miss him and often find myself thinking of him in ways when I see things that remind me of him like this church did of your dad. Precious Memories indeed.

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