Just Visiting

Sunday Morning circa 1972
Growing up, we attended church on Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, and Wednesday night prayer meeting.

Instantly, some of you will know what kind of church I'm talking about.

There are self-help groups for former members of this "christian" club, but you did not hear that from this baptist.

One of my favorite things about growing up in an atmosphere such as this, was that regularly, my parents would invite folks over after Sunday night church.

Back then, one said, "We're having company."

We'd serve ham sandwiches, Jay's potato chips, colorful jello molds, with a dollop of Miracle Whip, and root beer from mugs which had been stored in the freezer. You heard me, I said  "Jay's not Lay's, and mayonnaise, not whipped cream.

Sometimes we'd play the latest card game, or revert to trusty old board games. Sometimes we'd sit and "chat" about the Sunday services. And by chat, I mean, discuss, and by discuss, I mean gossip.

We'd beg mom and dad to invite our favorite families.  "Can we please have the Wilcoxsins' or the Flecks, or the Lelle's over, please, huh, can we please?"  When the company included the church piano or organ player, or my sister or younger brother learned to play piano, we'd have a good old-fashioned hymn sing.

We'd sing, Blessed Assurance, Love Lifted Me, At The Cross, Power In The Blood, When We All Get Heaven, When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder, O For a Thousand Tongues To Sing.

One evening after the last verse of "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus"  had been sung, and the last visitor had headed home, I knelt with my parents, right there by the organ bench, and asked Jesus into my heart. I wanted my name on the list up yonder.

Oh, I could go on and on about what the word "visit" conjures up in my mind. I could also go for days about baptists, and saying the "salvation prayer" versus leading a life filled to overflowing with the holy spirit. And don't even get me started on getting to church once a week, let alone three times. But my 5 minutes are up.

I'll leave you with the words to another one of my favorite hymns.

This world is not my home I'm just a passing through
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me from heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Oh Lord you know I have no friend like you
If heaven's not my home then Lord what will I do
The angels beckon me from heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

I have a loving mother just over in Gloryland
And I don't expect to stop until I shake her hand
She's waiting now for me in heaven's open door
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore

Just over in Gloryland we'll live eternally 
The saints on every hand are shouting victory
Their songs of sweetest praise drift back from heaven's shore
And I can't feel at home in this world anymore
Oh Lord you know...

Five Minute Friday


Susan said...

Oh my how I loved this post from a "former happy bappy"! Sounds as though you & I have a lot in common beside Five Minute Friday and church visits every time the doors opened. Loved the post. Love my freedom in Christ. My favorite song? "My chains are gone, I've been set free, my God my Savior has ransomed me!"

Anonymous said...

Oh my goodness! We might have shared the same childhood! Good memories, for the most part! Yep, a former Baptist girl too, but many of our Sunday nights were spent as Mazzio's. Anyone remember that place?
Love this prompt and post. I conjures so many impromptu "visits" with friends (like you) I've never met (not yet)!

Rachael said...

Sounds like you had a happy childhood! How wonderful that FMF conjured up these delicious memories for you!

Fivehearts Onefamily said...

What a sweet story of how came to know Christ!