I didn’t want to do a blog post today as much as pull out a memory that I wanted to remember out loud.
There is an old song that I love that takes me straight back to my childhood. I’ve always called it “The Church in the Vale.” The actual name of the song is “There’s a Church in the Valley by the Wildwood,” often simply called “The Church in the Wildwood.” It is a beloved American gospel hymn written by Dr. William S. Pitts in 1857.
The little church in Airport Bottom where I lived fit that song perfectly, except it was not brown. It was white.
Nevertheless, it is the church that fills my soul when I hear that song. Every memory it brings back hits me straight in the heart.
I can hear those opening notes, and I am there.
The church house.
The up and down seats. (IYKYK)
The people.
My great-grandpa sitting right up front.
My great-grandma pinching my arm when I needed it.
The music.
The Christmas plays.
Frances and me trying to sing!
Oh, and the Spirit!
That church was the little church in our vale, and the words, “No place is so dear to my childhood…” fit it perfectly.
I say all that to say, my memory today is not so much about the church as it is a special memory I have of the church and my mom.
Today is Mom’s 87th birthday, her first celebrated in heaven. I miss her today, and I will miss her until I see her again. She was truly my best friend.
This particular memory has to be about sixty-two years old. I was in the preschool Sunday school class.
The kids’ Sunday School rooms were downstairs. The downstairs was one big area, separated into different sections. The preschool class was over in the corner, right at the foot of the stairs.
Sitting in the preschool room, you could see the bottom five stairs or so. You would see people’s shoes first as they came down the stairs.
I always knew when my mom was coming down those stairs because she had the most beautiful legs that I could ever remember.
Not only did she have beautiful legs, she always had on a pair of saucy high-heeled shoes. They were her trademark in the early sixties.
Memories of Mom are such a big part of my “Little Church in the Vale.”
So every time I hear that song, I think of our little church. And when I think of our little church, I think of my mom, carefully making her way down those stairs in her high heels, knowing she had the most beautiful legs around!
So yes, today will be emotional. I don’t plan to try and fix that or push it away. I can miss her. I can laugh about those saucy high heels. I can cry. I can hear that old hymn and be six years old again, sitting at the foot of those stairs, waiting to see those shoes.
Happy Birthday Mom!
I love you.
Until I see you again!
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Blog Image by Jan Haerer from Pixabay
Restricted Vision, Unburdened Sight 