We did not always make it to church when we were traveling, but often we were found in church. One church I remember was an old red brick Presbyterian church in Evansville, Indiana.(Summer 1972). It was on the Ohio River and no air conditioning. Just like at home, we used the funeral home fans. The ceilings soared above us. Hymns were sung and I liked being a visitor there. My dad was friendly as a visitor, too.
The first air conditioned church I went to was in Tennessee, my cousin's Baptist church. The temperatures with the humidity higher than in Pennsylvania made this a marvel. We sat in that comfort and needed no funeral home fans.
I went to a Roman Catholic church with my dad's cousin's daughter in Aurora, Illinois. I did everything she did, from using the holy water and saying the responses. I'm not sure why just the two of us went, but I idolized her at the time.
We always went to my sister's church in Newark, New Jersey and she was/still is friends with the pastor- thanks to Facebook. I remember it as a large stone, I believe Gothic edifice. I was amazed at the size of the building, exclaiming, "What a big church!" Yet, congregation size, it was a dwindling city church and my sister hushed me immediately. Later in years, it became an Hispanic congregation church.
One weekend, I was invited to go with my friend and her parents to her father's hunting cabin in Marienville, Pennsylvania. A converted caboose with an added on room in early November, probably before hunting season, served as our get away and Sunday morning, we had a church service in the cabin. I remember we read from the gospel of John, about John the Baptist.
Even if we didn't get to a church service, we didn't forget God while we were traveling. I cherish the experiences of visiting different churches. One thing I look forward when I go away.
See ya in church on Sunday!
|My cousin and I on our way to church in Aurora, Illinois|