Firm Foundation

Last week I had the opportunity to step through the doors of this church...where I spent the first nineteen years of my life, and where the foundation of my relationship with the Lord was laid in strong layers.

I walked through the building, in the quiet between a funeral and the dinner to follow, and got lost in half a lifetime of memories.

The sanctuary where I was dedicated to the Lord at two weeks old, where I learned hymns from the heavy red hymnals, played in the handbell choir, sang in the choir wearing blue robe #4, gave camp reports, got in trouble for talking during sermons, played everything from an angel to Mary in Christmas programs, went to the altar to pray for the first time, and heard sermons I can still remember to this day.

The piano, hidden behind a wooden casing, where I played dozens of solos in those early years. Every one made me frightened out of my mind, and while I'm confident there was nothing I enjoyed less, I survived them, and I'm sure the whole experience made me stronger.

The words I stared at every Sunday...Come, worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness. The choir would sometimes sing the words after they floated into the choir loft in those blue robes with white sashes.

The choir loft where I sang in high school...and behind it, the secret passageway that always mesmerized me as a kid. The choir room was to the right of this picture, and the men would walk through the secret passageway to the left side and somehow emerge up the stairs at the exact moment the women did from the right...and I spent probably four years of my childhood trying to figure that out. Everything about the choir experience, from both sides of these pews, was of highest intrigue to me. {And I can't even really sing!}

Third pew from the front, organ side It's where I spent most of those first nineteen years - sandwiched in between my parents and the Pefleys. When I grew up into high school, I was permitted the privilege of moving to the back, where I sat with my good buddy Betty and the aforementioned talking during the sermons and subsequent getting into trouble took place. But this third pew...this was where I dragged naked dolls with wild hair and miniature diaper bags filled with clothes they wouldn't wear...where I knelt on the floor, using the pew as a table to draw during the sermon...where I learned to sit still and listen even when I didn't fully understand.

The red padded pews with the little diamond pattern that embedded in my cheek every Easter morning when the 3 a.m. wake-up call to be part of the Easter pageant caused me to succumb to a nap.

The nursery, where I spent hundreds of Sundays, rocking babies, changing diapers, offering bottles, sneaking marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms stash before offering over the pieces of cereal, kissing boo-boos, convincing moms the babies would really be okay if they would just go...and swapping stories with the ladies of the church who worked nursery shifts alongside me. The room where one of my little charges had a seizure on my watch, and I scooped him up to run him to his mom, because I had no clue what to do. The room where I escaped during the teen years when I didn't like church as much as I wish I would have.

The window I peeked out of each Sunday I worked in the nursery...pushing my view past the foyer and into the sanctuary to see how close the service was to ending, so we'd know when to pick up the toys. The curtains I closed to shelter little eyes from spotting mom and dad in church and progressing into meltdowns of epic proportions.

The Sunday School room that was like a mini-chapel, where I went to pray - to beg, really - before speaking in church. The room where I would pace and quote Scripture and ask God for mercy and favor and a mind that remembered words. Any words at all.

The assembly room where SO MUCH LIFE happened for me. As a little one, I dropped pennies in the birthday bank, learned Sunday School choruses from Corrine McAdams, memorized my first Bible verses, listened to stories, and filed out with the other kids to go to Sunday School after our assembly time together. Then we gathered around and learned songs that taught us the books of the Bible and other spiritual basics, while our music minister strummed his guitar. We had Christmas parties in here, youth lock-ins, and on the rare Sundays that I got to miss regular church for junior church, we gathered in this room.

The library where I used to check out books and dream that I owned them all. The heavy desk with the card catalog, where I would scrawl my name on library cards and file them in the drawer. I imagine if I looked for a bit, I could still find my elementary autograph on some cards.

The youth room where I learned more Bible verses, giggled with my peers over the words of Song of Solomon, began to pray out loud in front of others, and learned from the college-student youth pastors hired to lead our tiny group. Everyone in the youth group was related except one other guy - and me, of course - so youth group felt like family, with all the ups and downs that accompany it. We filled this room with couches and 90's posters, and had a great time together.

And speaking of youth group - we can't pass by without discussing the offering doors. These little doors created a pass-through from the inside of each Sunday School room to the hallway. After class started each week, we pull open the door and put our attendance book and offering inside, and the ushers would come down the hall and pull open the hallway side to gather them. Our goal was to deliver our offering in the most creative {read: maddening} way. We rigged bags of pennies to dump out on the ushers, we taped coins all around the perimeter, and all kindsof versions of offering. Though I'm not sure it's the joy the Lord was looking for, hearing the ushers' reactions from the hall always brought us to giggles from within the class, and the men of the church came to good-naturedly dread collecting our money.

This was it. The place I spent my childhood. The yard I ran through during game time at VBS. The picnic shelter where we had snacks in youth group. The building where I learned relationships between myself and others...and myself and God.

The other churches He's led me to in the years since have been places of learning and growth as well, but I am so grateful for THIS place and all the memories and foundations.