At this time of year when the gathering of our family and friends for the holiday services and dinners occur, we are often flooded with memories of the past. The first church our family attended was a staunch brick structure that sat on the corner of two unmarked streets. Unmarked because the town was so small that when giving directions to the church one could say,”Oh, it’s just across from Jim Hepler’s place or it’s just down the street from Dr. Ratcliff’s, home. Locations were often described by where someone lived and so it was with the Methodist church, everyone knew where it was and everyone pretty much knew those who attended there. They were the stalwarts of the community.

There was Dr. Ratcliff’s wife, who taught a Sunday school class of mostly boys, of which my three older brother’s were included. Her husband could hardly attend, for he was ‘on call’ for his medical practice. But he was admired and respected in that community. At his funeral, the balcony of that Methodist church was filled to the brim. His wife, always faithful to duties of church and home, once announced to her classroom of energetic boys to perk their interest, that her husband had purchased a new car having the latest gear shift of hypodermic drive. Although her statement was somewhat amiss of the changing times, she was loved for the enthusiasm she had to guide young people in the right and true way. Because of her influence, two of my brothers, who had wondered somewhat from the way, returned to that church to attend in their last days on earth.
I will never forget Miles and Edith who allowed a little girl slip into their upstairs guest bedroom at 5:00 am after riding with her Dad on his way to work because that was the only way she could attend a 2 week Bible School held at the church. Edith was the efficient Sunday School Superintendent of many years and Miles owned the local lumber yard. He took great pleasure in coming home in the afternoon to get out Lemonette or Grapette from the ice box, then he and I would head to the garden to pick our own helping of fresh strawberries to complete our treat. Edith was also the town librarian, so I would accompany her after lunch if she had librarian duties by snuggling down with a book until my Dad came by after his work day to pick me up.
There was the local dentist Dr. Ebank, and his wife who attended regularly. He could ingeniously wiggle his ears which he did so one Sunday when the sermon hit a dull spot. That immediately invoked giggles from my little brother who sat directly behind him enjoying the entertainment. My Mother sat helplessly in the choir in front.
Then there were Webb and Edna Metsker, a colorful couple. When a disagreement arose between them of an action to be taken during the business meeting of the church, Edna one time, rose to her feet to announce, “I’ll have you know Mr. Father. . . then proceeded to state her point of view. The session was to end in hilarity with most distracted from the issue.
A little girls eyes and ears take in many things in a setting such as this. As I was placed between two elderly ladies for worship so my Mother could sing in the choir, each Sunday I would manage to hold the large black song book as we sang Holy, Holy, Holy and later render the Doxology from memory,all the while observing happenings around me.
My Uncle Harry and my two cousins Helen and Lee would ride their bicycles three miles each Sunday to attend services, rain or shine. Uncle Harry was a hard worker, but didn’t own a car. He rode to work with my Dad and did extra yard work in town for widow ladies to further support his family by riding a bicycle to those job sites. He was a man of few words, but was always good natured, honest and dependable. His son became an ordained minister in the Methodist church, his daughter attended Bible college, then taught Women’s Bible classes for years.
I don’t ever remember receiving any stern lectures on what was right or wrong from any of these people. Maybe they gave them, maybe not. But I do remember examples of love and dedication that didn’t need long explanations. the message was clear.

As we gather this Holiday season with family and friends, remember your example speaks volumes.
Be an example of love.