The first home I lived in was across the road from our church. I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior around ten years of age. A revival was in progress. The church was poorly lit with oil lamps. The minister was preaching a fire and brimstone message, as most did back then. I went because of fear of going to hell. It seemed like the walk down that aisle was lasting forever. Afterward I tried very hard to live up to what I thought was a Christian life. I stopped swearing, listing to secular music and lots of other things I thought were sinful. By Mercy and Grace God kept me.

Our pastor was a circuit preacher with three churches none more than 10 miles apart. Each church met once a month. My Stepfather, mother, twin sisters and younger brother were all talented Christian singers and were always in demand. When our denomination did not have church service, we attended other denominational churches.

On special days such as Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, pastor’s appreciation, and church anniversary celebration, dinner was served. On those days, the church was full of people and overflowed to the outside. Many times there were more people on the outside hanging out than on the inside. It appeared that everyone was there, even the ones who visited the juke joints the night before. There were vendors selling snowballs (my dad one of them) and probably whiskey the way some acted and smelled. When it was time to take up the offering, the collection basket was passed around outside also.

Tables were set up in the church yard for serving the food each family brought. Lot of cakes, beans and chicken cooked several different ways were served. The church goers sought out the best cooks piling food on their paper plates as they went.

Attending church made us to feel free. Besides there were no other moral places to go except the church.

Overcomer by Hope, the confident expectation of something good to happen.