Several years ago now, my husband, my daughter and I had the great privilege of visiting the church where I was baptized as an infant. It wasn’t for a Sunday service, but on a quiet Thursday morning. We were passing through the town in which I had lived for the first twelve years of my life.
This was a foreign country to my
husband—a true suburb, originally a Levittown, now named
Willingboro. My parents moved to this place, their first home soon
after they were married and shortly before I was born. We lived
there through the end of my sixth grade school year. My parents
formed their deepest friendships in this place—through the church.
Here the foundation of my family was built.
St. Paul United Methodist Church nurtured and formed all of
us. As we stepped into the hallway by the office, the memories swept
over me in waves of pictures frozen in time, images that I had nearly forgotten. Attending four year old pre-school in this place, one day I had gotten so sick that my mother had come to get
me. On this hallway was the nursery where I helped to
“watch” the babies including my younger brother during the
services.
On the second floor was the choir room
where Mrs. Deihl taught us to sing “All Things Bright and
Beautiful.” Here were all the Sunday school rooms for children. I
spent a year in every one of them. Third grade was my favorite. Mrs. Evelyn Carson was my teacher and I received my bible which I still have. We memorized the 100th Psalm. I also still have the
bookmark that we made to mark that verse.
As we walked to the sanctuary, we
passed the fellowship hall. This room lived up to its
name—always filled to the brim for wonderful social and spiritual
occasions. Here I helped to “make hoagies” (that’s
a sub to my southern-born husband). The Mother-Daughter Banquet was a yearly highlight and the programs were great entertainment--especially the one with a janitor
in a drum and a streaking two year old. One year, my family participated in an intergenerational Sunday School class which met in the fellowship hall. In this room I first participated in Wesley’s
covenant service on a New Year’s Eve.
As we passed the other educational
wing, that mysteriously more grown-up hallway, I remembered the fight
over the placement of a coke machine in that hallway and the
agreement not to allow persons to purchase drinks on Sundays.
Then we reached the sanctuary, the most
special place to me. Our family sat off to the right side near the
front. If I wasn't sitting with my family, I sat in the front row
to the left side with the children’s choir. The view from that pew
was wonderful as I actually listened to the sermons that Rev. Smyth
preached. I was so proud when I had finally learned the
Apostles’ Creed by heart and the doxology as well. The Christmas
eve services with the pageants are spectacular in my mind, but
nothing compared to that last Christmas when I finally was allowed to stay up late enough to attend the
candlelight service.
My parents had brought me to this sanctuary to be baptized as an infant and before we moved away, it was my
deepest desire to be confirmed in this church. However, confirmation
classes were for seventh graders, and I was only in sixth. I had a
conversation with the pastor about it. He explained that when I joined the church, I would join not just a congregation, but the United
Methodist Church as well as the Church Universal. So that, when we
moved and found a new church home and I would go through
confirmation in that place, I would be joining this greater church
which also included St. Paul UMC.
I have known the greater connection of the United Methodist Church. I have since
been a member of two other congregations, an affiliate member in another, graduated from both a United Methodist College and a United Methodist Seminary. I have served several congregations as ministerial intern and pastor as well as been a
clergy member of three Annual Conferences. My sense of the
connectional church is strong.
The connection that St. Paul UMC grew in my heart has never
wavered. My Methodist roots are in that congregation as the place in which my faith was
formed. I am grateful to have been baptized into the community of
faith that is St Paul United Methodist Church. Through the eyes of a child, this was an incredible
place—full of people who loved me and took time to teach me about
the love of God in Christ. So many things that now I realize were
unique to this congregation seemed simply like “the way the
world was.” I am grateful that is was the way MY world was---full
of people of all types who were committed to serving Christ.
Remembering this congregation through my childhood’s eyes it looks more
like the Kingdom of God than any other community of faith I have
since known. Whether or not my memories are a child’s perception or
close to reality, I am grateful with the heart of this adult for the body of Christ which is St. Paul’s UMC.
