The little church on the hill

The land for the church was donated by a man who never stepped foot inside it's doors. He gave the land and the people of our old country road built the building. It went through many changes over the years. Steps were built on the front. The bricks were painted white. They eventually added inside plumbing instead of an outhouse. The majority of the members were from that little four mile long road I grew up on. The attendance varied over the years. At times, it almost reached 100 and at times it got down in the 20's. But those that attended were always blessed by the Spirit of the Lord. 

It has went down hill over the years as the original families have married or moved away. It has gotten to the point that 5 in attendance was the norm. Sadly, and with deep regret, that little country church I grew up in had its last service the last Sunday of July. Though I have moved away many years ago and haven't been back to visit it, my heart is heavy for the closing of those doors. I was saved in that little church. I was baptized in the river not far away. All my friends went there. My daddy had one special seat that he always sat in. Everybody knew not to sit there because that was Luke's seat. 

He's been gone 14 years and Mom goes to another church now with my sister. Mom got a call from a good friend and one of the original founding families of the church. She said they were tearing down the church and their was a little plaque on daddy's seat that said In Loving Memory of Luther "Luke" Garretson with his DOB and DOD. She wanted to know if Mom wanted it. Of course she said yes.

So that little church may be gone, but the memory of our years there will linger on for eternity.

In loving memory of Hash Ridge Baptist Church, here is a video of a friend of mine singing with her family several years ago at her home about the Old Country Church.