LITTLE CHURCHES, GOOD SOIL

“All the Children come to Sing,” invites the Pastor in the little church of long ago. Look in with me about fifty years ago. About eight kids eagerly shuffle out of the pews, a couple of 12-year-olds stubbornly sit as aunts and grandmas urge them to go forward. They feel too big for that. But watch the others. They line up in front of the altar while little Nancy, hardly more than a toddler, takes her place at the end. Sonny notices that George moved to the other end, so Sonny hurriedly moves over by him. Jean, a young teen, sits on the front seat facing them as she directs their singing. Nancy is cute as she mimics the others, trying to be as big as the rest. Oh, listen as they sing, “He showed me his feet that were bruised for my sinning, He showed me his hands that were nailed to the tree. I then saw his brow and his sides deeply wounded. And now I love Jesus and Jesus loves me.” Tears trickle down Carl’s face as he hold his palms up in front of him, feeling the presence of Jesus.
I’m looking in on that church so long ago because I have been able to watch those children (even the 12-year-olds) grow. They have been good seed planted in good soil. Many churches have changed a lot, but Jesus’s invitation still holds, “Bring the little children unto me.”

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About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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