My little white church on the hill...

I have spent thousands of hours at my little white church on the hill...I first walked through the doors when I was 18, and this is where I first laid eyes on my husband only a year later. I walked down the aisle in my little white church in my wedding gown, full of hopes and dreams. The church was full of ribbons and bows, and the love of my church family. Sitting in those pews I imagined our children, who started arriving 10 months later. Christmas Eve candlelight services, family fellowships, Vacation Bible Schools...the years passed by and my little white church on the hill held them all. It wasn't long before our family filled a whole pew. All four of our children toddled down that aisle, being lovingly taught by their Sunday School teachers and sherpherded by our faithful pastor. Our church family changed..some were led to other places, and new friends arrived, welcomed with open arms. I sat by the hour in the pews praying...praying for my son who was away at war. Praying for my daughter in Africa. Praying for my sick friends. Thanking God for all His blessings. There is love in ever corner of this place. From the communion table, handcrafted by Pastor's father, to the pews, with the finish wearing away, to the red carpet faded with the years. Memories in the kitchen, of countless dinners and celebrations..funerals..the nursery where all of our children spent hours being loved on by women who have become family to us. My heart still skips a beat as we drive around the corner to see our little church on the hill. This is home to me. This is where all my dreams came true, and where all my heartaches were comforted. I cherish the family that resides there. Now our son is going to watch HIS bride walk down the aisle in our sweet church, with ribbons and bows and candelight. His eyes filled with love, his heart full of prayers and hopes and dreams for his own family. He met HIS bride in our church, when they were children. Now his life with her will begin there in that same beloved place that it began for me and my own husband, surrounded by loving family and married by the same pastor who married us. God has planted our hearts and lives in this house of love, with these precious people. I continue to dream here, and I bow my silver head and pray for the grandchildren that might toddle down the very same aisle someday. And my sweet little church on the hill remains, a constant reminder of God's provision and tender loving care.
I could not ask for more...