Reflections of Long Ago

Our revival started last night and I could not help but be reminded of rivals seventy-five or eighty years ago when I was a youngster.  As my mother would have said, “We had no conveyance,” therefore, we had to walk the 1 1/2 or 2 miles to the church.

Dry and dusty roads

The country roads were dry and dusty which made the walk a hot one.  Part of the way we had some shade, but by the time we arrived at the church we were hot and sweaty — in need of a funeral home fan.  Of course, there was no air conditioning — in fact no electricity for years — and the church might have been cool at the beginning of the service, but before the end it was hot.  The windows were all raised and bugs and bees were at liberty to enter at will.

I heard one story of two old maid sisters who had to walk farther than we did and they would stop in the swale (where there was a little water), near the church, and wash the dust off their feet and legs and put on better shoes and stockings.  Duh!

The church was a quaint little church — much like the Church in the Wildwood must have looked —  it had an A-Men corner on one side where the men sat and ladies sat on the opposite side.  The center Section was where the young folks sat.  The mourners bench was the front pew on the A-Men side and it was there that I was converted when I was nine years old.

church

Lots of trees were in the churchyard and that is where the mules and horses were hitched to hitching posts — or in some cases hitched to trees.  Some people came to church in a two-horse wagon or buggy.  Very few cars.  Under a grouping of trees is where the long table was for when we had “dinner on the ground.”

The revival was called “Protracted Meeting” back then and, unlike today’s three night revival, it lasted two weeks.  Meeting was held in the mornings as well as a night.  Preachers were invited to different homes for their meals and each lady tried to outdo the other.  I may be repeating myself here — but bear with me — one lady’s husband had a chicken farm and she served fried chicken when the preachers ate at her house.  She insisted that they enjoy yet another piece of chicken stating, “I can’t hardly kept ’em fried up as fast as they die!”  Imagine the thoughts going through the preachers mind!

Back them hellfire and damnation were preached over and over and much shouting took place.  I’m told John’s grandmother was a big shouter — dancing down the isle.  She wore her hair long and done up in a bun on the back of her head and, of course, the hair fell as she shuffled down the isle. John remembers the children following her, as she danced, picking up the hair pins.

Even though they are held somewhat differently today, revivals still have the same bottom line — restoration.  I pray for a revival and pray it will begin with me.  Such is country living.