The Unlocked Door

I’ll tell you now that this blog will be longer than normal.  Hopefully, you will stay with me through the entirety of it.
We took a quick trip to our hometown in rural Kansas a few days ago.  We had some business to attend to, and thought it best to do it in person as we had papers to sign, etc..  My sister wanted to go with us, so we picked her up in the Wichita area and made the trip.
After we got our business done, we decided to go to a rural church and cemetery in the area where we thought there might be some relatives.  Our other sister is the family genealogist and thought someone might be there.  She wanted any information that might have been on the stone.
This particular cemetery was next to a church we had visited when we were young (back in the 1950’s).  It was part of the denomination we were members of then, but went to another church in the area.  Sometimes, though, we went to this church for special meetings and such.  We hadn’t been there in some time, and for my sis, it was an even longer time.  The church and cemetery were in the “middle of nowhere”, so to speak.  Farm land and pasture surrounded the building.  There were no homes or highways in the area.  While we were there, no vehicles traveled the dirt road in front of the building, to my knowledge.
The building was surrounded by ancient elms, some over 4 feet in diameter.  They were ancient fifty years ago when we were kids, and are even more so now.  A recent ice storm caused damage, I think, but the church folks had the trees trimmed, and they are once again becoming the shade trees that we remembered from years ago.
It looked like the church had re-planted a row of cedars out back.  Several years ago, I think they had grubbed out the old cedars, which had become unsightly and didn’t look good due to years of ice, wind, and weather.  The building had a new roof and newer glass doors on the front.  The cemetery stones were upright and set properly, and the cemetery was mowed.  The property was well-cared for.
The tradition of this church has been that the building be unlocked at all times.  True to that, when I pulled on the front door, it swung open.  Inside, it was cool and even more quiet than out doors.  The building smelled exactly as we remembered from 40 or more years ago when we would go there for special meetings, or “revivals”.  Our youth group would also go there at the invitation of their youth group, at times, for “fellowship”.
I don’t remember much about the revivals, except that they many times were in the summer, and there was no air conditioning at that time.  The ushers did the best they could by opening the windows, but that only brought in the hot air and dust from outside.  And, of course, the place was usually packed, with folding chairs set up in the back and in the aisles.
The speakers also seemed to drone on forever, and for a 10 year old boy to hold still all during that time seemed an impossible task.  I often thought that the grown-ups were doing this deliberately to us kids for some perverted reason, and couldn’t wait until services were finally over and we could all go outside and run off the accumulated energy in a game of tag or hide-and-seek while the adults visited.
We looked at the names on the “mailboxes” in the front entrance.  We recognized many of the names and commented on some.  We also looked over the guestbook and commented on some of the folks who had visited in the last couple of years.  Sis sat on one of the benches and commented on the continuing lack of padding.  I didn’t tell her that we have enough natural padding nowadays to make up for any lack of foam on the seats.
We saw hymnbooks that we had known from long years ago.  The old black hymnal and the accompanying Life Songs #2, both with shaped notes, brought back a flood of memories.  We looked at the collection plates, the same ones we remembered from long ago, and noticed that they were given in memory of someone back in the mid-1950’s.
We went over to the cemetery and not only looked for possible relatives, we also reminisced about people who were there whom we had known.  The cemetery is not large by modern standards, and we were able to walk the whole thing in about 20 minutes.
All too quickly, it was time to go.  I went back to the building and rang the bell that is on a stand to the side of the entrance.  I do not know the story of the bell and will, some day, think to ask someone who does to tell me.
We are no longer members of this denomination, but cherish the ties we have, not only with those folks who have headstones in the cemetery, but also the people who are represented by the names on the foyer mailboxes and in the guestbook.  And I am grateful that they have an “unlocked door” policy, which allowed us to go inside to recall a simpler and in some ways better and more innocent time.  It is good to know that the wonderful people of that church can still live many aspects of that time in their daily lives.  The unlocked door is testimony to that.