December 29, 2009
Gum Springs Church
This little church is around the corner from the house, three-tenths of a mile or so, or a thousand hilly feet if you choose to walk through the woods:
It's a rather humble house of worship as these things go, with no sign whatsoever, broken windows, no hint of denomination, and a pathetic little graveyard. But its walls are decently whitewashed, its parking lot is swept clean, and a dozen or so cars arrive on Sundays for service.
I say the graveyard is pathetic, which seems a harsh term, but it is.
The graves are cut rough in the ground, and the only delineation between one and the next is an outline of leftover bricks. Of the two dozen or so graves, many are forgotten or unknown:
Many have homemade headstones:
A few of the graves show pride of place. Here is the grave of a son killed in Vietnam, whose memorial is a bit fancier than the others:
This World War II veteran likewise has a more prominent and professional headstone, probably paid for with ancient veterans' benefits:
This lady has the fanciest set up in the cemetery, no doubt an homage to her standing in this tight-knit community:
For the most part, however, the graves are merely forgotten
or the deceased was acknowledged in the crude runes of the semi-literate survivors:
I've often considered joining these rustic folk for an hour of worship on a Sunday, but I'm convinced their outward friendliness and bonhomie would be a veneer masquerading a truer desire to simply be left alone. I could no more know their history or intramural alliances and enmities than I could fathom the pecking order in a mosque. I'm not even sure if this congregation is black or white, nor would that be germane to the issue.
Better, I think, to leave them to their prayers and thoughts, and intrude not upon the sanctity of their tiny circle of worship.
How do I know the name of their church, this chapel with no name or denomination on it? In these parts most roads are named for the church that perches beside it. Like Galilee Church Road and Mt. Moriah Church Road, this one sits upon Gum Springs Church Road. And so as to be neighborly to the postman, they dutifully misspelled it upon the mailbox:
Pitiful, perhaps, but in all things community it is the thought that counts. One cannot purchase neighbors like this for any sum of gold; and why I need to go back with a rake and tidy those unkempt gravesites.
Three-tenths of a mile or a million miles? Probably both I should think.
Posted by: Dishonorable Schoolboy at December 29, 2009 4:52 PMThe leaves and grass are fine. What better blanket to warm old bones than one left by the creator? Otherwise, though, policingh the area for beer bottles and fallen branches and tires, probably a good idea.
Very nice. Ought to offer to reglaze some windows
Posted by: og at December 29, 2009 5:09 PMSnakes and crack...
Posted by: Yabu at December 29, 2009 5:50 PMReminds just a bit of the tiny church from my youth. But that one was much newer; the town itself was incorporated in 1953, so there wasn't enough time passed for it to have a history.
Or a graveyard.
Posted by: serr8d at December 29, 2009 8:29 PMDo they pray to those snakes?
Posted by: Catfish at December 29, 2009 9:04 PMWhen I lived East long ago I'd stop at a graveyard if it looked old, Maine to Massachussetts. A lot of women, with their newborns; epidemics taking families, wars, sailors never returned. Some old age, now and again.
If you are ever in Plymouth, walk up the hill and spend a few hours.
I'll help rake.
Posted by: vanderleun at December 29, 2009 10:20 PMIf you get over there early some Sunday, I'll bet you can see Edna Spalding & Mr. Wills arrive.
...a taste of God...
Let them worship in peace, and may God bless their little gathering. I'd leave their cemetery alone, too.
Posted by: Genevieve at December 30, 2009 1:46 AMI agree with Genevieve; the best of intentions may sometimes intrude.
Within a mile radius of my home are perhaps four active/semiactive churches similar to Gum Springs and more than a dozen known graveyards scattered through the woods. Many more around the county. Unless you belong, and unless there is active vandalism and other land exploitation, I believe they should be left in the peace of the ages.
At what point did being neighborly turn into ignoring people for their own good?
Walk over there one day and introduce yourself. What can it hurt?
Posted by: OA at December 30, 2009 1:08 PMWhen I was a sprout, my paternal grandmother would take us grandkids along when she spent a day cleaning up a rural Alabama cemetery in which many of her, and our, forebears lay. As we raked and policed the area, thoroughly bored, she would identify who was who, and their place in the family history. She's gone to her reward lo these 40 years now, and I have no idea where that graveyard is -- perhaps in Coffee or Dale County.
I wish I could find it. And I wish I could remember the stories.
Posted by: slackjawedyokel at December 30, 2009 1:23 PMI bet that if you went to worship, you'd be made welcome and asked to return. I belong to a church like this and the congregants have taken me under their wing, given me understanding, Christian charity, and accepted me as part of their little community. Some of them have worshiped there for generations and I am just a passing-through pilgrim.
Posted by: PawPaw at December 30, 2009 2:04 PMeat a lot of peaches
try and find Jesus own your own
I do like the idea of cleaning up the graveyard, though.
on your own, I meant to say. Seems an afternoon tipple can impede lexicality.
Posted by: Arcs at December 30, 2009 4:16 PMSo....do you have your bison yet? Personally if I had to take care of cattle it would be Scottish cows. I think that the Highland cattle are quite sexy, and are supposed to be tasty.
Posted by: Cocklebur at December 30, 2009 11:25 PM