The little white United Church, on the cliff, in Harbourville, is entering an exciting new time. It is once again becoming a vibrant centre of activity for the surrounding communities.
It was with great relief that Mary and I went into the the bank in town, to sign the final papers releasing the church money, to a higher power.
I love that little church and the memories of those people, who gave it life.
Over one hundred and fifty years ago, many people got together to build a no nonsense, Methodist church. The church was not a physically impressive church. Its beauty was in its simplicity. Unlike so many other churches who joined others to become part of the United Church of Canada, in 1925, this church did not change its Methodist interior.
In time, the beautiful chandelier was converted from gas to electricity, the straight backed pews were painted and repainted, furniture was recovered and a bright red carpet was laid over some areas of the painted wood floor. Until the authorities said, "This can be no more.", the ancient oil burner rattled away heating the sanctuary on cold days.
There is no phone and for much of its history, no address. There is no plumbing. In times of great desperation, it was necessary to resort to the dilapidating outhouse, out behind.
Winter mice sometimes made their homes in among the large bibles and old, worn hymnaries.
On Christmas Eve, a small miracle took place each year. The simple church became magnificent. Candles, red ribbons, holly, evergreen boughs, wall hangings, a creche transformed the sanctuary.
Most importantly the church was full.
The church not only filled with light, but with music and the joy of the season. The house was full as in years gone by. Many a foot that had not crossed a church entrance, since the year before, came into the church. Many with individual individual faiths came to celebrate.
The United Church Women and theirs friends, who made up the Ladies Sewing Circle, through generations, kept the church alive, as the congregation dwindled. The local cottagers swelled the ranks in the summer. We "younger" women were happy to follow their lead, but when we became older, there was no one to lead.
The relentless laws of attrition took their toll. The church no longer plays a central part in many younger lives.
In winter the church workers dwindled from a few to two. Two is not a flock. We were not up to what was required.
A little task here, a little task there, some phoning here and there, some necessary practical decisions, some inevitable congregational decisions, requests to attend meetings, issues concerning insurance, finance, foundations, roof, services, ordinary upkeep inside and out, charge matters, became too much. We were not the people to make the big decisions and became overwhelmed by the time required for the little ones. The church needed a wider community.
How wonderful it was that others, with fresh new ideas and the skills and enthusiasm to accomplish much came forward, when we finally, determinably stepped back.
The little white church on the cliff has a new life, as it moves into the future. The church will remain into the future, whole and even holy.
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