When I was Very Young We Walked to Church

(Another Story For Camdyn and Charlie - Even though they are here and Camdyn has already said she liked it.)

When I was very young we walked to church.

We lived in the Springfield area of Jacksonville, Florida on the northeast corner of Eighth Street and Franklin Avenue.

Our church was six blocks away on the corner of Tenth Street and North Florida Avenue.

It was fun to walk to church. On the side streets there weren’t any cars and we walked in the street. The branches of big trees covered the sky. As we walked, puppies would run out to greet us, yelping and begging to be petted. Sometimes at night there were fireflies to be caught.

Going to church, Momma wanted us to stay clean and to keep moving. We couldn’t be late for church.

“Jackie, don’t play with that dog.”

“Shirley, hold your brother’s hand and stay close to me.”

A few moments later, “Shirley, I said to hold your brother’s hand.”

“I can’t momma. He won’t let me.”

“Jackie, hold your sister’s hand. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Jimmy, help me watch them.”

Then we would stop at Aunt Jenny’s house so she could walk with us. Sister Jenny Williams wasn’t really our aunt. People at church just called her Aunt Jenny. She was elderly and she could not see well; she had cataracts in her eyes.

Aunt Jenny was a special friend to Momma. They talked as we walked. They talked softly and I didn't hear much of what they said. Momma seemed to ask questions and Aunt Jenny would say things like, “You’ll be alright, just trust the Lord.” “He’ll show you what to do.” “The Lord’s ways are not our ways.”

Aunt Jenny hooked her arm through Momma’s as we walked. When we crossed Phoenix Street Momma made us all hold hands and go together. As a car passed, “Wait, Wait, Wait,… Hold hands, Now … Go!”

When we got close to church I could see people huddled in small groups talking, mothers holding the hands of their children. Teenagers gathered in their own groups. Some families were climbing the long outside stairs to the main door of the sanctuary. Through open windows I could hear a few people praying and some musicians warming up their instruments, getting ready for church to begin.

After church we walked home in the dark. Momma didn’t have to tell me to hold anyone’s hand. Lights from houses or from the moon made shadows that danced through the trees and scared me. I held my mother’s hand tight and clung close to her skirt. Sometimes, when I got tired, Jimmy would carry me a while and then Momma would carry me the rest of the way home. Once we got home momma put us in bed right away.

Life was a journey, and all roads led to church and back home again.