The little white building behind is the church 😀
Picture by: Emily Amzand
An Awesome Church
I spent a long time thinking about a childhood memory that I could write about. In my head I went back to all the little moments when I was younger. I remembered the days when I was still living in Curaçao, the house we lived in with the big back yard, the cute puppy we took care of, the baby doll my grandpa gave me for my somethingth birthday. All these great little moments in life, but none were really clear writable experiences. When I arrived at the church on Saturday, early as usual I decided to take a walk around the area hoping that if I opened myself up for it, the memories would come to me. Never did I think that huge a bomb of nostalgia would come in my way! I decided to sit down for the short time I had left to write in the exact centre of my childhood and now I know that I underestimated the power of writing in a place that means something. I highly recommend it! This way I also found that my childhood is in the church. The church family I’ve created had become more precious to me than I could ever have imagined which makes seventh day adventism for me not only a religion for me. It’s a way of life, the home of my family, the place where I can see the people in the world who are the most precious to me and where I can feel the presence of the one I love the most. My heavenly Father 😀
Ok back to the memories xD. I don’t feel like picking a specific one so I’ll just tell a bit about the area around my church and everything I remember about it with here and there some change of perspective 😀 (figuring how to write this down as I go along ^^’)
First of all, there’s the church itself. On the area there are two buildings. First there is a big building complete with round arches, beautiful brown bricks and a questionable statue of something weird at the front of it. The stairs lead to the great entrance and everything about it is grand and perfect. (little bit of exaggeration ^^’) Just a couple of metres to it’s side you see a smaller building, white, squared, almost hidden away by some trees during the summer, a big brown door as entrance… You get the picture. From afar you might confuse it with a cabin, but it’s surprisingly spacious. The little white building is my church. It took me ages to figure out what the building next to it was for, but I didn’t really care either way 🙂 The church is small, but it’s home. When I enter through the big brown doors I immediately hear the sound of music. Good music. Guitars, singing, drums, awesomeness! I remember when the greed plastic chairs still weren’t replaced with the newer comfier ones and the beautiful wooden floor was still old and ugly. I didn’t care about that back then, nor do I now. Like I said, home. I didn’t go to this church from the start though. When I was twelve I followed my cousin and my brother here (the place where he met love) and I loved it. I’ve come to the area around it before though. Many, many days as scouts in the forest. The forest that seemed like it was endless. Little me. I look up to the trees, I see the forest around me, not knowing where I am or where I can go. I look at my compass and I don’t understand how it works. My friends are walking ahead of me and I desperately run towards the leader to make sure I won’t get lost. No matter what time of the year it is, I always walk through the fallen leaves and climb every tree I can, cautiously looking out so I don’t lose sight of my leader. The one time I did I spent a good time crying my eyes out for it. That won’t happen again, I say to myself. I have to get to know this forest! Ahead of me I see my biggest point of recognition. The mountain. It’s hard to climb, steep and high and at the top there is some kind of ruin. At the bottom there is a cellar. They say there are bats living inside, that they caged count Dracula in it. I’m scared of getting close, but curious at the same time. After an hour of walking through the endless fallen leaves we arrive at the field with the flagpoles. Time for our salute after a successful journey through the wild. Older me. The journey actually took me about 20 minutes. We were very slow that day. When I look at the forest right now I see how small it actually was. It’d take effort to get lost here. The mountain is nothing more than a hill. Still these things made me feel like a true adventurer. The field with the flagpoles is where we always gathered. Right now it’s empty but if I close my eyes I remember it being covered with hundreds of tents and in the middle there is a big one with red and white stripes. Just beyond there is a little hut for some meetings and next to it the toilets. They have and shall always be dirty, because of the camping. But it’s part of the memory. The cold is also part of it and somehow when I think of the ice cold nights with my brother in a tent after saying goodnight to the rest of our family, I can’t help but feeling warm. Just beyond the hut there’s the old forest. At least… now it’s a car factory or something. The memories there just swept away by bulldozers. I loved that place so much. The snowball fights there, the lunch together, the adventures. At least there’s still some left before the hut. Little me. Early in the morning, no one is awake yet. I feel the fresh cold breath of the morning on my face. I hardly slept enough last night, I could sleep for a couple hours more. No I can’t. In about 20 minutes they’ll start hitting the pots and pans and everyone will wake up. Instead of laying in my tent I go outside. I climb a hill and rub my eyes at the same time and when at the top all I do is stare at what I see. The little kindergarten where I play sometimes. The sand where I used to dig hundreds of holes in. The children’s farm with the young goats wide awake already. I just take a breath and tae it in. I enjoy the happy moments I’m having before the Sunday ends and I’ll have to leave the camp. I won’t see my family for one more week until the next Sabbath. I smile. I can live with that. Taking my time I walk back to the tents again, thanking God for every step I take. Lazy as I am I step inside my tent again and enjoy my last 5 minutes of sleep, before some of the camp leaders make a delicious breakfast while I sleep through the noise of the pans. Older me. No matter how far away I go, how long I’m gone or when I’m coming back. In the years to come I’ll be back at this place re-experiencing some of the best moments of my life. Feeling like I’m coming home every time.
Well, this isn’t a story xD It’s just me rambling about my memories Well, I hope you enjoyed it either way. At least I did