One if by Land Adventures

When I was a kid nothing gave me more delight than spending time with my Grandma Clements.  She was one of the sweetest people that I ever knew and she still held onto a childlike innocence well into her 80’s

She was also incredibly naive which my brother and I exploited as often as possible.  Every year we managed to trick her into revealing our Christmas presents.  My brother was especially gifted at this.  One year he wanted a waterbed and on an evening shortly before Christmas, our poor grandmother was put in charge of us while our parents went to finish up shopping.  At dinner my brother, ever the gifted actor, worked up some tears and Grandma naturally went over to see what was the matter.  In full on Oscar mode, he exclaimed “Oh grandma I’m just worried that Mom and Dad are getting me the wrong bed!”  Of course Grandma, foiled again, responded back “Oh honey don’t worry they got the exact one you showed them the picture of.”  At that point, she realized she messed up and my brother thanked her before trotting off to eat another candy cane.

My grandparents were well regarded in the community.  My grandfather, who had died years before my birth, had been a music teacher and tutor all his life.  Grandma died of cancer shortly before my 13th birthday and her little church in Prairie Grove, Arkansas wanted to do something in my grandparent’s memory.  After a good amount of fundraising, the church contacted us and told us that they were dedicating a stained glass window in their honor.

As a family we went to the church for the official dedication.  Through the years, on my return trips to put flowers at their grave, I often wished I could go into the sanctuary to see the window, but it was always locked.  This past summer I was visiting my hometown and decided to make  special side trip to pay my respects to my grandparents.  As I rolled through the little town, I could see remnants of the little hamlet they had occupied so many years ago.  While there were many changes, some buildings still held that nice familiarity.

Pulling up to the old church, my heart began to sink.

The church was surrounded by construction equipment and looked as if it was being torn down.  I tracked down a worker and they informed me that it was undergoing a massive renovation.  The church, itself, had closed a year or so earlier since it’s congregation, on a good Sunday, was in the single digits.  The new owner graciously allowed me to come inside.

He said that he was planning on reopening the church as an event center for weddings and special events.  The former congregation had made him promise to a few terms before the sale though.  One of them was that the old pews had to used, at least in some capacity.   Most were over a 100 years old, but since they were so well built and taken care of, you would never have thought they were so heavily used.  The other condition was that the stained glass windows had to be preserved and could not be removed.  They had all been made specifically for the church and had special meaning.  The window dedicated to my grandparents was one of those.

Through the years I had always driven by and seen the window from the outside, but to see the actual beauty, you really had to be inside looking out.  Going up to the window for the first time in 30 years, my eyes began to well up with tears.  It was still as gorgeous as ever and the the sun streamed through perfectly in the afternoon sun.  The memories flooded in to as I remembered sitting on those hard pews with my grandmother sitting beside me, singing hymns softly and nudging me to sing along too, which I rarely did.

Even in the dust, exposed wires and general mayhem of the torn apart sanctuary, I could still feel the sweet and calming presence of my grandmother.  I know that she would be so proud of the window. I’m so thankful that it will still be there for many years to come.