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| I Saw a Little Church I saw a little Church, once. It looked just like a painting upon my wall. �Twas painted by someone very dear, Someone who came to call. It resembled a little Church we had attended When I was just a tot. We had Sunday School out under a tree, So it wouldn�t be so hot. This was before modern times Of having everything at hand. It was at the edge of the wood; No air conditioner, neither a fan. Because there was no electricity Out in the Country, then ~ But, it was our little Church, Where, every Sunday, we�d attend. Somehow, we thought nothing of it. Spoiled, we didn�t used to be. You see, we lived on a little farm, Way out in the Country. We loved the Lord with all our heart. He was well worthy of our love. We had to walk a dusty road. But, God took good care of us, from above. It was depression time. My friend remembers very well, too. On Mothers� Day, I always felt sorry That, for mama, a red rose wouldn�t do. Red was for those with living moms And my mama had to wear white Because she had lost her mother. Every time, I would cry that night. But, in my mind, the little white Church, Has a red roof I can still see. For, my friend is my sister, who has Alzheimer�s. She painted the picture for me. She loves the Lord and all of us, dearly. And, if there�s anything she can do, She�s always there, softly asking, "Is there something I can do, too?" I always tell her, "Yes." Not wanting her To feel she can�t, I find her a chore, Tell her, "I saw a little Country Church." Why not paint it once more? For, many people will love it; Associate it with their own, long ago, past. Please, Lord, let not her forget. Let this scene in her memory last. � by Pearlie Duncan Walker http://www.soon.org.uk/duncan_walker/index_walker.htm |