Colonial Avenue United Methodist Church
Today was a very sad event in my life.
My parents will be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary in 3 weeks. They were married at Colonial Avenue Methodist. My sister and myself were baptized into the church, as infants and later full members. My mother sang in the choir until it was phased out due to a decline in membership. My dad was the scoutmaster for the church's sponsored Boy Scout troop back in the sixties and later an usher until his health failed. I can remember my grandmother, Uncle George and Aunt Mabel all sitting on the Colonial Avenue side of the sanctuary. That's where we started sitting as a family - my earliest memories of the church involve that location - and being greeted by Uncle George as he was one of the ushers during that time. My Aunt Shirley and Uncle Larry were married there as well.
It's probably a better thing to remember that the church that closed today is a building, a tangible structure, but the REAL church are those people who came and went, lived and died, joined the church, supported it through good times and bad, and were present today to say goodbye to a family member.
In the end good intentions - and even love - couldn't save the church. Today, at 1:22 pm, the final service ended and the congregation exited the sanctuary for the final time.
Over the years, the membership and support had dropped off until only a few devoted members remained in the congregation. The decision was made to close the church. It had served its purpose for over a hundred years, and it was time to give it a dignified ending as is the custom.
Watching two former pastors, the current pastor, and the district superintendent pronounce the church as being no longer active in a deconsecration ritual, seeing the altar items being removed from the sanctuary, and knowing that I, and my family, and other families will no longer walk through the doors of our church home was pure agony. It still hurts. It will hurt for a good long while.
My parents will be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary in 3 weeks. They were married at Colonial Avenue Methodist. My sister and myself were baptized into the church, as infants and later full members. My mother sang in the choir until it was phased out due to a decline in membership. My dad was the scoutmaster for the church's sponsored Boy Scout troop back in the sixties and later an usher until his health failed. I can remember my grandmother, Uncle George and Aunt Mabel all sitting on the Colonial Avenue side of the sanctuary. That's where we started sitting as a family - my earliest memories of the church involve that location - and being greeted by Uncle George as he was one of the ushers during that time. My Aunt Shirley and Uncle Larry were married there as well.
It's probably a better thing to remember that the church that closed today is a building, a tangible structure, but the REAL church are those people who came and went, lived and died, joined the church, supported it through good times and bad, and were present today to say goodbye to a family member.
In the end good intentions - and even love - couldn't save the church. Today, at 1:22 pm, the final service ended and the congregation exited the sanctuary for the final time.
Over the years, the membership and support had dropped off until only a few devoted members remained in the congregation. The decision was made to close the church. It had served its purpose for over a hundred years, and it was time to give it a dignified ending as is the custom.
Watching two former pastors, the current pastor, and the district superintendent pronounce the church as being no longer active in a deconsecration ritual, seeing the altar items being removed from the sanctuary, and knowing that I, and my family, and other families will no longer walk through the doors of our church home was pure agony. It still hurts. It will hurt for a good long while.