The Bible says we are all made of dust. Some say we came from slime, over time. Whether we are dust balls or slime balls we aren't here long, are we. I have memories of East Texas, West Texas, South Texas, Arizona, Nebraska, California, Washington, but Oregon ... But Oregon is the most beautiful of states.
We have memories of places, usually because of the people we knew there, often because of things that happened there and sometimes just because the place was so unique.
Animals, trees, plants are aware of us. What about places? Surely you have been places that just have a certain 'feel' about them. Have you walked the streets of Virginia City? Do you know its history? Can anyone go in the old salons or walk the graveyard on the hill out of town and not feel something? Maybe we have to be extra sensitive and aware of our surroundings in some places, but any old clout can feel the vibes in Virginia City..jpg)
Have you been in houses that just give you the creeps? I bet realtors have. What's that all about? Does the house remember the people who once lived there, or maybe a terrible event? Are you laughing? Why do we deny what most of us have felt? Do people affect the house they live in the way pet owners affect their pets? When dogs come up to you wagging their tail don't you sort of already like their owners?
When we bought our home a few years ago I liked it as soon as I stepped through the door, before I had seen anything. There was a 'feel' about it. The owners had lived there many years and I just know they must have been wonderful people. Every now and then we drive by our old home. We still miss it.
Whether slime ball or dust ball when we're preparing to close our eyes for the last time, reminiscing about our life, regretting those we've hurt, missing already those we've loved, will we think about Portland? Will Portland remember us? Will the places we used to go so often have any kind of recollection of us? Will our stamp be anywhere or does that only work when we've done something terrible? I know we live on in each other, but I wonder about the places we love.
If there is some kind of invisible, intangible link between us and the places we frequent (note I did not write haunt), what about the older places that witness generation after generation? Don't you feel just a little something when you enter a very old building?
I say all this because a couple of days ago, for whatever reason, I suddenly wondered about Portland's Christian history. Portland has a reputation as a very liberal, un-churched city and I wondered what its Christian beginnings were like. I Googled the question every which way I could think of with no luck. Finally I posted the question on Facebook and Bruce Arnold came to my rescue. Do you know the answer?
Thanks Bruce, Portland's oldest church building on its original site is Calvary Presbyterian Church, also known as Old Church. What stories do you think it has to tell? Does it remember the prayers prayed within its walls?
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