The Little White Church

I retired from Huntington Hospital’s nursing staff in December 2007. It took me a long while to adjust to all of the changes that were happening in my life during that point in time. Retirement, selling our home in the Spring of 2008, moving from Long Island, relocating to Pennsylvania, and traveling between our new Pennsylvania home and Florida Key’s home caused me to feel very unsettled. Everything was going as planned and I was grateful but it wasn’t easy. I wrote the following account of an incident which happened in my life during that time. Now, August again, three years later, I would like to share those thoughts with you.

On a clear sunny day early in August 2007, I prayed for wisdom and the capacity to part with some “things” in my life. My husband, Richard and I were getting ready to downsize after 43 years of marriage and 35 years living in our present home. I trusted God to give me the ability to let go of so many memories through His strength (Philippians 4:13). I proceeded to pack up some boxes to bring to Good Will. It has been a process and I have already made a number of drop off trips. Today I was going through some items that had belonged to my mother, my mother-in-law, and my Aunt Carrie. I sorted through glasses, vases, and knickknacks and put them into boxes. These objects had special meaning to them during their lifetimes but now I knew that I had to pass them on. Someone will be able to use and enjoy them.

One item that I especially agonized over was a foot tall white plastic church. The cross on the steeple has been missing and its music box no longer played. I tried again to wind and unwind the little turning handle to no avail. I was having a difficult time. As I talked to the Lord, I put the little church into one of my boxes.

I have a habit of talking to myself when I’m not busy having a conversation with the Lord. I told myself, “I will bring the five packed boxes to St. Vincent de Paul instead of Good Will this time”. “Some one there will want and care for these items of past memories.” I loaded the boxes of donation items into the back seat of my Saab. I looked at the little white church again. “My, it is dusty!” I went back into the house, got a damp rag and dusted the church. I thought back to when my mother had received it from my cousin Gig when we lived in Brooklyn. My two sisters and I were young children. I tried again to coax the music to play. It remained silent. I placed it gently back into the box and proceeded to drive to my destination.

When I arrived at St. Vincent de Paul on Jericho Turnpike in Huntington two young men came down off of the truck delivery platform to help me. After the five boxes were placed on the platform one of the men looked at the church and said “This is so nice.” He picked it up out of the box and as he did “Silent Night” began to play sweetly and clearly. Tears came to my eyes and I knew that Mom was present with the Lord yet still present with me! It was a spiritual moment. God used a spiritual young man, a little white plastic church, and a sacred Christmas tune to give me a glimpse of His presence. The young man handed me the church saying “I think you should keep this.” I placed it back into my car and went back to get my donation receipt. Upon returning to my car the music was still playing and my emotional tears continued to flow. I called one of my sisters. I had to share my story. Our lives were touched. “Silent Night” continues to play and the little white church will continue to be part of my life.