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I have often wished I could go back in time to those glittering Sunday mornings in the 50’s when Gene, Gary and I walked from our house on the Greenville Highway to Carr’s Hill Baptist Church.

Old Carr’s Hill Baptist Church. Building extant but no longer in use. Present Carr’s Hill Baptist is located further south on Hwy. 276.

What bright memories we made along that road. It was only a mile more or less. We walked up the highway (I seem to remember it was gravel then) to Mr. Allison’s and then we took a little road through his property, between the barn and the cornfield. We came out on Becky Mountain Road. At that point we were almost there. There were cows in the pasture on our right, and a big corn field on our left. In the pasture was the loveliest creek you ever saw, and it flowed right down and under the road where we walked. A carpet of bluets  grew alongside the creek in the springtime. The crystal clear water sparkled in the sunshine. We had a small creek at our house, but this one was bigger and better, and oh! so beautiful. We never got enough of looking at it. We dared not  climb down under the bridge and get into that clear cool water, but we sure wanted to!

We nearly always stopped at the creek, hoping to see a fish. Our daddy was the best fisherman in Transylvania County, and that’s a true fact. But that belongs in another story. We could see the church from the bridge as it was only a short distance away, up on the hill. They rang the bell a few minutes ahead of time to let you know to quit your lollygagging and come on in. Then at time for the service they rang it again, and you had better be inside by that time, or someone would hear about it. You could go all the way around the base of the hill and walk up the driveway; or if you wanted, you could take the trail up the hill for a short cut. My two oldest brothers and I went to church at Carr’s Hill for about three years. I will never forget the peal of the church bell, or the sound of the old fashioned piano. Most of the beautiful old songs I love to sing today I learned during those three years. We went to Bible School at Carr’s Hill one summer, and loved it. How stately were the processionals, as the big boys walked in carrying the flags with much ceremony and decorum! We were eager to recite the pledges to the American flag, the Christian flag, and the Bible, and to sing the songs that went with each. And then we went to our respective classes. Bible School lasted from 9:00 a.m. until noon Monday through Friday for two weeks, and we were sad when it was over. Today it’s hard to hold a Bible School for three evenings in a row. And forget the processionals. Just try to keep the kids away from the chandeliers!

That time at Carr’s Hill was so dear to me that I decided to paint the memory. I went down below Brevard to the place where Hogsed Creek runs under Becky Mountain Road and snapped a picture. The pasture is still there, but the big trees that grew nearby and shaded the creek on both sides are no longer there so the setting is not as pretty as it was back in the 50’s when I was a girl. I didn’t go up to the church at that time. When I got into the painting, I had to skew things a bit to get everything I wanted into the scene, so it is not exactly a duplicate of the landscape, but very nearly. And, I couldn’t remember exactly what the church looked like. So I had to make that up. I eventually found a photo of the old church on the internet, and  was amazed at how similar the church in my painting is to the actual old building. I don’t know how it is that sometimes something inside of us can remember what our brains can not. I took another liberty with my painting by adding my youngest brother Vance on my right. He was too young to walk with us to church, but I didn’t have the heart to leave him out of the painting! Also, I did not recall there was a cemetery behind the old Carr’s Hill Baptist Church, but I put one in the painting anyway, just because old churches almost always have cemeteries. Later I discovered there is a cemetery behind the church. Now what about that!

Carr’s Hill Baptist

Hardly anybody rings a church bell any more. In cities some of the old churches still ring the bells, but here in the country you never hear a Sunday morning bell. Both my heart and my ears long to hear again that clear sweet call to worship!