Historic Swift Creek United Methodist Church will hold its homecoming on Sept. 30.

“There’s a place dear to me,

Where I’m longing to be,

With my friends at the Old Country Church,

There with mother I went,

And our Sundays were spent,

With my friends at the old Country Church.”

Here in our home land “Around the Banks of the Suwannee,” the countryside is dotted with small rural churches. Many of these churches are still alive with viable congregations, and many have a resurgence of life once a year at an event dear to the Southern heart, called ‘Homecoming.”

Church Homecomings evoke all kinds of emotions and trigger all kinds of memories, because they encapsulate in a few hours many days of collective memories for those who come to sing, praise, fellowship, worship, and remember.

And the stories, many times there are stories, stories of a day when mechanization was practically non-existent in our largely rural part of the world, and it took Mama and Grandma and maybe a couple of aunts the better part of several days to prepare for a day of rejoicing and coming together. In the days before modern kitchen appliances, the time it took to cook, make sure children were starched and ironed in the Sunday best, and, then to load everyone into a wagon pulled by mules to travel several miles to church was indeed an effort. No wonder when folks arrived it was an “all day event.”

Some folks have heard of “All day preaching and dinner on the grounds,” and that was an accurate descriptor of what happened across our area in the earlier part of the 20th century.

When the goldenrod begins to bloom, and the leaves begin to turn ever so slightly, when the days in the evening and the morning hold the promise of seasonal change and are a bit cooler, my mind turns to church homecomings here in our area.

First, comes the flood of memories that include those who are no more. My dear friends, now gone on to be with the Lord, the late Clyde and Sara Helen McCallum Hillhouse. Clyde, who was the post master in White Springs for many years and who was a Japanese Prisoner of War in the Philippine Islands and who, miraculously survived and came back to us in the small river community of his birth, loved the annual homecoming out at Swift Creek United Methodist Church, supposedly the second oldest established Protestant Church in the State of Florida, located on Swift Creek, off U.S. 141 and County Road 137 on Swift Creek north of White Springs.

Established in 1821, the building itself and the grounds of the church shaded by moss festooned and age old live oak and hickory trees seem to tell their own story of those who found joy in the fellowship of believers who gathered on that sandy bank of the creek and who sang songs and heard sermons for close to two centuries. Worshipping there the last Sunday of September each year with the windows opened and no electrical power, nothing but the sounds of voices and the old piano as it echoes the age old hymns reminds one of the joy and the simplicity of an earlier time.

When I was in college and later, as a young teacher, and, even before then, in high school, my telephone would ring about this time of year and the unmistakable voice of the late Sara Helen Hillhouse would be at the other end. She would say: “Johnny are you ready to help us at Swift Creek. I’ve talked with Virginia (the late Virginia Daniel), and she is going to play.” I would reply “Yes Ma’am,” and she would say “Alright now, Bye.” And that would be our conversation until the following year.

The worship began with folks greeting each other with handshakes and embraces, gathering in the historic sanctuary, taking a Cokesbury Hymnal and selecting favorite hymns. I was the song leader and the late Virginia Daniel played the piano, and we would sing.

Then came the time for introductions and how folks were connected to the church. As those stories went on, often times my eyes would look out the front door to the old cemetery across the road, one of the oldest on the south end of Hamilton County, and I would think of those resting beneath the stones who once were a viable part of the worship. Old names, old pioneer families, Broward, Hillhouse, Burnham, McCall, Taylor, Hunter, Smith, all resting in the shady old cemetery across the white sand road, more stories there.

The preacher would then be introduced and offer the sermon. This may sound a bit strange, but I hope I never witness a pastor at Swift Creek at the Homecoming Service look at an iPad or an electronic device to follow a sermon. Somehow, that would seem way out of place for an event as historic as Swift Creek.

Then would come to the close of the service where everyone would join hands and sing the old hymn “God Be with You till We Meet Again.” Tears would often flow as the lyrics were sung:

“Till we meet, till we meet,

Till we meet at Jesus’ feet,

Till we meet, till we meet,

God be with you till we meet again.”

And THEN, on the most anticipated parts of the day, the dinner on the grounds. The tables groaned under the weight of some of the finest examples of Southern cookery in the word. Pots of fresh acre peas, mounds of potato salad, dishes of deviled eggs, fried chicken, ham, homemade pickles, and the cakes and pies that were so anticipated and so lovingly prepared.

Well, those memories are dear to me, and I thank God that this year, once again, worshippers will gather at historic Swift Creek Church on Sunday, Sept. 30, 2018, to worship and to fellowship beginning at about 10:30 a.m.

Swift Creek is just one example of the historic homecomings that take place across our region, and I share it with you because, truly its story could be the story of any number of precious places of worship around the Banks of our beloved Suwannee River. These places, their stories, our memories, make us who we are here in our part of the world. A part of the collective fabric, and that beautiful heirloom quilt made of quilt squares that tell a story of who we are and what we are here in our beloved home.


Before closing this column this week, I want to mention that H & F Restaurant, an icon of Jasper, Florida, has re-opened, and has some of the best Southern home cooking in our part of the world. I can attest to that, as I have eaten some of the fried chicken from there. I hope we will all do what we can to patronize this business and support it.

Also, just as we have that history and those traditions that are so much a part of our world, at times we have those who are here with us in our part of the world just a short time, but they make a mark on our part of the world because of their contributions. Many in our area will be saddened to learn of the passing to Dr. James L. “Jay” Hurm, MD, who practiced in Live Oak, and was involved in our north central Florida community as a medical practitioner and true humanitarian. Dr. Hurm’s contributions to Shepherd Hands Ministry through St. Luke’s Episcopal Church and his help with many ministries to migrant children will long be remembered. We were all saddened when he left our area a little more than a year ago and returned to his native St. Petersburg. His medical practice in underserved and high poverty areas throughout the world in Eastern Kentucky, Montana and here in north central Florida bespoke of one in the medical profession who truly had a heart for serving others more than the acquiescence of a great deal of money. He was only 61 years of age. Our area mourns his passing, and we offer our condolences to his family and many friends.

From the Eight Mile Still on the Woodpecker Route north of White Springs, wishing you a day filled with joy, peace, and, above all, lots of love and laughter.