It’s not the clearest memory, but it’s enough for me to remember. At the time I was living at Episcopal High School where my father taught. There was a church just off campus that my family had always gone to on special occasions.
The biggest special occasion was Christmas.
Every Christmas my grandparents would come to my house, and we would go to church. My grandparents are the best. Going to the church with them really makes it special. The church is big and cozy, and old. I like old things. The rule was that we came home from church, opened one present and then went to bed. That would happen every Christmas. We all held that church really close in our hearts.
One day, my mom was watching the news and a report came on about a church that was burning down. My mom looked closer and saw that it was our family church. She called my sister and me downstairs. I looked at the church burning on the news. That was our church. I looked outside, and I saw smoke coming up, but I never went and looked at the burnt church.
A few years later I had learned that it was an accidental fire. There had been a service the day before the fire. Some incense had been used, and after the service it had been put in a garbage bin with paper in it. It was a Friday, no one was there, and they had just been lit.
The bright side in all of this was that where they had built the church all those years ago, a new church was being built. A church that would be open to all on Easter of 2015.
~ Henry P.
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