The little church on the hill

I grew up in a Christian setting. The setting I've always known always felt part of, and the one that dominated my life....the one I was blessed by.

This is the building that was my first memory of church. We lived in a small historic hamlet on the outskirts of Australia's biggest city, since swallowed by suburbia. The old hall where my brother and I went to Sunday School was to the left of the chapel, it was demolished a few decades ago, replaced by the larger building behind it.

 The building was erected in the late 1800s, then later became a Presbyterian church. For much of my childhood, this was our church. Most of the people in our circle attended, at least at Easter and Christmas.

Christmas was very special: Christmas eve supper at one family's home, Christmas morning here, at church, then to another family's home for morning tea. A couple of weeks prior to Christmas this family (the local butcher) hosted a kids 'street' party for about half a dozen families - about 20 kids. T'was wonderful.