I had been driving for what seemed like miles and miles on a one lane dirt road when I finally came upon the church and stopped. I got out of the truck and watched the dust I had raised drift over the edge of the mountain. The air was cool at this elevation. The first promises of spring were in the breeze and the sunlight.
I was somewhat disappointed. In front of me stood a plain wooden clapboard building. At first, I wasn't sure it was a church at all but then I spotted the sign over the front doors. This was not the quaint country church that I had hoped to find. The empty and neglected church building had no steeple, no pointed or stained glass windows, no columns or decorated cornices. As I stood in the silence and looked past the unlovely church across the mountains, it seemed about the most lonesome place I had ever been.
I am here alone, with no sound but the breeze rising in the mountain hollow behind this empty church, stirring the budding trees.