The mountain people where I live were missionized in the early twentieth century by the Epsicopal Church. The church built a number of chapels in the mountains and also constructed schools and housing. Many of these structures were built of wood and have long since disappeared to termites and rot, but some were built of mountain stone and still provide witness to the rich history of this area. Like the buildings, most members of the congregations are gone and their descendants moved away. In the 1960s three dwindling mountain mission churches were combined into one, Good Shepherd of the Hills. I occasionally attend services with my neighbor who was born on the mountain. Usually a Sunday draws five or ten people and a reserve pastor from town drives out here to conduct the service. On Easter Sunday we had several surprises. The church had over twenty attendees, and many of them children, coming, I imagine, upholding their family traditions. The second surprise was that several of the families brought their dogs with them! Perhaps this was a memory the parishioners have of the Epsicopal Church providing a blessing to their animals, or perhaps they just brought their lapdogs for company. At any rate, the pastor generously blessed the animals as well as the congregants. The final wonderful surprise was music! The pastor brought a student from town to play the dusty, unused organ and we all struggled through some basic Easter hymns. This blessing was all the richer, for me, when talking to the organist, I asked her if she attended the big Episcopal Church in town. Her answer, "Oh no, I am a Muslim."
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