I want to tell my story. The parts I still remember.
Many things have happened from my January through December.
Some hardy pioneers came to homestead out this way.
They built a little town when they decided they would stay.
First came a general store and a place to shoe their horse.
They quickly built a jailhouse… after the saloon, of course.
They homesteaded for years before taking ownership,
And discovered what they needed most, was a special place to worship.
I wasn’t built on Main Street or close to town at all.
I was built upon a hill as was the protocal.
There was wedding after wedding here. I can’t count that high.
Looking forward to their future, a strong knot they hoped to tie.
Some unions were quite joyous, some were crazy from the start.
But who am I to judge what is in the human heart.
I watched young folks raise their kids. (Those who brought them here to church.)
Some found what they were looking for…and the find was worth the search.
Some denied the truth and struck out on their own.
But most were true believers no matter what church they called home.
All of them are gone now, but the music didn’t stop.
Now they’re with their Savior in the mansion over the hilltop
Dianna Kenobbie Diehm