The parking area in the churchyard was surprisingly full when we pulled in. Most of the vehicles were pickup trucks, with a smattering of older sedans, a new tricked-out SUV, and over to one side, sitting by itself, the hulking cab of an eighteen wheeler, minus the trailer.

A single bare bulb on the porch illuminated the entrance to the church, but a bright light shown forth from the windows, and I could see the shapes and figures of people moving about within.

I parked on the outer fringes of the yard. As Patricia and I stepped onto the porch I took her arm and stopped for a second.

“Things may get a little wild here tonight. If you feel uncomfortable, let me know and we’ll leave,” I told her.

Patricia gave me an amused smile. “You make it sound like some kind of a witches’ coven. Don’t worry, Tanner, I’m game if you are.”

She then reached out her hand, opened the door, and stepped inside. I followed close behind.

The room was abuzz with voices. There were six wooden pews arrayed on each side of the aisle. Seated on the pews were the children and the older folks. The center aisle was full of people talking, laughing, and gesturing to one another—these were the adults and the older teenagers. As we stepped in an old man dressed in freshly pressed bib overalls and a red plaid flannel shirt grabbed me by the hand and nodded to Patricia.

“Hey, y’all. Welcome, welcome to Panther Creek Holiness Church. I’m Brother Alvin Turhune, and we’re mighty glad to have you here tonight. Won’t you come on in and make y’self comfortable? We about to get started any minute now.”

Brother Alvin’s dark brown face and African features glowed with the gentle smile of a farmer, a man of the earth, as he gestured to a pew in the back row.

“Thank you. We’re glad to be here,” I said as I ushered Patricia to the pew.

I studied the congregation as Patricia and I took our seats. The mix was about evenly white and black. Some of the older women were just as I recalled from my childhood: long hair piled high in a beehive hairdo, long-sleeved cotton print dresses that came down below the knee, and great open-faced smiles as they talked to their friends and fellow congregants.

The teens huddled in a couple of groups of their own, while the men seemed to walk throughout the building saying a word here and there, and then moving to another person. Several people came over to speak to Patricia and me, and everyone was friendly and welcoming.