Galivants Ferry Church
The Galivants Ferry Church lies nestled under oak tress dressed in grey southern moss. It will always be a simple homey church… the church where I was raised. Inside, the clear large window panes let in all the natural light and give you a good view of a small part of God’s world outside.
I never knew just how much this little country church meant to me until recently. Investigating my memories, digging deep into what stands out in mind, this simple church not only influenced my life but helped shape the soul of the Galivants Ferry township. The church was critical to the structure and survivability of the Ferry’s society, stability and survival.
Your Great Granddaddy, Joseph William Holliday, gave the site and building materials for the church in 1885. His second wife, Mary Elizabeth Grissette, was its organizer. “He (your great grandfather) was a Christian but not a member” and never attended this church (taken from his obituary). I am going into history, which is not my intent right now: however, it is an interesting area to explore when we discuss the first generation of the Galivants Ferry Hollidays.
Right now I want to tell y’all what I recall dearly about my church.
Attending Sunday school and church every week was a given. It’s what you did, without further discussion. I remember my Daddy having to light the pot-bellied stove ahead of time so the large one-room sanctuary would be warm by church time. The seats were old “picture show’ seats. There was no wasting of anything back then. I am not sure, but I bet they came from one of our old movie theatres.
Sunday School was held prior to church in one of two small rooms behind the sanctuary. There weren’t many children, but we got good lessons from the teachers. The hymns “Jesus Loves Me,” “Come into My Heart, Lord Jesus” and the prayer “Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep” are some of my first ingrained memories of going to church.
During the preachin’ , everyone stayed to listen… even all the babies and the older people clearing their throats. There was lots of crying and other background noises, but no one seemed to mind. The traveling preachers were mostly what we heard. They came when they could, maybe every other week. Sometimes, a preacher would deliver sermons to us several Sundays in a row. That was always a treat.
Marvin Skipper started the service most of the time when I was little. My Aunt Frances Holliday taught the adults and my Daddy taught the younger adults. I recall Daddy studying the lesson in the den at home in his brown leather recliner. You did not bother him when he was studying his Sunday school lesson. Shirley King played the piano. She did her best. Sometimes, she would miss notes, but we just kept on singing. It worked out, since not many could carry a tune. Sounded good to me.
As I got older, we actually had regular preachers, like Rev. Gordon Graham. That was special but eventually the regular preachers went on to a bigger church. We understood but missed them. We sang from the Broadman Hymnal. It was and is my favorite hymnal today because it has all the traditional Baptist songs I grew up with.
The music from the Galivants Ferry Church still echoes in my head. This is one of the ways I realized what an impact this church had on me as a child. Today, out of the blue, I find myself humming tunes and singing words from these old hymns. The words and tunes comfort me and bring me back to a balance. It’s hard to explain, but when things get topsy-turvy, feelings of sadness surround me, or I am just confused as to what to do about something, ’they’ just pop in my head… and there’s no pushing ‘them out ‘til ‘they’ve’ had ‘ their’ say.
These hymns float in and out of my soul…Here they come: JUST AS I AM, WHAT A FRIEND WE HAVE IN JESUS, ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDERS, AMAZING GRACE, BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS, HOLY, HOLY, HOLY , I SURRENDER ALL, ROCK OF AGES, SHALL WE GATHER AT THE RIVER, TAKE TIME TO BE HOLY, LOVE LIFED ME, TRUST AND OBEY, NOTHING BUT THE BLOOD OF JESUS, LOVE LIFTED ME.
I do not know all the word to these hymns, but parts of each song and certain phrases are imbedded in my heart. THANK GOD.
Lots of folks attended the Galivants Ferry Church. I remember the faces but not all the names. Since I am working from memory, I want to tell you who seemed to be there all the time. Some of these people I am going to cover in the “colorful characters” part of my letters to y’all. For now, I want to rattle off the names of some…. Marvin and Josephine Skipper plus many other Skipper families, Purdee Parker and his whole family, all the Perritt’s, the Peavy’s, The Richardson’s, my Uncle Joe and Aunt Frances’ family, The Daniels, the Collins’, the Murrow’s , and the Brooks families. There were many more, and they all did their part to build the Galivants Ferry Baptist Church‘s Family. There was an invisible bond between everyone. We were all different but yet the same.
Christmas programs were very popular. Santa Claus came to visit, the real tree shined with colored lights and icicles, and mountains of presents were under the tree for all. For sure everyone got presents, even if they had never been there before. Everyone also got lots of oranges and apples – and candy in some years. Your granddaddy loved knocking on the door to find Santa…He would bring in Santa and all the children would start clapping and smiling. The happiness warmed up the church even more. There would be standing room-only. Like I said, even if you were not a member of nor ever been to the Galivants Ferry Church, you still got a present. All were welcome; love pervaded. Of course, we did sing the hymns like LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM, and the Christmas story was read honoring the birth of Jesus, but this night belonged to the children. Having Santa on hand was hard to beat.
Another strong memory was when the preacher would ask people to come up at the end of his sermon to the song, I AM. This was the chance for anyone to come up and accept Jesus as their savior. Sometimes, people would come up… then again, on many Sundays, nobody would step forward. I felt sorry for the preacher when no one came up to the altar. After all, he had tried his best.
Maybe next Sunday.
When you came forward in church, baptism in the Little Pee Dee River was the next step. You aren’t christened when you are a baby in the Baptist Church. Some might today, but not when I was little. We would gather at the banks of the river right behind the Ferry store. I remember my sister Russell being doused in the black water of the river. The preacher held onto her head and gently leaned her backwards, putting her whole body and head into the water.
By the time I came forward, things were different. We’d become “citified”. I was taken to some strange church with a huge tank of clear water and an unknown preacher baptized me. To this day, I want to be baptized in the river. Someday, I will be.