History Comes Alive

I love history.

Actually, that's quite an understatement: I adore history.
Old buildings always pique my interest, so when my family visited the old mining town of Gold Hill North Carolina, my mind immediately began telling their story, bringing life to those long since resting in the ground.

In the eye of my imagination, I see them, hustling and bustling up and down the ancient stair cases.

Buying groceries at the old general store.

Putting on their best clothes, and walking down the boardwalk to the old church.

I wonder what they thought about everyday. I wonder what made them happiest.

I take pictures of the restored buildings, wishing they could talk to me, tell me about the lives of the miners and their families.

We leave, and head back to Salisbury. More history is found in the old apartment buildings dating back to the 1930s and 40s. The crumbling brick buildings boast of ancient fire escapes, and fainted white lettering.

It all has a story.

Though I can only imagine what the story might be, for me, that is enough. I think of the people, all throughout the years of the world, who served the same God I do. Some of them may have lived in the apartment building. Some of them may have lived in the mining town. All of them went through many of the same struggles of faith and trust that I've gone through. Times change, but people are people. No matter the era, our walk of faith is still a growing process.

As I dwell on this, I am so comforted to know that the same God who watched over the Christians of past centuries is watching over me. He who walked with each generation walks with me. So no matter where I am in life, I know He is more than able to carry me through, just as He's done with all of His children since the beginning of time.

We leave the old buildings, the shadows of years past.
My mind continues to tell their stories.

History comes alive.

If only for a moment.

-Miss Deb