My two aunts were both Sunday School teachers....at the Methodist Church in the West End. I remember sitting in the little chairs singing "This little light of mine"..."I got the peace of passive understanding...down in my heart", "Jesus Loves Me".. and other songs. As a child you sing and really don't realize what exactly your singing. You sing as loud as you can and clap and enjoy the excitement of sharing that moment with the room full of kids like you. Then after a little good life story. We went to our individual classes, according to our ages and sat down at little wooden tables on little tiny chairs separated by folding screens. We heard a Bible Story...colored a take home paper. The teacher prayed over us and we then were dismissed to go up to "Big Church". This was the ritual of every Sunday morning. I still can remember the little stairs that we walked to go up into the sanctuary..The sanctuary was big, and had beautiful, tall thin stain glassed windows, each one depicting Jesus in a Bible situation...I particularly remember the one with Jesus carrying a lamb...all in bright colored glass.On days that the sun would shine through them, it was so beautiful and brightly spectacular. The antique looking chairs covered in a wine red material sat and dark mahogany arms made for a revered look to be treasured. There was a huge pipe organ when played it seemed to vibrated the chairs. The large golden pipes (that I now assume were brass and looked gold)... spread across the back of the pulpit. The music that came from these pipes was rich and deep ....It was beautiful music. I don't remember if my parents took me to the West End Church or I stayed over at my aunts and went with them...But, I do know, I went every Sunday. I went and sat down at those little wooden tables...enjoying the experience. After church we would walk up these steps to my Aunt Ana's house...steep concrete steps that had a landing in between a series of 13 or so steps. I remember counting them as we ascending to the top of the hill. The went on forever, finally we arrived. Aunt Ana's house was literally hanging off the hill side. On a steep cliff, more or less. Her kitchen was in the basement that went out onto a porch that overlooked a portion of the city of Pittsburgh's West End. She had a glider and a few chairs and if you looked down over the railing...it dropped about 50 ft or more...It was awesome, a little scary, but awesome. This was the same yellow basement kitchen fifteen or so years later I would receive the fullest of what God had for me spiritually. This was the place that the fire of God came to me and baptized me with his Holy Spirit. A special place, a wonderful time. A Holy time for me...My aunts and Mother praying for me and laying hands on me. That February of 1968...I supernaturally received the baptism and we all prayed and worshiped God and spoke in tongues!! A day in my aunts basement kitchen I will never forget...and it all started in the West End Methodist Church...
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