Category: family

Palmer Hall

built in 1911

HISTORICAL BACKGROUND
The congregation of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church was officially organized in 1911
under the guidance of Rev. Zebulon S. Farland. That same year a simple brick chapel was
erected near the end of Grove Avenue to house the group. As the neighborhood near the
church grew, so did the congregation; thus in 1921 planning for a larger structure was
underway. A lot west of the chapel, at the corner of Grove Avenue and Three Chopt Road,
was purchased. The same year Rev. Giles B. Palmer assumed the duties of rector , which
included overseeing the construction of a new building.–VADHR

This the place where my mother’s memorial service will be held February 22, 2014.

day of rest

granny and dad by emma emory
We seem to give them back to you, O God, who gave them to us. 
Yet as you did not lose them in giving, so we do not lose them by their return. 
Not as the world gives do you give, O Lover of souls. 
What you give you take not away, for what is yours is ours also if we are yours.
And life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only an horizon,
and an horizon is nothing, save the limit of our sight. 
Lift us up, strong Son of God, that we may see further; 
cleanse our eyes that we may see more clearly; 
draw us closer to yourself that we may know ourselves to be nearer our
loved ones who are with you.
And while you do prepare a place for us, prepare us also for that happy place,
that where you are, we may be also for evermore.–Fr Bede Jarrett O.P. (order of preachers)

It Is Well (With My Soul)
It Is Well (With My Soul) performed and used here courtesy of my friend David Ezell.

Resting in Peace, Emma Gray Emory, born June 18, 1922. Died February 8, 2014.
This photo taken by her grand-daughter, Emma, February 3, 2014.

Frank

Frank Borden Hanes

                            Infinity
The Seer awoke, and, through his blear, said:
“I have listened to the spheres
and heard the self fade off
in sinews of the soul.
The universe dissolved in God.
As go, too, time and space.
Why do we snarl forever
over the retorts?”– Frank Borden Hanes