Many of my stories about Grandma take place relative to the life of the Inez Methodist church. The church and its building were central to the community. I find myself wondering what it would be like if church membership now looked like it did then. There were no deliberations about where to attend, because only one was readily accessible. You had to find a way to get along with everyone because their help might mean your survival, and you couldn’t just pick up and move if someone rubbed you the wrong way.