When I was a child, my family attended a Free Methodist church north of Toronto. We considered ourselves Christians with a few flaws. None criminal.
When I moved to Toronto to pursue my teaching career, I did not associate with the church as much due to the distance between us. Occasionally, I would rent a car and go visit my parents on a weekend. We’d take some time on Sunday to go to the church.
Over the years, much has changed. My parents died three years ago and since Covid, the church now presents its services via Zoom. So there is no excuse that I cannot “attend” services.
Around ten years ago, I was in person at one of the services, listening to one of the parishioners talk about past ceremonies, one in which the women of the church wore frilly hats to an Easter event.
One of our long-term members, an anchor in the church, had kept records of the church since its birth in 1909. Although her notes were precise, they were typed on loose paper which was becoming worn.
I decided that my next self-published book would be a history of our church. I would research diligently, perusing the notes, interviewing members of the church, finding out what was happening in the community from the early days on.
It was a sad undertaking because, by the time I published the book, some of the people interviewed had passed away.
Still, the book got published by Volumes Publishing, the same company that had published Remembering Clare (see the blog from March 15, 2026).
In November 2019, I approached the pastor who gave me some background on the origins of Free Methodism. One of the nuggets of information he presented to me is that the first Free Methodist Church in Canada is still standing: the Armadale Church in Scarborough, established in 1880.
On February 9, 2020, I decided to visit this church. The pastor, who had been there since 2001, greeted me at the door. I had given him a heads-up that I was coming.
The church was smaller than I expected. The pews were shorter and smaller than the ones at my church. A large person would have trouble fitting into one. The roof had a leak and needed to be fixed. The estimate for repair was close to $10,000.
The congregation was tiny. I ran into three sisters whose dad had been a pastor at my church years ago.
The service was much like the one at my church: hyms sung, announcements made, collection taken, prayers requested, and a message.
More in my next blog.
Holt Free Methodist Church, 1958