Half a century ago, Yvonne Johnson came to Gulfport to build a home with her husband. To her surprise, she ended up helping build a church.⁠ ⁠ “This became my home,” the 93-year-old said while seated in the foyer of Gulfport Presbyterian Church on Sunday.⁠ ⁠ That morning, there was no trace of the spare Bibles, the crockpots or the unused tins of decaffeinated coffee that littered the hallway earlier that week. The debris of 75 years’ worth of Sundays had been cleared out just in time.⁠ ⁠ The church was clean and welcoming: the same refreshments — coffee, pink and white cookies, granola bars — greeting attendees in the back of the chapel, just like always.⁠ ⁠ Except this time, as Johnson approached the lectern, steadied by her walker, about 50 people looked back at her from the pews. Light from the stained-glass windows glinted across their faces. Some had driven from as far as Orlando.⁠ ⁠ “If we had this many people every Sunday, we wouldn’t be closing,” she said with a warm, mischiev...