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What do you see when you look at this picture? A simple picture, right? A country church in the midst of green fields.
A Facebook friend of mine posted this picture as the field that she farms sits catty-corner from the church. She captured the spring beauty of the corn field that so many of us with country blood in our veins crave to see. Especially those raised on a farm who no longer get the privilege of seeing that green wave of corn every day. Thank you, Carolyn Muessman, for taking the picture and triggering my heartwarming reaction.
When she posted it, my breath stopped for a second. My fingers were doing their windshield wiper scroll through the News Feed – a mindless habit we all do. And suddenly this photo appeared in the middle of my casual surfing. I had to pause, while my heart caught up with my brain’s registering that this wasn’t just any picture. This was “my” church. This was “my” road. This was decades of memories that somersaulted into my mind from one innocent picture. My simple, beautiful, amazingly peaceful, fun childhood. My life. My home.
The word “home” sparks a firework imagery of pictures from the past. There is an immediate recall of memories that scroll rapidly before my eyes. Some are black and white. Some are vivid colors. Some are blurred. And some are as sharp as if they were yesterday. Crystal clarity.
All of my sensory feelers goes into overload. Smells are triggered. Rich Illinois-dark soil. Springtime fragrance. The smell of our house. Dad’s basement. Rain. Cloudy mornings. Lake water and the smell of boat fumes.
Sounds as in the birds singing outside my bedroom window. The mower. The tractors. Freight trains at my grandma’s house. Horse hooves on asphalt roads. The whisper of wheat fields. Wind rushing through trees. The silent comfortable sounds of lifelong friendships.
The feel of soft tender grass beneath my feet. The sting of wheat slapping my legs as I ride my horse through the fields. The feel of my dad’s strong lead when we danced. The feel of my sister’s hand in mine, when we were young. The feel of my mother’s aging hands today.
They all have sights, sounds, and smells associated with it that reach deep into my soul and hugs my heart like no other memories do.
When I look at this photo, I see the church and the steps that we walked into as kids. Baptisms, confirmations, marriages. Funerals. My own and my families memories of a simple, sweet, and meaningful life. I see the sidewalk that got in the way of my first driving lesson, with my dad’s soft, frantic voice guiding me. I see the oiled road where I rode my bike every day. Where I rode my horse. Where our family would wait anxiously for our friends on our early morning vacation “road trips” every summer. The church was our “meeting place”.
But it’s also more than just a picture that I see. I see my family’s ancestors gathered on Sunday. I feel the way of life. I feel the commitment to our religion and upbringing that spanned decades and decades of farm life and community. A community of giving and sharing that our future generations might have difficulty understanding. I read my dad’s journal and try to wrap my mind around how it must have been. Pot luck dinners. Bridge games. Riding a pony to school. Church functions. Socials. Meetings. Sharing of church responsibilities. I remember specifics like the red card table that he set up after church to “count the money”, from the collection plates. I hear my mother’s voice in the choir and see her playing the organ, her fingers turning the pages while she played. I hear my sister and I harmonizing our favorite hymns on Sundays. I hear the blessings and prayers for the sick and injured. Those farmers who might need help in the field. A community of givers that was truly instrumental in our development of lifelong values rich with kindness.
This church is a pictorial and historic reminder of a way of life that started even before the church congregation was formed in 1880. One of the first members has been documented as being my family ancestor which makes this photo all that more meaningful to me. The physical church – the one that now stands, was built in 1905 and seeing this photo brings out my heritage pride as I envision the way it was back then, with my ancestors arriving in horse drawn buggy’s, women in dresses and hats, men in dark suits. The binding pride I feel in knowing they participated in the building and organization of this church and the realization that our family has been attending services here for over a century. Walking up the same steps, down the same aisle for communion. Our voices filling the same sanctuary where my sister’s voice is still heard. Sitting in the same wooden oak pews. Our hands touching the same places where we stood, praying the same prayers. For rain, good crops, health, the sick, and the dying. For wars and men and women in uniform. Our brothers and sisters in faith. Those hallowed walls have heard us all, connecting us through time travel by our ancestry and desire to live by faith to eternity.
So much can be learned from history if you seek it out to understand the impact that it has – the glaring realization of the significance of how our actions of today will impact generations in the future. These are just some of the recordings that I found interesting:
The first sermons were in German and both English and German services were alternately held. As late as 1941 they discontinued German communion services.
The first salary for the pastor was $400 annually.
The minutes of their church meetings talk about new hitching posts for the horses and donating corn and oats for the Pastor’s horse.
If a member of the congregation died during the day, the bell would toll at once, if death occurred at night, it would be tolled at 9:00 am the following morning.
There was a one room school for grades 1-8 on the church property. It closed in 1961. It was the original church before it was the school.
Historic facts are interesting but when you realize they involve your family, it means so much more. It all connects with us. Which is why when I look at this picture, I see so much more than a church in the country. I see my life. My family’s life. An ancestral image on center stage in our lives.
If I let my imagination transcend me to another time I can almost see apparitions of my ancestors, waving to me with gloved hands. I imagine that they might be whispering graciously to me…
“Thank you for continuing to love this church”.
“Thank you for walking down this aisle and sitting where we sat.”
“Thank you for continuing what we started”
“We did this for you and all future generations”
“It means so much”. “We are so proud”.
“Thank you for still calling this ‘home’”.
So you see, when I flipped through the photos that day and my casual surfing found this photo staring up at me, I suddenly had an inherent feeling of “home” and realization that it was so much more than just a picture. It was an immeasurable beautiful reminder of the past greeting the present and an idyllic hope for an infinite future for this church and the hallowed walls that yearn to hear the music of future voices.
Life changes – an energetic flow of time moves before us and after us – an ever-shifting ride towards eternity. We age, we lose people we love, and now another family drives down our road and lives in the house that built me. But that’s ok. Because the profound comforting fact remains and this image reminded me of that – no matter where I live or how old I am, it will always be “home” to me. This heartwarming realization brings joy to this girl’s heart.
Photo Credit: Carolyn Muessman
Historical Credit: St Paul’s Lutheran Church, Dorans, Illinois – 125 Anniversary Directory
The Awakening
38 Comments
Kathy Thompson
Wow, Kay….your words are so much more eloquent than mine ever could be, but they bring deep meaning and feeling that will be with us both forever. Thank you for touching all five senses with wonderful memories.
Love,
Your Sister
Kay Arthur
Thanks, Kath. We share so many great memories of home, I could have written a book :-). Treasured times. Love you.
Jan
❤️
Carolyn Muessman
Oh my…brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for allowing me to live this beautifully designed composition
Kay Arthur
Thank you Carolyn for posting the photo. I truly appreciate seeing all the photos that people post of “home”. Means so much to me. Glad you enjoyed the post.
Linda Schrock
Thank you Kay for taking me down memory lane. Very nicely written. Took me back to such simple and treasured days.
Kay Arthur
Thanks Linda. Simple and treasured days – it’s what we all long for and remember the most. It’s wonderful to be at that point in our lives where we can truly enjoy those memories and living a life of simplicity.
Kay
Cindy Uphoff Overton
Didn’t read who was posting this ; just saw the picture of St Paul’s Lutheran Church & started reading . Only got through the first few lines before I knew without even looking who the author was . Beautiful Kay ! You bring back so many memories & paint a beautiful picture with your words ! Thank you !
Kay Arthur
Thanks Cindy. I love it that you recognized my writing 🙂 I’ m happy I brought back great memories. We all share the love of family and country. It’s in our blood.
Kay
Pam Cavalier
Hi Kay – you made me love your church too. ♡
Kay Arthur
Thanks Pam! It was such a great place to be raised and easy to love. Those days will always be with me.
Thanks for your great comment!
Kay
Janice Von Behrens Reed
Excellent article, Kay. It brought back a lot of great memories that I treasure. And one slightly unpleasant one of when I had to stay after school and write a misspelled word 100 times. I’m sure whatever word that was never was misspelled again. Thanks again Kay for reminding me of those special times and that wonderful area to be raised.
Kay Arthur
Thanks Janice – I can imagine that your memory of school left a lasting one 🙂 They sure don’t do that anymore in school. Great times, weren’t they. We so appreciate them more as we get older. Thanks for reading.
Kay
Jannit Nolen-Bevers
I remember Vacation Bible Study every year of my youth in this very church. The memories still return me to a simpler time and place where my world was the acerage my Daddy farmed a mile north of Doarns. My VBS classmates were many of the same kids I went to school with at Humboldt, and are still treasured and trusted friends I count on to this day. Thank you both for the picture and the tribute to our home.
Kay Arthur
I love that we share the best of times with so many people. Thanks so much for reading and commenting.
Kay
Laurie Damery
Kay this was beautiful. It brought back so many memories for me. Thank you! Laurie Price Damery.
Kay Arthur
Thanks so much Laurie. It was easy to write as the memories are so clear and sacred to me. I’m happy that it brought those memories to you. 🙂
Kay
Phil Homann
Great article Kay! It does bring back great memories from our childhood years. Thanks for writing this and sharing these great memories!
Kay Arthur
Thanks Phil. Our memories of this church and “home” will always keep us connected. That’s the sweet joy of great memories. 🙂
Kay
Marguerite Huggins
Thank you for the beautiful tribute to my childhood church and the church of my ancestors, the Homanns and the Pardiecks. I am ninety eight years old and treasure the wonderful memories associated with St. Paul’s Lutheran Church. Marguerite Homann Huggins
Kay Arthur
Thank you Marguerite for reading this and for your sweet comment. What a wonderful life you are living and what great memories you must be able to share. I truly appreciate hearing from you and am touched by all the great comments.
Kay
Wendy Dexter
Your words are so eloquent, Kay. Your rich tapestry of words brought a lump to my throat. How blessed we are to have such midwestern childhoods. And how blessed we are that you are sharing your powerful memories with us. We have roots. Many did not, or did not appreciate them. Thanks for another beautiful article.
Kay Arthur
Hi Wendy,
Many of your photos on Facebook bring tears to my eyes as well. They all tell a story of their own and I so appreciate your posting them – thank you for that. You make Illinois feel closer, every day.
Our roots define us – I am eternally grateful that my roots are in the heart of rich Illinois soil. We are blessed.
Thanks again –
Kay
Jill
Of course I immediately knew where this was taken., and just like Carolyn it is hard to write this reply because of the tears in my eyes. Thanks Kay for a well written article as always.
Your friend and Sister in Christ, Jill Hood Bell
Kay Arthur
Thanks so much Jill. This is “home” for many of us and we were all so blessed. I’ve lived in Arizona for almost 40 years so I’ve had to recall these memories frequently to help me thru days of missing my family and Illinois. I am blessed to have a wonderful life here but will always remember my “home” there and our “family” at St. Paul’s.
Facebook has brought many of us back into each other’s lives and for that I am so grateful.
Always,
Kay
Tracy L. Hall-Ingram
I remember my mom teaching Sunday School there and going there all the time as a kid. My grandparents were Zuhones and Homanns and went to the church as long as I remember.
Kay Arthur
Thank you Tracy for reading this and for your comment. Seems like so many of us are connected somehow by our family names – it’s so interesting to me.
Thank-you!
Kay
Laura Finch
Thank you, Kay, for this beautiful look into your heart. Those sweet memories were stored there and isn’t a miracle that we can recall them so clearly and they can stir such strong emotions.
My memories of the church I attended as a child are very similar and I thank God for those sweet people who always pointed me to Jesus,
Love you, Kay
Kay Arthur
Hi Laura,
It is a true gift that we can recall those important memories. A blessing in every way.
Thanks so much for the comment. I miss you – but isn’t retirement wonderful!
Love to you –
Kay
Patti
Beautifully written, Kay! The memories come rushing in.
Kay Arthur
Thanks Patti, they were the best of times…
Kathy Thompson
Yes, they were the best! Love you, Patti 🙂
Kathy
gail hurst
My husband, Gary Hurst , said his Great Grandfather helped found this church….Herman Zu Hone . There is a plaque under one of the windows on the East side of the church.
Kay Arthur
Yes – our families go back many generations. Our thanks to them all for giving us this great place to build our faith.
Mary Jo Homann Lohrmann
Thank you for the loving tribute to St Paul,’s and the awesome people who formed the congregation and community. The folks had moved from there before I was born but the deep sense of family and love of the area around Doran was shared often. Visits to the Aunts and uncles ” often included a visit or a drive by. Our family (Paul Homann) made a visit to the church as part of a family reunion..Thanks again for your words.
Kay Arthur
Thank you Mary Jo for your comment. It seems that St. Paul’s has positively affected so many people and I am happy that my writing has prompted these heartwarming remembrances. It is very rewarding for me to read all of the great comments. Thank you for reading and sharing.
Janet Homann
Beautiful article Kay!! Like many other comments it brings tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat but what beautiful memories.
Kay Arthur
Janet,
Thank you for your comment and I am so happy that you enjoyed the article. You are so much a part of my musical memories of the church. And Leonard’s ever present smile always so welcoming….
Such a great congregation of friends and believers that made our memories so sweet.:-)