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Message from the Moderator: December 2016

Yes, and I will rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance . . . (Philippians 1:18b-19 ESV).

In just a little less than four weeks Judith, Zherina, and I will begin a ten week sabbatical. We are so humbly grateful for the opportunity the South Waterloo congregation has given us! We are blessed! We will spend nine of those weeks in Nigeria. The remaining week will be spent in London and Prague, Czech Republic. Matthew, my oldest son, his wife and two boys live in Prague. My younger son, Samuel also lives there. We have rented a house from the Mennonite Central Committee in the city of Jos. Judith is from a village outside of Jos called Miango. Much time will be spent with Judith’s parents, her five sisters, two brothers and all of their families. The first Sunday will be a Thanksgiving celebration in Judith’s home church giving praise to God for His care and blessings for Judith’s parents; a celebration organized and led by family. A cow will be killed, a number of chickens, kettles of rice for all who come. The immediate family will be dressed in similar outfits. Judith wanted to buy special shoes for me for the occasion. I kindly refused. I’ll have my cowboy boots under my “baban riga!”

I have been in discussion with the EYN (Church of the Brethren in Nigeria) Church for possible projects that I might do while there. I have been invited to preach in a church in Yola, the capital of Adamawa. I hope to find some work to do associated with the rebuilding of the EYN church and her people. Many friends and associates have been deeply affected by the violence perpetrated on them by Boko Haram. I hope to combine some special projects along with some “down time.” Some people might find it odd that we would consider such an insecure place to spend a sabbatical. But we have family, friends, and colleagues who have suffered tremendously these past years. Why wouldn’t we want to be with them?

And so from December 11 to February 20 your moderator and his family will be gone. We have a tremendous DC Planning Committee working together on our upcoming 2016 District Conference which will be held, by God’s grace, at South Waterloo. During this time away Judith, Zherina, and I need your prayers. Please prayer for us. Pray for safety in our travels. Pray for our safety in Nigeria. Pray for Judith’s homecoming. Pray for Zherina who will be out of school (Kindergarten) for those weeks and the attempt by her father to do a little homeschooling. And pray for a meaningful, purposeful, and rest-filled sabbatical for me. Pray for South Waterloo as they, too, experience a sabbatical away from me! We hope to stay in touch with photos and small video clips of our experience. May God bless you and keep you ‘til we meet again!

Dave Whitten, District Conference Moderator, 2017

District News & Announcements – November 2016

District News & Announcements

November 2016

Holiness in Our Midst: Session 50

SESSION L: HOME PLACES

STORY CIRCLE PROMPT: Where is your “home place?” Is it the house you grew up in? Can you still visit it? What makes it meaningful?

Early last month, October 2016, I would have said that my “home place,” of course, was the house I grew up in. It could be found east of Nevada, IA, by turning north off Lincoln Highway onto Story County Road S27. First you looked for the third farmstead on the east side of the road. Tucked next to a big white home was my place, a small two-story frame house with a brown faux brick exterior and a stone foundation. I always thought of it as a cottage.

I reference past tense because I came across it on Oct. 18 in the middle of a controlled burn. On a random mid-day drive through the countryside, I was stunned to see smoke rising from my childhood home. The next day, I drove by again; the smoldering ruins and what was left of the foundation were being bulldozed and buried. The following day, fresh dirt covered the area. I could see the milk house through the trees. My landmark, my touchstone to my early years, was simply gone. It held memories of birthdays, Christmases, my first day of school, happy hours roaming the barns and fields. To see it was to be instantly connected to my past.

Lately, “my” house had been used for storage, the owners had said the last time I stopped by to walk the farm. I should have read the signs that its life span was limited. The reality is that I’m left pondering new questions about the whereabouts of my “home place?” Is it the farmstead that still surrounds the empty spot? Is it the farm where my grandparents had lived? Where is “home” when the house I grew up in is gone? It seems my new answers will take some time…

FOR PERSONAL/JOURNAL REFLECTION:

1. Read the above reflection.
2. Write about the place that you refer to as your “Home Place.” Is it still standing? What are your most vivid memories of life there? Do you still visit it, or does it only exist in your imagination? Is your “home place” a multitude of locations?

FOR GROUP STUDY:

1.   Read aloud Session L.   

      2.   Ask each person to answer the Story Circle Prompt.

[View Past Sessions Here]

Note: Holiness in Our Midst: Sharing Our Stories to Encourage and Heal is a monthly on-line feature created by Janis Pyle to facilitate sharing of our personal experiences, thoughts, beliefs, and spiritual practices with one another, especially through stories. Barriers are broken down when we begin to see all persons, even those with whom we disagree ideologically, as sacred and constantly attended to by a loving Creator. Each column is accompanied by a “story circle” prompt and study guides for personal and group reflection. To share your stories, contact Hannah Button-Harrison at communications@nplains.org. Janis Pyle can be reached at janispyle@yahoo.com.

Message from the Moderator: November 2016

Dave Whitten, District Conference Moderator, 2017

The Church of the Brethren is struggling with a decline in membership. As a result of this decline we struggle with an identity crisis. We’re not sure of ourselves any longer. And with the rise of the megachurch and the notion that big is better, we the smaller churches, have developed an inferiority complex. We have come to believe if we can’t do it like the megachurch then there’s no place for us. But as Gideon reminds us God does extraordinary things with ordinary people.

I read an article from Christianity Today entitled, Your Kids Don’t Need a Megachurch written by Amy Julia Becker. She writes:

We hear a lot about megachurches—defined as congregations that have 500 or more attendees on average every Sunday. . . . Still, according to the Harford Institute for Religious Research, 177,000 churches—about 60% of US Protestant congregations—have fewer than 100 attendees each week.
The median number of worshippers on a Sunday morning is 75. So our church is the norm. It is easy to bemoan the lack of programs and professionalism, the tight budget and sputtering sound system, but I find myself increasingly grateful for its blessings.

Becker writes that their current church has one Sunday school class for children, Kindergarten to the fifth grade. Most Sundays they average about 6 to 8 kids and roughly 60 adults in worship. Small churches do well preparing children for the future. For her the basics are instilled there:

Church involves worship, prayer, Bible reading, and people who love them. That’s it. No bells and whistles. No performance or productions. Just the frail and broken body engaging in the healing work of Christ.

Kids these days don’t need more kid-specific programs.  Society provides plenty of opportunities there. What kids really need today is to engage in more intergenerational happenings. And that’s where the small congregation comes into its place. Where else do you find opportunities to engage multiple generations like a small church? My child feels safe, loved, nurtured, and valued by all members of this church. What more do we want for them?

The winds of change are blowing through church. We seem to have lost our way, unsure of our place. But God reaches out and calls, “O people of valor.” “Go with the strength you have . . . Am I not sending you” (cf. Judges 6)? The call of God on our lives has not changed!

Jill Southern-Jones, in a devotion from her website, writes:

God does not always call the qualified but always qualifies the called. God doesn’t always call the most likely or the most humanly gifted people. The anointing from God, which is needed to fulfill our call, will be there for us. Remain faithful to God and to the call He has placed on your life and you will be fruitful. What he calls us to do He also enables us to do.

Let’s embrace our place!

District News & Announcements – October 2016

District News & Announcements

October 2016

James Benedict: Something Better – Robins Church of the Brethren Closing Ceremony

Sermon for Saturday, September 10, 2016
Ecclesiastes 3:1-5
Hebrews 11:8-16; 32-40Something Better

I must start by thanking the Robins congregation and the Northern Plains District for the honor of being asked to preach on this special occasion.  Forty-two years ago, I stood nervously behind this same pulpit and preached my very first sermon at the age of fifteen.  Three years after that, I was licensed to the ministry here, and I have since spent over thirty years in the full-time ministry in other congregations.  So I am deeply grateful for the privilege of being here to help celebrate the life and ministry of this congregation that has meant so much to me, and to many others also.

I am honored, but I am trying not to “get the big head.”  That was always my grandmother’s warning to me, whenever I would share with her any special accomplishment or honors I received – good grades, getting into college, having an article published.  She would say, “That’s nice, but Jimmie, don’t get the big head.”

She and my grandfather sat back there, a row or two in front of where I sat with my mom and dad, brothers and sister.  Our family sat in the back row, I suspect so that just in case one of us would misbehave, mom or dad wouldn’t have far to go to take us out of the sanctuary for appropriate discipline – not that it was necessary very often.

I can remember sitting back there, elbow to elbow with one or more of my brothers, trying to behave and trying not to drop the quarter that I had been given for the offering because – as you can see – the floor slopes down, and chances were good that if I dropped it, it would roll all the way to the front, and then my dad might take me outside for some of that appropriate discipline.

On a September day like today, it would usually be hot, because we didn’t have air conditioning in the church back then.  In fact, we didn’t even have a bathroom indoors – you had to go out back to the outhouse.  But because it was so hot, we would have the windows open and we would fan ourselves with the fans provided by the local funeral director, pieces of cardboard stapled to an oversized tongue depressor.  Even so, we would sweat, and many times our backs would stick to the back of the pew.

And on a September day like today, chances are that my nose would be running and I would be trying not to sneeze anymore than I absolutely had to.  I had terrible hay fever as a kid, and this was a bad time of year with ragweed and goldenrod at their peak.  It didn’t help that I spent a lot of time outdoors with my brothers, exploring in the woods and the pasture, wading and fishing in the creek, or even just walking the quarter mile from the bus stop to my home, past ditches filled with ragweed and goldenrod.

Ragweed doesn’t have much to commend it, but goldenrod is at least attractive, with its yellow blooms.  Poet Mary Oliver, has honored it in one of her better-known poems:

On roadsides,
in fall fields,
in rumpy bunches,
saffron and orange and pale gold,

in little towers,
soft as mash,
sneeze-bringers and seed-bearers,
full of bees, sand, yellow beads and perfect flowerlets

and orange butterflies.
I don’t suppose
much notice comes of it, except for honey,
and how it heartens the heart with its

blank blaze.
I don’t suppose anything loves it, except, perhaps,
the rocky voids
filled by its dumb dazzle.

For myself,
I was just passing by, when the wind flared
and the blossoms rustled,
and the glittering pandemonium

leaned on me.
I was just minding my own business
when I found myself on their straw hillsides,
citron and butter-colored,

and was happy, and why not?
Are not the difficult labors of our lives
full of dark hours?
And what has consciousness come to anyway, so far,

that is better than these light-filled bodies?

All day
on their airy backbones
they toss in the wind,

they bend as though it was natural and godly to bend,
they rise in a stiff sweetness,
in the pure peace of giving
one’s gold away.

That poem helped me learn to love goldenrod, in spite of its effects on me, much as I suppose God loves us in spite of our sins.  Goldenrod is for me a reminder that, for those of us with eyes to see and a heart willing to let ourselves see, there is beauty to be found in that which brings us trouble or even sorrow – like the closing of a beloved congregation.

Of course, another thing goldenrod has in its favor, as far as I am concerned, is that it doesn’t last forever.  In a few weeks, a killing frost will put an end to it, at least for another year or so.  As the prophet Isaiah informs us, “The grass withers and the flower fades, because the breath of the Lord blows upon it.”   The prophet makes the same point as the Preacher, who reminds us in the passage we read from the book of Ecclesiastes, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven; a time to be born and a time to die.”

For everything there is a season.  That includes congregations.  They are born, grow, flourish, grow old and die.  Some outlast the normal human lifespan (no one is here today who was present when the Robins church was organized in 1856), but sooner or later, they prove to be mortal.  On average in the United States, approximately ten congregations close every day.  They are human institutions.  Why would we expect it to be otherwise?

When Jesus spoke of the church, against which the gates of hell could not prevail, he did not have in mind some specific local congregation.  Instead, it was the church as God’s people, throughout the world and throughout time, persisting in spite of setbacks, moving, thriving first here and then there.  Remember those 10 churches a day that are closing in the United States?  At the same time, 11 are opening, and that is just here.  Elsewhere in the world, in Africa and Asia, there is even greater growth.  Our hope is not in the ability of any specific congregation to survive.  Our hope is in God, Creator, Redeemer and Holy Spirit, at work in congregations and individuals near and far.

Our hope is in what God is doing, because we believe that God is at work reclaiming, redeeming and reforming the whole creation.  Each Christian and each congregation is called to participate in that work, with the resources at their disposal, in the place and time afforded to them.  

That is what the folks who made up this congregation did – they did their part, with the resources at their disposal, in the time and place afforded to them.  They came from Pennsylvania, Ohio and other points east, and settled here when Iowa had been a state for less than a single decade.  They began to meet in 1854, and organized in 1856, calling themselves the First Dry Creek Church of the German Baptists.  You have to admire the optimism in that name – you call yourself the first only if you expect there to someday be a second, and maybe a third.  

They built their first meeting house in 1858 and by 1881 had 125 members and 5 ministers.  The congregation, like others among the Brethren, survived a devastating split that year, with half the congregation and four fifths of the ministers breaking away to be part of the Old Order.  That led to the building of another new meeting house in 1883, and growth back to 100 members a few years after that.  In 1915, this current building was built and for a time the church flourished with large families.  Then things changed, families got smaller, and children who grew up here more often moved away than stuck around to raise families of their own.

Yet for a season – a long season – this was a vital congregation.  It was a congregation that inspired, comforted, challenged and served.  It was a congregation that called forth leaders, sent people to work with Brethren Disaster Ministries, and provided a place for people to come to know God through Jesus Christ.  For a season, a long season, this congregation carried out the work God gave it to do and sought to follow where God led.

The season is now over, and for those who have loved this congregation (and especially those of us whose faith was formed here), it hurts.  We grieve, and rightfully so.  As another of my favorite poets, Robert Frost has written:

Out through the fields and the woods

   And over the walls I have wended;

I have climbed the hills of view

   And looked at the world, and descended;

I have come by the highway home,

   And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,

   Save those that the oak is keeping

To ravel them one by one

   And let them go scraping and creeping

Out over the crusted snow,

   When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,

   No longer blown hither and thither;

The last lone aster is gone;

   The flowers of the witch hazel wither;

The heart is still aching to seek,

   But the feet question ‘Whither?’

Ah, when to the heart of man

   Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things,

   To yield with a grace to reason,

And bow and accept the end

   Of a love or a season?

Yes, we grieve, but as Paul wrote to the Thessalonians, we do not grieve as do others who have no hope.  For we have hope, hope in God, hope in the work God is doing, and hope that our part of that work matters and has made a difference.  For now, we can accept that this congregation’s season has come to an end, and yet we understand that God’s work is not done.  So we are like those mentioned in the Letter to the Hebrews, who “though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made perfect.”

The vision of the author of the Letter to the Hebrews, and the vision of the New Testament in general, is that God’s work is larger than any one congregation, or any one generation.  Each congregation, each generation, spends its season doing what it can, and then becomes part of that “great cloud of witnesses,” to inspire those who follow after, until that day when the work is done, and all together will be made perfect.

Seasons come and seasons go, but scripture teaches us that it is not all just an endless cycle.  Scripture teaches us that history is headed somewhere, that God has elected to work through history – through human beings and human institutions that live and die, that rise and fall – to bring us all to glory.   

That glory is described in many different ways in different places in the New Testament, but one description especially worth noticing on this occasion is the description offered in the book of Revelation, where we hear of a new “Jerusalem,” the heavenly city in which there is no more death, mourning, crying or pain.  It is a beautiful city, and a city in which the people who dwell there have everything they need.  But one thing is noticeably missing – the Temple, the visible symbol of institutional religion.  The new Jerusalem needs no Temple because “its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb,” just as it “has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb.”

That is our destination, and God will see that we get there, but we aren’t there yet.  For now, we need our temples and churches, our congregations and meeting houses – places where we can meet, encourage one another, learn and grow.  And when such a place and such a community is lost, we do grieve, just as the people of God have always grieved when patriarchs, matriarchs and saints of various kinds have died “without receiving what was promised.”  Still, we believe that they, and we, and others will someday come together and experience a joy and completeness that is so much better than even the very best day in the life of any single individual or congregation.

Yes, the grass withers and the flower fades, but the Robins Church of the Brethren bloomed where it was planted and brightened the world for a season.  And someday it will be part of the most spectacular bouquet, the fragrance of which will reach to every corner of the promised holy city, where God will wipe away every tear.  Amen.

History of Robins Church of the Brethren – 1856-2016

Compiled by Tim Button-Harrison for Closing Service on September 10, 2016

The history of the Robins Church of the Brethren goes back to Germany where the Brethren movement started in 1708.  Yet within twenty years, due to persecution, most of the Brethren had migrated to Pennsylvania searching for a place they could practice their faith without being harassed by authorities.  

When the middle and western states opened for settlement, some Brethren who were descendants of these 18th century German immigrants were among the first pioneers in Iowa.  In 1854, Brethren Elder Thomas Snyder and his family moved from Blair County, Pennsylvania and settled two miles west of Robins.  They were followed in 1856 by Elder Jacob Waters and his family from Cambria County, Pennsylvania.  Many other Brethren were also settling in Iowa at this time.   

In 1856, in the home of Elder Waters, Brethren from Linn, Cedar, Delaware and parts of Benton came together and organized the First Dry Creek Church of the German Baptist Brethren with ten charter members.  That fall they held their first love feast in Elder Snyder’s barn and elected Thomas Snyder to the ministry.  Within a few years, other Brethren families were locating in this vicinity: Stamys, Mentzers, Millers, Holsingers, Hoovers, Albaughs, and Heefners.  

In 1858 they built their first meetinghouse just north of the Dunkard cemetery in Monroe Township.  It was made from native lumber; a 30 x 40 foot structure, 12 feet high, with a 16 by 18 foot kitchen.  For 25 years they worshipped in this church house.  Ministers serving in that period, besides Thomas G. Snyder and Jacob O. Waters, already mentioned, were Jonathan Rees, J. C. Miller, Soloman Stamy, Martin Boyd, John Filmore, Moses Rogers, John Voach, Daniel Holsinger and Abraham Stamy.  During this period, within the wider Brethren church there were disagreements and debates concerning missions, Sunday Schools, and education.  In 1881, the Old Order Brethren, opposing these innovations, separated and formed their own church.  About half of the congregation broke away and went to the Old Order Brethren.  

A second church house, to replace the first, was built in 1883 in a place called Sand Ridge.  This new building served the congregation for 32 years.  Ministers serving at Sand Ridge were T. G. Snyder, S. C. Miller, D.W. Miller, L. D. Bosserman, J. Kurtz Miller, George Hagerman and S. B. Miller.

A third church house was built in Cedar Rapids in 1892 at 4th Avenue and 12th Street and it became a separate congregation in 1905.  

In 1914 the old church property was sold and in 1915 the Sand Ridge Church was torn down and its materials were used to build this church building we are now in.  It was built by Morris Eikenberry of Dallas Center and it was dedicated in December of 1915 with Galen Royer preaching.  Ministers serving at this location from 1915 until the purchase of the first parsonage in 1932 were Jonathan Meyers, G. S. Nickey, S. B. Miller, Claire Miller, D. W. Miller, A. T. Olinger, U. H. Hoefle.  

During that period, in 1920, the Sisters Aid Society was started “to render such aid to the needy, financially and otherwise as may be needful, to develop the missionary and Devotional spirit of its members, to assist the church, home and foreign missions and other worthy causes.”  From 1920 forward the Ladies Aid helped with the finances by holding suppers, cooked for farm sales, and had ice cream socials.  Many quilts were made, and given away or sold.  Ladies Aid also helped with Vacation Bible School and wherever they were needed.

When the parsonage was purchased in 1932, the first minister to occupy it was D. C. Snider (1932-1934) followed by O. A. Myers (1934-1943), Leland Emrick (1944-1945), Earl Snader (1945-1946), Ben Buckingham (1946-1951) and Russell Jarboe (1951-1953).

During that period, in 1939, the church’s name changed from Dry Creek to Robins Church of the Brethren.  

From 1953 to 1966, the Robins Church yoked with the Cedar Rapids Church and four pastors were shared during those 13 years: John Wieand (1953-1954), Russell Burris (1954-1960), Robert Faus (1960-1963), David Hykes (1963-1966).  From 1966 to 1978 the Robins Church yoked with the Garrison Church and three pastors were shared during those 12 years: Elmer West (1966-1972), Harold Justice (1972-1974), Gene Burry (1974-1978).  Rex and Joyce Barber then served Robins (1979-1986) followed by Nick Shrope (1987-1999) and Eileene Sauer who served as a lay minister up to the present time.  

Three young men of the church were licensed into the ministry.  Warren Hoover (1944), James H. Hoover (1948) and James Benedict (1977).

Leadership Development Musings: October 2016

Micah 5:2-4: “But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are too small to be among the army groups from Judah, from you will come one who will rule Israel for me. He comes from very old times, from days long ago. The Lord will give up his people until the one who is having a baby gives birth; then the rest of his relatives will return to the people of Israel. At that time the ruler of Israel will stand and take care of his people with the Lord’s strength and with the power of the name of the Lord his God. The Israelites will live in safety, because his greatness will reach all over the earth.”

A Leader Who Overcame

He grew up in the country, an area so rural that he had to study on his own because it was too far to travel to the nearest school. In fact, by the time he was an adult, his total official schooling amounted to no more than one year. His parents were uneducated, his mother was unable to read or write.

His family wasn’t rich, so he had to stay around the homestead with his brothers and sisters to help keep up the farm. Because of his limited traveling, he knew little of the world outside of Illinois until he was eighteen years old.

Small town, no schooling, unfamiliar with the world. With a background like that, you might not expect this person to become one of the greatest leaders in U.S. history: Abraham Lincoln.

There’s more to being a leader than where you were brought up, whether you’re rich, or whom you know. Lincoln was a good leader because of his wisdom, honesty, and trustworthiness. People felt confident under his leadership.

The above scripture passage from Micah shares with us another world leader who was born in the “backwoods” town of Bethlehem in Judah. He too overcame his obstacles to lead others to Christ in his own leadership style of ministry.

All of us come from various places, levels of education, and income levels BUT! don’t allow these things to be an obstacle in your pursuit of being a leader in whatever capacity or ministry that might look like as there are ways to overcome these obstacles of say, where you live, your level of education, and even your level of income.

As Barbara shared last month, be in contact with either of us and let us be about God’s work together in ministry.

Blessings on the Journey,
Pastor Laura Leighton-Harris
Co-Minister of Leadership Development

Message from the Moderator: October 2016

By David Whitten, District Conference Moderator, 2017

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven (Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV).

My very first engagement as the Moderator of the Northern Plains District of the Church of the Brethren was to assist with the closing of the Robins congregation on September 10. This was not an easy thing to do. In an earlier meeting with the few, remaining members of the congregation following a closing prayer to adjourn one of the members buried her head in my breast and wept uncontrollably. Her family had been members there for three generations. The closing of a congregation celebrating 160 years of existence is like a funeral. We grieve over it.

And yet, we were uplifted by the words of our guest speaker, Rev. James Benedict, a man who was born and raised in the Robins congregation (Please read his sermon in this month’s district newsletter) and presently pastor at the Union Bridge Church in the Mid Atlantic District. Rev. Benedict commented on Ecclesiastes 3:1 and the reality that there is a season for everything including congregations. He then pointed to the fact that in the imagery of Revelation 21 and the new Jerusalem there was something glaringly absent. What was missing was the temple, something so central to the people of God in the old Jerusalem and yet not present in the new. In the first earth and first heaven the church was perceived as a dwelling place for the Spirit of God. In the new Jerusalem there will be no need for that because God becomes their dwelling place and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes . . . neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore for the former things have passed away (Revelation 21: 4 ESV).       

I don’t know but I left there feeling encouraged by the words of Rev. Benedict. That ultimately when all is said and done even our beloved churches will become obsolete in the kingdom of God.

We closed the ceremony and the congregation with the tolling of the church’s bell chimed to be heard throughout the community and then no more. For those whose heart was first touched by God’s Holy Spirit, for those who came to faith in an altar call, for the baptisms, the prayers, the sermons, the singing, the countless reading of the Word of God, the legacy lives on from the Robins Church of the Brethren. To God be the Glory. RIP

Holiness in our Midst: Session 49

SESSION XLVIV:ON AUTUMN MEMORIES

STORY CIRCLE PROMPT: Share an autumn memory.

In my early teens, we lived in Urbandale, IA. As a family, we did lots of fun outings. An autumn memory stands out. One September Saturday morning we picked up black walnuts at Walnut Woods State Park in West Des Moines, a wooded bottomland along the Raccoon River. It was holy ground: The family togetherness, the leafy canopies of red, yellow and gold, the chilly weather that made us huddle closer. It was a time before my sisters Jean and Janet went off to college The rest of us (my father, stepmother, brother Jerry, sister Jill, and me) hopscotched from Iowa to Minnesota and on to Colorado by the time I graduated from high school. But that beautiful day, time stood still as we stooped to fill bushel baskets full of black walnuts, some with and others without hulls. Our bright sweaters blended with the colors in the trees. We were a contented bunch, laughing and calling to each other, “Over here. Over here.” On the way home, we stopped at an orchard to buy several boxes of Golden Delicious apples. The distinctive odors of walnuts and apples permeated the car, even though the harvest bounty was in the trunk.

That evening my brother and father sorted the walnuts for drying in the basement. In time, they would take off the hulls and crack the shells. I remember that a vice and a hammer were involved. The rest of us were assigned to pick “the meats” with nut picks, careful to toss any shells. The walnuts were stored in plastic bags in the freezer in the basement (the “deep freeze,” we called it), ready to be added to cakes and cookies.

Later in the season, we reaped the rewards of our outing. Mom made baked apples with walnuts; I don’t remember the exact recipe, but cinnamon, brown sugar, and butter were among the ingredients. My parents made applesauce. During the holidays, Dad made his caramels and fudge, some batches with walnuts, using his mother’s recipes. The apples were kept in boxes in the garage, fair game for snacking anytime throughout the long winter months. Our bounty lasted through the winter and the memories a lifetime.

FOR PERSONAL/JOURNAL REFLECTION:

1. Read the above reflection.
2. Write a journal entry about an autumn memory. Recall where you were, who you were with, and the sights, sounds and aromas of the day. Why does it stand out?

FOR GROUP STUDY:

1.   Read aloud Session XLVIV.
2.   Ask each person to answer the Story Circle Prompt.

[View Past Sessions Here]

Note: Holiness in Our Midst: Sharing Our Stories to Encourage and Heal is a monthly on-line feature created by Janis Pyle to facilitate sharing of our personal experiences, thoughts, beliefs, and spiritual practices with one another, especially through stories. Barriers are broken down when we begin to see all persons, even those with whom we disagree ideologically, as sacred and constantly attended to by a loving Creator. Each column is accompanied by a “story circle” prompt and study guides for personal and group reflection. To share your stories, contact Hannah Button-Harrison at communications@nplains.org. Janis Pyle can be reached at janispyle@yahoo.com.