God's Amazing Grace by Dakotas Conference UMC

GODâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S AMAZING GRACE Stories From My Life

GRACE E. HUCK

GODâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S AMAZING GRACE

Other Writings by Author Contributor to: Pasque Petals Dakota Farmer Queen City Mail Together Magazine Filipino Methodist Poems included in: Paebar Anthology of Verse - Paebar Co. 1937 America Speaking - Pirateʼs Press 1938 Biographical Dictionary of Contemporary Poets Whoʼs Who of American Poets - Avon House 1938 Golden Gate Anthology - Tudor Press 1939 Caravan of Verse - Caravan Publishers 1939 Crown Anthology - Crown Publishers 1939 Poets on Parade - Watchtower Books 1940 Other Books by the Author Songs of the Soul - Self Published 1953 Second edition 2000 So You Are Going to Teach Children (Contributor) Philippine Federation of Christian Churches 1965 The Story of Jesus (Curriculum Resource) National Council of Churches of the Philippines 1966 When Does It Start? National Council of Churches of the Philippines 1966 Faith/Promise - Bible Study on Stewardship Educational Ministries, Inc. Prescott, AZ 1997 When You Pray - Conditions for Effective Prayer Sand Creek Printing Inc. Spearfish, SD 2000

GODâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S AMAZING GRACE Stories from My Life By Grace E. Huck

Printed By Sand Creek Printing, Inc. 128 East Illinois Spearfish, South Dakota 57783-2163 (605) 642-4061 scprinting@rushmore.com

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Other Writings.............................................................................................ii Title Page..................................................................................................iii Dedication.................................................................................................vi Acknowledgments....................................................................................vii Foreword.................................................................................................viii Introduction................................................................................................ x Picture: Going to Pamarawan in a Bangka..............................................xi Part 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Growing up on the Prairies.................................................... 4 To Grandmotherʼs House We Go........................................ 10 The Death Angel Strikes...................................................... 15 We Find a Church............................................................... 23 A Dear Teacher and Best Friend......................................... 28 We Go to High School......................................................... 32 Dust, Drought and Depression............................................ 41 Part 2

Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

Step by Step........................................................................ 52 The Wilderness Years......................................................... 58 Entering the Promised Land................................................ 61 My First Appointment........................................................... 67 Moving On........................................................................... 74 “No Skirts in This Pulpit”...................................................... 78 A New Direction................................................................... 83 God Opens and Closes Doors............................................ 89 I Go To a Large Church....................................................... 93 Part 3

Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26

A Turn in the Road............................................................. 104 Going to the Philippines.................................................... 109 A New Challenge............................................................... 118 I Begin My Service............................................................ 121 Writing and Publishing....................................................... 128 At My Harris Home Again.................................................. 133 Completing a Trip Around the World................................. 138 Back in the USA................................................................ 143 Returning to Harris............................................................ 150 Closing Days..................................................................... 156

Part 4 Chapter 27 God, What Do You Want of Me?....................................... 168 Chapter 28 A New Appointment........................................................... 176 Chapter 29 Around the World in 76 Days............................................ 184 Chapter 30 Back in the USA Again...................................................... 196 Chapter 31 A New Chapter in My Life.................................................. 203 Chapter 32 An Honorary Doctorate Degree......................................... 211 Chapter 33 Continuing Ministry with Harris.......................................... 214 Chapter 34 Life Goes On..................................................................... 219 “Let Me Be Your Channel”..................................................................... 225 Biographical Information........................................................................ 226 Epilogue................................................................................................ 229

Dedicated to Rueben and Beverly Job without whose urging, encouragement and support this book would probably never have been written.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I begin by expressing my gratitude to the many who have urged me to write my life story and especially my friends in the Spearfish United Methodist Church, in the Dakotas Conference and to some at the national level who have given me encouragement and support as I attempted to get my stories into print. My deep gratitude goes to Dr. Carla Bradley who gave me my first computer and taught me to use it, saying she was going to bring me â&#x20AC;&#x153;screaming and kicking into the twenty-first century.â&#x20AC;? I am also grateful to Dr. Art Prosper and his wife, Jane, who advised me on the content and structure, to Paul Higbee for professional counsel and especially to Bishop Rueben P. Job for his support and invaluable advice concerning the writing of the book. My thanks goes to Mary Hayden who copied the first draft of this book from the handwritten original to the computer. My thanks to two young men, Glenn Foltz and Sean Binder, for technical help with the computer. I am deeply grateful to my editor, Dr. Sasha Pursley, for her invaluable assistance and many hours of painstaking editing and to Joann Hoffman for her assistance in preparing the final copy for printing. My gratitude goes to Coral Sand, my printer, for all of her assistance in getting the book into print. And finally, my heartfelt gratitude to the Rev. Kip Roozen for his love, friendship and support in so many ways as he served as my pastor while I worked to produce this book.

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FOREWORD GODʼS AMAZING GRACE

Godʼs Amazing Grace traces the activity of God in one life that came out of rural obscurity to touch the world with faith, hope and goodness. Grace Huck is one of those remarkable women who go quietly and unobtrusively about transforming all that they touch. She was the first or second woman admitted into full membership to an annual conference in the United Methodist Church. That is a milestone of distinction for all women in ministry in every denomination. It was a a life changing milestone for the Rev. Grace Huck as well. Her ministry and life have been remarkable, bordering on miraculous. But this book and the authorʼs life are not the center of the story. The center of the story is God and Godʼs trustworthy action in the heart of the faithful. While this book is about God at work in the world, it also gives witness to the extraordinary capacity of one person, deeply committed to Jesus Christ, to change the ordinary and even the sordid into something good, sacred and holy. Grace Huck continues to be a walking river of life to the heart broken, the grieving, the suffering, the needy and those who simply need a quiet word of encouragement. Only God knows how many persons and causes have received a gift of money, prayer, and a helping hand from the heart of this deeply committed woman of faith. Only God knows because there are so many, and Grace never bothered to keep that kind of record. She gave when, where and what God directed, and obedience to that direction was all the reward she wanted and would accept. I was privileged to be the District Superintendent where Grace was appointed to serve. I remember most her deep and unshakable faith and her passion for ministry. While her faith and values were rooted in centuries of Christian tradition, her methods of ministry were as contemporary as the morning news. Her deep faith was often a conundrum to clergy and laity alike. When she preached that it is impossible to “out-give” God, she believed it, practiced it, and staked her life upon it. When she preached that God would guide and provide the way for those who sought in faith to be obedient, she practiced what she preached. Wherever she served, people began to believe her message because they quickly saw the fruits of her faith in her life and ministry. Soon after her appointment, the congregations she served began to thrive, and the standard indicators of attendance and budget were always up. Young and old found their way to her door for pastoral care and encouragement. But this story is not just about the remarkable life of one deeply committed person, but rather how God used this one ordinary life in extraordinary ways to open the way for women in ministry. This is a story about one woman on the frontier, pioneering a pathway to faithfulness that would viii

one day become a highway for all women called by God into ordained ministry. Anyone with lesser faith and determination would have quit early in the process. It is possible that many other women were called to this risky journey of faith but it is clear that here was the one woman, full of faith who said, “Here I am, do with me what seems right. I am yours.” Slowly but surely, doors began to open as she continued to offer herself in obedience to God and Godʼs direction. Soren Kirkegaard said, “LIfe is lived forward but understood backward.” (Purity of Heart Is To Will One Thing, Harper and Rowe) Looking back, it is easy to see God at work to change the Church and the world in this one solitary life. But in this book we get to see, hear and if we are fortunate, to understand how God is at work in the lives of those who seek first the Kingdom of God. It is a faithful record of Godʼs amazing grace. Bishop Rueben P. Job

INTRODUCTION For years, friends and even those whom I had only recently met, have said to me, “You have had such an interesting life. You should write your autobiography.” Very shortly after my first retirement, I was riding with Rueben Job. As we visited, I told him some tale from my life, and he said very seriously, “You must write your life story. Iʼll help you get it published.” But I begged off. I was starting a trip around the world. “I canʼt do it now,” I told him. “Well, take your time,” he replied, “but get it done.” “Okay, someday,” I promised. I continued to struggle with the format for an autobiography. Then, after publishing When You Pray in 2000, I was in the mood for writing, and I began to see a format. The overriding purpose in writing stories from my life was to witness to Godʼs amazing grace, goodness and guidance in my life. I saw my life, or at least “stories from my life” organized around four quotations. One of Dadʼs favorite sayings was, “All things work together for good to those who love the Lord.” I have personally experienced that truth in my life. During the years in high school, my sister Mabel and I used that verse to carry us through many difficult situations. I saw that as the theme of my early life. I was continually aware of Paulʼs words, “I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision.” as I was struggling to be faithful to my call to the ordained ministry in the church at a time when women were not yet permitted to be fully recognized ministers . The third period of my life was in an entirely different setting as I said, “Here am I; Send me!” and went to the Philippines as a missionary. The final stories of my life take place as I returned to the United States and struggled to find a place in the church before finally being appointed, and then followed by retirement. I moved back and forth between service and retirement over a period of about twenty years. That time could best be characterized by a phrase from John Wesleyʼs Covenant Prayer, “Let me be employed for thee, or laid aside for thee.” Once I had a structure, I could begin to write. This is not strictly an autobiography. Rather, it is “stories of my life.” Each story has a beginning, a middle and an end, yet other stories are going on in my life at the same time. There is some overlapping, and not everything is in chronological order. This means that some events are told in detail in one chapter, but referred to in a later chapter. To assist the reader in following my lifeʼs story in the midst of “stories from my life,” I have included Biographical Information at the end, giving dates of important events. As I tell my stories, I want to witness to Godʼs amazing grace, goodness and guidance in my life, and this is the reason for writing.

Going to Pamarawan in a Bangka (See page 120)

PART 1 All things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28 KJV

Grace 6 months Mabel 2 Years

Grace 16 Months

Grace and Mabel in the Model T Ford 4th of July, 1918 2

Dad, Grace, William, Geneva, Mother, Frances, Mabel 1921

Mabel, Mother, Geneva, Frances, Dad, William, Grace 1924

Geneva, Grace, Willis, Mabel, Frances 1927 3

Chapter 1 GROWING UP ON THE PRAIRIES The Rattlesnake ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ Both Frances and I jumped. We knew that sound. It was a rattlesnake. There it was, coiled in the damp ground between the water tank and the fence post directly in our path, rattling menacingly. There was a fence around the farmyard. A stock water tank set half inside and half outside the fence. Next to the tank on each side was an anchor post for the fence which stretched away from the tank. Between the tank and the post was a small opening, just large enough for little girls to slip through. It was the private gate for us children. The snake was in that gate. We had been told that we were too little to kill a rattlesnake (which was, of course, what everyone did). I had celebrated my seventh birthday a few days earlier. Frances was five. Calling loudly I turned and ran back to the house. “Mamma, Mamma, there’s a rattlesnake,” I screamed. Mother was not much good at killing rattlesnakes. She hated doing it, partly because she hated to kill anything. In addition, they frightened her silly. She walked out to where Frances stood, some distance back, watching the snake, which continued to rattle threateningly. “Get the hoe,” Mother told me. I ran to the garden where the hoe hung on the fence and brought it. Mother tried, very ineffectively, to hit the snake with the hoe. She was not able to hit straight enough to have any real effect on the snake, except, probably, to anger it more. I had an idea. I ran to the tool shed and got the square bladed spade. Back to the tank I ran. “Here, hold this for me,” I said to Mother as I climbed up onto the tank. Spreading my legs, I balanced myself very carefully on the rim of the tank. “Be careful!” Mother cautioned as she watched, almost petrified with fear. Now I was above the snake with a clear view down on him. I raised the spade, and with all the strength of my child arms, I repeatedly sent the sharp blade of the spade into the snake’s coiled body, cutting it to pieces. Of course, I ran to tell Dad as soon as he came home from the field in the evening. I jumped up on the tank to demonstrate how I had killed the snake. Horrified, Dad said, “You could have fallen.” “No, I wouldn’t,” I assured him. “I can balance, and besides, God would take care of me.” “I guess he did,” Dad responded as he cut off the rattles to add to the collection.

How It All Began I am the daughter of William Gladstone and Grace Eleanor Kearns Huck. I was born on my father’s homestead in the northwest corner of South Dakota. My mother and Dad’s sister, Frances, came to Harding County, South Dakota in 1909 to file on a homestead. Dad and his friend, Carl Brandenburg, followed a few months later, filing on land near them. To encourage the settling of western North and South Dakota, the U.S. government offered free land to anyone over 21 years of age who would choose a quarter section of land, build a house and barn, plant ten acres of the land to any crop and live on the land for six months out of every year. At the end of three years, they could “Prove-up” and receive a deed to the land. My mother had gone from her home in Iowa to Roscoe, South Dakota, at the invitation of her brother, Carl, who was the minister in the Presbyterian Church there. She taught school in Roscoe for two years. There, she became acquainted with the Huck family, who were pioneers in East River, South Dakota. Dad was the first white boy born in what would become Edmunds County when South Dakota became a state two years after his birth. They told an interesting story about their first date. Since there was no commercial entertainment in those days, the church and school provided the places for social gatherings with picnics, literary clubs, basket socials and programs. After one such gathering, Dad asked Mother if he could “walk her home.” Mother accepted and they started out. The night was cold and the streets were icy. Suddenly, Mother slipped but as she fell, she landed in Dad’s lap. “How did you get down there?” Mother asked. “Oh, I saw I couldn’t catch you, so I decided to give you a soft place to land.” Dad replied. Along with my parents and my aunt, many young people came with high hopes to take advantage of the free land. However, they soon discovered that living on a quarter section of land was an unrealistic dream. Rainfall on the plains of western South Dakota was very limited. They used to laughingly say that South Dakota was “where the wind blew seven days a week and the rest of the time it rained.” Gardens withered and the buffalo grass covering the prairies, while nutritious, took at least 25 acres to support one cow and even more to support one horse. Dad often said that the homestead law for the dry land of the western Dakotas was “the worst hoax ever perpetrated on unsuspecting humankind.” Mother would never give up on anything she started. So while Dad wanted to marry and start a family, Mother made him wait until they had both “proved up.” She would have lost her homestead if she had married before “proving up.” When Carl Brandenburg had “proved up,” he sold his claim to Dad, as did Aunt Frances. Therefore in the fall, before they were married in November 1913, Mother’s claim shack was moved down onto Dad’s land. Aunt Frances’ shack was torn down and the lumber used to provide a hallway between shacks, which served as the kitchen and living room. Carl Brandenburg’s shack was added as a bedroom, making a comfortable, though small, three-room house. It was here that Mabel, the first of six children, and 5

I were born. I Am Born “Dearie,” Grace turned to her husband who was sleeping soundly. Then again, she said, “Dearie,” touching him. “Uh”, he responded. Then, “Oh, is it time?” “Yes,” she responded. She grimaced with pain before she continued. “I think it is time to go get Mrs. Lee.” Grace was a small woman, but now her body was swollen with the baby to which she was about to give birth. Her husband was wide awake now. “Have you been in pain long?” Will asked as he cast a look of love and concern at his little wife. In the light of the kerosene lamp which he had lit, he could see evidence of the pain that wracked her body. “Most of the night, I guess, but only now are the pains beginning to come regularly.” “I’ll wake Pearl so if you need her, she will be ready,” Will said as he quickly dressed. He picked up the lamp and went through the door to the living room where Pearl Churchward slept on the couch. Pearl was the 18-year-old daughter of a neighbor who had been hired to help with the work and care for Mabel, who was 18 months old. Will glanced into the crib where Mabel slept peacefully, unaware of the drama around her. Setting the lamp on the table in the middle of the living room, he looked at the clock. It was 2:15 A.M. “Pearl,” he called softly as he touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes, and sat up with a startled look on her face. “It’s all right,” he said calmly. “You had better get up and get dressed so you are ready if Mrs. Huck needs you,” he said. “I’m going to get Mrs. Lee.” “Okay, sure,” Pearl said. She was now fully awake and aware of what was happening. Lantern in hand, Will hurried to the barn. Entering, he went to the stall where two horses had been tied for several days awaiting the time when they would be needed. Quickly, he harnessed them to the buggy which sat in the barnyard. Hanging the lantern on a hook in the barn, he raised the globe and blew out the flame. He left the barnyard, putting the team to a brisk trot and drove onto the graded dirt road that ran past the farmstead. After about a mile, Will turned the team off the graded road onto a wagon trail which crossed the prairie. Dropping the reins over the gatepost so the horses would stand, he hurried to the house. The door stood open to let the cool night air bring respite from the hot summer sun. The screen door was hooked inside. “Mrs. Lee! Blain!” he called loudly through the open door. There was a reply from within. He responded, “Mrs. Lee. It’s Will Huck. It’s time. We need you.” “I’ll be right there,” a woman’s voice answered. Mrs. Lee was a nurse, married to a farmer who was a neighbor living about three miles from our home. She was always ready to use her training and skill when a baby was born or for other events where medical skill was needed. No doctor was closer than thirty miles. 6

In a few moments, Mrs. Lee came out of the house, her medical kit in her hand. Quickly she climbed into the buggy and the horses were turned homeward. Behind them, the eastern sky became increasingly bright, and beautiful rosy hues began to stretch across the sky. As they entered the Huck farmyard, the sun popped up over the eastern horizon. It was about 4:00 a.m. Little Mabel awakened as Mrs. Lee and Will entered the bedroom. Will picked her up from the bed, carried her to the living room and handed her to Pearl. “Change her and keep her out here,” he said to Pearl. Then to Mabel, “You stay with Pearl and be a good girl.” “Yes, Papa,” the blond curly-haired child answered. It was about six o’clock on the morning of June 27, 1916, when I made my appearance. When the baby was cleansed, wrapped in her blanket and lying in her mother’s arms, Will kissed his wife. As he started to leave the room, he turned back, “What shall we name her?” he asked. “I thought we might name her Ruth, after my sister,” Grace replied. “What do you think?” “I’d like to name her after you,” Will replied as he left to go milk the cows. “Aftayu,” Grace thought, “Aftayu. What kind of a name is that?” My father had his way. I was named after my mother. I was Grace Eloise and my mother was Grace Eleanor. Somehow, my mother had her way, too, for still today, I am often called “Ruth.” So often, in fact, that if there is no one by the name of Ruth around, I know I am being addressed. I frequently ask, “Why did you call me Ruth?” The response is usually, “I don’t know, you just seem like you should be Ruth.” A New Baby Sister “Mabel, Grace,” Mamma called, “Come here.” We left our play and ran to the bedroom where Mamma was lying on the bed. She was evidently in pain. “Mamma, what is the matter?” I asked. “What do you want?” “I need Papa,” she responded. “Go out and watch for him. Tell him to come as fast as he can.” Papa had gone to the pasture to bring in the work horses to do some planting in the fields. Mabel and I ran down to the barn to wait. In a few minutes, we saw the horses coming over the hill at a gallop. We began shouting at the top of our voices and waving our arms. Papa saw us and spurred Pete, the saddle horse, as he rode into the barnyard. “Mamma wants you right now,” we shouted in chorus. Springing from his horse, he ran to the house. Pete turned and walked into his stall in the barn. Some of the work horses went into their stalls, but others turned and went back to the pasture. I thought, “It is funny Papa didn’t shut the gate so they could not get away.” When Mabel and I reached the house, we found Daisy, the hired girl, with her hands full. Frances, who was not yet two years old, was a real “Mamma’s baby.” She did not want anyone to care for her except Mamma. 7

Since Daisy was holding her and trying to calm her, she was kicking, screaming and crying at the top of her voice. William, who was not quite eleven months old and usually a happy child was also crying. Mabel, though only five and one-half years old, took Frances from Daisy and sat down in her little rocking chair. She rocked and sang until Frances began to calm down. I began playing with William. He soon became his happy self and calm was restored. In the bedroom, however, there was no calm. The baby, who was not due for another month, had decided to make her appearance. My Dad, who had assisted at my birth and perhaps at that of Frances and William as well, and at the births of many a calf, was no stranger to midwifery. He brought the new baby into this world. It was a premature, but not difficult birth, and the baby seemed healthy, so it was not long before he came out of the bedroom. Turning to the little group gathered in the kitchen, he announced, “You have a new baby sister.” Then, turning to Mabel and me, he said, “Girls, keep the babies here in the kitchen and take care of them. Daisy, go take care of Mrs. Huck. I am going to get Mrs. Lee.” Then he left the house on the run, jumped onto Pete’s back and galloped out of the yard. It was not long before Mrs. Lee, astride her own horse, accompanied Dad back to our home. She hurried into the bedroom to give Mother the attention she needed and to examine the new baby. It was only after she had finished that we children were allowed into the bedroom to see Mother and our new little sister who was named Geneva. With two other babies under two years, Mother had her hands full. Geneva quickly became my little “charge.” I would not be four years old for another two and one-half months, but Geneva was a good baby. She rarely cried and when she did, I was there in a second, giving her the bottle, checking to see if she needed changing, and wheeling the baby buggy, which was her bed, until she went back to sleep. One summer day when Geneva was about two or three months old, Mother was out taking care of the chickens. I was in the house watching “Baby”, as we called her. She began to fuss. As I had so often done, I checked and discovered that she was wet. When giving her the bottle and wheeling the buggy did not pacify her, I knew that she would not be happy until she was changed. So, I got a dry diaper, pushed a straight chair up beside the buggy so I could reach her, knelt on it, and took off the wet diaper. That was not too difficult. However, putting on the dry diaper was more of a problem but I succeeded. I even very carefully put my finger between the pin and her little body the way I had seen Mamma do. I wanted to be sure and not prick her. When she was dry, she settled down to sleep. When Mother came in a little later, I proudly announced, “I changed Baby.” Mother looked at the diaper. “Yes, you did,” she said with a chuckle. “You are a good little care giver.” Later, when Dad came in, she told him about it. “It was not the neatest job I’ve ever seen, but Baby was dry and happy.” 8

Going to School Sometime early in 1920, Dad bought out Matt Stitch, who had homesteaded about a mile east of us. With the help of Mr. Susee, Mr. Mauer, and Mr. Powers, he moved Matt’s claim shack down and attached it to the west side of our house. It was larger than most claim shacks as it had two rooms. One became Mother and Dad’s bedroom. William’s crib ws also in it. The other part we called the shed. Dad then donated a small plot of land where Matt’s house had stood and the schoolhouse was moved up from Karinen, since the school age children now lived closer to us. Later, Matt’s big barn was moved down to our place, leaving only the old sod barn in the school yard. The schoolhouse was ready by September, and Mabel started to school that fall. I called Geneva my little “Chum.” I cared for her a lot, and Frances and I had many good times together. We especially enjoyed “Let’s Pretend” when we would imagine having a new family with children our age living near us, or some other exciting thing. There was no limits set in “Let’s Pretend.” We could be as smart, or as beautiful or as rich as we wanted. Still, Mabel and I were “the big girls.” I missed her terribly when she left me behind to go to school. I could not see why I could not go too. I constantly begged Mother to let me go. During Mabel’s second year, Mother talked to Mrs. Johnson, the teacher, and she agreed to accept me in the school. I started school in March. Mabel was in the third grade, having taken the first and second grades her first year. School ended about the first of May. By that time, I had finished the Primer. During that summer, Mabel became very sick. Her legs ached constantly, and she slowly became unable to walk. The folks wrapped her legs in towels rung out of hot water, and rubbed them with liniment. Dad talked to the doctor in Bowman, and he suggested that it was malnutrition and recommended that she have plenty of vegetables, and suggested that she eat raisins, which were rich in iron. Years later, doctors told Mabel that she had suffered a mild case of polio. It did not deform her, but did stunt her growth. When school started in the fall of 1922, I went alone. Our teacher was a neighbor’s daughter, Evelyn Stearns, whom I had known all my life. Mother told me I must call her “Miss Stearns.” That embarrassed me. I could not force myself to say “Miss Stearns.” The other pupils all called her “Evelyn.” When I wanted her attention, I would start my sentence with, “Say.” It was not too long before she realized my problem and told Mother that she must let me call her “Evelyn.” The next year Mabel was able to go to school and we had a new teacher. She was from Indiana and Dad called her a “Hoosier Girl.” Her name was Lola Mossler, but she wanted to be called “Teacher.” Even the young men who asked her to dance would address her as “Teacher.” Miss Mossler taught for two years. During her second year, the West family moved into the community. Helen was in the eighth grade, so was in our school only one year. Merlin and Theodore attended for two more years before they moved away again. 9

Chapter 2 TO GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE WE GO A Long Trip We must have looked like a mother hen with a flock of little chicks as we boarded the train in Rhame, North Dakota, on the morning of August 4, 1924. Mother wore a dark suit and we five children were all dressed in black. Earlier in the summer, Mother had purchased yards of black sateen from which she had sewed bloomer dresses for each of the four girls and a suit for William, the one boy in the family. “Black will not show the dirt, and you will be modestly dressed in the bloomer dresses,” she assured us. To add a touch of color, she had also purchased brightly colored cretonne, a printed material. She made the cuffs on the bottom of the bloomers and at the end of the sleeves as well as a collar and the opening down the front of each dress. Much to our sorrow, the print faded the first time it was washed, and they were never pretty again. “Do you suppose we could go to Iowa this summer?” Mother asked after she had read the letter from Aunt Mabel telling of plans being made for the celebration of Grandpa and Grandma’s fiftieth wedding anniversary. “I think we might. Let’s see what we can do,” Dad replied. Mother had not been back to Iowa to visit her family since she had married on November 26, 1913, at her parents’ home in Marion, Iowa. Each year on the fourth Sunday of August, the Kearns Reunion was held. This year, there was also to be a Fiftieth Anniversary of my grandparents’ wedding. The real anniversary would be in October, but the celebration was to be held on August 31, a week after the reunion so that family members could be there. We began to plan. The sale of cattle would provide enough money to pay for the trip. In addition, it would help with transportation for Papa. Each year, when the cattle were sold, a cattle car on the train would be booked for the animals from our community going to market in Sioux City, Iowa. One man from the community would accompany the cattle. He would ride in the caboose of the train and care for feeding and watering of the animals until they were sold in the stockyards of Sioux City. This year, Papa would be the one to go. Then he would board a passenger train going to Cedar Rapids, the closest station to our grandparents. All the plans went well. Mother sewed all summer, making clothes for us. As the time of departure drew nearer, the excitement rose. At last, the day arrived. The trunk was packed. So also was food for the journey. It would take most of two days and we would be on the train overnight. Dad arose earlier than usual to get the chores done. Breakfast was eaten and the dishes quickly washed. We all got into the Model T Ford and began our journey to Rhame where we would board the train. We arrived at the depot in plenty of time to buy tickets and check the trunk before the train came chugging into the station. I was so excited I could scarcely contain 10

myself. “Gracie, you must calm down,” Mamma said more than once. “It is a long trip and you will need some of that energy later.” I did the best I could to obey, but in a few minutes, I would be back dancing around in circles and snapping my fingers. Mabel and I were old enough so that we needed half-fare tickets. The younger children rode free. How proud I was to have my own ticket. As we boarded, Mabel and I shared a seat on one side of the car while Mother and the three little children shared a seat opposite us on the other side of the car. There were other passengers, but the car was not full. The train pulled out of the depot. We all waved good-bye to Papa as he stood watching us leave. Soon, the conductor came through, and we gave him our tickets. He tore them in two and put the stubs in their place next to the window above our heads. I was so proud. I was a big girl! It was a long trip. We spent the night on the train. As the sun began to bring light onto the train, we all awakened. We ate the last of the food for breakfast. Mamma combed our hair and straightened our dresses. We would soon be arriving in Cedar Rapids. Then we were there! “There is Uncle Clyde,” Mamma said. We all looked out of the windows as the train slowed to a stop. “Wait!” Mamma called, as five excited children started down the aisle. “Stay together.” She apportioned bits of baggage to each of us older girls. She took William and Geneva by the hand. The conductor helped each of us off the train, and Uncle Clyde and Aunt Clara received us. Meeting Relatives Uncle Clyde had a big car, lots bigger than our Model T Ford. There was room for all of our luggage and us too. We had to wait for the trunk to be unloaded off the boxcar. It was fastened on the back of Uncle Clyde’s car and we started for Marion where Grandpa and Grandma lived. “There is Grandpa’s house,” I screamed excitedly as I recognized it from the many pictures I had seen of family members in front of the house. “You are right,” Aunt Clara said as she patted my hand. “How did you know?” “Oh, I’ve seen pictures.” In a few minutes, we stopped and we all got out of the car. Suddenly, I felt very shy. “Would Grandpa and Grandma like me?” I wondered. Grandpa and Grandma greeted each of us, and there was Aunt Mabel and Uncle Bill. I recognized them from their pictures and they recognized each of us children the same way. Grandma seemed very stern and not like Mamma who was very loving. Aunt Mabel seemed too small for a grown woman. She was not much taller than Mabel and I. (We were exactly the same size.) Nevertheless, she was a very sweet little person, and I soon loved her dearly. We went into the house which seemed very big to me. The yard, however, was small compared to our yard at home. We quickly learned that we were not to go into the neighbor’s yard. 11

It was not long before Mother decided that five little children who were used to running free on the South Dakota prairies did not belong on “a pocket handkerchief” sized lawn in town. Therefore, she took the three younger children out to the farm where she had been born and on which Uncle Ralph and Aunt O’Del lived with their three little girls. Mabel and I were to stay in town with Grandma so that we could take piano lessons from Aunt Mabel. “Now be a good girl and obey Grandma,” Mamma said as she kissed me good-bye. It was rather lonesome and I was just a little afraid of Grandma. One morning after Mother had taken the younger children to the farm, I came into the kitchen where Grandma was getting breakfast. She noticed that the toes of my shoes were dark. “You have been on the wet grass, haven’t you?” Grandma accused. “No, I haven’t,” I assured her. “But your shoes are wet. “No, they aren’t,” I replied. “Don’t talk back to me!” Grandma scolded. “Get up on that chair. Now stick your feet out.” I did as I was told. She felt of my shoes. They were completely dry. “I wouldn’t disobey you, Grandma. I’m a good girl,” I assured her. “Yes, you are,” Grandma said as she gave me a pat on the head. “I’m sorry. But your shoes did look wet.” “I know. It is just the way they are,” I explained. From that time on, Grandma and I had a kind of special relationship. The Family Reunion At last, it was the day for the family reunion. Uncle Carl, Mother’s oldest brother, who had been a missionary in Korea and was now a minister in Mason City, Iowa, arrived on Saturday before the reunion. Aunt Daisy and their two daughters, Margaret, who was about 18, and Katherine, about 15, were with him. We rode with them in their big touring car to the park where the reunion was to be held. We had not expected Papa to arrive in time for the reunion, but there he was. The sale of the cattle had gone faster than anticipated, and he had come with family members from Cedar Rapids. My heart nearly burst with joy and love at seeing him. It was a happy time, with Mamma greeting many relatives whom she had not seen for more than ten years. We children were introduced repeatedly as was Papa, for there were many who had never met him. After the reunion, we all went home with Uncle Clyde and Aunt Clara to their farm, leaving room for Uncle Carl’s family in the house in Marion. This was probably the most fun time of the whole trip. We were back together again as a whole family. There was room to run and play and not have to worry about getting on someone else’s property. There was a carefree atmosphere among the adults that felt strange to us children. Uncle Clyde did not do any farm work. Mamma and Papa had no responsibilities, and we children had plenty of room to play. There seemed to be no restrictions. The adults even acted like children. So, when Aunt Clara asked us to “Call 12

the boys to supper” we were sure we had found “The Fountain of Youth.” The next Sunday, we went to church in the morning with Uncle Clyde and Aunt Clara, and in the afternoon we went to Grandpa and Grandma’s 50th Wedding Anniversary. Many of the same people we had met the Sunday before at the reunion were there. Some of them we recognized, and some of them remembered and recognized us children, which made us feel like real people and important. Mabel and I had practiced with Aunt Mabel for our part in the program. We sang: Put on your old gray bonnet With the blue ribbons on it, While I hitch old dobbin to the shay. And through the fields of clover We’ll drive out to Dover On our golden wedding day. Uncle Carl performed a “Renewal of Vows” for Grandpa and Grandma. I had never been to a wedding. Once Mamma and Papa had gone to a wedding of a neighbor and I had asked Papa about it. He said, “Oh, the preacher just says, ‘Have her? Have him? Hitched.’” I knew he was just joking, but I always wondered about a real wedding. I was glad to see what they did and I watched very closely. There were others who sang and some that spoke. It was all very solemn and I sat very still and listened carefully. I liked it. Homeward Bound The next day we started back to South Dakota. We were all able to ride in Uncle Carl’s big car with “jump seats” between the front seat and the back seat. We rode with them to Mason City, where Uncle Carl was the minister of the Presbyterian Church. It took most of the day to drive from Marion to Mason City. We spent a day or two there, then we got on the train in Mason City to go to South Dakota. In South Dakota, we visited Dad’s family. We visited Uncle Walter and Aunt Edith in Ipswich, Uncle Joe and Aunt Inda and their three girls on a farm and we went to Loyalton and visited Dad’s youngest sister, Frances, for whom my sister Frances was named. A very important thing happened when we visited them. It was Sunday again, and they had a church service that night in their little church. We went with them. I was too young to understand much, but I knew something happened that night. A challenge to some kind of commitment was made and both of my parents responded. I do not think there was any outward expression of commitment, but I remember feeling it. In addition, the results were evident when we got home.

Our Family Church “Mabel, go get the Bible,” Dad said as we finished breakfast on the first Sunday after we were home from the trip to Iowa. “You know, I almost put it on the table,” Mother said. From very early childhood, both Mother and Dad had told us stories from the Bible, and we had learned and recited bedtime prayers from our earliest years. I remember when Dad was teaching me the Lord’s Prayer. As I was reciting it to him, I said, “devour us from evil.” Dad corrected me. “Do you know what devour means?” he asked. Yes, I did. I knew it meant to eat and I had thought long and hard about what that passage meant, and decided that God would eat up the evil. You see, I did know “devour” but I did not know “deliver.” The year after we had been in Iowa, Grandma Kearns sent me a New Testament for my birthday present. Grandma Huck had given Mabel a New Testament earlier. I was so proud to have my New Testament from Grandma Kearns and I loved to read it. Now we were about to begin a new phase of our family Christian life and experience. Mabel brought the Bible. Dad opened it and read to us, and then he talked about what he had read. After that, we children recited memory verses. Then we knelt by our chairs and beginning with Dad, followed by Mother, each of us in order of our age prayed. We closed by saying the Lord’s Prayer in unison. We had added, “God bless...” to our evening prayers, and sometimes we had added other requests. This was a bit different and as the weeks went by with Family Church each Sunday morning, prayer became an ever more important part of my life. I am always grateful for that experience, for I have never had the difficulty praying aloud in public as many people do. Later the Family Church time was moved to evening after supper rather than in the morning. Our Family Church was an important part of my life and Christian experience.

Chapter 3 THE DEATH ANGEL STRIKES “How is he doing?” Papa asked as he came in from doing chores on Sunday morning, March 8, 1925. “Not well,” Mamma replied. “I think he is worse.” My brother, William, had been sick for two or three weeks, getting steadily worse. For our Christmas program at school that year, we had presented the play “A Christmas Carol” by Dickens. Merle Mauer was Scrooge and Mabel was the Spirit of Christmas Present who conducted Scrooge to the home of the Cratchets. Ted West played Bob Cratchet and William was Tiny Tim, although he was not yet in school. During that time, William had learned to love “Teacher” with a passion. He insisted that he was going to marry her when he was big enough and called himself her “little husband.” After we had bought a five-gallon can of honey from a traveling salesman, he begged Mamma to let him take a half-gallon pail of honey up to the schoolhouse to give to Teacher. “She likes it,” he said. Soon after, he began to complain of his legs and arms aching. At first, Mamma thought that the half-gallon pail of honey had been too heavy for a little five-and-a-half-year-old boy to carry for a mile, and she expected that he would soon be over the pain. However, it did not cease. Instead, it got worse. It had been a warm winter day when William had taken the honey to the schoolhouse, but soon cold set in again and there was snow and wind. It was impossible to go to a doctor. However, weather in South Dakota is always changeable and that Sunday morning, the sun was shining, and the roads had been cleared. “I think it is going to be a nice day. It is warming up,” Papa said. “What do you think about trying to take him to the doctor?” “I have been thinking maybe we should, but I don’t like to leave the girls alone,” Mamma replied. “I know. I do not like to either, but Mabel and Grace are very responsible. I think they could handle things.” “It is the furnace that worries me,” Mamma said. “They are not big enough to handle those big chunks of coal. It is all I can do and it just is not possible for them to do it even if both of them work together. There is no way of knowing when we will get home. But I think we have to take William to a doctor.” “I hadn’t thought about the furnace,” Papa replied. “I’ll break up some of the pieces so they are not so large and we will just have to trust them and God.” “I guess so,” Mamma replied. Papa took a couple of milk pails and started for the well to bring in water while Mamma got down the wash boiler in which to heat the water. She set it on the kitchen range and Papa poured the water in it. Starting the car during the winter months back in the 1920s was a major operation. If anti-freeze had been invented, it had not reached our 15

part of South Dakota. A few people put alcohol in the radiator, but it was not very effective and evaporated rapidly. When it was very cold, the water froze and burst the radiator. In the coldest weather, it might freeze even while the car was running, and it was difficult to keep it from freezing when the car had stopped if the temperature was much below freezing. The car had to be cranked by hand, and to turn over a cold engine fast enough to start it was difficult. The trick was to get the engine warmed up enough to start. So hot water was poured into the radiator. But in really cold weather, Dad usually poured kerosene over the engine and set it on fire. Mamma prepared an early noon meal and got everything ready to take William to town to the doctor while Papa went out to get the car ready. Earlier, Mamma had told me, “Get the stone from our bed and put it in the oven.” We always heated stones in the oven and wrapped them in a piece of blanket or an old night gown and put them in the bed to warm it during the cold winter months. Papa had just returned to the house when Frances yelled, “Teacher is coming.” “Tell Teacher her little husband is awfully sick,” William had told us as we left for school on Friday. We had told her and she had decided to walk down to our place to see him. “You are an answer to prayer,” Papa said as he greeted her at the door. “We have decided we have to take William to the doctor and we don’t like to leave the girls all alone. Can you stay with them?” “Of course,” she replied. “I’ll even stay all night if it is necessary.” After she had removed her overshoes and coat, Teacher went on into the living room where William lay on the couch. “How is my little husband?” she asked. She sat with him, holding his hand and talking quietly while the final preparations for the noon meal were made. “I don’t want anything to eat,” William said when Papa came to bring him to the table. “It hurts too much.” “Would you like to have me stay with you and feed you while I eat my dinner?” Teacher asked. So, she sat next to him, encouraging him to eat a little and drink his milk, taking turns. “This bite for me,” as she took a bite. “Now, this bite for you.” Thus, she encouraged him to take some nourishment. Several years earlier, old Virgil, who was one of the horses Dad had brought with him when he came to Harding County, had died. Dad had the hide tanned and lined to make a robe. We always used it when we went in the sled in the winter to cover us, protect us from flying snow and to kept us warm. Now Dad brought it in and hung it on two chairs by the furnace to get warm. It would be used to cover Mother and William in the back seat of the car. As soon as the meal was over, Papa took the hot water and went out to start the car. We took the hot stone from the oven and wrapped it in part of an old blanket. When Papa pulled up in the car, William was wrapped in a warm blanket, and the stone was put on the floor between the seats so Mother’s feet could rest on it to keep them warm. Another blanket was 16

draped over the back seat. Mother kissed each of us girls good-bye. “Be good girls,” she admonished. “I don’t know when we will be back.” Then she went out and got into the car. “Take care of everything,” was Papa’s final admonition as he carried William to the car putting him in Mamma’s lap. Then he tucked the blanket snugly over Mamma and William and finally placed the warm horse robe on top. He made one last check of the side curtains and drove out of the yard. The road was rutted and frozen, so the car bounced and jostled. Every few miles, Papa would have to stop to re-fasten the side curtains since the bouncing of the car would turn the buttons that fastened them. Then the curtains would flap in the wind, sending ice-cold blasts swirling around the pair huddled in the back seat. He would also put the robe back over them, as it would slide down onto the floor. After about half an hour, when they were about half way to town, and Papa had made one such stop and had started on again, William looked up at Mamma and said, “Why doesn’t Papa stop?” “We can’t stop,” Mamma told him. “We are taking you to the doctor.” “It won’t do any good,” William replied. Then with a sigh, he settled back into Mamma’s arms. In a few moments, Mamma became aware that there was no movement. She felt of the little body in her lap, and then looked closely at him. “I think he is gone,” she said with a sob. Papa stopped the car again, then went to the back seat. He felt for a pulse, but did not find it. Then he checked and discovered no sign of breathing. “Yes, he is gone.” “Shall we go home?” Mamma asked. After a moment of thought, Papa replied, “No, we have come this far, we might as well go on. There will have to be a death certificate and there will be funeral arrangements to make.” They continued on to Bowman. Back at the Farmhouse It was a long, sad afternoon back in the little house where we girls and Teacher tried to entertain ourselves. Sunday afternoon was often spent reading and so I got my copy of Five Little Peppers, which Grandma Kearns had given me the Christmas before we went to Iowa. “Will you read to us?” I asked Teacher. Geneva crawled up onto her lap as she sat in Dad’s chair. We three older girls sat near her as we tried to keep our minds on the problems of the five little Peppers and their mother, and alleviate the fear and pain that went with our own mother as she cradled our little brother. Finally, it was time for supper, which we prepared, ate, and washed the dishes. “Will you help us have our church?” Mabel asked. “Of course,” Teacher replied. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” Mabel went and got the Bible. She explained how each Sunday evening Papa read from the Bible, and then explained it to us. Then each of us would recite the Bible verses we had learned during the week and then we would all pray. 17

Our church had been a part of the family ritual now for almost a year, but since I had almost never been to church in public, I thought of it only as a part of our family tradition, not as something which other people did. I was a little surprised that Mabel would expect Teacher to be able to help us. Nevertheless, she did, and very beautifully. I have no memory of the Scripture that she chose, or the words of her prayers. However, I still remember the comfort of God’s presence as we knelt by our chairs and Teacher led in prayer. When I awoke the next morning, the other girls had already arisen and gone out to the living room to dress near the furnace, which provided warmth. However, the sight I saw puzzled me. Everyone was crying. Even Mamma was crying, something she almost never did. “Why is everyone crying,” I asked. “Go in and talk to Papa,” was Mamma’s response. Papa was still in bed and as I opened the door, he lifted the covers for me to get in beside him. “Why is everybody crying?” I asked again. “William went to be with Jesus,” he told me. Then he told of the trip to town and how William had died on the road. However, he did not tell me anything about plans for a funeral or what would happen next. It was a strange feeling. Everyone else was crying, and I supposed I ought to cry too. But I did not feel like it. What puzzled me most was “Where was William?” Yes, I knew he was dead, but I had seen death and although Papa had said that he went to be with Jesus, I knew that there was a body somewhere. However, he was not in his bed or anywhere else that I could find. We were told that we would not be going to school. Soon, neighbors came by expressing their sympathy. Slowly, I became aware that there would be a funeral on Wednesday and that William’s body had been left in Bowman to prepare for it. The Funeral A subdued group entered the Congregational Church in Bowman that Wednesday afternoon. William was lying in a big box, which I later learned was called a casket. It had a pretty blue silky lining. There was my little brother. Only somehow, it was not he. There was no life. There was no spirit. Dad lifted Geneva up so she could see. Then we went into a smaller room while all the neighbors came into the church. The undertaker guided us into the sanctuary where we sat together. A woman played the piano and someone sang “Abide with Me.” The minister said some things about William, and then it was over. We sat in our places while all the neighbors and others whom I did not know went past the open casket and looked at William. Then we went out for one last look at him. Mamma would not look. She just turned away. Because she did not look at him, I thought maybe I should not either, but I wanted to and Papa did, so I thought it was all right. The undertaker closed the casket and Mr. Susee, Mr. Powers, Mr. Mauer and another man carried the casket to the hearse. (I learned many new words that day.) We got in the car and followed the hearse out to the cemetery. Each of us was given a flower to throw on the casket and a 18

beautiful bouquet of carnations was given to us. Later, Mamma preserved some of them by dipping them in melted paraffin wax. Mamma’s Operation As the days lengthened into spring, Mamma was having increasingly frequent bouts with excruciating pain. Finally, when it got very severe, she felt there must be something terribly wrong, so Papa took her to town to the doctor. “It is your gall bladder, I am quite sure,” the doctor said. “However, I cannot do anything for you here. You will have to go to Baker, Montana to the hospital and to a doctor who can operate. I’ll make the arrangements for you.” It was decided. The date was set and Papa took Mamma to Baker to the hospital. Baker was nearly 25 miles beyond Rhame. It was about a hundred miles round trip, which was a long distance in those days. However, the weather was good and there were no problems. Before she left, Mamma gave us instructions about available food and how to cook it, how to care for the baby chicks, and many other bits of advice. Mabel rarely helped in the house because she liked to be outdoors helping Papa, especially with the animals. So at not quite nine years, I would be the main housekeeper in her absence. I was a very intense child, with a quick temper, easily frustrated and angered. Mamma knew that it would not be easy for me, so holding me close she said, “And Gracie, when things get too hard, go into the bedroom and shut the door and pray.” I have never forgotten that advice. We got along fine until we began to run out of bread. Mamma always baked seven loaves of bread once a week. She used dry yeast. None of us, not even Papa, knew the recipe. “I know how to make bread,” Geneva announced as we were discussing our dilemma. Papa knew that she was always with Mamma and thought maybe she did know. “Okay, tell us,” he said. “Well,” she said drawing herself up self-importantly. “You put flour in the bread pan, make a hole in it, then you pour in some of that other stuff, wrap it up and go to bed.” Papa laughed. “It is ‘some of that other stuff’ that we don’t know how to make.” Of course, we could not buy bakers bread from the store. There was none. Mrs. Powers helped out and we got bread from her. In addition to doing the cooking and caring for the baby chicks, other household tasks continued on schedule. We three older girls had been doing the dishes in turn for some time. Frances and I did the supper dishes. Sometimes her bedtime came before the dishes were finished, so she would leave me and go to bed. The problem wasn’t just having to finish the dishes alone but with the two younger girls in bed and Papa and Mabel out in the cow-pen doing the milking, I was alone. Alone with my thoughts and my fears. With my mind, I knew that not everyone who went to a doctor died, but my heart was not sure. 19

“How could I live without Mamma?” my heart cried. “What would I do if Mamma died?” How many nights I was left alone, I have no idea. Probably not nearly as many as it felt like, but that lonely, lost feeling which it generated stayed with me well into my adult years. Even as an adult, if I were home and Mother went to bed before I did, that lost, alone, scared feeling would return. Mamma wrote regularly. She did have gallstones, and so had an operation. Papa read the letters to us, or gave them to us to read. One letter he just read but did not give to us. I was always something of a little snoop, and found out lots of things that I was not supposed to know. I found the letter that Papa had not shared, and I read it. “The doctor thinks I may be pregnant,” Mamma had written. I didn’t know what pregnant meant, so I had to look it up in the dictionary. I was not at all surprised when sometime in September, Mamma told Mabel and me that we were going to have a new baby brother or sister. Wash Day Perhaps the most difficult task we had to handle as children, was doing the family laundry. Monday was wash day. We heated water in the wash boiler on the stove while breakfast was eaten. Then Papa put the warm water into the washing machine and filled the rinse tubs with cold water. While Mabel and Frances did the breakfast dishes, I began the wash. We always soaped each article with Pand G laundry soap and rubbed it on the washboard before it went into the washing machine. And that was the problem. I was too short to stand over the washing machine but if I stood on a chair, I was too tall. So I knelt on the chair. That was hard on my knees. We had a hand-propelled washing machine, so after I had soaped each item and placed it in the machine, I added the Oxydol (Powdered laundry soap.) By that time the dishes were finished, and Frances joined me. We pulled the handle back and forth sloshing the clothes around in the warm soapy water. The washing machine had a wringer attached, and while I pulled the clothes out of the machine, Frances would turn the wringer. She kept on turning even when I had nothing in the wringer. “I’m an automatic wringer,” she said. “Let’s Pretend” had made fun of a difficult job. Of course we were not tall enough to hang the sheets on the line. That had to wait until Papa came in from the field at noon. But we could hang the smaller items. Doing the wash was hard, but we had fun doing it. Mamma got home on June 29, two days after my 9th birthday. I was so glad to see her.

A Baby Brother It was December 18 and the last day of school before Christmas vacation. Our Christmas program would be in the afternoon. It would not be a very ambitious program the Christmas of 1925. School had been interrupted too much by epidemics of pink-eye and whooping cough keeping first one child, then another, and sometimes several children at home at the same time. But there would be a program, and we were expecting parents to come at 2:30. However, before noon, Mother and Dad arrived with Geneva. Dad brought Geneva into the schoolhouse. “I’m taking Mamma to town,” he said. We knew that this meant the baby would soon be here. “I don’t know when I will be home. You girls go home with the Powers girls and I will pick you up when I get back, whatever time it is.” With that, he was gone. We were beginning to think about going to bed when Papa arrived. “You have a baby brother,” he announced. He would be named Willis. We knew that. There had been a number of family conferences about the name. If it was a boy, and somehow we were all sure it would be, he would be named something which was near William, but not William. Mother had a cousin named Willis Brown with whom she had been close. So Willis was the name that was chosen. Christmas was not too happy that year. Mother was still in town with the new baby. Geneva had come down with the pink-eye and awoke with her eyes matted shut. It was a rule at our house that no one could look at her Christmas presents until everyone was ready, so we all stood near the furnace with our eyes shut until Dad had washed Geneva’s eyes with boricacid water and she could open them. On the 29th, Mrs. Powers went to town with Dad as he brought Mother and our baby brother home. How wonderful it was to have them both home. Whooping cough had been going through the school. Even though we girls had all had it and were all over it before Willis was brought home, apparently germs were still in the house. Before he was three weeks old, Willis began to whoop. While he had been born a healthy ten pound baby, now he was not able to keep his food down, and he began to lose weight. Were we about to lose our baby brother before he had a chance to live? Dad went to town and consulted the doctor. The doctor prescribed some medicine which would help control the cough and suggested, “If he can’t keep milk down, try barley water. It will give him some nourishment and perhaps will be easier to swallow and stay down better than milk.” It worked. Willis was better able to take the barley water. The whooping slowly diminished and he was soon able to take his milk and began to grow and flourish. Little Mamma Mother had not completely recovered from the operation she had in the summer, and that, in addition to the birth and then illness of the baby, took its toll on her strength. Increasingly, she was having trouble with her right leg and it was slowing her down. 21

I had always been Mother’s “right hand girl,” trying to do all I could for her. I had cared for Geneva when I, myself, was little more than a baby. Now I was nine and a half and so I tried to help in any way I could. I especially tried to take care of Willis and to protect Mother, so I stepped in whenever he had a need that I could fill. If he called for Mamma, I responded. By the time he was two, he was calling me “Little Mamma.” One day, when I responded to his call for some kind of help, he said, “Oh, Little Mamma can do it just as good as Big Mamma.”

Chapter 4 WE FIND A CHURCH The fourth of July fell on Sunday in 1926. Rather than going to some other celebration, the folks decided that we would go to Bowman to church. We had not been inside a church since William’s funeral more than a year earlier. Mother prepared a lunch for us to take to town and to eat after the church service. It took about an hour to drive to town. But when we got to the Congregational Church, the door was locked and there was no one anywhere around. “Well, we came to go to church. Let’s see what else we can find,” Dad suggested. As we drove, we saw another small church. There were some cars around it. “This should be okay,” Dad observed. There was a sign outside the church that read “Methodist Episcopal Church.” We went in. Sunday School was in progress. We were met by a lady who introduced herself as Mrs. Houston, the Sunday School Superintendent. (We learned later that she was Mrs. West’s sister.) Dad then introduced himself, Mother, and all of us children. “Sunday School is almost over,” Mrs. Houston told us. “If you would like to just sit here, church will start in a few minutes.” Just then Rev. McGuire, the minister, came in. He was a very friendly man with sandy hair and a pleasant smile. Even before Mrs. Houston could get to us to introduce us, Rev. McGuire came to us. “Good morning. We are glad to see you,” he greeted us. Mrs. Houston was there and introduced us. Dad told him the story of our morning and how we found the church. “You are so welcome,” Rev. McGuire assured us. “I think God guided you.” “I do too,” Dad responded. When Rev. McGuire learned that we had brought our lunch to eat in the park, we were invited to eat it in the church dining room in the basement if we wanted to, and so we did. “Come back again,” everyone invited us. “We will,” both Dad and Mother agreed. And we did. The next Sunday we got there in time for Sunday School. We children were taken to the basement where the children’s classes were held. It was fun to be with other children. Mother and Dad were in the adult class which met upstairs in the sanctuary. We all enjoyed our new classes. After Sunday School we children joined Mother and Dad for the church service. On the third Sunday a young woman, about 16 or 17 years old, was sitting beside Mother who was holding Willis, now seven months old. He was standing in Mother’s lap and he threw his body backwards. Quick as a wink, the girl beside Mother reached out and cradled his head in her hand to protect him from hitting it on the pew in front of him. “Thank you,” Mother whispered in gratitude. She smiled and whispered a quick, “Oh, you are welcome.” After the service, of course, Mother spoke to the young woman, and they introduced themselves. Her name was Della Bowman. That was 23

our first introduction to the Bowman family who were to play a very important role in our lives because they became very close family friends. As they visited, Mother learned that Della lived about halfway between our place and Bowman on the Grand River. There was a schoolhouse out there. Rev. McGuire went out every other Sunday afternoon to hold services in the schoolhouse. On the alternate Sundays he went to Cheneworth, north of Bowman to hold services Mother and Dad, who had both grown up in the church and had been starved for the fellowship of a good church for many years, were finding something that meant a great deal to each of them. We children were enjoying the Sunday School and Mabel and I, especially, were growing in our spiritual lives in a way that was very rewarding to us. New Friends On the next Sunday that Rev. McGuire would go to Grand River, we followed him out, for while the schoolhouse was on our way home, it was not on the road that we usually traveled. So on Sunday, August 8th, we went to Grand River to church. There, we met the rest of the Bowman family, or at least that part of the family who were at home. They were a very large family with thirteen children in all, and, as we learned later, two had died. There was a special friend of our age for each of our family, except for me. A little girl, whose name was Ruth and who would have been my pal, had died in infancy. As we became increasingly closer friends with the Bowman family, I always felt the loss of little Ruth as the best friend whom I never had. I Am Baptized On August 26th, Rev. and Mrs. McGuire, their son Stanley, who was about Mabelâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s age, and Max Brown, a young seminary student who was spending his summer internship in Bowman, came to our home for dinner. (Dinner was the noon meal in our part of the world.) Dad, who had never been baptized, and Mabel and I were baptized at that time in our home. Mother put the water for baptism in a beautiful cutglass dish and Max Brown held it for our baptisms. Years later, when Max and I worked together in the church in Fargo, we often told others about that special relationship of his holding the bowl at my baptism. Soon after our baptism, Dad, Mother, Mabel and I were received into membership in the Methodist Episcopal Church in Bowman, although the ceremony was at Grand River which was a preaching point for the Bowman church. When I knew that I was to be received into the church, I wanted very much to talk to the minister. As I look back at it now from an adult point of view, I know what I really wanted was a Confirmation Class, or as they called it back then, a Preparatory Membership Class. I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know exactly what I wanted to know, but I felt this was a very important step in my life, and I wanted to participate with full awareness of what I was doing. 24

I asked the folks if they would take me to talk to Rev. McGuire, but I suppose they felt that it was not important. At any rate, it was not done. Instead, Dad took me to town with him when he went on business and he talked to me about the Christian faith. I did not know enough to ask the right questions. All I remember of that visit was that he talked to me about evolution and I remember his saying “God is no monkey.” My baptism and membership in the church were very important experiences for me, and I took the vows with all the commitment and fervor of which a ten-year-old child was capable. As the days became shorter, we stopped going to Bowman and began going to Grand River only for our church. This continued for several years. We had friends with whom we could share many things because they had the same values that were important in our family. This was something which we never shared with the children we knew at school. Growing In Faith The church had planned for revival meetings in October. So, on a Saturday early in October, Mrs. Susee came to stay with the younger children while Dad, Mother, Mabel and I went to town taking eggs, cream, and some chickens to sell. We stayed for the revival service at the church. Rev. Henry Gerhhardt was the evangelist. I have no memory of the sermon, but I do remember the altar call very well. There were two invitations given. One was for salvation, and the second for sanctification. I wanted very much to “go forward,” but I didn’t know how to fit into the categories. I felt I was too young to be sanctified and I felt that I had already been saved and had given my life to Jesus. What I wanted to do was to bear witness to the fact that I belonged to him. So when Mabel took my hand, we went forward together. She told me many years later that at that time she had an experience of sanctification or “the second blessing,” as it was called. I think I was born with a terrible temper. Mother once said that even as a tiny baby, I would scream in anger and frustration and that when she tried to comfort me, it was like “trying to cuddle a board.” Throughout my childhood, I often became very angry. I did not control my temper, it controlled me. Frances liked to make me angry so I would be the “bad girl” and she would be the “good girl.” The morning after my experience at the revival meeting, Frances made some cutting remark about my temper. Mother replied, “Grace won’t be like that anymore.” Suddenly, I realized that while Mother did not know what my experience had been that night, she was expecting that as a Christian, I would not go into those terrible temper tantrums. I cannot say that I never again had the horrible experience of temper controlling me, but I knew that it was inappropriate for a Christian and that Jesus could help me overcome it.

A New Pastor Soon after that, at Annual Conference, Rev. McGuire was moved to another church, and Rev. Bridgewater came as the pastor in Bowman. He was quite fat and often unkempt and he was not a good preacher. After the good sermons and fine spiritual guidance that we had received from Rev. McGuire, Rev. Bridgewater was a great disappointment. After several months, the Official Board of the church in Bowman petitioned the Bishop to remove him, and he moved in April of 1927. Max Brown, who had spent his intern summer at Bowman the year before, was asked to return for the summer of 1927. In October of that year, Rev. Earl Grunstead came to serve the church in Bowman. He continued until October, 1931. We continued to attend church at Grand River through those years, and Rev. Grunstead was the pastor the first year that Mabel and I were in high school in Bowman. When he talked to us about joining the church during that year, I told him that we were already members as we had joined at Grand River in 1926. “You joined as Preparatory Members,” he said. “You were too young to be full members.” That kind of hurt me, because I had joined with every intention of being a full member of the church. However, I went through the ritual again. The months under Rev. McGuire’s pastoral leadership, the experience of the Grand River Sunday School and worship, probably even the problem of Rev. Bridgewater’s pastorate, followed as it was by the ministry of Rev. Grunsteads, were all very important in my growth as a Christian person. I thank God for them. In the Sixth Grade Probably my year as a sixth grade pupil is one of the best illustrations of Romans 8:28. All things work together for good to those who love God. It was a very difficult year, yet I learned much that stood me in good stead for the rest of my life. Merle Mauer had needed glasses probably since he was in the first grade. The County Nurse who visited all the rural schools had recommended them each year, but there was no optometrist in Bowman. I have no knowledge of how far they would have had to go to see one. His parents never took him to one. So school became increasingly hard for him. And as he was frustrated by his inability to handle school requirements, it became increasingly difficult for the teachers to handle him. For the three years that Merlin West was in our school, Merlin kept Merle under control. But now Merlin was gone. Our new teacher was a young woman, barely eighteen when she came to us from the east. She had only six weeks of teacher training beyond high school. She had little training and less native ability as a teacher. Her name was Fern Stark, but she wanted us to call her Fern rather than Miss Stark, which was probably a mistake because it made her seem even more like an equal with the students. She had little or no control in the classroom and especially of Merle. 26

I Am Sent to My Seat Since I was the only one in my grade and Fern had many other grades to deal with, I was ignored a lot of the time. She frequently put me with the seventh graders who were Edna and Bernice Powers and Merle Mauer. One time she sent the four of us to the board to do some arithmetic problems. There were two blackboards in the front of the room. One was in very poor condition. I started for the good board. But Merle got in front of me, and would not let me go. So I turned to the poorer board. But he got there first and would not let me go to that board either. Back and forth we went, Merle always between me and the blackboard. After dodging back and forth several times, Fern said, “Grace, go to the board and quit running around.” “I would if you would make Merle behave!” I responded. At this she ordered, “Grace, take your seat.” So I did. I got out my Course of Study and my Arithmetic book and found out what I was supposed to be studying at the time, found problems in the Arithmetic book and headed my paper “Sixth Grade Arithmetic” underlining the word “Sixth” halfway down the page. It was about two weeks before Fern made an assignment of any kind or called me to recite. During that time, I used my Course of Study and planned my own work, and continued to learn. I learned to be completely self-directed during that year. How much more I could have learned had we had a good teacher I am not sure, but the circumstances taught me to be an independent learner.

Chapter 5 A DEAR TEACHER AND BEST FRIEND There was a hint of fall in the air as we started to school that last Monday in August of 1928 as I entered the seventh grade. I always loved that feeling of fall approaching and the beginning of school. Even though the last school year had been so very difficult, I still loved going to school. Our new teacher was Irene (Mrs. Bill) Stitch. Little did I know as we entered the schoolhouse that fall morning what a tremendous difference this would make for my life. Mrs. Stitch welcomed us as we entered. She was an impressive, regal-looking woman in her early thirties. She wore a brown cup-like object over her left ear. Wires ran from it to a battery pack hidden under the neck of her dress. Her voice as she spoke had a slightly strange sound, almost as if she were talking into a barrel. I learned later that she had contracted scarlet fever when she was sixteen which had left her quite deaf. We all learned to speak clearly and enunciate well, but her hearing impairment in no way impaired her ability to know everything which was going on in the schoolroom. Everything about her commanded respect, and Merle, who was her nephew by her marriage to his uncle, settled down also. In her capacity as both teacher and aunt, she was able to persuade his parents to get glasses for him. Now he could see to read easily, so some of his frustration was alleviated. Also, since she was a superb teacher, he began to learn and to enjoy it. Since none of the previous year’s seventh grade class had passed the state exams, I now had three classmates. Merle Mauer and both Edna and Bernice Powers. Mrs. Stitch was an excellent teacher, and we all learned much that year. While I was much in awe of her when school started, I soon lost all fear and learned to love her with a passion. Passionate loving has always been a part of my emotional makeup. Beginning a Lifelong Friendship No story of my life would be complete without this chapter about Irene Stitch and the great influence she has had on my life. After I had graduated from the eighth grade, our relationship changed from that of teacher and student to a deep mutual friendship. Though I was only twelve years old, I had learned to drive the car during the summer of 1928 when my cousin Walter worked for us. He had taken me out on the prairie in his car and taught me to drive. By the summer after I had finished the eighth grade, I was driving the family car on occasions. When the Homemaker’s Club, of which Mother was a member, met in Ladner with Mrs. Johnson, who had been my eighth grade teacher, Dad told me to take the car and take Mother to the meeting. (By then, the car we owned had a “self-starter” and did not need to be cranked.) When we walked into Mrs. Johnson’s house, Mrs. Stitch was there. I think I had not seen her since school had closed at the end of my seventh 28

grade. I followed Mother into the room and we both shook hands with Mrs. Stitch. She greeted both of us warmly, and my heart nearly burst with love. She not only shook my hand, but she put her arm around me. After I had stood beside her for a little while, I started to move away, but she only drew me closer. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by the thought, “Even with all these grown women here, she wants me.” Later in the summer, she invited me to visit her in her home. She asked me to call her Irene rather than Mrs. Stitch, and she treated me as a friend, not as a pupil. The bonds of friendship continued to grow. We corresponded with frequent letters when we were separated. During the school year 1932-33, the drought and depression both hit us in South Dakota. There was absolutely no money. Mabel had graduated from high school in the spring of 1932, and she had been able to borrow $100 to go to college. However, there was no way Frances and I could go to high school. Irene was back teaching the Karinen school, so she was up the road only a mile from home. Irene often invited me to come up to the school on Friday afternoon to lead the children in singing. This gave me the opportunity to spend time with her. I usually stayed for supper at the teacherage. Those visits meant so much as we continued to bond even more closely. Mother always laughed and said she could tell when I had been with Irene because I would have picked up her way of moving and perhaps some of the way she talked. Since there was no money, Christmas would be very slim. The flour that we bought at that time came in sacks that easily washed up without leaving a mark of the brand name on them. A one-hundred pound flour sack made a fairly large square of cloth. I used them to make all kinds of things as Christmas gifts. Every now and then Irene would bring something, like rick-rack tape or embroidery floss from the store in Ladner. She would tell me that Mrs. Dake, the storekeeper, had sent them because it was something that was not selling. Now, I am sure that Irene had bought them for me, but didn’t want me to feel beholden to her. As the years passed our friendship continued and deepened. After I began teaching and Irene continued to teach, we often were together at Teacher’s Institute in Buffalo. One time as we sat next to each other, we were writing notes to one another. I had written something that expressed my deep love and appreciation for her. She wrote back, “Grace, you are too intense. It is your youth, I know, and time will change that.” Time has changed my youthfulness, of course, but it has not changed the passion with which I love those nearest and dearest to me. I still love with a passion. She was one with whom I could share anything. If I received an honor, or had felt especially happy about the response I got from something I had done, I could share it with her without feeling embarrassed or that I was bragging, because she rejoiced in it as much as I. And if I had a problem or a concern, or if things were not going well, I could always come to her for advice or comfort. Because she did not hear well, in her later years, she began to 29

“talk defensively.” She would talk constantly so she did not have to listen. Since she did have to listen very carefully to know what one was saying, I learned to put my hand on her hand or knee and say, “Irene, I want to tell you something.” Then I would have her full attention. She was very supportive of me as my life developed and as I went into the ministry and then to the mission field. She was always so proud of what I had done. Irene often called me her “little girl” even after I was an adult. I think I became for her, the daughter she never had Empathizing with Irene The friendship and love which Irene and I shared was so deep that we communicated, spirit to spirit. In 1966 while I was in the Philippines, Irene’s husband, Bill, died. I knew it. My heart reached out to her in love and concern. Yet how could I respond? I could scarcely write saying, “I feel that Bill has passed away, has he?” Oh, l knew he was in poor health and I had shared her concern, so part of my feeling was based on empirical knowledge. Should I trust my intuition? Letters took so long to arrive! Then it came. I picked up my mail on July 20 as I went to the classroom. I opened her letter. In red ink on the first page was written, “Read the last page in red ink first.” I turned to the last page. I read, “Darling, Bill is gone!” She told me that she had written the first pages in the hospital while Bill underwent a lung operation. The doctor had been in and told her the operation had been a success. She continued to write as she waited until she could see him in the recovery room. Then the doctor had come back to tell her he had died of a heart attack as they were moving him. Further down she wrote, “O Grace, O Grace! How I long for you!” It had been that longing that I had felt and that had made me want so much to reach out to her in words in a letter as well as with my spirit in love. Death had come on July 14. I could not teach. I simply told the girls what had happened, gave them an assignment which they could do in the library and dismissed them. Then I went to the cable office down the street a few blocks, sent a cable and went back to my room to write the letter which had been building up in my heart for the past two weeks. As the Sun Sets Irene developed Alzheimer’s disease in her later years. She spent them in the nursing home in Bowman. By that time, I was retired and living in Spearfish. I visited her a number of times when I could. But I was not living close enough to do it often. The first time I went to see her, she was still able to visit, but almost nothing she said made any sense. Sometimes I could tell she confused the nurses aides with her pupils. I was with her for about two hours. Then it was time for her to go to supper, and as I was taking her to the dining room, we met one of the nurse’s aides. She stopped the girl and said to me, “This is the little girl I was telling you about,” and then turning to her, she introduced me saying, “And this is my dear friend, Grace Huck.” For a moment her mind was clear. 30

The next time I visited, I don’t think she knew who I was at all. But sometime later, I stopped again to see her. She was sitting in a wheelchair in the lobby. It was raining very hard, which was visible through the windows. She kept saying, “Thank you for coming, but you had better go. It is storming so hard.” Then she said, “I am so proud of you. You have done so much with your life.” I knew then that for a brief moment she knew who I was. Celebrating Irene’s 90th Birthday In 1995, Irene would celebrate her 90th birthday. There were four ladies in Bowman who had been Irene’s good friends So I baked a birthday cake and invited them to come for a birthday party. The nursing home provided a small room where we could gather. The nurse told me not to try to give her anything to eat. Someone else had sent her a bouquet of flowers that were on the table. The nurse showed them to her and tried to get her to smell them. But she did not seem at all conscious of them. By this time, she was not wearing her hearing aid, without which she was stone deaf, nor was she wearing her glasses, without which she probably could see very little. We sat around the table; she in her wheelchair and I was beside her. I had my hand on her arm. I said, “I would like to have a prayer before we eat.” Then I prayed for Irene as well as giving a table prayer. I felt her arm move. When I opened my eyes, she was sitting with her hands folded in prayer. How did she know we were praying? When Irene passed away, I awakened with a start at 5:00 A.M. It was almost as if a telephone had rung. My waking thought was, “Irene is gone.” When I went to the nursing home in Bowman later that morning, the nurse told me, “Irene died at 5:00 this morning.” Because her niece who was to have responsibility for her lived in California and could not come, as I visited with the undertaker, I became the one to make decisions about the funeral. I think Irene would have liked that. Also I participated as one of the ministers in the funeral at the request of great-nieces who asked me to do it. There have been many persons in my life who were important and who have made contributions for which I am grateful, but nothing has meant more to me than those sixty-three years of friendship with Irene. Paul’s words to his friends in Philippi always remind me of my relationship with Irene, for they are so true of us as well. “I thank God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for you.” (Phil. 1:3-4)

Chapter 6 WE GO TO HIGH SCHOOL “Did you get a place for us?” I asked as Mother got out of the car and I helped her carry the groceries into the house. “Yes,” Mother replied. “I think it will be a good place.” Mabel quickly joined us as Mother told us about the place where we would stay as we went to high school. Mabel was only twelve years old when she graduated from the eighth grade. She had never been strong since her illness when she was seven, and the folks had no intentions of sending her away from home to go to high school alone. While Mabel was eager to go on with her schooling, she also had no desire to leave home. Since we were thirty-two miles from town, it would be necessary for her to live away from home. Summer was vacation time anyway, and so there was not too much concern about what would happen. “All things work together for good to those who love God,” Dad assured her. “Things will work out.” And they did. “Mamma, look at this.” Mabel was holding a copy of the Pathfinder, a news magazine which she had been reading. “Here is an ad that says ‘Finish High School at home.’ May I write and find out about it?” Mother took the magazine and looked at it. “Well, it won’t do any harm to find out about it. Yes, go ahead and write.” So Mabel wrote to the American School in Chicago which gave high school and other classes by correspondence. Dad went to see the high school principal in Bowman and discussed it with him. He got a list of the classes Mabel would need to take to fulfill the requirements of the Bowman High School. In September when the rest of us girls went to school, Mabel began studying by correspondence. Often, she carried her books with her as she herded the sheep. She studied and sent her lessons in regularly. She completed two years of classes on schedule. Also, during this time, she was growing both in wisdom and in physical strength as she lived outdoors herding the sheep day after day. “Light Housekeeping” When I had finished the eighth grade, it was decided that Mabel and I would go to Bowman together. Mother had seen an ad in the Bowman paper from a family who lived near the school and who had rooms for rent to girls who would do light housekeeping while attending high school. Since Bowman had the only high school in the area, many young people from the surrounding countryside came to live in town during the school week. Some like Mabel and I, found rooms in which they could do what was known as light housekeeping. We cooked our meals on a little oil stove in our room, but had to wash dishes in the bathroom down the hall. The family with whom we would live were Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Coutts. Our room was the east room on the second floor. Two other girls lived in the west room across the hall from us. Another girl, Alice, had a room downstairs. 32

She boarded with Coutts who had three children: a girl about nine, and two little boys, about seven and five. The home was two blocks from the school We enjoyed our classes, each other, and our friends. Once in a while, when there would be a problem of some kind, one of us would say, “Remember, ‘All things work together for good to those who love God.’” And the other would respond, “Yes, and we will have something interesting to tell our grandchildren.” We Share Another’s Sorrow It was one evening in midwinter. We heard the doorbell ring and talking in the living room. Then Mrs. Coutts called asking us to come downstairs. In the living room sat a man and a woman. A little girl about three was sitting on her father’s lap while another girl about eight stood beside the woman who held a baby in her arms. All were crying. Then we heard the story. Mr. Johnson had taken a load of pigs to Bowman to sell, leaving early in the morning. Shortly after noon, Mrs. Johnson had sent five-year-old Billy to the barn to water the sheep while she put the little ones to sleep. When Billy had not returned after a short time, Mrs. Johnson began to worry, but she dared not leave the little ones until they were asleep. When she did go to see why Billy had not returned, she found him lying on the floor in the barn. The old buck sheep was butting him. She chased the buck back and picked up the little boy. He was limp, but she felt a weak heartbeat. She began to think frantically about what she could do. Mr. Johnson would not be home for several hours. The nearest neighbor was a mile away. There was no telephone. She had three children, none of whom could walk that distance. Taking the clothes basket, she tied it to the child’s sled that sat outside on the snowbank. Then she carefully wrapped Billy in blankets and placed him in the basket. Wrapping the baby snugly, she placed him beside Billy. She then put another blanket over the basket. Taking a diaper, she made a sling that would help hold little Molly on her hip, leaving her with one hand free to pull the sled. Putting on her own coat, covering Molly, together with her cap, mittens, and overshoes, she started down the road pulling the sled with the two children in the basket behind her. Before she left, she wrote a note to Mr. Johnson, telling him what had happened and asking him to pick up Betty at school. The road was covered with snow. Sometimes, the going was easy, but again, there were times when the ruts in the snow-covered road made the little sled bounce from side to side. The baby awoke and began to cry, but she dared not stop to comfort him. After a bit, he went back to sleep. The mile trip to the neighbor probably took more than half an hour. She knew every moment was precious and she moved as rapidly as she could. At last she reached the neighbor’s house. They were at home and the car was in running order. The neighbor took them to Bowman to the doctor. The doctor examined Billy and pronounced him dead. He was taken to the funeral home. Then Mr. Johnson and Betty arrived, but nothing more 33

could be done until the next day. They must find housing for the night. They needed a friend. So they came to the Coutts home because Alice, who was their neighbor, lived downstairs. They knew no one else in Bowman. Could they spend the night? Of course! Mabel and I had been called to see if we would let Betty share our bed. Alice gave up her room to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson and the little ones. She would share the bed with Eleanor Coutts. I felt a very real empathy with Betty as she mourned her little brother. I had been eight when my brother who was five had died. Mabel and I did our best to comfort Betty. Mabel assured her that her little brother was “safe in the arms of Jesus.” In the morning we went to school and when we came home at noon, the family had left. We never saw them again, but the tragedy of that family will live with me forever. A Helpful Suggestion It is interesting how much difference one sentence, or bit of advice, can make. On the last day of classes of my freshman year, I offered my assistance to Miss Gustafson and Miss Sliper as they carried home the books which had accumulated in the classrooms during the school year. I was glad to be of help. As we walked along, we talked. All during my elementary school days, I had a problem with my speech. It wasn’t really a speech impediment, it was just that I often grunted between words. I had been teased about it all my life. The other pupils in the school used to call me a pig. Of course, that only made it worse. Somehow my problem entered the conversation, and Miss Gustafson said, “It is just because you are nervous. Don’t let it bother you and it will probably go away.” Then Miss Sliper made a suggestion. “Why don’t you give speeches to the cows and sheep when you are bringing in the milk cows or are herding the sheep? They aren’t going to be critical, so you won’t need to be nervous.” And that is what I did. But, if you are going to give a speech, you have to have a subject. So I made speeches about that which interested me most, and I began preaching sermons. Would I have felt God’s call to the ministry as strongly had I not preached to the cows and sheep? I don’t know, but I am sure it was an important factor in my life. God works in many ways, and “All things work together for good....” A Difficult Year The summer of 1931 was dry. The effect of the stock market crash in 1929 had reached the Midwest and prices went lower and lower. Dad had borrowed from the bank to build a new house in 1928 and now paying even the interest on the mortgage was more than we could handle. The folks struggled because there was very little money. How could they send two girls away to school? Then our friend, Fred Bertschy stepped in. Mr. Bertschy had been a long-time friend. He had been the stage driver carrying the mail during the homestead days, probably from 1910 through about 1914. Then he was also a very active member of the Methodist Church in 34

Bowman, and the friendship had been renewed when we started going to church in Bowman. He was still a mail carrier. Living next door to Mr. Bertschy was Mrs. Ella Pugh, a widow who owned a small house. Times were hard for everyone, and Mrs. Pugh had very little income. So Mr. Bertschy got us together. Mabel and I would live with Mrs. Pugh, helping with the housework just as if we were children in the family. The folks would furnish the food, much of it coming from the farm, and Mrs. Pugh would furnish the house and pay the utilities. It was only a three-room house, so Mrs. Pugh gave us her bedroom and she slept on the couch in the living room. It was a good arrangement and helpful to all parties. Mrs. Pugh supplemented her income by doing sewing for others. One Saturday she received an order from a lady in town to make a black silk dress for a special occasion. The problem was it must be ready to wear that evening. The silk was slippery and not easy to sew. Every seam had to be basted. Mabel had some school project, so Mrs. Pugh sent her to the town library to work while she and I worked on the dress. She would pin the seams and I would baste with white thread. Every basting thread must be saved and used again. (That was how scarce money was.) None of us had any lunch that day. Mrs. Pugh used the sewing machine while I basted and removed the basting threads and also tied the threads at the end of each seam sewed on the machine. Mrs. Pugh was a very good dressmaker and I learned much from her that day. It felt good to know that I was being of use to her. Her gratitude for my help was very rewarding. Again, I was aware that “All things work together for good to those who love God.” We Have to Move When school had been in session about three months, we came home one afternoon and Mrs. Pugh greeted us. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I have bad news for you. I’ve had a letter from my sister in Montana. Her husband has had a stroke and she is asking if I can come and help her. I don’t know what to do. I feel as if I must go to her, but I hate to leave you girls stranded.” Again, Mr. Bertschy stepped in. Rev. Grunstead, who had been our pastor, had been moved at Annual Conference in mid-October. The new minister was Rev. Forrest B. Sharkey. There were four children in the family. Mr. Bertschy saw that if they were to be in any way effective in the pastorate, they needed help in the home. Again, he got us together, so when Mrs. Pugh left Bowman early in November, Mabel and I went to live in the parsonage and help care for the family. There were several problems to face. There was no order in the home. Mabel and I did our best, but there was little time for studying. Sometimes there was almost no food in the house, and then, when Rev. Sharkey would be paid, we would have a feast. Salary was not paid regularly in stated amounts. As money came into the church, the minister was paid. And since Rev. and Mrs. Sharkey had no understanding of budgeting, it was feast or famine, depending on the amount of money available at the moment. 35

Mr. Bertschy could see that two high school girls were not able to give the help needed to make this a good “Parsonage family.” So he stepped in again. He got Ada Mann, a young woman in her mid-twenties, who had been a part of the Grand River Church community and who was living at home, to come and work for the Sharkeys. I do not know whether she was paid. Jobs were non-existent at that time and many were willing to work for room and board, with maybe a small stipend for clothing and incidentals. Living in the Stokes Hotel But Mr. Bertschy was still concerned and took responsibility for Mabel and me. He made arrangements with his friend, Mr. Stokes, who had an old hotel in Bowman. We could have a room in which we would do “light housekeeping” for $5.00 per month, and the rent money would not be expected until Mabel began teaching school two years later. So when we came back from Christmas vacation, we moved into the Stokes Hotel. Dad had bought a Model T Ford in 1917, paying $412.30. We had several different cars during the years between but now we had none. Dad had purchased one “on time” but had not been able to make the payments, so he had to let it go back to the garage. I think Dad got Mr. Powers to bring us to town after Christmas. Our room was very small, about 8’ x 7’. It was on the north side of the building. Along the west wall sat the bed which filled the whole west wall. It really was only a folding couch with a mattress on it. We had to be careful when we sat on the edge or it might tip. Along the east wall was a small child’s table about 18 inches wide and 24 inches long. Between the bed and the table was an apple box laying lengthwise on which we sat when at the table. That filled the room from east to west. Our clothes hung on the wall over the bed. In the northeast corner of the room we had two orange crates stacked on top of one another. That was the cupboard where dishes and cooking pots were kept. Our refrigerator was the window, which sometimes had frost nearly two inches thick. We often ate with our mittens on because our fingers froze to the silverware if there was any moisture. The most difficult of all was that we were supposed to be doing light housekeeping, but we had nothing on which to cook. So we might take the kettle of potatoes down to the lobby, or into the office, and cook on top of the big potbellied heaters. But they took a long time to boil. Or we might open a can of vegetables, which heated in less time. Sometimes the lady in the room next to us would invite us in to cook on one of the burners of her two-burner oil stove. Her bed folded up, so she had a little more room than we did. Of course, there was also the problem of something to cook. Dad sold a pig and a half to the butcher shop which was also a grocery store. He got $11.83 for them. We were to trade out that amount for our groceries for approximately four and a half months. Mother sent bread and cookies and cooked meat and butter by mail every now and then. Groceries did not cost like they do today--a can of peas was five cents. Since it was so difficult to cook, we never had but one thing for supper. If we boiled a potato, we put a 36

bullion cube in the potato water. That made soup for one night. The potatoes fried would be the next night’s evening meal. Breakfast was Grape-nuts and water. We couldn’t afford milk. We never came home for lunch, because there was nothing to eat anyway. Now and then friends would give us something. Mamie Zemple (who was the oldest of the West family, now married and living in Bowman) would sometimes send word to school for us to stop at her house. She would have made a hot dish of some kind which she would share with us. It was surely appreciated. I was constantly hungry. If I was visiting and had food in front of me, I was ashamed of the way I ate, but I could not help it because I was so hungry. One time one of our friend’s mother had baked an angel food cake. Her family did not like angel food very much, so it was getting stale. “I guess I will just have to throw it away,” she said after she had offered it to a friend who had refused it. “Oh, no. Give it to the ‘The Girls,’” the friend suggested. (I think everyone knew us as “The Girls”) And so we got part of an angel food cake. We gave pieces of it to all the people who lived in the hotel. It was so much fun! It had been so long since we had anything to give. We were always on the receiving end if there was any giving. How good it was to be able to give! Even if it had first been given to us. The hotel was an interesting place. There was a family who lived on the first floor in what would normally have been the home for the proprietor. Mr. Stokes used his office as his abode. There were a couple of men who had rooms in the hotel. One, Charlie Voshall, became a good friend. He was 26 years old and worked at a small restaurant down on Main Street. He worked for his board, and the owner of the restaurant was supposed to pay rent for his room at the hotel. Whether it was ever paid, I do not know. Then he was supposed to get $3.00 a month for spending money, but that, I know, was not paid. Our room was so cold it was next to impossible for me to study in it most of the time. We often dressed and undressed under the covers except for our dresses. Mabel was able to handle several things at one time so she could sit in the lobby and study and perhaps even participate in conversation if she wanted to, but I could not. I had to go to the city library if I wanted to study at night. Living next door to us was a woman with a new baby. She was suffering from post-partum depression. She cried a great deal of the time, and always when her husband left. That was one reason we enjoyed the angel food cake so much. She said it was the first thing that had tasted good in a long time. Quarantined Out One afternoon in early spring when we came home from school, we discovered an orange quarantine sign on the door. The children living on the ground floor had come down with scarlet fever. We could not enter, or if we did, we would have to stay in for two weeks. And because we had been in the building, we could not attend school for two weeks. (I have no 37

idea what the others living in the hotel did.) The next day was mail day, so we thought we could go home on the stage, but we had to have somewhere to spend the night. So we went back to the school to see if we could spent the night in the school house. However, the principal would not permit it. He did say that if we could not find anywhere else, he would contact the sheriff and see if we could spend the night in the jail. We went back downtown. We were just walking around trying to figure out what to do when we met our friends, Eva and Florence Hook. We told them our problem. “Go to our house,” Eva said. “You can stay with us.” “But what if we are carrying scarlet fever?” Mabel asked. “We’ve had it, and anyway, you couldn’t have gotten it yet. Just go home. We still have things to do. Tell Mother we said you can stay with us. We will be home soon.” The next morning, we went to the post office, confident that we could go home with the mailman. However, he refused. We never did know why. We even told him we would ride in the back of the truck, but he would not let us. “Well, let’s walk. Someone will come along and pick us up,” Mabel said. We had not walked more than a mile when the Bowman-Belle Fourche mailman came along. He picked us up and took us the sixteen miles that our route went on Highway 85. From there, we started walking again. We still had another sixteen miles to go. We had gathered up all of our books the evening before when we had gone back to the school. They were hard to carry as we had no bags. We walked, and we walked some more. No cars came along. Finally, we were about five miles from home. “Let’s cut across. It will make it shorter, and no cars are coming on the road anyway,” Mabel suggested. So we started across the prairie. We reached home about 4:30 P.M. very tired, cold and hungry because we had not had any lunch. But it was lambing time and with the cold, wet weather, there were many lambs in the kitchen being warmed up. The only fire in the house was the kitchen stove. The door to the living room was closed to conserve heat. We changed clothes and Mabel went out to help Dad with the sheep. I began helping Mother in the house. After the 14-day quarantine period, we went back to school. This time the mailman took us with no question. Mabel had been chosen for a part in the senior class play. Her understudy, Mary, was very angry when Mabel got back in time for the presentation. Mabel fit the part enough better than Mary did, that the teacher wanted Mabel to play it. Our room had not been fumigated when we got back, so we were given another room which was quite a bit larger and nicer because it had an east window. There was only one month of school left when Mr. Stokes sold the hotel to Mr. James. Mr. James was willing to rent the room to us, but he insisted that we must pay the rent which he reduced to $3.00 a month. However, it might as well have been $100.00. We simply had no money. Charlie Voshell said he would get the $3.00 for us, since the restaurant owner owed it to him. “I’ll get it if I have to fight him for it,” he assured us. He got 38

the money but he lost his job. Dad needed help on the ranch so he offered Charlie a job. He would work for his room and board and Dad would furnish him with a coat if he needed it. So Charlie went to our place. Graduation was a sad time. There was no way the folks could be there to see Mabel graduate. The graduation speaker continually talked about how appropriate it was that the parents were there to see their children graduate, and Mabel and I sat there fighting back our tears. Mabel would have been the valedictorian, except that since she had not attended all four years, she was not eligible. However, the principal announced it at the graduation. I think that made us even more sad, because we knew how proud the folks would have been had they been there to enjoy it with us. Charlie Proposes to Me That summer the weather was very dry and there was little grass. We had to take the sheep to pasture about two miles away. The claim shack of the man from whom Dad had bought the piece of land still sat there. There was a small stock dam nearby where the sheep could get water, so two of the girls would stay at the sheep camp. I rarely did because it was generally agreed that I was Mother’s helper. The other girls helped Dad most of the time. It helped that Charlie was there to help with haying. There was little or no prairie hay to cut, but the grain fields were so poor that they were cut for hay because they were not worth threshing. The sun continued to beat down drying any moisture that might still be in the soil so even before midsummer the prairies were brown. The church services at Grand River had been discontinued when the Bowman family had moved to Washington after losing their farm to foreclosure. We had no car so could not travel. But Sunday was still observed as a day of rest except that the sheep still had to be herded. One Sunday afternoon Charlie asked me to go for a walk with him. We walked up toward the mountain. It was pleasant. Then we sat on a stone outcropping and talked. “Will you marry me?” he asked. “I love you with all my heart and soul.” My heart pounded. I couldn’t think of being a married woman. “I am too young,” I replied. “I don’t want to be married.” “I know you are young,” he replied. “But I’ll wait for you. I can’t live without you.” His words brought only sorrow to me. I did not want to hurt him, and he sounded so desperate. I began to cry. “I can’t marry you,” I said. At sixteen, I certainly was not in love with him, but I don’t remember that love entered my thoughts. I just wasn’t ready to take on the responsibilities of a wife. We talked a while longer and then went home. Shortly after that, Charlie left. Dad was rather glad. Because of the severe drought there was not enough work to justify another man on the ranch; however since he was only working for his room and board, Dad did not want to ask him to leave.

Learning and Growing Often in that year, Mabel and I comforted one another with the assurance, All things work together for good to those who love God. As I think about it I can see how very true it was. Each experience had its special value and we learned and grew through them. Living with Mrs. Pugh was a little like being in a girls finishing school. She was a very gracious lady and she took it upon herself to help us to learn to be gracious ladies also. She taught us social amenities and especially how to stand, to walk, and to talk. It was good, although it did not last long enough. Living at the Sharkeyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s taught us to take responsibility and to plan our days to make the very most of every available moment. It also taught us to work with others when it was not easy. Then living at the Stokes Hotel gave us experiences in survival and frugality. It helped us to learn self-discipline and determination. It also gave us an experience in the joy of sharing, even when we had almost nothing to share. Most of all, I think it taught us that God is always there, always caring and always providing. It taught us trust and faith. Hard as some of those experiences were, I am deeply grateful to God for providing them for us and illustrating again that â&#x20AC;&#x153;All things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to his purpose.â&#x20AC;?

Chapter 7

DUST, DROUGHT AND DEPRESSION

The sun beat down with an intense heat. The wind blew continuously, and drifts of dust filled the road ditches like snowdrifts. Sometimes when the Russian thistles had drifted against the fence, the dust covered the fences. No matter how many times I dusted the furniture, there was always a thin, and sometimes not so thin, layer of dust. Pastures were bare except for a few sagebrush here and there. In 1925, Dad bought some sheep. They had provided a good income for several years. The late twenties were good years and the income from the sheep helped, so by the fall of 1927, we were out of debt. Then Dad borrowed again to build the new house in the summer of 1928, but the sheep did not go on the mortgage. Dad always had a good relationship with the banker, so in 1931 when we could not pay the interest, the banker rewrote the note, including the interest in the principle. The summer of 1932 there was almost no rain. Much of the grain that was planted in the spring never germinated, or came up only to wither under the heat. What did grow was not worth threshing so was cut for hay. There was no grain to sell in the fall. So, when the note was due the fall of 1932, there was no money to pay. Mr. Alhness, the banker, came out to the ranch threatening to foreclose. We would lose everything. Of course, the sheep were not on the mortgage, and he wanted them. It was only by including the sheep on the mortgage that the folks were able to save the ranch. With little income, the garden became increasingly important because we could raise vegetables to eat and to can. Dad plowed up the haystack yard which was below the well. This made it possible to pump well water onto the garden. I had planted flowers on the east side of the house. Mrs. Stearns had given me some hollyhocks from her yard in Spearfish. By diligently carrying water from the well, my flowers were doing well and made a bright spot in an otherwise bare landscape, bringing joy to me and to the family. Blister Beetles “Mamma, come look! What is that?” I called as I stood by the west window in the kitchen. It looked like a gray cloud and it was moving toward us. In a few moments, we knew it was not a cloud. We were quickly enveloped by small gray beetles. They settled into the garden and in a few moments were destroying the green plants. When they attacked my flowers, I grabbed two dish-towels from the rack in the kitchen and began frantically trying to drive them away. They flew from the spot where I flapped the dish-towels, only to settle in another place. It wasn’t going to work, but I wasn’t going to give up. I had a thought. I have no idea why I thought of it, but it worked. Dad had creosote dip with which to kill sheep ticks on the sheep. It was a foul-smelling concoction. 41

There was some in an insect sprayer on the shelf in the shed. I got it and began spraying my flowers. The insects which we later learned were called “Blister Beetles” left my flowers. It didn’t kill them, but it did discourage them from eating the flowers and it did not seem to hurt the flowers at all. In a few days, the blister beetle had left our home and had gone on to attack anything green that they could find in other places. However, all the peas and beans were gone. The tops were eaten off the carrots and the beets, but they were able to recover so that we could harvest some of them. Russian thistles are very drought-resistant, and if cut when green would make hay. Fields that had been planted to rye the year before often “volunteered” in the early spring, and when the Russian thistles grew in those fields, the hay, a mixture of rye and green Russian thistles, could be cut to provide some winter feed. When the pastures failed to produce enough grass for the cattle, and we could not raise enough to feed them through the winter, Dad sold all but one milk cow. But the prices were so low that we ended up owing the railroad for taking them to market. There was no money! It was a very difficult time. The Depression Deepens As the fall of 1932 and time for school approached, Dad said, “I don’t see how we can send any of you girls to school this year.” Frances was devastated. Already, she had stayed home one year after finishing the eighth grade. When she started school, Wallace Mauer was in the second grade. As with all of us, we had learned much at home before starting school, and when she was doing better with the second grade work than Wallace was, she was promoted to the second grade. This meant that she had finished the eighth grade at the age of twelve instead of thirteen, as with most children. Sending Mabel and me to high school was all that the folks could manage, and they felt that Frances was too young and immature to go away from home. So she had been willing to stay at home. Besides, she was a very real help herding the sheep. However, she was looking forward with eager anticipation to going to high school that next year. But now the dream had vanished. “But you promised!” Frances protested. “I’ve stayed home all this past year, and herded the sheep. You promised if I did a good job, I could go to high school this year.” “I know and I am sorry,” Dad replied. “But there just isn’t any money. There is no way we can send any of you to school this year. I don’t know what will happen next year, but not this year.” Then Mabel spoke up. “But I have to go. I have to finish a year of college so I can begin to teach and earn some money. I have to go!” Then, after a few moments of silence as she thought, she added, “Do you suppose I could borrow some money so I could go to school?” “Maybe,” Dad responded. “But I don’t think any bank would lend you money. Even banks don’t have much money these days, and you have no collateral.” Many banks had failed and closed, though ours had not. 42

Then Mabel asked, “Do you suppose Herb Clarkson would loan me some?” Herb Clarkson was a well-to-do rancher who lived some ten or twelve miles east of us. He was a bachelor who had no children of his own, and he was somewhat of a philanthropist who could usually be counted on to give rather generously to any good cause. “May I go to see him?” she asked. “Yes, if you want to. You are not old enough to be legally responsible for a debt, so I will co-sign the note if he will loan you money. He might even give you some. You never know what old Herb will do.” So the next day Mabel saddled up Goldie, which was her horse. She had broken Goldie both to lead and to ride almost entirely by herself. Mabel was a “Horse Whisperer” long before that term ever became a part of the culture. When she came home she reported that Herb Clarkson was not willing to help her, but John Travers, who was Herb’s foreman on the ranch, also an unmarried man with no responsibilities for others, stepped up. Travers was willing to loan her $100.00, which would pay her tuition for the year. She hoped to be able to earn her room and board and somehow to earn money for books. When the school year of 1932 began, Mabel went to Spearfish, living with Mrs. Stearns. Mrs. Stearns was our neighbor who took her daughter to Spearfish to attend school each year. She was always eager for young people to get schooling, so I think Mable was given free room. She worked for one of the professors, Dr. and Mrs. McCain, doing housework and occasionally some typing for Dr. McCain. She got her board that way and also her books. The housework was hard for Mabel because she had never done much housework at home. She was the outdoor girl. The typing was much easier because she was an excellent typist. The McCains, however, were more interested in helping a dedicated, committed young woman get an education than they were in getting their money’s worth from her. So Mabel went to school and Frances and I stayed home. The drought and depression with their attendant difficulties continued for several years, but no years were as hard as the last year Mabel and I went to school in Bowman and the year we could not go to school at all. Alphabet Soup Franklin Delano Roosevelt was elected President in 1932, and shortly after his election, he inaugurated many programs to help those who were destitute. Since all of those programs were identified by initials, we laughingly called them Alphabet Soup. Among the programs was the WPA, which offered opportunities to landowners in the drought-stricken areas to earn money by putting in dams on their land. Dad had long been an advocate of dams. They could make a great deal of difference in a pasture when the snow melted in the spring and there was run-off. They also provided water for the livestock. We had a team of horses which were named Star and Diamond. They were full brothers a year apart in age. Their mother, Jenny, was one 43

of our best work horses and their father was a purebred Percheon stallion. They were big and they were strong. They worked together perfectly, and when you hitched Star and Diamond to a load, something happened. Either the load moved, or the harness broke. A rather large dam at the convergence of two creeks was approved about eight miles from our home. Many of the neighbors worked together on the dam. They were all glad to have Dad and his team of good work horses on the job. While Dad was not the official boss of the project, unofficially, he was the one who did most of the planning and decision-making because he was the one who knew best how to build a dam. He had been doing it for years on our own place. These were earthen dams. That dam is still in place after all these many years. While it hurt Dad’s independent nature to take help from the government, his love for his family and sense of responsibility to them plus the very real need for money led him to enter the program. Besides, he believed in building dams and knew it was good for the country. Winter days are short in the northern plains, so work started about nine in the morning. It continued until about noon when the horses would be watered, fed and rested and the men ate the lunches which they carried with them. The men could eat lunch in half an hour, but the horses needed an hour rest, so work began again about one. Then by three o’clock, the sun was getting low and work would have to stop. Dad drove the horses hitched to a wagon which held hay and oats for the horses to the work site on Monday morning. Then he would walk home, leaving the horses to rest overnight, and he would walk down the next morning carrying his lunch for another day’s labor. It would still be dark when he left home in the morning and dark again before he returned home at night. The eight-mile walk twice-a-day took a great deal of energy, but he felt it was essential for the horses to rest. He would drive the team home on Saturday night and back again on Monday morning. There was little or no snow that winter, so there were very few days when the men could not work. By spring they had finished the dam. The winter of 1932-33 was cold with little snow. The wind continued to blow incessantly. When snow did come, it quickly mingled with dust so there were black drifts. With only Russian thistle hay and little else for the sheep, lambing that spring was difficult. The sheep were so weak we had to watch carefully to give assistance at the birth of almost every lamb. Dad and Frances took turns being up frequently in the night. “I don’t see how we can keep the sheep,” Dad said. “But they are the only source of income,” Mother responded. “I think I will see if Joe would like to take them on shares,” Dad suggested. He had been in touch with his brother who lived on a farm in eastern South Dakota. Dad knew that the drought, while evident there also, was not as severe as in the West River. Uncle Joe had said that while the fields of small grain would not produce grain worth threshing, it would make hay and after being cut would leave enough forage in the fields to graze the sheep for a little while. So it was decided. As soon as shearing was over, 44

Dad would take the sheep by train to Uncle Joe who lived on a farm near Beebe, South Dakota. By dividing the flock, he and a neighbor together could run them on shares. Each would get half of the income from the lambs and old sheep that would be sold in the fall; thus each family would have some income. Rain At Last We had hoped that the sheep could be brought home after a year, but the spring of 1934 was again without rain. Then in June of that year there was a significant rain for the first time in three years. Mabel wrote a poem that she called, “The Coming of the Rain.” It was published in the local papers and in “The Dakota Farmer.” Mabel went with Dad when he went to get the sheep in the fall of 1934. We had joined the 4-H Sheep Club in 1928. Mabel’s sheep had twin lambs which she named Sister Ann and Sister Mary. She took very good care of her lambs and would feed them oats from her hand. They would come to eat from her hand, when she called them. When Sister Mary became an adult sheep, she stopped responding to Mabel’s call, but Sister Ann would always come. “Do you suppose Sister Ann will still know me?” Mabel asked as they moved among the sheep on Uncle Joe’s farm. “I doubt it,” Dad replied. “In fact, she may not still be alive. She will be quite old now.” But Mabel got down on one knee as she always had, and reaching out her hand called, “Sister Ann, Sister Ann.” “Baaa” came from the other side of the corral and here came Sister Ann on the run. I have always thought of that when I read, “My sheep know my voice.” School in Spearfish In the fall of 1933, Frances and I went to Spearfish to live with Mrs. Stearns and to attend high school. Alice Chase, another neighbor also lived with Mrs. Stearns and her daughter, Jean. Dad was able to pay something for our board. Mrs. Stearns attended the Congregational Church in Spearfish and Mabel had attended there the previous year when she was in school. So we all went to church there. The pastor was a young man and this was his first church after seminary. The problem was that he lost his childhood faith in seminary and had found nothing to replace it. His sermons were filled with more doubt than faith. I felt somewhat uncomfortable listening to his sermon but of course, I attended church and participated in the youth group. After we brought the sheep home, life was beginning to return to normal. So, in the fall of 1934 when Geneva was also ready for high school, the three of us, Frances, Geneva and I, lived in a large room in the home of one of our friends, Helen LaDue. Her grandmother owned a big house near Spearfish Creek. We did light housekeeping again in the one large room. 45

Handling Money Frances had rather quickly become a part of a small clique of girls in her class. The others had been together through elementary school. All were very intelligent and at the top of their class. Frances sometimes came out ahead in grades; sometimes, just short of the top The problem was that they all came from families who, while not wealthy, certainly did not struggle to make ends meet. This made it hard for Frances who had no money to spend on non-essentials and sometimes brought her into conflict with me. As the oldest, I felt it was my responsibility to provide guidance to the younger girls. Frances once told me that when she wanted to do something of which she felt the folks would not approve, she would ask me, and then when I said “No,” she would argue with me until she had convinced herself that it was all right and she could do it with a clear conscience. Fortunately all the girls had good parental guidance and none of their escapades were really damaging. Money was scarce, but we managed, although every meal was evenly divided so we would all be equally hungry. One day when we were carefully dividing a can of pork and beans into three equal parts, Frances exclaimed, “I get so tired of counting bites.” One Sunday night I attended the church service at which a missionary was speaking. It was the end of the month and there was only one dollar left in the pocketbook. It would have to last out the week until we would get money from home. The cupboard was not bare but we would undoubtedly need that dollar. As I listened to the missionary, I wanted very much to give so I might share in her ministry. What should I do? I knew the offering plate would soon be coming to me. That dollar was not really mine. I was only the caretaker, and even if I were to fast for the next week, I had no right to ask it of the other girls. I wondered if I could make change as the offering basket passed me, so I could give only my share. I wanted very much to give. What should I do? Then I felt certain God said to me, “Go ahead. Put it in. You’ll get $10.00 tomorrow.” The offering plate was in front of me. I put in the dollar bill. And sure enough, on Monday I got a letter from Mabel. In it she had enclosed a ten dollar bill. God is faithful when we are. It was as if I had given the tithe even before I had received the $10.00. I graduated from high school in May of 1935. In the fall of 1935, I enrolled in Black Hills Teachers College in Spearfish. A neighbor girl, Natalie Johnson, joined the three of us. We moved upstairs in the same home where we had lived the year before. Now we had a kitchen, a very small bedroom with a three-quarter sized bed in which Natalie and I slept, and a living room with a full-sized bed in which Frances and Geneva slept. Natalie’s father paid for her share of the rent and food. There were hard times and fun times during these growing up years. All were important in forming my life. I am convinced that they all bear witness to the fact that: “ All things work together for good to those who love God, 46

who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28 KJV) or “We know that in everything God works for good for those who love him, who are called according to his purpose.” (Roman 8:28 RSV)

PART 2 I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision.

Acts 26:19

Mabel Geneva, Dad, Willis, Mother, Frances, Grace 1945

Grace and Irene 1945 50

7th and 8th Grade Class at Navajo Methodist Mission School 1952-53

Grace with Bishop Edwin E. Voigt and Rev. James S. Chubb at the North Dakota Annual Conference 1956 as she was received into the Annual Conference. From June 7, 1956 Christian Advocate

Chapter 8 STEP BY STEP God led me step by step. Maybe the first step was taken, not by me, but by my mother. I did not know about it at the time, of course, for I was only a newborn infant. It was only after I had begun my ministry as a pastor in the church that Mother told me about it. “After you were born,” Mother said, “as I held you in my arms and called you ‘Grace’ it came to me that you were not so much named after me as that you were a gift from God, ‘God’s Grace’ and I dedicated you to God for whatever he had for you. Of course, I had no thought of your being a minister, because women were not ministers at that time, but I did think that you might be a missionary, and most of all that you might serve God. And now you are a pastor!” During my senior year in high school I frequently accompanied one of my friends to the Four Square Church. There was a husband and wife team who served as pastors, and we all thought that she was the better preacher. Undoubtedly seeing a woman in the pulpit had an influence on me as I began to feel the call to preach though I did not think of it at the time. The youth meetings in which I participated in the Four Square Church were in the form of worship services with the youth who led, preaching a sermon. How I longed to be asked to lead so I could preach, but since I did not speak in tongues, I was not considered a Christian, so could not be a leader. I Hear God’s Call It was the closing service at the Pactola Methodist Camp. It had been a week of challenge and deep religious experience for me. During my senior year of high school, I had begun to feel that God was calling me to commit my life to God as a minister in the church. Miss Pearl Eddy was the deaconess assigned to the camp. As she spoke at the closing consecration service, she invited us to accept Christ as Savior and Lord, and I sat there praying for others as one by one a number of the young people went forward to kneel at the huge log which served as the altar. Then she went on, “Perhaps there is someone here who feels God’s hand upon you, calling you to full-time service through the church as a minister, a deaconess or missionary.” I had always intended to be a teacher, but I felt God’s call stirring in my soul. I could not refuse, and I too, went forward and knelt at the rough log and made a commitment of my life to full-time service to God through the church. As I prepared to return to Spearfish for my first year in college, Mother and I talked. I shared with her my concern about where I would attend church. There had been a very disturbing experience in the Four Square Church just before school was out in the spring. It so distressed me that I felt I could never go back there again. However, the attitude in the Four Square Church had been that no mainline denomination preached the 52

gospel, and none were truly Christian. My earlier experience with the pastor in the Congregational Church bore out their contention which left me at a loss as to what to do. “Why don’t you go to the Methodist Church?” Mother said. “After all, you are a Methodist.” That made sense. So when I returned to Spearfish in the fall of 1935, Geneva and I attended the Methodist Church. Again, the pastor, Wendell Walton, was a young man, just out of seminary. But there was a real contrast between him and the Congregational pastor during my first year at Spearfish. His sermons were challenging. There was a Sunday School class which I enjoyed and I became active in the Epworth League, which was the youth group. I asked Mother to get me a Bible for my Christmas present that year. I had never owned a full Bible, having only the little New Testament that Grandma Kearns had given me when I was eight. The Bible that Mother gave me was not of very good quality and lasted only about three years before it was falling apart, but I did have one and I used it a lot. That was a very good year for me in my spiritual growth. Women Can’t Be Preachers The next summer after one year at college, I again attended the church camp at Pactola. Another deaconess was at camp that summer. She told me that women could not be preachers and that, instead of seeking to be a minister, I should plan to be a deaconess. I agreed that would be a good idea since it would mean I could work full-time in the church, but all the time I felt that God was calling me to preach and that since deaconesses were not preachers, to be a deaconess would be “disobedient to the heavenly vision.” I do not know what would have happened if I had followed her advice. As I look back, I believe that God was guiding me and that God had another plan for my life. I am glad that I followed it even though it meant several years of frustration. Teaching My First School From the time I was old enough to think about my future life, I had always said I was going to be a teacher. With one year of college I earned a First Grade Teacher’s Certificate. One day that summer John Brown came to visit me asking if I would teach at their school. Mr. Brown had two boys, Lawrence, who would be in the sixth grade and Maurice in the fourth grade. There was a small country schoolhouse about a mile and a half north of the Brown home. Mary Agnes Wittemore, who was also in the sixth grade, lived with her parents and grandparents about a half a mile north on the other side of the school. They were the only school age children in the community. There were supposed to be five children in order for school to be held, but they had made special arrangements with the school district to hold school for those three children in that schoolhouse. It was, therefore, a kind of private school. It was called the Clarkson School and the schoolhouse was set in a hollow of the Cave Hills with the hills towering above it. My salary was 53

$35.00 per month and I was to live with the Browns. I was not charged for room and board, but I was expected to help Mrs. Brown with the housework and the two younger children, a little girl, Loretta, who was about four years old, and the baby, Betty. I enjoyed my teaching. With only three students, it was almost like tutoring and I could give individual attention to each child. One of the projects we undertook at the Clarkson School was the production of a monthly school and community newspaper. Mary Agnes and Lawrence took turns being the editor while Maurice was always a reporter. All, of course, wrote items to the paper which we called “The Cave Hills Echoes.” The last weekend of each month, I would go to the home of Joe Clarkson to use their typewriter and carbon paper to make four copies. One went to each of the two families, one to the County Superintendent and one for me. When the school exhibit was held in the spring, we entered four issues for exhibit. It won first prize for a school paper in its class in the county and third prize in the state. Easter Sunday While I enjoyed teaching in the Clarkson School, there was one thing that I missed very much. I was beginning to feel spiritually starved. I had not been able to attend a church service during all of the school year; even though I read and studied my Bible and prayed, I missed the fellowship with other Christians and the public worship of the church. However, as Easter was approaching, I determined I would go to church on Easter Sunday even if I had to walk 30 miles. But I didn’t have to walk. Mr. Brown was getting some sheep from the eastern part of the state. There was a heavy snowfall just as they arrived by train at the Bowman stockyards. So Mr. Brown was taking the pickup loaded with cotton seed cake to feed the sheep each morning and I could ride with him. I alighted from the pickup in front of the Methodist Church in Bowman just as the Sunrise service was ending. Of course there were many friends who knew me and who were glad to see me. I went home with one of them for breakfast and returned for the morning worship service. What a joy it was to sing “Christ the Lord is Risen Today, Alleluia” with the congregation and to rejoice with them in the resurrection of our Lord! How pleasing it was to be in the fellowship of Christian friends! A Proposal of Marriage An interesting result of my visits to the Clarkson ranch was the relationships that developed between me and the residents. They had a hired man, Smokey Till. Smokey visited with me frequently when I spent the weekend at the Clarkson’s. He was an interesting person and we had many good discussions. It was a beautiful spring Sunday morning in late April. A car drove into the yard of the Brown ranch. Mr. Brown went out to greet the visitor and returned bringing Smokey Till in with him. They sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and talking about the ranch work, lambing, calving, and 54

spring planting. Mrs. Brown took Betty into the bedroom while I finished the breakfast dishes. As I hung up my dish towel, Smokey turned to me and said, “It is such a beautiful spring day, I thought you might like to drive through the Hills and go visit your folks. Would you?” Of course I would. I hadn’t been home since Christmas. We drove to my home, all the way enjoying the spring weather, the new grass, the song of the meadow larks and other evidences of the coming of spring. The folks were surprised, and pleased to see me. At about 2:30, Smokey and I took our leave and started back toward the Brown ranch. As we went through the Cave Hills, Smokey turned off the road and drove out into the hills. After a bit we stopped and got out of the car to walk to the top of one of the hills where we could look at the beautiful spring landscape. We sat on an outcropping of rock, enjoying the warm sun, the song of the birds and the beauty surrounding us. Then Smokey reached over and took my hand. He was silent for a few moments. I could tell he was thinking and feeling deeply. Finally, he said, “Grace, I have learned to love you very much. Would you marry me?” I was dumbfounded. I had no idea he felt that way about me, and I certainly had no such feeling for him. I liked him; I enjoyed his company, but at that point in time I had no thought of marriage and certainly not of marrying Smokey. It was deja vu. I felt much as I had about four years earlier when I had sat on a rock in our own pasture when Charlie had proposed to me. I was more mature now. I did not feel quite so much like a little girl. I would soon be twenty years old, but I could not think of marriage without an intense sense of love and commitment which I did not feel for Smoky. How could I answer without hurting this very fine man? For a few moments I sat in silence. Then I turned to him. “I am sorry,” I told him, “I am really sorry. I had no idea that you thought of me in that way. But I am not ready to get married. I have much that I want to do with my life. I don’t want to hurt you, but I cannot marry you.” We sat on the hilltop in silence for a while, then we both rose, walked back to the car, got in and drove the rest of the way to the Brown ranch in relative silence. A Tragedy It was near the end of the school year. We were reviewing for the final tests that I should administer the following day. It was the last recess when we saw Mary Agnes’ mother “flying low” in her car as she whizzed past the schoolhouse. “My goodness, Mother is driving fast,” Mary Agnes commented. “I wonder what the big hurry is?” We had just returned to the schoolhouse after the recess and were beginning the process of reviewing for the finals when Jim Clarkson burst in. He addressed me, “Mrs. Jenkins and Mildred have been badly burned. Can you come?” I hesitated for a moment as I tried to comprehend the import of what he had said. “Yes, if I am needed,” I replied, as I realized that he would not 55

be calling me from my duties at the school if it were not an emergency. He then turned and said, “Mary Agnes, you better come too.” I had no idea what I would be getting into, what would be expected of me or how long it would take, so I turned to the boys. “Stay at school and review until time for school to be out. Then if I am not back, go home,” I told them. Jim drove us to the Jenkins home. Mary Agnes and I got out while Jim sped away. We hurried through the porch giving little attention to the tubs which sat on benches. The kitchen showed evidence of a fire. Half-burned dish towels and curtains from the windows lay strewn around on the floor. Mr. Jenkins was sitting in a chair in the living room. “She is in the bedroom,” he said. We continued on into the bedroom. Mrs. Jenkins was in bed with a mountain of covers over her. “Are you badly hurt?” I asked. “I don’t know,” she replied. She held up an arm. Skin was hanging from it in blackened tattered sheets. Mary Agnes turned with a stifled cry and hid her face on my shoulder. I held her tight for a few seconds and said to her, “We have to be strong and do what we can.” As I went back to the kitchen trying to think what I should do, Mrs. Al Clarkson, Jim’s mother, came in. She handed me a package of tea and said, “Make some strong tea quick.” My response was a look of bewilderment. I knew that some people found tea to be soothing when they were upset, but I could not think that drinking tea was the proper response to the present situation. She quickly realized that I had no idea what she wanted or why, so she continued. “Dump about half of this in a kettle and boil it for a couple of minutes. Then cool it down and bring it to the bedroom.” She then began tearing up a sheet to make bandages. When I brought the tea in, she soaked the bandages in the tea and began bandaging Mrs. Jenkins’ arms, and then her body. Mary Agnes and I helped as we were able. Mrs. Clarkson had heard a radio program just a few days before in which she had learned that tea contains tannic acid and is the best thing for burns since it builds new skin. Jim, who had left as soon as he dropped Mary Agnes and me at the Jenkins’ house, had driven to the nearest telephone some miles away to call the doctors from both Bowman and Buffalo. They arrived, about an hour and a half later, one for each woman. Between Mr. Jenkins and Jim, who had returned to the Jenkins’ home, we slowly pieced together the story. Mildred and Mrs. Jenkins had been washing curtains in hi-test gasoline in the porch of the Jenkins’ home. (At that time, it was common to use hi-test gasoline to wash articles that could not be washed in water.) Mr. Jenkins had come in from outside. When he opened the outer door, the draft had blown the gasoline fumes across the hot kitchen stove. There was an explosion, burning the two women who were bent over the tubs of gasoline as well as starting kitchen towels and curtains on fire. The gasoline itself did not explode nor did it burn, only the fumes burned. 56

Mildred’s body was completely burned. Mrs. Jenkins was not so totally burned because she was wearing a tight corset, and the part of her body under the corset was not burned. Mr. Jenkins’ hands looked like rare done beef steak. They were deeply burned as he had pulled down burning curtains and towels, stomping out the flames on the floor so that the house itself would not burn. Later, as we inspected the house, we saw that the door to the hall and to the parlor had been blown open and the roof lifted off the wall in the farthest corner of the house. Mildred had put on her coat and driven to the Joe Clarkson ranch, which was the nearest home. At the gate, she had met Jim who was also going to Joe’s place. It is doubtful if she could have opened the gate if Jim had not been there to do it for her. Jim had helped her into the house and had sent Smokey to get his own mother to go the Jenkins’ ranch. That was why she was there so quickly. He had then come back to the schoolhouse and taken Mary Agnes and me to the Jenkins’ home. Mildred lived for two days and Mrs. Jenkins about a day longer. The doctor said that they had died from inhaling the gas fumes rather than from the burns, though the burns were so severe that they would have caused death eventually. Their funerals were held at the same time in the little Lutheran Church in Buffalo. There were flowers all across the front of the church, down both sides and spilling over outside. I thought how much good could have been accomplished if there had been a memorial fund for some good cause rather than the multitude of flowers which could only be thrown away. After the funeral was over, I went back to school and administered the final examinations.

Chapter 9 THE WILDERNESS YEARS I have entitled this “The Wilderness Years” because I feel that, like the children of Israel, I was wandering in the wilderness. These years were ones of stress, a search for direction, and of spiritual hunger and thirst. They were also years when God was guiding and providing though I did not always recognize it at the time. While I continued to feel the call of God for me to be a preacher, I could see no way in which I could move in that direction so the logical thing was to find another school to teach. My dear friend, Irene Stitch, had been the teacher at the Hanson School about fifteen miles east of our place. Irene had taught there for two years, and she would be moving. She suggested me as her successor and that I apply, which I did. I was hired. Usually, the teacher of that school would board at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Ed Hanson, who lived very near the school. But when I went to make arrangements for my living quarters, I learned that the Hansons were in Washington. They had gone to visit relatives during the summer. Mr. Hanson had suffered a stroke and could not be moved, so they were not in their home. Mr. Miller, who was chairman of the school board, suggested I live with the Johnson’s, about a mile and a half from the school. Their daughter, Josie, was in the sixth grade. Teaching at the Hanson School The school had six children enrolled. The children were well-behaved and I enjoyed my teaching. Some time in the latter part of September or early October, the Hansons arrived home. Mr. Hanson was bedridden, and when I talked to Mrs. Hanson about moving into their home, she was not willing. I then visited with Mr. Miller about the situation. The days were rapidly growing shorter and the weather colder. I suggested to him that I might place a bed in the entry to the schoolhouse. The school board agreed and I moved from the Johnson’s to the schoolhouse. Living in the schoolhouse gave me many hours of complete solitude, and while there were always lesson plans to make and papers to correct, I also had time to read and study my Bible. Sometimes I would write sermons on passages that especially spoke to me. I read Paul’s words to King Agrippa as he said, “I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision,” (Acts 26:19 KJV) and I felt, “But I am.” Again I read, “Woe is me, if I preach not the gospel,” (I Corinthians 9:16c KJV) and it resonated in my heart for that was exactly how I felt. Yet how could I preach? I had been told that women could not be preachers. I prayed, “God, why did you call me to preach when it is not possible?” One evening as I sat at my desk in the schoolhouse, a car drove into the yard, and there was a knock at the door. When I answered it, there was Irene. How wonderful it was to see her! We visited for some time, and then she went on over to the Hanson’s to see them. She had lived with them 58

the two years she had taught school there. They were very good friends. Shortly after that, Mrs. Hanson told me I could come and live with them. I am sure Irene persuaded Mrs. Hanson that I could fit into their home without undue disturbance. I moved in after Thanksgiving vacation. I enjoyed the friendship which quickly developed between us. The Hansons were active members of the Lutheran Church. While they could not attend because of Mr. Hanson’s stroke, the pastor called occasionally, and conversations concerning the issue of the Christian faith were common. They also had friends in a Pentecostal church who often visited. Discussions were frequent, and while not heated, they were intense. I often became a part of those discussions and my faith was firmed, identified and verbalized as never before. My Poems Are Published A poem I had written had been published in the South Dakota poetry magazine “Pasque Petals.” Then, while I was at the Hanson school, I got a letter from Paebar Publishing Company inviting me to submit two or three poems for publication in the Paebar Anthology, which they intended to print. I submitted some poems and they chose a little five-line poem. During the next two years I had 11 poems published in six different anthologies. A New School After one year at the Hanson school, I moved to the Bjerke school which was farther from home. I boarded at the Lutz home. There was an Evangelical Church building about a half a mile north of their home, but they had no pastor. “The Heart to Heart Hour” led by the Evangelical minister on the Bismarck radio station was broadcast every Sunday afternoon. It served as their church. Sometimes church members gathered in one another’s homes to join in singing the hymns and listening to the message. Always, all other activity at the Lutz home was stopped and together we would sit around the radio and participate in the worship service. Teaching at the Bjerke school was quite different from teaching at the Hanson school. I had seven really delightful children under my care. While they were lovely children and all blessed with special musical ability, they had experienced very poor teaching the previous year, and it took real control to get them to settle down to study and learn. It was a challenge and in some ways I thoroughly enjoyed it. But it took a great deal of energy and ingenuity. In mid-October, Mrs. Dahl, the County Superintendent, made her semi-annual visit to the school. She arrived shortly after the opening bell. All of the children had beautiful voices and natural musical ability. We discovered that they could make truly beautiful harmony as we sang the round “O, How Lovely is the Evening.” She was much impressed and told us she would like to have us present that as a part of the gathering of the schools in our district meeting later in the fall. When I had dismissed the children for recess, Mrs. Dahl visited with me about her impressions of the school. She said, “Grace, you’ve worked a 59

miracle. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much improvement in a school. This is the most orderly school I’ve visited and the most work done.” Needless to say, I was overjoyed. It had not been easy, but they were good children and only needed some guidance and challenge. Taking a By-Path Whether it was the challenge of the school or the constant sense of being disobedient to the heavenly vision or something purely physical, I do not know. Probably a combination of all. I began having “spells.” This was not good for the children and was difficult for me. When these spells were coming more and more frequently and with increased severity, I decided that I could not go on teaching and so resigned in the middle of February and went home. Irene was again teaching our home school and living in the teacherage at the school. Her love and support, especially since she was so near and I could visit with her often, meant much to me. In March, I went to see the doctor in Buffalo. He had no idea what the problem was, but thought it might be epilepsy. He felt it was quite serious and suggested that I go to Denver to a specialist. At the end of May, Dad took both Mother and me to Hot Springs where we visited with relatives. Mother entered the hospital in Hot Springs for a spinal operation which we hoped would help her to walk better while I continued to Denver by train. The sanitarium was a beautiful place. Two lovely women, Mrs. Wendell and Mrs. Burden, were my special care-givers. It was a Seventh Day Adventist institution and they continually witnessed to their faith. I was there about three weeks and saw the doctor several times. I had no “spells” while I was there, so was dismissed. This was a time of wandering in the wilderness for me and I was attracted by the commitment of my new friends. However, when I got home and tried to keep the Sabbath it was very difficult. Mother was sure it was a work of the Devil. Our culture is not planned for Saturday to be a Sabbath, and so I was constantly called upon to engage in secular activities. God had other plans for me and soon brought me through the wilderness to the “Promised Land.”

Chapter 10 ENTERING THE PROMISED LAND If the early years of teaching and struggling to fulfill my call to preach, without any hope of achieving it, could be called the “Wilderness Years,” this next period can be called “Entering the Promised Land.” The “Conquest of Canaan” was still down the road, and like the conquest by the children of Israel, it took many years. But God is faithful and always provides what we most need when we most need it. So the next two years were not merely marking time, but provided a time of growth and movement. God Is Love Irene Stitch was teaching our school when I came home from the Bjerke school and again the next year. I often led singing for the children. After school was out, usually Irene and I would go to the teacherage where I would have supper with her. We spent many hours visiting. Irene’s love, friendship and support were some of the most important influences in my life. There was one special night during the winter. We had shared much that left me with a heart full of love and joy. Then as I walked home through the crisp cold air, the aurora borealis began playing across the northern sky. It was brilliant with red in the lead and the rainbow colors following. Like a bright curtain, it moved from west to east rippling across the whole of the northern sky, then fading out in the east, it would begin again in the west. As I watched, I sang praises to God for its beauty, and for God’s love and presence in my life. My heart was so filled with love: love for God, a consciousness of God’s love for me; my love for Irene and a consciousness of her love for me, that I could scarcely contain the ecstasy. Over and over I said to myself, “God is love. Where God is, love is, and where love is, God is.” That whole experience left a profound impact on my life, as I experienced in the deepest possible way both human and divine love and how they interact with each other. A Mentor The most important thing that happened during this time was the new minister who was appointed to the church in Bowman in September 1939. His name was Ross Hutsinpiller. His wife, Vernie, was an ordained accepted supply pastor. Her ordination was actually illegal, because she had been ordained Deacon in 1914 and Elder in 1916, which was ten years before the General Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church passed the legislation in 1924 which allowed women to be ordained. The Hutsinpillers soon became my mentors. I sometimes rode on the mail truck to Bowman to visit them. As they led me in a study of the Epistle to the Galatians, I began to understand the concept of salvation by faith not by law, and I was led to abandon my infatuation with Seventh Day Adventism. I grew spiritually and 61

in a deeper understanding of the Christian faith. As plans for the summer were being made at the church, I was elected as the Superintendent for the Vacation Bible School. But before the Bible School started, another assignment came my way. My sister, Frances, who lived in Aberdeen, gave birth to a baby girl, and I went to Aberdeen to care for her and the new baby when they came home from the maternity home. Preaching My First Sermon to a Human Congregation Normally, my part of the work at home was in the house, while the other girls helped with the work outside. But on August 3, 1940, for some reason I had to herd the sheep. I carried my Bible, a notebook and pencil. I read through the book of Acts and when I reached Acts 26:28, “Then Agrippa said unto Paul, ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.’ ” I thought, “How sad!” I took my pencil and began to write a sermon in the notebook. By the time the sun was setting and it was time to bring the sheep home, I had completed my sermon. A few days later, Mabel and I went to Karinen to hold Vacation Bible School for the children in the community. However, when only three children came, I went home and left Mabel to teach alone. That afternoon I went to Bowman on the mail stage. As we visited, Rev. Hutsinpiller said to me, “How would you like to preach for me at Vessey tonight?” “I just wrote a sermon last Saturday,” I told him. “You see, the Lord knew you were going to have a chance to preach,” he responded. Rev. Hutsinpiller had been going out to the school house at Vessey and holding a Wednesday evening service for several months. Now I was being invited to preach. I wrote my sermon again and preached my first sermon to a human congregation. It was very short, probably not more than ten minutes long, but they were all very kind and told me it was a good sermon. When I apologized for its brevity, someone responded, “If all ministers could say as much in as little time, there wouldn’t be so many boring sermons.” Rev. Hutsinpiller gave me the collection, which was $1.60. That was my first earnings as a preacher. The next day I came home on the mail stage arriving about 10:00 A.M. Later in the afternoon, Mother’s brother, Uncle Carl and his wife Aunt Daisy, arrived for a visit. Sister Frances and baby Averil had come with them. Saturday afternoon, the children whom Mabel had taught during the Vacation Bible School were going to have their program. As we were preparing to go to Karinen for the program, Frances asked to borrow one of my dresses to wear. I did not want to loan it. “You have plenty of your own dresses, you don’t need mine,” I told her. “You are so selfish,” she retorted. “How can you claim to be such a good Christian?” I did not reply to that comment, but anger surged through me. I had myself under perfect control outwardly, but inside I was seething. Frances wore one of her own dresses, and we all went to Karinen to the program. 62

After we had come home, Mabel was at the piano playing hymns and we were all standing around singing. We had sung several songs when Mabel began playing “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go.” As we sang, the words touched my heart. That was what I wanted to say to my Lord, but I still felt anger and resentment toward Frances. Then we started to sing the second verse, “Perhaps today there are loving words, which Jesus would have me speak.” I began to feel more and more convicted. It was not because I had refused to loan my dress, but because I felt angry and resentful. I didn’t like feeling that way. Frances had questioned my Christianity. Now I recognized that my inner attitude was not really congruent with true Christian life. By the time we started to sing, “I’ll say what you want me to say,” I couldn’t go on. Turning to Frances I said, “Come upstairs with me, will you?” She looked surprised, but acquiesced. When we got upstairs away from the family, I asked her to forgive me for my anger and resentment. “Of course,” she replied. “I didn’t know you were angry.” While my confession was not important to Frances, it was to me. A Life Changing Experience Both Rev. and Mrs. Hutsinpiller had been talking to me about sanctification, or the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I remembered the time years before when, as a little child, I had first heard about “being sanctified” but had felt I was not old enough. Now I had been praying about it. I felt if I could receive the cleansing power of the Holy Spirit, I would not have to fight the anger that still sometimes possessed me even though it was so well-contained that no one else knew about it. Sunday morning we were all hurrying to get ready to go to Bowman for church. Rev. Hutsinpiller had asked Uncle Carl to preach. My task that morning was to wash the cream separator, a job we all disliked because the disks that separated the milk and the cream were messy and slimy when they had set overnight. As I washed, I was praying. What had happened the day before made me very aware of my need for the power of the Holy Spirit in my life. I have often thought that the submission to God’s call to me to ask Frances to forgive me was an important factor in what happened that morning. As I washed those disgusting separator disks, I felt God saying to me, “Just as you can cleanse this cream separator, so I can cleanse your heart.” I felt a very real sense of peace and calm and joy. I kept on washing the cream separator. I think it is worthwhile to quote from The Divine Yes by E. Stanley Jones because he explains what happened to me better than I can. On page 73 he says: ...Purity of heart is a permanent element in the midst of the gifts of the Holy Spirit... The first thing about the experience of the Holy Spirit is that this extends to the subconscious mind, so now the total person, conscious and subconscious, is subject of the control of the Holy Spirit. Therefore, he or she becomes 63

a person purified by the Holy Spirit. Such a person is not subject to whims or notions but is now subject to the Holy Spirit who holds the citadel and guides him from within. In other words, the inner life has been taken over by the Holy Spirit who keeps the whole life steady and is not subject to ups and downs. He keeps us surrendered. We don’t sit on the lid. We trust him and he keeps us victorious. The Christian life is one of trust and rest—not struggle under our own power. While the doctrine of Sanctification or the Baptism of the Holy Spirit is basic to the original Methodist theology, it is rarely heard in Methodist circles today, yet I can testify that it was a life-changing experience for me that freed me from the all-controlling anger that used to possess me. There are still times when I am angry at injustices or cruelty, but that anger is a different kind of anger. It is more intellectual than emotional. It is purposeful and controlled, not controlling, and moves me to react in Christian ways. My life is now under the control of the Holy Spirit Moving Forward The folks and I went to Bowman to church on the morning of October 13, 1940. At that service a vote was taken which recommended me for a Local Preacher’s License. This was the first official step toward becoming a minister. It would make me eligible to be appointed to a local church by the District Superintendent. Five years after I had first responded to God’s call to full-time Christian service, I was getting out of the boat to walk on water. The next week I went to Jamestown for a church conference where I wrote an examination for a Local Preacher’s License. I passed the exam and was granted the license. Continuing My Education My health was improving, and I felt I ought to return to college. With support from the folks, I went to Dickinson State Teachers College in Dickinson, North Dakota. I took the bus from Bowman and arrived on the afternoon of Saturday, November 30th, 1940. I moved into the Stickney Hall Dormitory, where my roommate was Ida Link. Of course, I went to church on Sunday. Rev. Earl Grunstead was the pastor. He had been our pastor in Bowman when I was in high school and so he knew me. He was having some dental work done on Monday and so he asked me if I would lead the Prayer meeting on Wednesday evening. Otto, one of the boys from the college, was at church and we walked back to the college together. After that, we often went to and from church together, for he attended as regularly as I did. Otto and I had many good talks as we walked to and from church together. One of my dorm-mates, Ann, and I began meeting daily for a prayer time. Several of the girls began attending the youth group or prayer meeting with me. I very much enjoyed these kinds of opportunities. However, it was 64

not always easy. One evening after I had been baby-sitting, I returned to my dorm room to find three girls visiting Ida. Their language was quite foul. I ignored them and went to my desk to start studying. However they turned to me, making derogatory remarks about my church activities. Apparently, they knew about my prayer time with Ann and my taking some of the girls with me to church activities. “Are you going to be a preacher?” one of the girls asked. “ Yes, if I could, “ I answered quietly. This brought hoots of laughter. I remembered the words of Jesus, “Blessed are you when people revile you and utter all kinds of evil against you on my account.” (Matt. 5:11) After the girls had left, Ida apologized. “I am sorry for the way they acted,” she said. “It is all right,” I assured her. “It wasn’t your fault.” But I felt sorry for her because she was really embarrassed by their action. When Rev. G. O. Parish, the District Superintendent, came for quarterly conference early in December, he brought my Local Preacher’s License. I had cleared the first hurdle on my way to becoming a minister. The winter quarter ended on March 7th and I went home. I had received an “A” in each of the classes I had taken. It had been a good experience. About mid-March, I received a letter from Rev. Frisbie, the Methodist Pastor at Hettinger, asking me to come to preach at a series of pre-Easter services. I went on the stage to Bowman and then took the train to Hettinger. The services went well and I enjoyed preaching. Several nights there were persons responding to a call for a commitment to Christ or a deeper consecration to living as a Christian. The church was strengthened and grew as a result of my ministry among them. Caring for a New Nephew As the summer of 1941 was nearing, I was asked to serve again as the superintendent of the Vacation Bible School in Bowman and was elected as the lay delegate to Annual Conference. But family responsibilities changed the plans. On May 19th, my sister Geneva’s husband, Richard, caught up with me by phone as I was going from home to home recruiting teachers for the Vacation Bible School. Richard had started to take Geneva to town as her baby was about to be born. But they were not able to reach town in time, so had stopped at a farm house about halfway. Mrs. Siverson and Mrs. Kline, wife of the farmer at whose home they had stopped, delivered a baby boy weighing 7 lb. The doctor who had been called by telephone from the Kline’s arrived after the baby was safely delivered. The phone line did not reach out as far as the Siverson’s. With baby chicks, lambs, and calves on each farm, Mrs. Kline did not want to care for a new mother and baby for whom she had no real responsibility, and Mrs. Siverson was not able to leave responsibilities at 65

her home. Our own mother was not physically able do it, so that left me as the only logical person. I felt certain this would mean I would not be able to attend the Annual Conference and probably would not be appointed to serve a church. Of course, I said “Yes.” In one way, it was not a difficult decision. Geneva needed me. There was no one else to care for her. But on the other hand, I wondered, was I rejecting God’s claim on my life for a lesser value? I remembered Jesus’ words, “Whoever loves mother or father more than me is not worthy of me.” Was I being “disobedient to the heavenly vision?”

Chapter 11 MY FIRST APPOINTMENT Though I did not go to Annual Conference, Rev. Hutsinpiller, and perhaps others, reminded the District Superintendent, Rev. G. O. Parish, that I was available. And so I had a letter from him on May 29th appointing me to go to Rural and Fort Rice. Both were very small membership churches south of Mandan, North Dakota. Rural was just what its name implies. It was a small church with a parsonage (which was larger than the church) sitting next to a cemetery beside the road in the middle of the prairie. The church consisted of five main families, each of which was three generations. There were others in the community who related to the church but took little part, except on special occasions, and who did little to support the church. Fort Rice was a little town on the railroad south of Mandan. It had, at one time, been an army fort as the name implied. There was only one really supportive family at Fort Rice. The prospect for growth, however, was much greater at Fort Rice than at Rural, for there were more families in the surrounding neighborhood. The Rural church had a tradition of holding revival meetings each summer. They usually brought in a well-known evangelist. This year, they had booked Rev. and Mrs. Lawrence Lacour and their daughter Helen through the General Board of Evangelism of the Methodist Episcopal Church. The Rural church members wanted few things of their pastor. They wanted someone to lead a Vacation Bible School for the children and they wanted someone living in the parsonage to act as host for the evangelist. Of course, they also expected a worship service each Sunday. Beyond that, they had few requirements, except that they wanted someone who would not need a big salary to support a family. I was a perfect choice. I had been leading Vacation Bible Schools in many places for a number of years. I had plenty of experience in that area. I could easily act as hostess for the evangelist and I could live on a minimum salary. In fact, my salary that first year was only $400.00 for the year with an additional $2.00 a month for acting as the janitor. But that was fine with me. All I wanted was the opportunity to preach and to serve my Lord. Besides, I received lots of â&#x20AC;&#x153;in kindâ&#x20AC;? support, and there was a big garden full of vegetables already planted and growing when I arrived. Since I had no car and Rev. and Mrs. Hutsinpiller were eager to help, they took me to the Joe Unkenholz farm on Thursday, June 12. We had some trouble finding the farm and the dirt roads were so muddy we nearly got stuck several times. But we got there. On June 15, 1941, shortly before my 25th birthday, I preached my first sermon to my own congregation. After church, we all went over to assess the needs of the parsonage. The former pastor had left some furniture. One by one, members offered what would be needed. I had a bed and a dresser at home which would furnish my bedroom. There was also a drop leaf table 67

as well as other supplies which we girls had used when we were in high school that I felt I could take from home. Before we left the parsonage that morning, we had enough furniture planned to equip the parsonage with bare necessities and provide for the Lacour’s when they would arrive. Everyone brought the furniture they had offered. Irene Dawson drove their pickup to my home getting the furniture, some dishes and cooking utensils as well as towels and some bedding. Others helped with that. So I had what I needed to set up a home, and I moved into the parsonage. Serving My Parish I was now a full-time minister with my own church. The next Sunday after the morning worship service, I went home with the Joe Unkenholz family and they took me to Fort Rice for the service on Sunday afternoon. There I met the Guythers, a sister and two brothers, probably all in their fifties and all unmarried. They were the main family of that church. The town itself consisted of a general store, a railroad depot, a nice school, the church, and a few houses. On June 30th, the Lacours arrived and the first service was held the next evening, July 1st. There was a good congregation that first evening and almost without exception, each evening the number increased. The meetings lasted for two weeks. The first Sunday was a week when we went to Fort Rice. (Services were held there every other Sunday.) There was a good attendance with a number of children present so I suggested we have a Vacation Bible School. They were happy to plan for it. During the two weeks of revival meetings at Rural, a number of our young people and some adults made commitments. I was especially impressed with Dick Unkenholz. In my diary I wrote, “I tell you Dick will bear watching. He is going to do things.” Of course he did. He went on to be a very effective minister in our conference. About a week after the close of the revival meeting, I began the second of my assignments, Vacation Bible School for the children. Because the Dawson children lived too far from the church to go home every night, they stayed at the parsonage. So I was a housemother as well as teaching the Vacation Bible School. Irene provided much of the food which needed only to be heated. I also held Vacation Bible School at Fort Rice. I stayed at Guyther’s and taught at the church. There were five girls in the George family and four children in the Chase family. Neither family had been active in the church before the Bible School. However, this was an opening and God used it. Soon after the Vacation Bible School, the three oldest George girls asked to be baptized. Their request was the result of the new learning and the commitment they made during the Bible School. At Rural I did some calling on foot, as I had no car. One day in September, I decided I should visit some of the families west of Rural whom I could visit on the way to the Dawson’s. I started walking about fifteen miles, stopping at homes along the way and arriving at the Dawson’s about supper 68

time. It had been a beautiful day when I left home. I spent the night at the Dawson’s and awoke the next morning to a world of white. The first snowfall of the winter had arrived early. Irene loaned me a coat and Lyle saddled up a gentle mare. They sent me back to the parsonage on horseback. I did not follow the road but went across the prairie on a shortcut so I rode only about seven miles. I never liked horseback riding and had not done any recently so the riding left me almost too stiff to walk by the time I arrived at the parsonage about noon. As I had been instructed, I tied the reins together and hung them over the saddle horn, gave the horse a slap on the rump and she started off on a trot to go home. On Sunday, Lyle told me she had arrived back at the ranch safe and sound. I Hold a Funeral Service One day I had a telephone call from Grace Unkenholz. The undertaker in Mandan had called them. They were on a telephone line which connected to Mandan. Then there was what was called the “barbed wire line” which actually ran on the barbed wire fence from Joe Unkenholz to the Grant Unkenholz farm, on to the parsonage and then continued on to the Griffin farm. So the information was passed on to me on the “barbed wire line.” The undertaker was informing me that I was to conduct a funeral at Fort Rice in two days. The only information I had was that it was a man but one whom I had never met and who was not active in the church. I had no way to contact the family. I borrowed the Model T Ford which had belonged to Joe Unkenholz’ son, Larry, who had died several years earlier. The car sat in the garage unused, and they were willing to loan it to me to drive to Fort Rice. I decided to use John 6:47 “Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life” as the text for my sermon. Since I had no knowledge of the man or any way to visit with the family prior to the service, I made it an opportunity to preach the gospel and put my emphasis on the fact that eternal life begins when we believe in Christ and accept him into our lives as Savior and Lord, not after we die. I felt it was a good service, and many commented on my sermon as being helpful. One lady was especially impressed with what I had said. A week or so later, as I called in the hospital in Mandan, I stopped at the desk and introduced myself. The response was, “Oh, you are the minister who said we didn’t have to wait until we die to receive eternal life.” I learned that this lady was in the hospital. Of course, I went to call on her. We had a very good visit. She was so blessed by the realization that with Jesus as her Savior, she could have eternal life here and now that she had told all the nurses about her new discovery. She had a terminal illness, and did not expect to live very long. In fact she did pass away within a month or two of that visit. She told me she wanted me to have her funeral and to again use John 6:47 as the text. After the Vacation Bible School at Fort Rice, attendance and interest greatly increased. We started a Sunday School and sometimes attendance 69

at Fort Rice was larger than at Rural. Am I Leaving? At the District Conference the first part of October 1941, Rev. Parish told me that a man was available for the Rural-Fort Rice Parish. Since I had no standing in the Annual Conference, I was not being moved, but simply removed. When I told them at Fort Rice, there was a real rebellion. They were ready to fight. I wrote to Rev. Parish telling him what was happening at Fort Rice and of their reaction to my removal. In the meantime, I went home for my sister Mabel’s wedding. When I got back, I had a card from Rev. Parish saying that a Rev. Roe would be arriving in a week or ten days and I was to stay until he arrived. He also told me about a school near Fort Rice which was without a teacher. He thought I might be able to teach there and remain at Fort Rice. When I checked I learned that the position had been filled. Time went on and I continued my ministry. When Rev. Parish came for quarterly conference, he told me that Joe Unkenholz had been telling him what a good job I was doing. I never saw Rev. Roe nor did I hear any more about being replaced. Serving the churches of Rural and Fort Rice was quite different from serving most churches. There were almost no committee meetings or calling to do. Since I did not have a car, I walked many miles doing the little calling I could. During the first year, someone from Rural usually took me to Fort Rice on the Sundays that I preached there. Later, Bert Gwyther began coming to Rural to pick me up and take me to Fort Rice. I would spend Sunday night with the Gwythers and then take the train to Mandan on Monday morning. Bill Unkenholz was an officer of an organization that met every Monday. Bud and Dick Unkenholz were attending high school in Mandan. Bill took them in for school on Monday morning and attended his meeting. We would get together in Mandan, and then I would ride out to Rural with him late Monday afternoon. “Make Pancakes” Going to Mandan on the train provided me with the opportunity to call in the hospital. One day when I went to the hospital, I found Irene Dawson there. While visiting with her, I learned she was very concerned about her family. Louise, the oldest girl, who was about twelve years old at that time, had been quite ill with a kidney infection and the doctor had said she must get plenty of rest for at least a month or she might be left with permanent kidney damage. Of course, Grandma Dawson was on the ranch and the two houses were in the same yard. But Grandma Dawson was one of those indefatigable persons who worked steadily from sunup to sundown and who saw no reason for anyone else to be different. Irene knew that Louise, as the eldest, would feel responsible and try to keep up with Grandma. “Stop worrying,” I told Irene, “I’ll go out and take care of your family.” 70

And I did. Lyle was still in town, so I went home with him. I gathered the children from Grandma’s house. Mrs. Dawson had just finished churning when I arrived, so she sent a jar of fresh buttermilk with me as I took the children to their own house. “What do you want for supper?” I asked as we neared time for the evening meal. “Make pancakes,” was the universal chorus. So I used the fresh buttermilk and made pancakes. They were delicious! Many years later when Loretta was in Spearfish for summer school, Dad and I invited her home for dinner after church one Sunday. As we were preparing the noon meal, Loretta said, “Do you remember when you came to our house to take care of us kids while Mom was in the hospital and you made pancakes?” Yes, I remembered. Those pancakes were famous! That was one of the ways I ministered in my first parish. Battles with Creepy-Crawlies Not far from the house was a shallow well with a hand pump from which I got my water. When fall came, we had a problem. First I noticed insect legs in the water and a strange smell. Then as the days passed, it was not just legs but body parts until the water was the consistency of soup—cricket soup. Grant Unkenholz gave me cream cans full of good water and Uncle Joe, Bill Unkenholz and Bob Griffin came up and pumped continuously until they had pumped the well dry. As the fresh water flowed into the well, it was clear and clean. But it took several times of pumping the well dry before all the crickets were flushed out. But crickets were not the only creepy-crawlies that invaded the parsonage in fall and early winter. There was an outside door opening from the back porch to stairs into the basement. It did not fit tightly and so as the winter began, the field mice began to invade. I set traps and put out mouse poison, but they still came from the basement up the stairs into my kitchen. I did not want them in the kitchen and I especially did not want them going on into the bedroom. So, as I sat in the kitchen in the evening, I kept the broom beside me. As a mouse would come into the kitchen, I would hit it with the broom. Since the broom was fairly large, I could usually catch the mouse beneath its bristles. This stunned the mouse and I would sweep him up into the dust pan and cremate him in the kitchen range. Every evening, there would be half a dozen or so. Finally, the “mouse attack” was over and I no longer had to keep a “mouse vigil” each evening. There was another interesting experience in the parsonage at Rural. Once in the middle of the night, I was awakened by a loud crash and clatter. When I got over trembling, I got up, took my flashlight and went downstairs. There was the ceiling of the living room on the floor! The Love-Bug Bites Sometime during my second year at Rural, Bob Griffin started 71

coming to see me about once a week. Bob was a gentle, caring person and increasingly my love for him grew. He was not a Christian, according to the standards of the Rural church, nor did he consider himself a Christian. He wooed me gently and I began to love him passionately. I was also deeply concerned about his spiritual well-being. My love for him made me desire that he might experience God in the fullness and joy with which I experienced God. Also, of course, I felt that he was lost without faith in Christ. One day I knelt by the chair in my parsonage and poured out my heart to God in supplication for Bob that he might be saved. As I prayed I said, “God, I would give my life if Bob might be saved.” And I meant it! Then into my mind came the question, “Would you live your life that he might be saved?” That was a more difficult question. Death had never frightened me for I had always felt, “For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21) But I felt that to live my life for Bob would mean to marry him. When I was with him, in his arms, my whole being cried out for me to give myself to him completely, but for me that was impossible outside of marriage. And I wanted it so much. On the other hand, I drew back, for I knew that marriage to Bob would mean the end of my life as a minister, a life to which I felt God was calling me. Yet my love for Bob and my concern for his spiritual well-being made me feel it might be the sacrifice I was to make. I had said, and I meant it, “I’d give my life.” And I ached with all my physical being to be united with him. What was I to do? Was marriage and giving up my call to the ministry the road I would have to take that Bob might be led to a commitment to Christ and eternal salvation? When I left Rural in 1943 to continue my college education at Taylor University, it was with a lot of uncertainty. At Christmas time I went home through Mandan. Bob met the train and took me out to the farm. He told me we could make no plans as long as the war was on. Did that mean a commitment when the war was over or was it a way of postponing any decision? I was not sure. As I came home from school in the spring, I stopped off in Mandan. Again, Bob met me and took me out to the farm. He suggested we drive around the countryside on Sunday. I made a choice—a deliberate one. I chose to go with him rather than to go to church as a way of saying to him that he was important enough to me so that I would choose to be with him rather than go to church. That next fall, I was asked to teach our home school. I was still uncertain about the direction my life would take. My heart cried out to marry Bob. But I was also wanting to answer my call to the ministry. I knew I could not do both. Teaching and living at home gave me time to explore both options while doing something I loved (to teach). It would give Mother help which she needed and it was an opportunity to earn a good salary. In March, I went to Bismarck for an eye exam and to get new glasses. Bob drove in and picked me up. We had a wonderful time together that 72

evening. I felt sure that he did love me and that when the war was over it would work out. In May, Germany surrendered. The war was grinding to a close, but Bob was withdrawing. Maybe he never had intended that we marry. Maybe the war had only been an excuse so he could continue a pleasant relationship with no real need for commitment. When I got a letter from Rev. Grunstead, now the Superintendent of the Northern District, appointing me to the churches in Velva, Voltaire and Benedict, North Dakota, I accepted and started to drive to Velva. But I couldn’t go without one last visit to Bob. I needed some kind of closure. I drove out to the Joe Unkenholz farm where I saw Bob for the last time. It was over. As I look back, I know God had other plans for me. Now God’s “No” to marriage to Bob is one of the things for which I am most grateful. Because when that door was closed, another one far more wonderful opened. It was a door to a life so rich, so full, and so fulfilling that I know it was God’s plan for me. Painful as it was however, I am very grateful for the experience of being “in love.” Was my love for Bob a temptation from the devil to lure me from God’s purpose for my life? Or was it God’s plan that I might experience the love of woman for man before I entered into a life fully dedicated to Christ and his church? I do not know. I do know I am grateful for that love and that experience. I can truly understand and empathize with young people who are in love. I will never know the joy of married love. I will never know the joy of having my own children, but I have been blessed far beyond anything I could ever have asked or imagined if my prayer to marry Bob had been granted. I thank God!

Chapter 12 MOVING ON As an “Accepted Supply Pastor,” I was enrolled in the Conference Course of Study which was a five year course. The first year was an introductory course for Examination and Reception on Trial. Then there followed four years of rather intensive study. I began my study during my time at Rural and Fort Rice. During that period of history in the Methodist church, at least in North Dakota, less than half of the ministers went to seminary. The majority received training for their task as ministers in the church through the Conference Course of Study. So it was taken very seriously by the candidates, by those who were assigned to lead them through their studies and by the Board of Ministerial Training (as it was then called), who were responsible for accepting or rejecting the candidates. During my studies for the First Year, one of the courses was a study of assigned articles in “Abingdon Bible Commentary.” One of the articles concerned the authorship of the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible). At the time, it was very disturbing for me. The Hutsinpiller’s had warned me against Biblical Criticism. The idea that Moses was not the author of all of those five books was Modernism, which to them was anathema. I struggled as I wrote answers to the assigned questions. But I gave the proper answer. Then at the end, after writing what was expected, I wrote my own evaluation saying that I did not believe any of it, and that to say Moses did not write the Pentateuch was one with denying the divinity of Christ and all that the Christian faith was based on, which was what the Hutsinpillers had warned me against. My instructor in the course was Dr. C. Maxwell Brown, the same Max Brown who had held the bowl for my baptism. I felt I could trust him. And I thank God that he was my instructor. It is one of the most important turning points in my life. Max sat down and wrote to me one of the most important letters I’ve ever received. He told me of his own shock and struggle when he, as a young seminary student, was faced with the same, and to him, equally disturbing information. He told me how he had learned that seeing the evidence of different authors in the Biblical writings included in the Pentateuch had answered questions, and had provided new insight which did not need to bring into question his vital faith in Jesus Christ. His letter freed me to become a serious Bible student and opened for me doors to understanding the Bible as the word of God, ministered to us by innumerable persons, each writing from his own perspective God’s message for the writer’s own day and for us today. I am so grateful that God arranged for Max to be the instructor of that course, and for his care and concern that led him to take the time to write a long and carefully crafted letter to a young, growing student. 74

Preparing for a Successor I had been at Rural for nearly two years. There would be a new District Superintendent and I knew he was one who “did not believe in women,” so I knew I would not get an appointment. Also, I knew that I needed to finish my schooling. I needed to have a Bachelor’s Degree. But most of all, I felt that I should get out of the way so a new person could be appointed, and I knew who that should be. Elmer West was the oldest in the West family. I knew him. As a young man, he had a reputation for “sowing wild oats” as the saying went. But during the revival meetings in Bowman which we had attended when I was a child, he had been soundly converted . He turned his life around and had married one of the girls in the church in Bowman. He purchased a farm west of Bowman and for some time had been a leader in the Bowman Church and superintendent of the Sunday School. Now he was feeling God calling him into the full-time ministry of the church. I had heard that Elmer had made a bargain with God saying, “If you will give me a good enough crop to pay off the debt, I’ll sell out and go into the ministry.” Knowing what the churches at Rural and Fort Rice were like, I felt it would be the ideal place for Elmer to begin his ministry. The rural setting would help him to make the transition from being a farmer to being a minister. So I pulled all the strings I knew how to pull, recommending him to the people at Rural and encouraging Rev. Parish to give him a chance. I have no idea whether anything I did made any difference or not, but he was accepted as a supply pastor and appointed to Rural-Fort Rice. All that I had hoped for him and for the churches were fulfilled. He became a very effective minister in the conference. In School Again: Taylor University In those days, one went to Annual Conference and listened to the reading of appointments to hear where you were to be appointed. By the end of conference, I knew I was not appointed and that Elmer West would go to Rural. With no appointment my guidance was sure. I would go to school. The Hutsinpillers very much wanted me to go to Taylor University in Upland, Indiana from which both of them had graduated. It was a private Christian school in which I would be able to study Bible and other Christian studies, which would not be available to me in a state school. Rev. Hutsinpiller wrote recommending me. I applied for some scholarship money and for a work-study job in the library. I got both of them. After I arrived at Taylor, I also secured a job working on Saturdays in the home of Dr. and Mrs. Oscar Williams which provided spending money. Dr. Williams was a retired history professor who came out of retirement to teach again. The war was on and teachers were in short supply. Mrs. Williams had suffered a stroke and was partially paralyzed, so while she could do some housework, she needed assistance with weekly cleaning and baking. Working for the Williams was one of the special blessings of my experience at Taylor. Dr. Williams was a very intelligent, learned man with 75

a deep Christian faith. He blessed my heart more than once and was truly a mentor for me. I did not care deeply for Taylor as most of its students did. Taylor was an extremely conservative school, and while I appreciated the deep Christian commitment of the faculty and the students, I found the “closedminded” attitude toward the Bible, especially that of the Professor of Bible, quite oppressive. At that point, Dr. Williams was especially helpful. He was the only person on the faculty with an earned Doctor’s Degree. While not a Biblical scholar, he had a scholarly mind. After Max Brown had given me freedom to think about the Bible with an open mind, I found myself constantly turning to the Abingdon Bible Commentary and other more liberal writings as the source for term papers. I probably could have returned to Taylor the next year had I really wanted to, but I didn’t. So, after one year, again I was at loose ends. Teaching in my Home School As the summer of 1944 went on, I began to wonder what was next in store for me. The question was answered when Elvis Stearns, our neighbor and brother of my first grade teacher, came and asked me if I would teach the home school. He said the salary would be $75.00 a month. That was more than I had ever earned. I could live at home and give Mother some much needed help. Mother was becoming more crippled all the time. Now she had to use a wheel chair to get around. It seemed that truly this was what I should do. So I signed the contract. It was the ideal answer for my life at that time. I enjoyed being back at teaching. There were many cold and stormy days when no one came to school or only the older children came. But they did well and my diary records the school averaged a 92% one grading period and 94% the next grading period. While I was at Taylor, I had not worked on my conference course of study, nor did they expect me to, but I needed to move forward in it if I were to go on in the ministry. So now I worked diligently. Geneva had a typewriter and was a good typist, so, as I did the written work for the course of study by hand, she typed it and we sent it in. School was out the end of May and I was invited to teach again the next year, but I put off the decision. I was too uncertain of the direction my life should take. I am Ordained Deacon In May 1945, I went to Annual Conference. I had finished the first two years of the Conference Course of Study and had passed all the exams required. I met with the Board of Ministerial Training. Since I was a woman, some were uncertain about granting me the ordination as a Deacon to which I was entitled by having finished two years of the Conference Course of Study. However, after Rev. Parish recommended me highly and I had a conference with Bishop Cushman, I was duly recommended for ordination. The ordination service was held on Saturday evening, May 15, and 76

I was ordained as a local Deacon. John Bowman was the lay delegate from the church in Bowman and he was the first to come forward, congratulate me and shake my hand. That was very meaningful to me. Even though I was ordained, that did not mean I would necessarily be appointed to a church. As a woman, I could not be a member of the Annual Conference. However, Rev. Grunstead, who had been my pastor when I was in high school in Bowman and again while I was in school in Dickinson, was the District Superintendent of the Northern District. That fact would make a profound difference in my life. But I had another job waiting for me as soon as conference was over. Mabel had asked me to come to Igloo, South Dakota, which was a Defense Depot where she and her husband, Lee, were living at that time. I would take care of little Coralee when a new baby was born. It began to be a joke in our family that my sisters had to plan their families around my schedule. First, I had assisted Frances when Averil was born. Then I had taken care of Geneva when George was born, and now I would help Mabel when her second child was born. I got to Igloo on May 22 and Leona was born on May 30. Rev. Tiffany was the Protestant pastor at Igloo. He invited me to preach several times while I was there. My sermons were well received and I always got good comment which was reassuring.

Chapter 13 “NO SKIRTS IN THIS PULPIT” On June 27, 1945, I celebrated my 29th birthday. I realized time was passing and I was still stuck. I was torn between my desire to be a minister and to marry Bob, and I really had little or no control over either. I could not marry unless Bob wanted me, and that became an increasingly open question. I had been ordained a local deacon, but I could not preach unless I was appointed, though more and more it seemed that God used my preaching to reach people. “I can only pray, ‘Thy will be done.’ ” I wrote in my diary. But it was a kind of passive prayer, “God, I don’t know, you decide,” not an active one seeking God’s will. But though I was passive, God was acting. On September 15, I got a letter from Rev. Grunstead. He was appointing me to the churches of Velva, Voltaire and Benedict. He gave me the name of Mr. Otto Gackle as a contact. I had bought a 1939 Plymouth for which I paid $776.00, tax included. It was not a really good car and the tires were poor as I was soon to discover. On Monday, September 17, I loaded up all my personal possessions and started toward Velva, intending to make a stop at Rural on the way. But when I got a little north of Siverson’s, I had a blowout. Richard helped me put on the spare, but I dared not go on without a new tire. So I went to Bowman. One had to have a tire certificate to buy a new tire because of war restrictions. I could not get the needed certificate in Bowman, so went to Buffalo. There, I was able to get the certificate and I purchased the tire. But even more important, I was able to visit with Irene, which was always a blessing. I started on my way again on Wednesday, having spent two days getting my tire. I stopped at Rural visiting at both Unkenholz families and saw Bob for the last time. Friday morning I drove to Velva. As I drove, I prayed. It was not my first appointment to a church, but it was the beginning of a new life. There would be bumps in the road, but the vision was clear. God had called me to the ministry. I would be faithful. I arrived in Velva about 4:00 P.M. Mr. Gackle ran a service station and garage. I went there to introduce myself and to get directions. I learned that the parsonage had been rented to the DeKrey family. I would be staying in the hotel for the time being. He told me the young people were at the church cleaning the basement. He gave me directions to the church so I went over, introduced myself to the youth and pitched in to help with the cleaning. There was to be a sub-district Methodist Youth Fellowship Rally at Velva on Sunday evening and the youth were preparing. It was good to get acquainted with them. Some of the young people went with me to the hotel. I was assigned a room. Saturday was spent unpacking, settling in and preparing for the Sunday services. My first Sunday in my new church was a good one. The Gackles 78

took me to the other churches. The service at Benedict was at 11:00 and at Voltiare at 2:30. We ate a noon lunch in the car as we drove from Benedict to Voltaire. Then I had supper with the Gackles before going to the Methodist Youth Fellowship meeting in the evening. It took me almost no time to become deeply involved in the church. There was a good group of youth and all the various areas of the church functioned well. My housing was something that needed attention, however. At first, I had a room in the hotel, but that did not really give me the space I needed as a pastor. Besides, it was rather costly for the church. There was another old hotel known as “The Russell House” which rented space by the month. I moved there, living in it as long as I was in Velva. The end of November, when I had been at the parish for a little more than two months, I was making calls on members and one of the ladies told me that Mr. Julian had been telling everyone what a good preacher and pastor I was. Mr. Julian was one of the leaders of the church and quite vocal. Then she laughed and told me that when Rev. Grunstead had told them he was appointing a woman as their pastor, Mr Julian had pounded the back of the pew and shouted, “There will be no skirts in this pulpit while I am alive.” Of course, that had not deterred Revered Grunstead, and I was appointed. Mr. Julian was now my firm supporter. During the winter of my second year at Velva, the Voltaire church closed. The chimney was in bad shape and they were afraid to build a fire in the stove lest it start a fire and the building be burned. Most of the members of the church were happy to come to Velva for services. I served two years at Velva, Voltaire and Benedict. They were good years. The churches, except for Voltaire, prospered. I still have friends there who speak of the good experience we had as a church together. A New Appointment The term “Traveling Minister” was very appropriate in the early days of the Methodist Church. John Wesley sometimes moved his ministers as often as every six months and in the forties in North Dakota, two years in one church was considered about right, especially for smaller parishes. So, after two years at Velva, I was moved to Juanita, Grace City and Sutton. While Grace City was the larger church, Juanita was in the center and it was there that the parsonage was located so that was where I lived. Almost as soon as I arrived, I began planning for Vacation Bible Schools at Juanita and Grace City. Both schools were well attended and the children enjoyed their experiences. As the summer was over and the school year started, I began to work on getting a Methodist Youth Fellowship started. The Methodist Youth Fellowship in Velva had been a very vital part of the church and had meant much for the youth. I felt a Youth Fellowship was an important part of any Church. There was no Youth Fellowship in the parish. We decided it would be best to have one group including young people from both the Juanita and Grace City churches. So, I invited the young people of both churches to the parsonage to organize a united Youth Fellowship. 79

There was a good turnout, not only of young people, but of parents as well. Usually, one would be glad for the parental support for the youth, but a problem quickly surfaced. The parents were not only supporting their children, but wanted to take the leadership by being the officers. The youth were intimidated by the overwhelming presence of parents. We did not get much done that first evening. Go Home One Sunday in November when I went to Sutton for church service, no one was in the building when I arrived. However, within a few minutes, the four faithful women had seen my car and so came to the church. “What are you doing here?” one of them asked. “Why, I came for church, of course,” I replied. “Didn’t you hear the weather report?” they asked, almost in chorus. “There is a bad storm coming. You must go home.” “Well, since I am here, can’t we have a service?” I queried. “No, you would be caught in a blizzard on the road. You must go home as fast as you can,” they all urged. However the treasurer suggested that we take the offering, which we did. I drove back to Juanita as fast as I could. As I turned north off the highway to go to Juanita, the blizzard hit. The snow and wind came fast and furious. It was almost impossible to see, and by the time I reached Juanita the snow was deep enough to make driving hazardous. They were right. If I had not gone home immediately, I would never have made it. The Cleveland Conference In October, I had gotten information about a national Methodist Youth Fellowship gathering which was to be held in Cleveland, Ohio. It would gather ten thousand youth and a thousand adult counselors. It was called “The Cleveland Conference.” Outstanding Christian leaders from around the world would be presenting messages. The Conference was to begin two days after Christmas and end with a New Year’s Eve service. We began to make plans for the youth to go. One girl from Juanita and a girl and a boy from Grace City applied. They were accepted. I was also asked to go as an Adult Counselor. We left on the train going to Fargo where we joined other young people from all over North Dakota. In Fargo we had a car that was given entirely to Methodist Youth on their way to Cleveland. In Minneapolis, our car would hook up to a train with a number of cars of Methodist youth from other areas. Other cars would be added along the way. I have no idea how many cars made up the train as we hooked up with others in Chicago. After we left Fargo, we began settling in for the night. The other woman counselor asked me to give the inspirational talk to all of the girls. As I talked to the girls, I reminded them that they were representatives of the Methodist Church and more than that, of all Christian youth and how they acted would be the way people would perceive Christian young people. We read a scripture, had a prayer and settled down to sleep. 80

But that was not what was happening in the back of the car where the boys were gathered. After the lights had been turned off, the boys began throwing water at one another. I became aware of what was happening. I quickly got out of my seat and walked back toward the boys and demanded, “Stop that.” One of the young ministers who was the boys’ counselor replied, “Oh, they have to have some fun,” to which I replied, “They can have fun! But can you imagine what this car will look like by the time we get to Minneapolis if you have a water fight? And what will the railroad officials think of Methodist Youth if this car is vandalized?” Then I gave them much the same talk as I had given the girls. The water fighting stopped and we had no more destruction in the name of “fun.” There were many inspirational speakers as well as some workshops during the conference. The closing service was a very meaningful consecration service ending with Holy Communion. The elements were distributed to all in the huge auditorium. Then exactly at midnight, as the New Year arrived, we all received the bread and cup together. The next day we started home. As we rode, we talked. The workshops had given us new ideas for Methodist Youth Fellowship. The young people were still rather discouraged about being able to have a viable youth group unless somehow youth could have their own organization without being completely dominated by adults. “If you kids will stick with me, I think we can make a change,” I told them. But we did not have an opportunity. We had barely gotten home when we were hit by a massive snowstorm. Snow was three to four feet deep on the level. By the time it thawed, spring work was already late. We never had another youth meeting. Driving in a Tunnel From then on it seemed as if there was a snow storm every weekend. The snowplow usually came through on Monday and opened the road so people could get to town, but this only piled the snow higher along the sides of the road, so much of the time, one drove in a tunnel. I was able to get to Grace City only once after the snow in January until in March. There was one telephone in Juanita and one in Grace City, so that weekend when there was no new snow on Saturday, I called a member in Grace City and told them that, unless it snowed on Sunday, I would be there for church. I could not travel the usual road, but had to go around by the highway, making it a trip of about 15 miles instead of six. We did have a service, though not many attended. I drove back toward Juanita in a tunnel with snow six to ten feet high much of the time. The entrance to the road to Juanita was a mere hole in the tunnel. I didn’t see it. When I got about three miles on down the road, I came to a place where the snow had blown clear and I realized that I was on my way to Sutton. I managed to turn around and start back. This time I watched more carefully and found the entrance. However, since the snowplow had cleared the corner going west, but not going east, I could not make the turn. I had my snow shovel in the trunk of the car. By going back 81

and forth, shoveling ahead and behind and cramping the wheels appropriately each time, after about a half hour of shoveling, I got around the corner and continued on to Juanita. Because of the bad weather that winter, I often substituted in the school for different classes. Teachers living out of town sometimes went home for a weekend, and then when another storm hit, were not able to return until the roads were opened. Since I was qualified educationally, I was often asked to fill in. I taught everything from second grade to High School General Science class. One of the girls from my church was in the General Science class. During the session she told me that at one time a Sunday School teacher had told her that she could not be a Christian and believe what science taught. Her class in General Science troubled her. I was able to help her and from then on, I always tried to help young people in my Confirmation classes to see that there was no real conflict between Christian faith and science when each was rightly understood. Good Friday at Sutton Because of the deep snow, I had not been able to go to Sutton since Christmas. So I decided I would go by train to Sutton for a Good Friday service. I wrote to Violet Taylor and told her I was coming. We would have a Good Friday Communion service at 2:30. So on Good Friday, I took the train to Sutton. I arrived about 2:30 and started walking from the depot to the church. As I passed the store, I saw Marie Bailey sitting in the window, so I went in. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I came for church. Didn’t you get the letter?” “No. To whom did you send it?” she asked. “Violet Taylor,” I replied. “Oh, Violet is in Hannaford visiting her daughter,” Marie told me. “We can’t have a service in the church,” Marie said. “We could never get it warm and there is no electricity in the church to provide light for an evening service.” After a moment she continued, “I think we could get the City Hall. They have been working on it, so it is warm. You go up to the house and I will see what I can do.” So, I went on up to her house while she arranged to use the City Hall for a service. She sent little boys all over town to tell people there would be a Good Friday worship service there at 7:00 P.M. The hall was quite well filled, mostly with Lutherans. Their pastor, who also came from another town, had not been able to hold a service since Christmas either. So the Lutherans, who had a much larger congregation, were very glad to have a worship service. I changed my plans and did not have communion, since they could not have participated. But we did have a good worship service.

Chapter 14 A NEW DIRECTION A new District Superintendent was being appointed at the Annual Conference in 1948. I felt sure I would not be given an appointment to a church. Besides, I had decided it was time to finish my college work. I needed to have a Bachelor’s Degree if I ever intended to do anything worthwhile with my life. My parents had moved to Spearfish in 1946 and they lived very near to the college. It would be easy to live at home and attend college. However, at Annual Conference, Dr. C. A. Armstrong, who was the Executive Secretary for the North Dakota Interchurch Council, approached me. He asked if I would become a Field Worker for the Interchurch Council. I would travel the state speaking and working on programs as well as encouraging support for the Interchurch Council. I told him I was planning to finish my college. So he suggested I work through the summer. It would give us both an opportunity to evaluate. That was a very good summer and I thoroughly enjoyed my work. It gave me many opportunities to preach and almost always I received some words of affirmation for my sermons. Dr. Armstrong felt good about my work and assured me I would have a place when I finished my degree in November of 1949. Working with the Methodist Youth Fellowship In the fall, I returned to Spearfish to enroll in the college. Very shortly after I arrived in Spearfish, Rev. Hepler, who was pastor of the Spearfish church at that time, came to my parent’s home to see me. “Would you be willing to act as advisor for the Junior High Methodist Youth Fellowship?” He asked. He talked about what it would entail and I immediately said, “Yes.” He wrote to all of the youth inviting them to come on Sunday evening for an organizational meeting. The first Sunday, there were only four girls in attendance. We just talked about what MYF was and what we might do. One of the girls lived just down the street at the end of the block from where I lived. We walked home together. The next week, there were twelve young people. The group continued to grow during the year. We soon had an average attendance of 18 to 20 which included Junior High youth from other churches or those who attended no church as well as Methodists. Even though I was in summer school at the college during the summer, I got permission to be absent for one week while I attended camp with the young people. I was a counselor in the girls’ cabin where my girls were assigned. Of course, there were also girls from other towns. The first full day of camp as I went to my cabin, I found a little girl in tears. “What is the matter?” I asked. “Nobody likes me,” she responded. 83

As I visited with her, I discovered she was the only one at the camp from her church. So I said, “It is not that nobody likes you. It is just that nobody knows you.” The young people were just lining up for lunch. I broke the rules and broke the line, putting her between two of my girls. “This is Kay,” I told them, “and she is lonesome.” That was enough. Dolly and Norma took over. Ordained as an Elder During the years that I was appointed at the parish at Velva and Juanita and my year at Black Hills College, I continued working on my Conference Course of Study. By Annual Conference in 1949, I had completed all the requirements and so was eligible for ordination as an Elder. On June 4, 1949, at the Annual Conference in Jamestown, North Dakota, I was ordained by Bishop Ralph S. Cushman as an Elder in the Methodist Church. The ordination, while technically giving me full rights as a minister, really changed very little. As a Deacon, I had been granted the right to perform the sacraments in my own church. But as a woman, I could not be a member of the Annual Conference, and ordination as an Elder did not change that. So, instead of feeling elated, I felt somewhat depressed. Employed at the North Dakota Interchurch Council In November, I returned to Fargo where I was employed as the Field Worker for the North Dakota Interchurch Council. There were four denominations which formed the backbone of the Interchurch Council. They were Baptist, Congregational, Methodist and Presbyterian churches. The Council had started as a Sunday School Union initiated by the International Sunday School Union whose purpose was to start Sunday Schools in areas where there were no churches. After he had graduated from seminary, the Rev. C. A. Armstrong had served the church at Juanita for three years. He had then been asked to become the first director of the newly organized North Dakota Sunday School Union in 1919. He had continued in that position from then on. The organization had gone through several name changes in those thirty years, and now was the North Dakota Interchurch Council, whose stated purpose was to make possible, doing together, those tasks that could best be accomplished through interdenominational cooperation. Christian Education was still an important part of its work. Training of teachers for Christian Education was one of the major programs of the Interchurch Council. So every spring, five centers around the state were chosen as sites for Vacation Bible School Institutes. Planning for and directing this was one of my assignments. Another project in the area of Christian Education which fell under my job description was the annual “School of Christian Education” which was held in Fargo-Moorhead, sponsored jointly by the North Dakota Interchurch Council and a Fargo-Moorhead Council. I was the one making the calls to 84

secure leaders, making up the publicity brochures and caring for final detailed arrangements. I thoroughly enjoyed it and learned a great deal about care for details, and about writing and putting together brochures. Of course, Dr. Armstrong, with his many years of experience, was always there to approve all I did, make suggestions or give support. Speaking was another important aspect of my work. Many Sundays I would be out of the city speaking in churches across the state. This meant a lot of travel by bus or train, which I enjoyed. It also gave me opportunities to preach quite regularly and it almost always brought affirmation of my sermons. One Sunday I was preaching at Mott, North Dakota. After the service, a little girl about ten or eleven years old came to me. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “I didn’t know women could be preachers,” she said. “I’m going to be a minister when I grow up,” she announced proudly. “I hope you can,” I told her. “It is a wonderful thing.” I did not tell her of the difficulties women faced. Maybe things would have changed by the time she was grown. “Thus Sayeth The Lord” “Thus sayeth the Lord.” How many times we read this in the Bible! But did God quit speaking when the Bible was finished? I don’t think so. God usually speaks to us in our day, through the scriptures if and when we read, study, and obey as well as through sermons, other written materials or friends and family. But several times in my life, God has spoken to me right out loud in words. One such time was when I was working for the North Dakota Interchurch Council. I was going to Cando, which was in the northwest corner of the state. It was a day long trip from Fargo to Cando on the train. After I settled into my seat, I took out my Bible and my sermon notebook to work on my sermon. Then I heard God speak. “That isn’t what I want you to say. Here is what should be your message.” Then in a flash, I got the outline of the sermon. I Prayer doesn’t change God’s mind. II Prayer does change you. III Prayer changes things. And then I began to have insights, not in words now, but in thoughts that I could put into words. The insight was clear. Prayer is effective because through prayer we become channels of God’s power. We, through our contact with God, are able to release God’s power to the object of our prayer. It is like hooking a hose up to the water faucet, and turning the water to the rose in the middle of your garden. Hooking up the hose does not, in the least, change the amount of water available at the faucet, but it does make it available to the plant toward which you direct it, something which is not possible without the hose. Similarly, this is why prayer is effective. As we pray, we make God’s power available to those for whom we pray. Then, just as God spoke to Amos as he saw the plumb line, (See 85

Amos 7:7ff), I saw something through which God spoke to me. As we pulled into the depot in one of the towns through which we passed, I saw a flat bed being loaded with crushed automobiles. There was an electro-magnetic crane that picked the crushed cars off the vehicle that had carried them to the rail yard. One by one, the cars were lifted and carried to the flat bed by the electro-magnetic crane and placed carefully. Then the electricity was turned off and the crushed cars were released to settle down on the others. As we sat in the depot, two or three crushed autos were moved. Again, I saw an illustration of prayer. Like the electricity, God’s power flows through us (the electro-magnetic crane), making possible action that could not take place without the crane. But the electricity is needed for the electromagnetic crane to accomplish the task. Prayer is effective because human beings become the conductor, like the hose or the electro-magnetic crane, while God is the power, like the water or the electricity. Each needs the other. My Mother Dies When I came on the staff of the Interchurch Council, the secretary and I decided to rent an apartment together. One Sunday evening in May, the lady who lived above us came to call me for a long-distance telephone call. It was my sister Frances, who lived in Aberdeen, calling to tell me that Mother was dying and the family wanted me to come home. I called the bus depot and learned that there was an 8:00 P.M. bus which would get into Jamestown about 10:00 P.M. We decided that Frances’ husband, Roy, would drive to Jamestown to meet me and bring me to Aberdeen. We would then drive to Spearfish. I later learned that when Dad had tried to call me, he had been told that the telephone operator could not give out the number of the other family living at my address. So he called Frances, told her that Mother was dying and left it up to her to get hold of me. When Frances set her mind to something, nothing stopped her. She, like Dad, called the long distance operator and asked to be connected to the phone in the house at my address. Again, the operator had insisted “It is against the rules. We cannot give you that number.” To this Frances had replied, “Listen! Her mother is dying and we have to get in touch with her. Call that number!” The operator did and I was contacted. Roy and I arrived in Aberdeen about midnight. Frances was ready to leave and we continued on, arriving in Spearfish about six in the morning. Dad had called Mabel in the afternoon, and she and her husband, Lee, had arrived about supper time. Willis went up to Siverson’s and brought Geneva down, so only Frances and I were not with Mother when she died. Some days earlier, Mother had taken a bad fall when she attempted to get into the wheelchair in the middle of the night. She missed the wheelchair and landed on the floor badly bruising her hip. On Sunday, May 20, she did not feel able to go to church. By the time Dad got home from church, Mother was experiencing a great deal of 86

pain. Dad called the doctor who, without seeing her, diagnosed the problem as indigestion. Several hours later, Dad called the doctor again. “What is the problem?” the doctor asked. “We don’t know. That is why we need you,” Dad replied. When the doctor took Mother’s vital signs, he was aware that it was a heart problem. “Her heart is not strong enough to push the blood through broken blood vessels in her bruised hip,” the doctor said. “We could take her up to Deadwood to the hospital, but Deadwood is enough higher so it would make it even worse.” There was no hospital in Spearfish at that time. That was in 1950, and medical practices were not as advanced as they are today. So Mother passed away at home. The week before was Mother’s Day and I had sent Mother a telegram as my Mother’s Day gift. She wrote on Wednesday, “Thank you so much for your lovely message. I was sitting here all alone when the phone rang and so I got it.” I was so glad she had received my message of love and appreciation. She died just a week later. We committed our mother to God’s care and after a beautiful service, we children all went our various ways. Dad continued to live in the house for more than 10 years. “The best thing I ever did for you kids was to choose a wonderful mother for you,” Dad often said. I am Asked to Leave Early in November of 1950, after I had been with the Interchurch Council for about a year, Dr. Armstrong called me into his office and asked me to shut the door. This was unusual. I could tell by the look on his face that something was wrong. “This is very hard for me,” he said, “but I am going to have to ask you to resign.” I am sure that my face also registered my amazement and dismay. He went on, “It is a choice between you and my happy home.” Then he explained that his wife had asked him to get rid of me. His mother-in-law lived with them, and she had persuaded his wife that Dr. Armstrong was too fond of me. So he asked me to resign. Of course I did. I had been very happy in that job. In many ways it met all of my needs. But when it closed, God opened another door for me. Back to Teaching It so happened that the rural school attended by the children of the sister of one of my parishioners at Rural became open just at that time. The teacher had resigned. I was told about the opening. I applied and was accepted. It was a very interesting experience. One family in the school consisted of two unusually bright boys. There was another family with four children in the school who were all mentally-challenged. One of the girls, who was 12 years old, functioned at a four-to-eight year old level. An older girl had failed to pass eighth grade arithmetic the year before. I encouraged her to return to school full-time and study eighth grade arithmetic and take a ninth grade English class by correspondence from the college in Fargo. I enjoyed the teaching. The challenge of the very bright little first 87

grade boy who was learning along with every other class in school, and trying to help the slower children learn and to keep up to grade was exciting and very challenging. I did not apply to teach it again for, while I enjoyed teaching, I was called to be a minister, and I wanted to do that.

Chapter 15 GOD OPENS AND CLOSES DOORS When school was out, I returned home to Spearfish. Again, I acted as counselor for the youth at the church camp, and of course became active in the church. The pastor at that time was Dr. Revely Hallett, who was an excellent pastor. However, he had serious heart problems and so was somewhat limited in his physical ability. Split Personality? Since much of my life had been centered around school, and summer was vacation time, I had not been too concerned about my next step. However, I believe God had a plan. Shortly before school opened in the fall, Dr. Russell Jonas, the President of Black Hills State University (which it has now become), called on me. He asked if I would be willing to teach half-time in the Laboratory School at the college. There were not enough student teachers to teach all the classes in the Laboratory School. They needed a person with a teaching certificate to teach several of the classes in the sixth and seventh grades. He asked if I would take the job. My immediate reply was, “Yes, if I can work in the church the other half-time.” I had decided that I was never going to be able to be a pastor. Appointments were too determined by the attitude of the District Superintendents. So I thought if I could be a Director of Christian Education, I could work within the church. But I also knew that I needed experience to get a job in a church large enough to need a Director of Christian Education. “I think that can be arranged,” Dr. Jonas replied. He was chairman of the Official Board at the Methodist Church, so he called a meeting and I was hired by the church for half-time work. As it turned out, I worked halftime in the Laboratory School and full-time at the church. I began again working with the youth, many of whom had been in the youth group when I had been there two years earlier. We had fun. We met twice a week. On Thursdays after school, we met for fun activities and on Sunday evenings, we had lessons and worship. The young people had their officers and they planned the activities. The Youth Fellowship continued to grow. Working with Dr. Hallett was pure joy. I prayed for him and for his health constantly. I think we all felt it was prayer that kept him alive. I learned much from him. Now and then, when he was not able, I preached, but mostly, I just tried to carry as much of the load as possible so that he would not be burdened. I Consider Another Way While I had been in Spearfish finishing my college work, I had met Ben Johnson at the Church District Conference in the fall of 1948. Like me, he was not married. I think both of us felt a friendship could be mutually valuable. I began to think “Maybe, just maybe, this is the way I can fulfill my 89

ministry. If I could marry a minister and we could share the responsibilities of the church together, I could be in ministry.” We wrote to one another frequently. As we wrote back and forth, I learned that while he should have finished the third year of the Conference Course of Study in 1948, he had not. The Board of Ministerial Training was pushing him hard. I was working on my fourth year of the Conference Course of Study. I tried to encourage him in every way I could, but I was not successful. At Annual Conference in 1949, he left the ministry. I lost track of him. When I was back in Spearfish working in the Laboratory School at the college and at the church, I met another unmarried minister. His name was John Zemanek. We saw one another at district church meetings. John apparently began to think I would make a good preacher’s wife. He began to actively court me, coming to Spearfish to see me on a few occasions, though it was a long trip from Pringle where he was appointed. But the better I knew him, the more certain I was that I couldn’t marry him. I evaluated carefully. Intellectually, I was not stimulated by our conversations. I felt no emotional attraction to him. Physically, I was not aroused by him. The only reason for our relationship was that I wanted to marry a minister. He was definitely not the one. However, when he came to see me in Spearfish, he affirmed, “God told me I should marry you.” “If God wanted us to marry, I think he would have told me too,” I replied, “and he has not.” That was the last time I saw him. He moved out of the conference a little later. After he had gone, one of the other ministers who knew we had dated for a while told me that John said, “I’d handle a wife. I’d just keep her pregnant all the time.” I was glad I had not agreed to marriage. Navajo Methodist Mission School Dr. Hallett had seen an appeal for teachers at the Navajo Methodist Mission School in Farmington, New Mexico. He felt I should apply. I did and was accepted, so traveling by bus, I went from Spearfish to Farmington. I had arrived a few days before school started, so joined the other faculty women and staff in canning tomatoes which had been grown on the farm. Working with us was Annette Begay, who would be in my seventh grade class when school opened a few days later. Two of the faculty had been trying to learn to speak Navajo with Annette as their informant. They were constantly asking Annette for Navajo words. She was clearly getting tired and wanted a break, so when one of them asked her to come join them, she answered them in Navajo. “She says she doesn’t want to,” I said. Everyone looked at me in amazement. On my third day, I was interpreting Navajo. Annette was especially amazed for that was exactly what she had said. Of course, I was not actually interpreting the Navajo language. I was interpreting her body language. Working with persons of a totally different culture was a new 90

experience for me. It wasn’t long before I began to have some uneasy feelings about the way the children were being weaned away from their culture and roots. In the years since then, my experience makes me question it even more. Perhaps what happened for me was more important than anything I did for the young people in my class. I was deeply concerned for Dr. Hallett’s health, and I felt the need for a prayer partner. I approached Margaret Kelly, the little boy’s house-mother. Her day off was Saturday, so I went to her one Saturday after I had been there only a short time. I asked, “Would you pray with me?” Her immediate response was, “Is it for healing?” I told her, “Yes,” and then shared with her my concern for Dr. Hallett. From then on we met every Saturday and spent hours together in prayer, not only for Dr. Hallett, but for many things. It was the richest prayer experience of my life. Another “No” As the year neared its close, I received word that the Board of Missions in New York had decided that they would not hire contract workers, which I was, but only Deaconesses and Home Missionaries. (Single women were consecrated as Deaconesses and married women and men were Home Missionaries.) So, I applied to become a deaconess. Twila Hahn, who worked at Bisti out on the reservation, and I flew from Farmington to Denver to be interviewed for acceptance as deaconesses. It was the first flight for both of us and Twila became quite air-sick. The interview was interesting. Both Twila and I felt confident that we had been accepted. However, that was not God’s plan for me. When I got my letter from New York, I was told, “You want to be a minister, not a deaconess.” And so I was rejected. I had told them about conducting a communion service for the young people in my class. Of course, that was legitimate because I was ordained. But that was not the task of a deaconess. Yes, I wanted to be a minister. That was what I had felt called to do. But how could I be faithful to my call? I had begun to think that it might be as a deaconess that I could serve Christ and the church. As a deaconess, I would have official standing in the church. That I should be a deaconess was what I had been told back at camp in Pactola after I had finished my first year of college. Had I missed the way? I didn’t really think so, but I could not see the way ahead. I often compare what happened in my life with the experience of Paul as recorded in the sixteenth chapter of Acts when he was hindered from going east, but rather was sent into Europe. For Paul, it was life changing, but also the course of history was determined. For me, it set the direction of my life also. When God said “No” to my marriage, and now again when he said “No” to my becoming a deaconess, the course of my life was determined. Women would have gained full recognition as ministers without me, but I 91

would not have had a personal part in it. I would probably never have gone to the Philippines with all that experience meant for me, had God not said “No” to those two sincere prayers. God’s “No” has been as important as God’s “Yes.”

Chapter 16 I GO TO A LARGE CHURCH A New Experience Having had the door of service as a deaconess closed, and with the problems I faced in being a minister under appointment, I began to think, again, about being a Director of Christian Education. I thought of First Methodist in Fargo. I had enjoyed the church in Fargo when I had been living there working in the Interchurch Council. Dr. C. Maxwell Brown was the new pastor at First Methodist. We were friends. First Methodist in Fargo was a large church and I felt sure it could use a Director of Christian Education. I knew that it would be very different from the work in Spearfish, but I had gained experience in Spearfish and it gave me some foundation. My friend, Betty DeKrey, lived in Fargo. Betty and I had shared an apartment when I was in Fargo before. I called her and told her about my desire to work in the church in Fargo. “Come,” she said. “You can live with Dorothy and me. We have a three bedroom apartment. If you don’t get a job at the church, I’ll give you a job at Herbst.” It was a large department store in Fargo where Betty was the Personnel Manager at that time. I think we both expected that I would be able to work at the church. So I went. I visited with Dr. Brown about working as a Director of Christian Education. He was very much interested, and felt that it would be very helpful to the church. Of course, he had to present it to the Official Board, but he felt quite sure it would work out. “We have a half salary in the budget for a Financial Secretary which is not being used. If you would be willing to work as a Director of Christian Education for that salary until the end of the year and do some work as Financial Secretary as well, I think it can be arranged. Since you are a minister, the church would pay your rent.” I had never been concerned about salary. And with my housing provided, I was sure everything would be okay. All I wanted was the opportunity to serve. First Methodist was a large church. At that time it had one-tenth of all the Methodists in North Dakota. It had nearly 2,000 members when I began my work and more than 2,000 when I left. The average attendance at Sunday School was about 250 when I went on staff. I had been on the staff for only a month or so when we received notice of a nationwide conference for Directors of Christian Education to be held in Cincinnati, Ohio. Both Dr. Brown and Rev. Pilgrim, the Associate Pastor, felt I should go. So the church paid my way. It was a good conference and I learned much from the planned program and also as I associated with others who had been educated for the task and who had experience in the field. The first evening we were seated at tables for four for the evening 93

meal. At the table to which I was assigned were three women and one man. We were asked to introduce ourselves, get acquainted and share interesting experiences. As we introduced ourselves, the gentleman at our table said, with a certain amount of pride, “I’m a Minister of Education.” “So am I,” I responded, although I would never have thought of saying it had he not said it first. “I don’t believe in women ministers,” he retorted. “A woman might have a baby.” “A man might have a heart attack,” I replied without thinking. He looked a little as if I had slapped him, and he did not reply. Later, I learned he had suffered a heart attack and been on disability leave for about a year, much longer than a maternity leave would have been. I quickly settled into the task of Director of Christian Education. I set up departmental meetings, had teacher training classes and worked with the Christian Education Department of the Interchurch Council and the Fargo-Moorhead Christian Council on a city-wide teacher training school held each year. I continued as Director of Christian Education at Fargo for six years. The Sunday School grew rapidly. Part of it was because I was able to give direction and so the Sunday School improved. But the increase was probably mostly due to the fact that the Baby Boomers were being born. Finding enough teachers was one of the most difficult tasks. Recruiting and guiding the more than 100 teachers and staff who were needed was a big job. I learned then that “God is never in a hurry, but God is never too late.” I often made call after call, only to find the right person at the last minute. There was a large area known as White Hall that had originally been planned for youth. The room had never been painted and so the walls had slowly become a dull gray. As the number of children steadily increased, the number of classes and space needed to accommodate them also increased. We proposed that White Hall might become the space for the Primary Department. It was remodeled and folding doors were installed to make classrooms. This helped, but the Sunday School continued to grow. In order to care for all the children, we decided we needed to run two sessions of Sunday School. We already had two worship services, one at 9:30 and the other at 11:00. Sunday School ran concurrently with the 9:30 worship service. Most of the young families attended the 9:30 service with their children in Sunday School and the adults in worship. Now we would also have Sunday School at 11:00. The enrollment had passed the 600 mark and average attendance was about 525. Even with two sessions of Sunday School, the rooms were crowded. A New Church is Started When having two sessions of Sunday School still did not 94

sufficiently relieve the congestion, Dr. Norman Krong, who was the Chairman of the Christian Education Committee, Dr. Brown and I began talking about the possibility of starting a Sunday School on the north side of Fargo. The Christian Education Committee discussed and planned. The Official Board considered the proposal and approved. The District Superintendent, who lived in Fargo and who attended First Church when in the city, gave his blessing. We got permission to hold Sunday School in a school building on the north side of town. After due consideration by all involved, it was decided it would be best to start a new church on the north side as well as a Sunday School. On the first Sunday of January, 1955, the first Sunday School classes and worship service were held in Ben Franklin Junior High School in North Fargo. Rev. Walter Pilgrim, the Associate Pastor at First Church, was the preacher. We were able to purchase a small Lutheran Church which would become the building for the new church. On Easter Sunday, April 10, 1955, the persons who were to become charter members of the newly-formed Faith Methodist Church attended the 9:30 service at First Methodist Church. They were then dismissed from First Church. At 11:00, they were received as charter members of Faith Methodist. Seventy-six were transferred from First, and four were received on confession of faith. I divided my time between the two Sunday Schools, giving guidance to both. When we made the annual report at Conference for 1955, we still had an average attendance of just under 500 in the Sunday School at First Church and over 100 in average attendance in the Sunday School at Faith, or more than 600 in all. A Master’s Degree North Dakota Agricultural College, soon to become North Dakota State University, was located in Fargo. After I had finished a year’s work at the church in Fargo, I felt very comfortable. I had established a pattern of work. With the college located in Fargo, I thought that if I carried a light load, I should be able to begin work on a Master’s Degree without jeopardizing my work at the church. I talked it over with Max and he gave his hearty approval. The official board also gave me permission to study. So, in the fall of 1954, I enrolled at North Dakota Agricultural College in a Master of Science Degree Program, with a composite major of Education and Psychology. I was very interested in the training of Sunday School teachers. So, after completing the classes needed to prepare for the writing of a thesis, I began my thesis at the opening of my second year. It was entitled “The Training of Sunday School Teachers in the Dakotas Area of the Methodist Church.” Dr. Norman Krong, a professor in the Education Department at the college, who was also the Chairman of our Christian Education Committee at First Church and who became the Sunday School Superintendent at the new Faith Methodist Church was the advisor for my thesis. 95

I very much enjoyed collecting, recording and evaluating the information I gathered for writing my thesis. Especially delightful were my weekly meetings with Dr. Krong as my advisor. He was very much interested in my study, gave me guidance as to the methods of gathering information, rejoiced with me at the amazing response I got from the questionnaire I sent out and in every way supported me. However, while Dr. Krong was my advisor, I was also his advisor. Since we were also both working on the establishment of the new church, we usually divided the time together about in half. Half of the time would be spent discussing the thesis while Dr. Krong acted as my advisor, and the other half discussing problems and progress of the Sunday School and new church during which time I was in the role of advisor. The fact that I was older than he while he had more education than I and that we each highly respected the other probably made the flipping of roles not only possible, but enjoyable. I finished my degree and graduated on May 17, 1956. It had been a very valuable experience. Victory at Last! May of 1956 was an exciting month for me. I graduated from North Dakota Agricultural College with a Master of Science Degree major in Education and Psychology. Annual Conference would begin on May 22nd. The General Conference, which had met in Minneapolis two weeks earlier, had finally passed the legislation that would allow women to become full members of the Annual Conference. After considering it for two quadrenniums, I had written suggested legislation that would have permitted women to be full members of Annual Conferences on a par with the men. Sometime early in the year, I had sent my proposal to Dr. Harold Huff, who was our ministerial delegate to General Conference and was a good friend. We served together on the Conference Board of Christian Education. In those days, memorials (that is proposed legislation) were hand-carried to General Conference and proposed by the individual. Dr. Huff returned my memorial to me with the message, “I am sorry, I cannot sponsor this at General Conference. I do not believe in women ministers.” I felt like someone had stuck a pin in my balloon. However, again God was working without me. Dr. Georgia Harkness and Dr. James Chubb, along with others, had been working for several quadrenniums to secure full membership and recognition of women as ministers in the church. That year, they succeeded in getting the legislation passed. When I arrived at Annual Conference, which was held in First Methodist Church in Grand Forks on May 22, 1956, there was a lot of excitement. The North Dakota Annual Conference hoped to have the first women received into membership in an Annual Conference. I was quickly sent to keep a doctor’s appointment already made for me by the Conference Board of Ministerial Training, so that I could have the physical 96

exam required for membership and reception with the Annual Conference. The Conference Board of Ministerial Training met in special session to approve me. Now I was received with open arms. After the opening worship, the conference adjourned for an executive session where they voted to accept me “on trial” into the Annual Conference. There was discussion about receiving me into full membership. “We know her character and her work. She has been ‘on trial’ for more than ten years,” some said. However, the decision was that I should be received “on trial” according to the usual procedure. The rest of the candidates, who were men, were received several days later. After the vote, which was unanimous, had been taken, the full conference was reconvened. I was asked and responded to the historic questions which are required of all persons who are received into the Annual Conference. Then Bishop Voigt called me to join him on the platform. He said, “We are proud to have Miss Huck as a member of the conference, not only because of her distinction of being the first woman so honored, but because she has done such splendid work in every undertaking which has been given to her. Her zeal is untiring, and her devotion to Christ and to the church is a challenge to us all.” Dr. James Chubb was our Conference Speaker that year. He had been very instrumental in getting the legislation passed which made it possible for women to become full members of the Annual Conference. He stood beside Bishop Voigt and welcomed me. Then he spoke about how very pleased he was to be present in the North Dakota Annual Conference when the first woman was received into an Annual Conference. A picture of Bishop Voigt, Dr. Chubb and me appeared in the June 7th issue of the “Christian Advocate” which was the national Methodist magazine. It was truly a victory for me! But I think that one of the things I most enjoyed was that as we went through the cafeteria line at noon, I found myself next to Dr. Huff, who heartily congratulated me. Neither of us mentioned the memorial which I had sent to him. I am sure he truly did accept me. We must never say that things cannot be changed by legislation. The “Christian Advocate” was not the only publication which told the story. There were reporters from the “Grand Forks Herald,” “The Fargo Forum,” and even the “Minneapolis Star Journal” who came to interview me and run stories about my being the first woman to be received into membership in a Methodist Annual Conference. The KFGO radio station also named me as “Woman of the Week” and presented me with a beautiful orchid. When the June 7th issue of the “Christian Advocate” arrived, however, we discovered that Mrs. Maud Jensen, wife of the Rev. Kris Jensen, missionaries serving in Korea, had been received on trial, in absentia, into the Central Pennsylvania Conference on May 18th. I had been received into the North Dakota Conference on May 22nd. Mrs. Jensen was quoted in the June 7, 1956 issue of the “Christian 97

Advocate” as saying, “I am deeply grateful for the privilege, but the honor was completely unexpected and due entirely to the early meeting of my Annual Conference. I feel that Georgia Harkness and other active women ministers deserve first recognition after their long struggle and able contributions to the church.” As time went on, Maud Jensen and I become rather close personal friends. As we visited one time she told me that she had never received an appointment from an Annual Conference, nor served under an Annual Conference. All her service and appointments were under the Board of Missions. Later, after we had both retired and I visited her in her home in Madison, N.J. the subject came up again, and she said, “As I reflect on it, I am not at all sure it was really completely legal. I did not apply to be received into an Annual Conference, nor did I ever reply to the historic questions required for acceptance into an Annual Conference. And it never made any difference in my life.” “It didn’t make much difference in my life, either at the time,” I told her. “But it made a great deal of difference when I got to the Philippines, and because I was a full member of the Annual Conference, my membership helped to make it possible for a new Annual Conference to be formed.” On May 22nd, Miss Grace W. Weaver was also received on trial into the Idaho Conference, but later in the day than I, partly due to being in another time zone. She was ordained Elder at that time. The “Christian Advocate” article reported that four more women were received into the Maine Annual Conference at its meeting in 1956. They were Gertrude G. Harris, Alice T. Hart, Esther A. Haskard and Margaret K. Hendrichsen. Mrs. Hendrichsen of North Sullivan, Maine, who had been a Supply Pastor since 1944, was well known for her book, My Seven Steeples. Georgia Harkness never asked for membership in an Annual Conference because she felt that for her, as a seminary professor, it was inappropriate and not needed. Two things were changed by my conference membership. My appointment was by the Bishop and I was listed as one of the ministers appointed to First Methodist. The second was that I could vote in the Annual Conference. My years at First Methodist in Fargo were very important years in my life and I learned a great deal. They were good years. Dr. Brown said to me some years later, “The six years we worked together in Fargo were the best years of my ministry.”

PART 3 And I said, “Here am I; send me!”

Isaiah 6:8b

On the ship leaving for the Philippines, August 10, 1960 Carol Moe, Betty Rogers, Grace Huck

Harris Memorial School, 1960 100

Missionary House-mates at Harris, 1960 Grace, Libby, Doris and Janice

Grace and Libby

Harris Memorial School Faculty circa 1963. Dr. Prudencia Fabro, third from left, in front row.

With Freshman Girls 101

Greeting girls returning for classes

Field work Conference

Praying with a Girl in My Deanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Office 1970 102

In My Room at Harris

A Christmas Star at Children’s Garden, Taytay, Rizal, Philippines (See p. 120) With Rev. Paul Locke A Granadosin Later he became a Bishop

Grace with Children at Children’s Garden, Taytay, Rizal, Philippines 103

Chapter 17 A TURN IN THE ROAD I Meet Libby Little did I realize what an important part Libby would play in my life when I met her in 1951. Libby had been a missionary in China who had come home after spending 20 months under Communist rule. She felt she could no longer serve effectively and was creating a problem for her Chinese friends. I was working with Dr. Hallett in the church in Spearfish when a letter came from the Student Volunteer Association asking that we give assistance. The letter told us that the Association was sending a young woman, Miss Elizabeth C. Johannaber, a missionary who had served in China, to visit college campuses with the hope of recruiting young people who might be potential missionaries. They asked if we could arrange for her to spend a few days living in the dormitory where she might meet and get acquainted with college students. I met her when she arrived and took her to the women’s dormitory at Black Hills Teachers College. I had already made arrangements with them for her to carry out her assignment. She was to go from Spearfish to Rapid City to the School of Mines there. However, the Rapid City pastor had written saying that they could not accommodate her. That word did not reach her until she was in Spearfish. This meant she had two or three days before she was to go on to her next appointment. We spent those days together sight-seeing in Spearfish and the Black Hills. The time together began a friendship that has lasted throughout our lives. Later Libby was sent to the Philippines as a missionary. We wrote to each other occasionally during that time and when she came home on furlough in February of 1958, she wrote giving me her home address. I wanted very much to see her again and to renew our friendship. I suggested that she might come to Fargo to speak, but that was not an assignment by the board so it was not possible. So I wrote, “Libby, I just can’t let you go back to the Philippines without seeing you. I’ll come as far as Minneapolis or even Chicago if you could meet me somewhere.” We arranged to meet at the home of one of her friends in St. Paul. I took the bus to St. Paul. The next day Libby and I visited, she telling me about her life and work in the Philippines, and I telling her about my work at First Methodist in Fargo. “Your training and experience is exactly what we need at Harris,” she told me. “Would you be willing to write to the Board and offer your services?” My immediate response was that I would love to go. But I was not sure I should just offer, so I replied, “No, I don’t think I want to offer.” “Well, would you mind if I wrote and told them about you?” “That would be fine,” I told her. “Then if they want me, I would love to go.” 104

So after a day of visiting, I returned to Fargo and waited with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. How long I waited, I really don’t know, but it seemed like ages. Finally I had a letter asking me to fill out the application form. I learned that they had written to the bishop to get his recommendation before asking me. That was why it had taken so long. As the correspondence with the Board of Missions progressed, Annual Conference was held. The bishop expected me to go as a missionary so I was not re-appointed to Fargo. I was appointed to two small churches, Hope and Finley for a month of service. Preparing for Acceptance as a Missionary Before I would go for my final interview as a missionary candidate I was required to have a complete battery of physical and psychological examinations. I had my physical in Fargo and passed with no problem. Then I was sent to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota for the psychological exams. They insisted that they must also give me a thorough physical examination, so I passed that twice. The psychological examination was really interesting. It was very thorough. I think I was given every test they could think of and after having received a master’s degree with a composite major in Education and Psychology, I had seen most and even given some of the tests. This made the process all the more interesting. After two days of examinations, I met with the chief psychologist. He was very frank, telling me that I was a very intelligent and well-adjusted young woman. Then he asked, “Are you happy?” “I think so,” I replied. “Why?” he queried. “Well, I have work to do which I feel is important and which I very much enjoy. I have the love and respect of most of the people who know me.” I knew what he was getting at, so I continued, “ Of course, I am not married and sometimes I miss it desperately. But you can’t have everything in life, and I think I am as happy or happier than my married sisters.” He looked at me and said, “My dear young woman, if there were more like you, there would be fewer sitting across the table from me.” I had to have an interview with members of the Women’s Division of the Board of Missions before I could be accepted. I was told I could meet with them in either Chicago or Nashville. I chose Nashville, since if I were accepted, I would be going to Scarritt College in Nashville, Tennessee, for special study in preparation for my missionary work. I took the bus to Nashville, taking with me the things I would need if I were accepted and would attend Scarritt College. The interview was an affirming experience. I was accepted as a missionary candidate. I Make a Decision Before classes started a number of staff members from the Board of Missions in New York came to Scarritt. They planned a picnic on the lawn 105

for the potential missionaries and the Crusade Scholars who were attending Scarritt. (Crusade Scholars were overseas students on scholarship from the Board of Missions studying in the U.S. in preparation for specialized ministries in their own countries when they had finished their studies.) I had intended to go to the Philippines. That was the task for which Libby had recruited me. However, Miss Billingsly, the executive secretary for Korea, talked to me. She said I could make a real contribution in the seminary in Seoul, Korea. My uncle and aunt had been missionaries in Korea and the thought of going to the country where they had served intrigued me. Now I was not sure. Miss French, who was the executive secretary for the Philippines had, of course, met and visited with me. Both told me that it was my choice. God could use me in either place, and I would make a valuable contribution in either. As we sat on the lawn for the picnic, I met Pilar Dizon from the Philippines. When I told her I was trying to make a choice between the Philippines and Korea, she begged, “Oh, please come to my country.” She was such a delightful young woman, and her appeal was so genuine that, when a few moments later, it was my turn to introduce myself, I gave my name and said, “I am going to the Philippines.” Dr. French told me afterwards how pleased she was to hear me say it. The international character of the student body at Scarritt made it especially exciting. I was thrilled with the way I was able to help many of them, and the way they came to me. Whether it because I was more mature than most of the students, because I had been a pastor, or something else, I don’t know, but there was constantly a call for my help of one kind or another. Most usual was for help with English, but there were also requests for spiritual guidance, prayer and advice. Miss Ewing, Dean of Students once asked me to lead a worship service and another time to provide a communion service for a group of high school youth who were holding a retreat on the campus. Going to Buck Hills Falls Very soon after the beginning of the winter quarter, those of us who were to be commissioned as missionaries, and others who had responsibilities on the General Board of Global Ministries were to go to Buck Hills Falls for a meeting. The commissioning service was held at the closing of the meeting. We candidates sang as part of the service. It was a deeply moving and meaningful experience. Most meaningful for me, however, was when I was greeted by Mrs. Elisa Ocera. Mrs. Ocera was the chairperson of the Board of Missions of the Philippine Methodist Church. She greeted me, hugged me and welcomed me to the Philippines. While we had both been at the meetings earlier, it was not until the commissioning service that she had known I would be coming to the Philippines. The bond that was established as she greeted me was strengthened during my years of service in the Philippines.

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A Class at Vanderbilt Seminary Vanderbilt Seminary and Scarritt College had an agreement for crossenrolling. Vanderbilt students took Christian Education classes at Scarritt and Scarritt students took Theology courses at Vanderbilt. So, during the winter quarter, I registered for “New Testament Theology” at Vanderbilt. Dr. Everett Tilson, who was the professor of New Testament Theology, had a reputation of being a hard man who demanded much from his students. The word going around was that he never gave an “A.” It was not an easy class’ it was pure lecture and there was no discussion. The major requirement was to write a term paper. Since there was no test and with no class discussion, the entire grade depended on the term paper. We did not choose our subject. He asked each of us to come to his office and he gave us our assignment. To me, he assigned two books which I was to read, analyze and compare. They were Jesus Christ, the Risen Lord by Floyd V. Filson and Introduction to New Testament Theology by Alan Richardson. It was an interesting and challenging assignment, and while very time consuming, I enjoyed it. The conclusion at which I arrived met with Dr. Tilson’s approval and he wrote in the margin of my paper, “We have the same prejudice.” At the end of the class, the corrected term papers were placed on a chair outside Dr. Tilson’s office where we might come and pick them up. This meant that those picking up their own paper might inspect any or all of the others lying there. By the time I got to Vanderbilt to pick up my paper, the majority of the others were gone. I do not know how many “A’s” were given. I know I got one but saw no others. Dr. Tilson also wrote on my paper, “Conceived, planned and written with real theological insight and sensitivity. The excellent form is disconcerting but appreciated.” I do not know why it was disconcerting unless Dr. Tilson, like the young men seminarians, did not expect a woman and a Scarritt student to be capable of the quality of work I had produced. The Struggle for Integration My year in Scarritt coincided with the attempt on the part of the Blacks to integrate Nashville. Personally I was torn. I empathized with the African-Americans (I’m not sure what was the “politically correct” term at that time, but I think it was “Blacks”). I wanted very much to help them. Yet I was a law-abiding citizen and was not sure how I ought to demonstrate my concern. I participated in a Prayer Vigil outside City Hall, but that was as far as my active participation went. I had real admiration for the Blacks in their attempts to integrate the coffee shops in the big department stores. They would come in and sit at the lunch counters during periods when there would not be many customers. They did not fill up the coffee shop during mealtimes. My heart ached for them when they were pulled off the stools, kicked in the teeth, or had cigarettes put out on their backs. I respected them for not fighting back and for being led away to jail. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had held training meetings in Nashville and had trained them well. 107

They were asking only for the right to be served food as well as any other commodity in the store. They could go into the shoe department and sit on the chairs, try on and be sold shoes. They could go into the dress department and into the changing booth and try on and buy a dress, but they couldn’t sit down at the lunch counter and get a cup of coffee. It didn’t make sense. They wanted to change it and so did I! Erlinda’s Pain Erlinda Punongbayan, a nursing student from the Philippines was my informant for learning Tagalog. We met for an hour three times a week. One evening when she came to my room for our regular session, she was much too upset to work on language. She and Remidios Santiago, also a Filipina, had gone downtown shopping in one of the large department stores. After they had bought what they wanted, they decided to have a piece of pie and a cup of coffee before coming back to Scarritt. They went into the coffee shop. They sat at a table and waited to be served, but they sat and waited and waited. It wasn’t that the coffee shop was really busy. As they looked around, they became aware that there were others— Blacks, who were not being served. They realized that they were being mistaken for African-Americans. Their skin was somewhat dark. Their facial features were somewhat flat. They were being treated like “Black Sit-ins.” They began speaking to one another in Tagalog. In a few moments a waitress came to take their order. She apologized for not serving them earlier. Erlinda told me all this. And then with some heat she said, “We are not Negroes. We don’t look like Negroes.” I became aware that what hurt her most was not that they were ignored and not served, but that they were mistaken for Blacks. This bothered me, for I realized that she was just as prejudiced as the waitress who did not serve her. That distressed me but this was not the time to point it out to her. I simply listened and sympathized with her in her pain.

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Chapter 18 GOING TO THE PHILIPPINES Summer Activities With the close of classes, I returned home. The summer was very full. There were clothes to prepare for a hot humid climate. The Board provided a $250.00 “Outfitting Allowance.” I bought material and sewed dresses. When the School of Christian Missions was held at Wesley Acres in North Dakota, I attended as “Our Missionary.” There was much love expressed and bonds formed which would be mutually valuable. Each summer the Board of Missions held a conference at DePau University in Greencastle, Indiana for all missionaries on furlough and missionaries who were about to go to their work in other countries. It was a valuable experience. I met Richard and Eva Wehrman, who were home on furlough and about to depart for their second term in the Philippines. That friendship which began at Greencastle would prove very valuable and has lasted a lifetime. I would be sailing from San Francisco. The exact date had not been set. Carol Moe and I were to travel together on a Norwegian freighter, the M.S., FERNSTATE. As the time of our departure neared I learned that Betty Rogers was also returning to the Philippines and would be traveling with us. Attending the Christian Ashram As we looked at dates for sailing, I decided I wanted one more experience in preparation for the task to which I was going. I wanted to go to a Christian Ashram. I had first attended a Christian Ashram in 1955. From that time on, I had attended a Christian Ashram somewhere each summer. Now as I was making my final preparation for a new chapter in my life as a Christian Missionary, I felt I wanted the “Spiritual Formation” which the Ashram could provide. So, since I would be departing from San Francisco I looked to see if I could find an Ashram in the area at the time that would fit my travel. I found an Ashram in the Redlands in California. Dr. French, my executive secretary, approved and the Board paid for it as one last aspect of my training. It was a wonderfully valuable time of growing in spirit as I participated in the Ashram experiences. At the opening session, “The Hour of the Open Heart,” I told them why I had come and that I wanted an infilling of the Holy Spirit to prepare me to share the Gospel in meaningful ways in the Philippines and that I wanted their prayers. I had a private meeting with Brother E. Stanley Jones and he gave me his blessing which meant a lot to me. Since we did not know when we would sail, I went from the Ashram to San Francisco and spent several days with Leila Dingle and her house mate, Katherine King. Leila, who had been a teacher at Harris, had retired the previous year. We had continued to keep in touch since she had spoken to our Wesleyan Service Guild in Fargo where I first met her. Mrs. Noll was 109

the mission executive for the Board stationed in San Francisco. When Betty Rogers arrived, Mrs. Noll booked the two of us into a hotel to wait until the ship would sail. We Sail On Wednesday, August 10, 1960, at about 2:30 P.M. Mrs. Noll took Betty and me with our luggage to the ship. Carol Moe arrived with friends about 4:00. The ship was a freighter and had just two rooms for passengers. There was a small single room downstairs and a larger more luxurious double room upstairs. Since Betty and Carol knew one another it was decided they would share the upstairs double room and I would be alone in the single downstairs room. I was happy with that arrangement. We had dinner on the ship, but were told it would not sail until morning and we could go back ashore overnight if we wanted. I had nowhere to go and wanted to wash my hair so I stayed on board. Betty and Carol left to spend the night with friends. I awoke early the next morning and watched the cranes loading the ship. Betty and Carol arrived about 6:00 A.M. and we all sat on the deck watching the shore slowly disappear in the fog as we pulled away. I had thought I would feel the motion of the ship as it left the dock, but I felt nothing. Betty and Carol had each received gift baskets of fruit from friends. They began eating. Carol offered me half of one of the huge peaches that friends had given her. I had not intended to eat until breakfast which would be at 8:00, but to be polite, I accepted the peach. We were sitting in their room when I began to feel sick. I made a dash for my bathroom down the hall and down the stairs. I just made it. I felt fine when lying in bed, but if I were standing, my stomach would not stay right side up. I was not violently ill like they say about sea-sickness but I spent the first day in bed. I think if I hadn’t eaten the peach and had waited for good solid food, I might have been okay. By Friday evening, I was feeling fine and had dinner with the others. There were six of us who ate in the dining room: the captain, the chief engineer and the first officer, and we three ladies. After dinner, the captain took us for a tour of the ship. He showed us the chart room, the bridge, and his quarters. We also saw the upper deck which was rather small and quite high. Of course, we had been on the main deck from the time we arrived on the ship. Saturday was Carol’s birthday. I painted a birthday card for her. Betty and I had told the Steward about Carol’s birthday, so the cook baked a birthday cake. We had a little party for Carol about 3:00 P.M., when we gave her gifts. The captain joined us and he was very impressed with the card that I had painted for Carol. The captain told us that his birthday would be Friday, the 19th. Only that was the day we crossed the dateline, so there would be no Friday, the 19th. We girls planned a birthday party for him on the evening of the 18th. Since he had liked the painting I did for Carol’s card, I painted a picture for him. The next day he made a wooden frame and mounted it on the wall of 110

his room. After it was finished, he invited us to come and see it. It wasn’t just hung. It was mounted with screws. Everything on a ship must be fastened down. Sunset—Sunrise After the first two days, the weather began to be beautiful with the most gorgeous sunsets. The sun set each day just as we were at dinner, and we ladies were constantly remarking about its beauty. The captain told us that his wife always enjoyed the sunsets, but that he thought that they just looked like a fried egg. Breakfast was not served until 8:00 each morning, so there was lots of free time before it. I usually arose at 5:30 and went up on the top deck to watch the sunrise and to have a time of worship and fellowship with God. These experiences made the trip one of the most meaningful times of my life. It was so peaceful and beautiful that my soul reveled in ecstasy. One morning when I awoke at 5:30 the clouds covered the sky. I considered going back to sleep and not keeping my “morning watch.” Then I remembered that I had an appointment with my Heavenly Father, and that I must not miss it. I am glad that I got up. The heavy clouds made the sunrise even more beautiful than usual. The western sky was more gorgeous at first than was the east. Then every cloud in the whole sky, east, west, north and south, was topped with a gorgeous rose color. As the sun rose in the east, what had seemed like dark, heavy clouds turned into a glory of light. Again, I was aware of how God’s love and care, when turned upon our problems, (our clouds) turns them into bright and shining opportunities and glorious experiences of his faithfulness and blessing. I thought how often we are most aware of God’s love when the clouds are the darkest because that is when we most feel the need of God’s love. I was reminded of a poem which Irene had given me many years earlier. Never once since the world began Has the sun ever stopped its shining. His face, at times, we cannot see And we grumble at his inconsistency But the clouds are really at fault, not he. For behind them he is shining. And so behind life’s darkest cloud God’s love is always shining. We shut Him out with our faithless fears, And grieve Him with our foolish tears, But in time, the atmosphere always clears For God’s love is always shining. As I recited the poem, I was reminded of Irene and again I was deeply aware that “God is love. Where God is, love is and where love is, God is.” And so these were hours of worship during which I felt the love of God very 111

deeply. I was also loving Irene, my family, and many other friends as I lifted them in prayer. Love for God and love for others fed each other and made each more meaningful and precious. Those days on the ship fed my soul and prepared me for the days that were to come when I would need God’s presence and power as I sought to share God’s love and God’s message with those to whom I was being sent. Arriving in the Philippines By the afternoon of August 29th, we were able to see land. “That is the Philippine Islands,” the captain told us. All afternoon we threaded our way among tiny islands. As the evening brought darkness, we were able to see the lights of Manila. Then as we moved into Manila Bay, the sea was sparkling with tiny lights like fireflies. The captain ordered that the anchor be dropped. “Those are little fishing boats,” he told us. “We will have to wait until morning before we can go on lest we run into one of them and hurt someone.” It was hard to sleep that night. I was too excited. I was up again before sunrise and had my last morning watch on the upper deck. I had discovered Psalms 108:1-4 and had been using it as my call to worship each morning. Now these words seemed especially appropriate.

“I will give thanks to thee, O Lord among the people, I will sing praises to thee among the nations.”

I sang “In Christ There is No East or West” and again felt the appropriateness of the words. My heart was overflowing. As the sun rose, the ship began to move slowly, still among the little fishing boats. About 8:00 A.M. on August 30, 1960, we pulled up to the pier. The three of us stood on the deck looking out over the masses of people who lined the shore. Then Betty said, “There are Doris and Libby.” We were now next to the dock, and the gangplank was being lowered. “Those girls back there dressed in white blouses and blue skirts are Harris girls,” Carol said as she pointed them out to me. “There is Miss Fabro back there with the girls.” At last, the gangplank was lowered. We went below where the stevedores were coming aboard first, followed by the friends who were coming to meet the arriving passengers. In a few moments, Doris Hess, who was the field correspondent, Libby and Miss Fabro were beside us. I hugged Libby and she introduced me to Doris and Miss Fabro. “Welcome to the Philippines and to Harris Memorial School,” Miss Fabro said in her quiet dignified manner. Then she continued, “I am looking forward to working with you.” “And I am looking forward to working with you, I assure you,” I replied with deep feeling. Then she said, “I am sorry, but I can’t stay. I have to get back to the school.” She left and went to join the girls who had been pushing forward to see us as we had stood on the deck. 112

Doris took over in her efficient manner. All we had to do was to point out our luggage. Doris directed the stevedores and paid them their tip. Then she and Libby escorted me to the car. Betty and Carol went with others. It was so good to see Libby. My heart was full of love. Doris drove and we were soon at Harris. The quick turn from Taft Avenue onto Gral Luna Street and then into the Harris driveway confused my sense of direction and I never was completely straight in my directions at Harris. Doris honked the horn as we stopped in front of a rather high iron gate set in a wall of flowering shrubs. A young man quickly opened the gate and we drove in. The building to our left was sort of L-shaped though not a right angle. “This is your home,” Libby said as we walked up the steps entering a large airy, sunny room which served as both dining room and sala (a new word I quickly learned which identified what we might call living room, parlor, or in some cases, even lobby). Libby then introduced me to Maria, a Filipina woman of about forty years. She was our housekeeper, cook and general helper. The men were bringing the suitcases from the car. Doris led the way into a hall and up the stairs. “Your room will be up here,” she said. There was a landing at the head of the stairs with a door on each side. Looking to the left she said, “That is Miss Fabro’s room,” then turning right, she opened the door into what would be my room. It was a large airy room with full length windows on two sides. There were screens on the windows and the door also had a screen. There was no glass in the windows. At each end were sliding wooden frames with wooden lattice framing translucent squares of capiz shell. These could be pulled across to close the windows during strong rains. Otherwise, the windows were always open to permit the flow of air. The bed had a mosquito net pole at each end and a mosquito net with the sides lifted up resting on the top. I would soon learn the value of mosquito nets, for although everything was screened, the mosquitoes still got in. As we went back downstairs, she showed me her room and Libby’s room with a small bath between. Janice Johnson, the music teacher, had a room across the hall. Doris explained, “There are only three bedrooms in the apartment. Since all three rooms are already occupied, your room is the guest room and you are sharing a bathroom with Miss Fabro.” I was always grateful that we had that arrangement during my first year because it allowed us to become well acquainted more quickly than we probably would have had I not lived in such close proximity to her. After our meal, we all had a siesta. About two o’clock, Doris took us back to the dock. By that time, our luggage, which had been in the hold, had been unloaded and we began going through customs. I was certainly glad that Doris was there handling things. I learned then what would be reinforced often later, that there has to be some “palm greasing” to accomplish anything in the Philippines. Doris did not believe in 113

bribery, but there had to be a tip at every turn. Welcoming Parties I had learned some Tagalog at Scarritt from Erlinda, so I knew how to greet people. But now Doris and Libby were trying to teach me a new phrase. That evening there would be a welcome party put on by the Harris students. It would be on the third floor in the Social Hall. Doris and Libby wanted me to be able to greet them in Tagalog after I had been introduced. I had no difficulty saying, “Magandang gabi.” (Good Evening) But they wanted me to continue, “Ikinagagalak ko kayong makasama,” meaning, “I am glad to be with you,” which was difficult, but I managed it well enough so the girls were very pleased. I was truly glad to be with them. Maybe that came through even if I did not say it all that well. The next evening after my arrival, all the missionaries who were stationed in Manila area gathered at one of the missionary homes for a welcome party for Carol, Betty and me. Thus, I began to get acquainted with them. My Orientation Trip Carol had been born in the Philippines when her parents had been missionaries there many years earlier. Then she had been a missionary in her own right, but had been in the States for several years before returning on the ship with me. Doris decided that the ideal way for me to be oriented to the Philippines was for Carol to take one of the missionary cars and to take me up north through Luzon for an orientation tour. So off we started. It was an interesting trip. Everything was new to me, but Carol was a good tour guide. She explained much as we drove along, much that I would really only fully comprehend as time went on. We had started early in the morning and in the late afternoon, we arrived in the barrio where Carol had built herself a small home. However, it had been several years since she had been there and when we turned off the main road, Carol discovered that she was not sure of the way to her house. Of course, there were many children playing in the streets, so Carol asked, “Do you know where is the house of Miss Moe?” It seemed to me to be a strange way to arrange the words in the sentence, but I soon learned that it was good Filipino-English. “Follow me,” one of the boys said, and he started running ahead of the car. Carol did just what she was asked. He easily stayed ahead of her for she needed to drive very slowly through the children, pigs, chickens and even carabaos which were in the road. Soon, we arrived at a very neat little nipa hut with a fence around it and flowers in the yard. As soon as we drove up, a Filipina woman emerged. “Manang Soring!” Carol cried. “Oh, Miss Moe!” the other replied and they were quickly in one another’s arms. I got out of the car more slowly and stood waiting for the introduction which Carol made rather quickly The majority of missionaries lived in more American type wooden or cement block houses, but Carol had preferred to identify with the Filipinos 114

and to build a Filipino-type home in which to live. It was well built, quite sturdy and very lovely. Carol took me to the toilet. The building was much like the out-houses on farms in the U.S. except that there was no seat. It was a water-seal squat toilet. Carol explained it to me. Basically, it was a cemented hole, but there was a crook in the cement which, when water was poured in flushed the content of the toilet into a hole dug in the ground, but the water stood in the crook of the cement, effectively sealing the toilet. There was a large oil drum filled with water nearby. In it floated what was called a “tabo.” It was made from half of a coconut shell and was used to dip the water from the barrel and to pour into the toilet. I soon learned as I traveled in the rural areas of the Philippines that sanitation was one of the biggest problems. Very few homes had toilets of any kind. Carol had made it a part of her missionary task to encourage the installing of water-seal toilets behind every home. She had done a good job of it. We visited in Lingayan which was a Methodist Center. There was a large building used for many programs of the church. The members of the church at Lingayan were cleaning the parsonage, preparing for the new minister who was returning from studying in the States. Carol and I helped. They were all amazed that I knew how to clean. We were out for about a week and I saw much of the work the church was doing and met a number of the missionaries with whom I would be working. It was a good trip and I learned a lot. My Harris Home Everyone spoke about “ Harris Home” and I soon felt the same way. Harris was a very special institution. Harris had been started in 1903, after the close of the Spanish-American War, as the result of the dream of Rev. Homer Stuntz who was the first Missionary Superintendent of the Philippines. He realized that a Bible Training School for girls in the Philippines would be a wonderful way to spread the gospel. In response to his call, the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church sent Miss Winifred Spaulding, who was then principal of the Kansas City Deaconess Training School in Kansas City, Missouri to establish a Bible Training School in Manila. This is not the place for a detailed history of Harris, but some pertinent facts are important. Miss Spaulding started the Bible School but was forced to leave after only three years because of ill health. Her friend, Miss Marguerite M. Decker, took her place and guided the school for 33 years. Miss Decker was affectionately known by all as “Mother Decker” and the school began to be a home for the girls as well as a school. In 1906 Norman Harris gave money for a new building when the school had outgrown the old Spanish house which was its first home. In appreciation for his help, the school had been named Harris Memorial Training School. At its inception, there were few academic entrance requirements for the students. Requirements were gradually raised, however, until in 1936, 115

a high school diploma was required for acceptance to Harris. For four years during the Second World War, no classes were held and the Harris building, which was then at P. Paredes Street in the center of Manila, became the home for many of the missionaries who were interned there under house arrest. Following the war, Harris moved to a new location at the corner of Taft and Isaac Peral, later to become United Nations Avenue. A new building was built. It was to that building that I came. In 1951, after completing a master’s degree as a Crusade Scholar in the United States, Miss Prudencia Fabro was installed as the first Filipina director of the school. All of Harris, including the missionary apartment, was under one roof. There were two wings not at right angles and three floors. Included were classrooms, library, dormitories, dining hall, kitchen, chapel, a nursery and kindergarten school, and a large Social Hall on the third floor as well as six small organ practice rooms. When I arrived, there were fewer than 70 students. There were two large open rooms which served as dormitories and two smaller ones. The largest dormitory housed about 35 girls who slept on small cots. The other large dormitory had about 20 girls with some in the two smaller rooms. Fortunately, Filipinos are accustomed to sharing space, so what to me would have proved intolerable, was comfortable for them. The library had long tables with drawers evenly spaced. Each girl was assigned a space and the drawers gave her a place for her papers, notebooks and personal school needs. Harris was not simply an academic institution. It was the training ground for young women who would be leaders in the church. While academic ability was important and standards were high, spiritual and moral qualities were more important. The Harris catalogue read: “The primary requirement for admission to Harris Memorial School is a sincere commitment to Christ and his Church and an earnest desire to learn and prepare for service.” The second indicates that the decision must be her own. From there on the academic requirements were listed. Recommendations from the local church, the district, and finally the Annual Conference were all needed. An entrance test was required and a personal interview was given for each girl who applied. Thus, each girl’s commitment and devotion to Christ was carefully assessed. Some were turned down, and those who were accepted came with real desire and dedication. Education is highly respected in the Philippines. At that time the church, both in the Philippines and in the United States provided some subsidy for the students so tuition and room and board were low in comparison to other schools. It was, therefore, important that the girls be truly committed to the task rather than looking for a cheap education. I had not been at Harris more than a month when Dr. Fabro asked me if I would lead a Prayer Group. Each girl was assigned to a Prayer Group. The girls came to my room for their weekly meeting. It was a wonderful experience for me as I began to know my little group of eight rather intimately. 116

But in addition to their coming as a group for prayer, individuals began coming to visit me to ask for guidance, to share personal problems or request for prayer. Other girls, in addition to those in my Prayer Group sometimes came to talk with me or for prayer. I knew God had placed me there and I thanked and praised God daily.

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Chapter 19 A NEW CHALLENGE With welcomes and orientation finished, I moved into a new challenge, that of trying to learn Tagalog which was one of the eight major languages spoken in the Philippines. It was a native language and one of the three “official languages” of the Philippines along with Spanish and English. Richard Deats studied with me and provided transportation to the home of our instructor which was quite far from Harris. Foreign languages have never been easy for me, but I enjoyed the study of Tagalog at times, and was very frustrated at other times. It was a very interesting language with root words being incorporated into many different forms. I enjoyed working with it as a puzzle. For instance: “ibig” is the word for “love.” “Kaibigan” is friend. “Ibig” in the middle with a prefix and suffix on each side, each of which has its special meaning. Figuring out the meanings of words that way was fun. Speaking it was more difficult. The Ground That Moved We attended class in the evening. One evening, Richard was not able to go, so Libby took me out to about three blocks from the home of the instructor. Because the roads were so bad, she did not want to drive any closer. So I started walking the rest of the way. It was quite dark and had been raining, so I was picking my way gingerly along between the mud puddles. In one place there seemed to be only one small spot between the pools of water, but just as I was about to step on it, it moved and grunted. It was a pig! I settled my foot in the only available spot, a puddle of water. When I took the next step and pulled my foot out, I discovered I had no shoe. As I was trying to balance precariously on one foot, dig in the puddle with my hand, and avoid coming down on the pig, a man came out to aid me. Always in the Philippines there are people willing to help. When I told him my shoe was in the water hole he was a bit incredulous, but he fished around and eventually brought out my shoe, covered with mud. So he put it back into the water, splashed it around to wash off the mud and handed it to me. I arrived at the door of my teacher’s home carrying one shoe in my hand. She gave them to the helper to wash while I rinsed my feet and dried them. By the time it was to go home, my shoe was fairly dry and I put them on. The helper walked me to the bus which I could take to get back to Harris. I always loved to draw and paint, so when the study of Tagalog became frustrating, many Sunday afternoons I painted “to keep my sanity.” I painted a set of four pictures of various blossoms which filled the space on the wall above the dining table very beautifully. I also painted some roses for Miss Fabro. Years later when she moved to Decker Memorial Home for Retired Deaconesses, she took it with her. I never knew what happened to the ones in the missionary apartment, but when I returned to visit in the 118

Philippines in the 1980’s, her picture hung on the wall in the guest room. Using Tagalog On World Communion Sunday, the first Sunday of October, after I had been in language study about a month, I assisted with the communion service using Tagalog. I felt good to be able to share in that service, speaking the language of my new home. It was especially meaningful being a day when around the world Christians affirm their unity at our Lord’s table. I preached my first sermon in Tagalog on February 27th, after about five months of language study. While I wasn’t very good, it was a victory of sorts. I never did learn to speak Tagalog well, because as soon as I finished language study I began teaching in English. However there are some phrases that are a part of my vocabulary, and even now, I have to watch myself so as not to include them in my regular conversation. Respect for Age Respect for age is one of the most important aspects of Filipino culture. The older person is always addressed as Manang for a woman and Manong for a man. These were the words in Ilocano and I believe in several of the other dialects, so were the most frequently used. One time, while I was in language study and I was trying to use what I had learned, I greeted Bishop Valencia, “Magandang umaga. Kamusta ka.” That is to say, “Good morning. How are you?” He responded, “Mabuti Po,” and I knew I had been spanked. I should have said, “Kamusta po, kayo?” to him. “Po” is a word which cannot be translated, but which shows respect. When he emphasized the “po” to me, I knew I should have used it with him. Also, I should have used “kayo” which is the plural “you” instead of the singular “ka” because it also shows respect. I went with the freshmen class on a picnic very soon after they had arrived. By the time we were returning, everyone seemed to know who should be addressed as “Manang.” So I asked, “How do you know who is older?” “Oh, we just ask,” was the reply. And if both were seventeen years old, then they had to compare birthdays. So I quickly learned that it was not impolite to ask, “How old are you?” It was necessary. Of course, we American missionaries were not expected to use honorific titles to one another. Christmas Customs Christmas in the Philippines is a major event. It starts about the middle of October when Christmas Carols begin to be played over the outdoor broadcasting systems and Christmas stars begin to appear. The Christmas star is the major symbol of the Philippine Christmas. The stars are usually made of a split bamboo frame with brightly colored tissue paper—known as Japanese paper in the Philippines—stretched over the frame. Even the poorest homes have Christmas stars. While the star is 119

the most frequent shape, it is not unusual to have other shapes. If electricity is available, there is usually a light bulb hanging inside. While church summer camps are an important part of youth activities in the United States, Christmas Institutes serve the same purpose in the Philippines. Usually starting the day after Christmas, the youth from a group of churches will gather in one church for the Christmas Institute. Nearly all of the youth participate. The program consists of singing, worship, sermons and some games. There are always invitations for commitment to Christ and also to full-time Christian service as a minister or deaconess. It is a time of real Christian growth for the young people and is a very important part of the program of the church in the Philippines. My first Christmas is the Philippines, I attended the Christmas Institute which was held in Pamarawan, Bulacan. Pamarawan is a very interesting little village. It is a small island in the river and is reached only by bangka. The bangka is a small, long, narrow boat with outriggers and is usually powered by an outboard motor. (See picture on cover.) We traveled for about half an hour to reach the island of Pamarawan. It is about a halfmile long and in most places one block wide. There is one street, paved with large stones, which runs through the village. There are houses facing the street on both sides. They are backed up to the water. All along the water front, there were docks where bangkas were moored and fishnets dried. The children were very interested in seeing an “Americano.” I could have passed for the original “Pied Piper” but I did not need a pipe. Everywhere I went, I was mobbed by children. I had to shuffle my feet as I walked lest I come down on little bare toes. Even during the church services, the children stood around staring at me. I noticed one little boy fingering his own face as he stared at mine. He was feeling his nose and chin. I could understand why, for my nose is fairly prominent and my chin is somewhat sharp and jutting. In comparison with their little round, and relatively flat features, I was a freak of nature.

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Chapter 20 I BEGIN TO SERVE The close of my language study coincided rather closely with the end of the school year. So summer vacation, which in the Philippines begins at the end of March and continues to the end of June, was an opportunity to begin serving, if not teaching. A New Annual Conference My first official duty was attending Annual Conference. At that time there were three Annual Conferences in the Philippines. The Philippines Annual Conference included the southern half of Luzon Island. The northern part was divided into two annual conferences called the Northern Philippines Annual Conference and the Northwest Philippines Annual Conference. Now a new annual conference was about to be formed out of the area north of Manila, beginning with Bulacan Province. It would be known as the Middle Philippines Annual Conference. Many of the ministers were accepted supply pastors and there needed to be a minimum number of full members in order to qualify as an annual conference. Richard Deats, Gerald Anderson and I were all new missionaries. We were needed to provide enough full members for the new annual conference. Now my full membership in an annual conference made a very real difference. I transferred my membership from the North Dakota Annual Conference to the newly formed Middle Philippines Annual Conference. I was variously called a “Founding Father” or a “Founding Mother.” I was assigned to serve on four annual conference boards or committees, including the Board of Ordained Ministry. Supervising Field Work Each student at Harris was given a summer appointment in a church, usually in her own district, but not her own church. Her task was to have a Vacation Church School, visit church members, train Sunday School teachers and do whatever she could to improve the church. Sometimes the church would also be without a pastor and she might be expected to hold church service. Although I had not taught any of the girls, I spent several weeks of the summer going around in the newly formed Middle Philippines Annual Conference, visiting the girls in their appointments, seeing how they were doing, listening and advising. It was fun. It was exciting and I was constantly amazed at the ability of these girls to meet the needs of the churches to which they were sent. Learning For Effective Teaching I was impressed with the ingenuity of the girls and with their skill in working with the children. I was very grateful for this trip because when I began to teach classes in Christian Education, I needed the kind of 121

information I had gathered. I could never have been effective in my teaching of Methods of Christian Education had I known only what I had learned in the United States. While the gospel message is the same throughout the world, and principles of sharing the gospel with children remain quite constant from one culture to another, the methods and especially materials for use, certainly do not. Much of the materials—especially for hand work and crafts—which are most often used in the Philippines, we in the States (at least from the Dakotas) have never seen, much less used. People from the orient cannot understand how we can live without bamboo. The palm also has many valuable uses. And banana leaves are the “wax paper” in the Philippines. How much my supervisory trip to visit the girls in the province did for them, I am not sure. It was invaluable for me as I learned from them and from the environment. I could not have been an effective teacher without the understanding I gained from that trip. I Begin to Teach At last I was able to do that for which I came to the Philippines. Classes began the last week of June. I was assigned to teach five classes. I would teach Introduction to the Old Testament to the Freshmen, Old Testament History to Sophomores, and Life and Letters of Paul to the Juniors; then Philosophy of Christian Education to the Freshmen and Leadership Training to the Seniors. This meant I had almost every girl in the school in one or more of my classes, except for the senior girls who were Kindergarten majors and did not take Leadership Education. Philosophy of Christian Education was not at all difficult to teach because I had been holding classes concerned with its subject matter for a number of years. I had never taught a class on the Life and Letters of Paul, but I had taught classes related to that subject matter, so it was not too difficult to plan a syllabus for that class. We had no textbooks, so it was a matter of choosing relevant books, putting them on reserve and working out assignments that would involve the girls in learning activities that required reading them. I think I probably learned as much as the girls did as I planned for and guided the girls in the studies of the Old Testament. Preparing for and leading those studies was very challenging and important for me. I grew in my appreciation of the Old Testament and I learned to understand the depth of meanings of which I had not been aware. One assignment that I gave to the class in Old Testament History was the making of a time-line on which was placed events, kings, prophets and books related to the events so that students were able to learn something of the history by putting people and events together as we found them in the Bible. Guiding the students in this activity, checking and correcting, was a very time consuming job, but also a very worthwhile one. I assured the girls that they would find their time-lines very valuable as they taught Bible in their appointments. And they did! Even the last time I was back in the Philippines, my former students reminded me of that assignment and told me 122

how helpful it was. They thanked me for helping them make the time-line. After my first year teaching Introduction to the Old Testament, I decided I needed some kind of guide so I spent most of the time during my summer vacation making a workbook to guide the girls in their study of the Old Testament. Dr. Fabro gave her approval and pages were mimeographed. That workbook was used year after year as I taught the course. Again, correcting workbook pages was a time consuming task, but I felt it was worth it. I always loved to teach, and teaching the Bible and courses in Christian Education and watching girls grow and develop in their Christian lives was a thrilling experience. Most of the girls were so eager to learn and so responsive that every day was a blessing even when I felt almost too tired to go on. Leadership Training The girls who would receive diplomas in Christian Education needed to have experience in instructing lay persons how to teach. So we included a class in Leadership Training for them. Teaching that class was an exciting and fulfilling experience. There were 22 girls in the Leadership Training Class. They were seniors and it was almost impossible to believe the Christian maturity which many of them evidenced. At the end of the school year, they would be going out to lead the Christian Education of the Methodist Church in the Philippines. I wanted them to have as much training and experience as possible. So I contacted three churches asking them if we might have classes in their church for Sunday School teachers from a cluster of churches. It was a huge success. There were 39 persons enrolled in one of the schools. Another school had 77 enrolled and the third had 189. This made a total of 305 persons in the three schools. Again, guiding the girls was a daunting task for me, but I loved every minute of it and I was so proud of my girls and the excellent work they did. Their task was made more difficult because of the respect for age in the Philippines and the fact that there were girls only about 20 years old teaching the classes whose members might be adults and a few might be professionals. However, by and large, their teaching was accepted with gratitude. Hopefully, the Christian Education in the churches which participated was improved as a result of the classes, and I know all of the girls had good learning experiences. Of course, I had a new set of classes the next semester. The Freshman would go on to Methods of Christian Education and Introduction to the New Testament. I taught Child Psychology during the second semester as well as other Bible and Christian Education classes. In addition to formal classes, I also supervised students in their Sunday field work assignments. This meant a weekly field work conference to review the studentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; lesson plans and giving guidance. I would also accompany students to their appointments on Sundays. Usually I was assigned about eight students. 123

At the time the load was very heavy. I usually had 15 or even 18 hours of teaching each semester. But I was always conscious of God’s grace and strength, and my love of teaching and of the students made the joy greater than the burden. Many times I was reminded of Paul’s assurance from the Lord which he quoted in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Gospel Teams While Leila Dingle had been serving at Harris, she had started the practice of Gospel Teams going out into the provinces on weekends. This practice was continued for a number of years after I arrived. Each senior girl would go on at least one Gospel Team each year. I went with Libby on Gospel Teams several times before I led one as a faculty member. In one church, we met a man who was especially grateful to see Libby again. Some years earlier, he had been converted through Libby’s message during a Gospel Team. His faith meant so much to him, and he was so grateful to Libby for her part in his new-found relationship with God through Christ. In one home where we stayed while on a Gospel Team, we were awakened very early by the family who were sleeping together in the next room. They were having their family devotions. At breakfast time the father asked me when I had become a Christian. I told him that I thought I had been a Christian all my life. I could not remember a time when I had not loved Jesus and wanted God’s will in my life. “ Of course,” I told him, “there were step-by-step decisions as I matured.” “That is so wonderful!” he said. Then he went on, “I feel so badly about the years I wasted before I became a Christian.” He continued giving his testimony about how blessed the Christian life was. “I hope I can raise my children so they can say they never knew a time when they did not love Jesus.” Summer Gospel Team The Department of Education of the Philippines made a decision in 1963 to make the school year in the Philippines coincide with the school year in the United States. So there would be four months of summer vacation for three years. This was attempted during the summer of 1963. However after one year, the plan was abandoned as inappropriate for Filipino climate. Miss Fabro thought this would be a good opportunity to give some of the older girls additional experience in the field, so we set up a number of week-long Gospel teams. A faculty member and three girls made up each team. I would be one of the faculty to head up a Gospel Team. My team consisted of Bessie Silao, who would be a senior the next year. Her home was in Manila and she was Tagalog-speaking. The second girl was Leticia Meneses, a coming junior who spoke Pampango. The third was Zenaida Padua, also a coming junior who spoke Ilocano.

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At Guiguinto We started out on May 4 and our first stop was at Guiguinto in Bulacan Province. We divided the town into four areas and called in every home, one area each day. Young people from the church accompanied us. Because the distances were quite great, we had a children’s class in each area in the afternoon and an evening service in the same area on that particular day. On Wednesday, we were in the area where the church was and that afternoon we also repaired the children’s benches. Some of our calling was very fruitful and the young people of the church were inspired to continue the calling. They also decided to start extension classes for the children in two of the areas. There is never a shortage of people in the Philippines. Soon worship services were begun in connection with the children’s classes. Within two years two new churches were chartered in the town of Guiguinto as a result of our Gospel Team. That is the way the church grew in the Philippines. We did a lot of walking that week over dusty paths and often over dry rice paddies. When we would arrive at a home, the first thing to be done was to wash our feet. There was so much that reminded me of Bible times. Providing water for washing the feet of a guest was one of them. At Pamarawan We left Guiguinto on Saturday, taking the bus to the place where we could board the bangka for the trip up the river to Pamarawan which is also in Bulacan. The contrast is great. Pamarawan was a little island with just one street. I had been in Pamarawan for the Christmas Institute two years earlier and we stayed in the same home. As when I was there for Christmas Institute, I was constantly mobbed by the children. Bessie said, “I think I can understand how the disciples felt.” Again I was reminded of Bible times. During the week the girls had classes for the children and youth. We also visited every home on the island, taking tracts printed in Tagalog with us. I developed a new respect for tracts during our ministry. We were well received. Many were thrilled to have an American in their home, and some of the women told us that their neighbors were so happy to have a missionary visit them. Some could speak English and I struggled to speak in Tagalog. Of course the girls could translate when it was necessary. We had copies of the Gospel of John and Acts in Tagalog. I gave several to the older children after our children’s classes on Wednesday and told others I would sell them for five centavos each. (At that time that was about two U.S. cents). All evening and the next day, we sold portions. In all, we sold and gave away about 75 portions and 300 tracts. After we had distributed the tracts in the homes, I gave the rest to the children. I tried to get them to line up. I kept telling them “Isa’t isa” which means “one by one,” but by the time I had finished distributing them, my blouse looked like it had been dragged through the mud. Bessie was our main youth worker and she guided the young people 125

in a Bible study of the book of Acts in the morning and worked with them as they planned and presented their own drama as the closing service on Friday evening. Of course, the other girls assisted. The drama was really a fine presentation. It was the story of a boy whose life was changed as he became a Christian through going to the Methodist Youth Fellowship and how he finally won his family who came to church with him, to also accept Christ. The boy who was president of the MYF was to be the minister and give the sermon, but he had to go to Manila to take entrance exams for college and could not be there, so Leticia Meneses gave an evangelistic message as part of the drama for the whole congregation. At the close we passed out tracts in Tagalog which gave step-by-step instructions, “What Must I Do to Be Saved?” There was a place to sign to register one’s decision. The altar was full of young people and we received 22 commitments in all. Some were not new, but many were. Many were persons on whom we had called in the visitation. We also had one deaconess candidate from the island. She had been doing all the teaching of children in Sunday school, having a total from 55 to 70 children in two classes taught one after the other on Sunday morning. We had teacher training classes using the new book “So You Are Going to Teach Children” that I had helped to write earlier. Several young people received some training and were eager to teach Sunday School classes, giving this young woman help. This also assured continued Sunday School when she would come to Harris the next year for training as a deaconess. At San Estaban We left Pamarawan on Saturday and continued up the river by bangka to our next appointment which was San Estaban in Pampanga. So we moved from a Tagalog-speaking area to a province where Pampango was spoken. I was a little concerned about going to San Estaban because I knew the pastor was in Pastor’s school, there was no real church building to go to, and I did not know the name of any of the people. But I need not have worried. They were watching for the bangka and waved us to shore. I was wearing oxfords and when I stepped from the bangka, the children all began pointing to my shoes and laughing and shouting, “Ah, sapatos ng lalake!” That is “shoes of a man.” As we traveled in the bangka on our way to San Esteban thinking about what we might do there, I said to the girls, “I think this will be a different situation again. I feel that our task will be deepening the experience of the membership rather than so much outreach as it has been in the other places. Maybe we should put an emphasis on prayer.” After we arrived, we talked with the members about what should be done, they asked that we have prayer meetings, so I felt truly God had led us. One feels a real kinship and understanding of Jesus’ ministry at a time like that: The crowds that flock around following, the children pressing in, the sick who came for healing, the great need of God everywhere. The 126

Bible says, “He had compassion on them for they were like sheep without a shepherd.” One feels such a keen sense of understanding of the meaning of that phrase. Jesus sent his disciples out saying, preach, teach, heal—and that was surely our experience there. We met each evening for a service which centered on prayer. I spoke on laws of prayer—something about which I was deeply concerned and to which I had given a great deal of thought over a period of years. I had one sermon in Tagolog on the law of faith, and while this was a Pampangospeaking area, most people understand Tagalog fairly well since it is the national language and it is taught as a subject in all schools from the third grade up. The other messages I gave in English and what little Tagalog I could include off the cuff, and Leticia translated into Pamgango for me. Zenaida made a real hit by singing in Pampango each evening even though she is an Ilocana. She had a beautiful voice and made a real contribution singing solos everywhere, but using Pampango there made it especially meaningful. She was quite a little linguist too. All she had to do was to say, “How do you say—” and when Leticia would tell her, she would repeat in very good Pampango. Our prayer services included time for requests, and the requests, as is almost always true, centered largely on physical healing. Some prayer requests had remarkable answers. The next morning after we had prayed for a little boy with an infected hand, the swelling and redness was gone. An elderly lady slept without pain after she was brought from her sick bed to the prayer service. A child seriously ill was much improved the next day. A woman with ulcers was free from pain for two days. We made no claims and no promises, but when they asked for prayer, we prayed and help came. How I prayed that their spiritual lives may have shown equally great improvement. I never prayed for physical healing only, but always for complete wholeness. Surely this is part of the gospel of victory through Jesus Christ. We also organized the Women’s Society of Christian Service and the Methodist Youth Fellowship and trained Sunday school teachers so I hoped they could have regular Sunday school which they had not had before. It had been a long, tiring but extremely rewarding three weeks, and we came home rejoicing, feeling that God had truly used us and that we had been faithful.

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Chapter 21 WRITING AND PUBLISHING Writing a Book for Sunday School Teachers “You certainly came at the right time,” Libby said as the summer vacation started in 1961. In April or May of 1960, Dr. Gerald B. Harvey, a Christian Educator from the United Stated had visited the Philippines. During that visit, two projects had been conceived by the Department of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches in the Philippines of which Dr. Samuel G. Catli was the Executive Director. Libby was now making arrangements for the writers conference to begin the first project, which was to be a book for training of Sunday School teachers. The committee was composed of both Filipinos and missionaries from a number of denominations. About a dozen of us gathered at Edna Thomas Hall in San Fernando, Pampanga, and spent a week or more planning the contents of the book, which was finished after about two years of work. Since all of us were engaged in other full-time work, and as we wanted it to be a well done publication, it took time. The book, which we decided would be entitled, So You Are Going to Teach Children, finally came off the press in 1963. It was divided into four parts: What is Our Task?, What Do we Use?, How Do We Teach? and How Do We Measure Results? As we planned, each of us was assigned chapters according to our special training, skills and abilities. Sometimes we collaborated within a chapter with others. I wrote all or part of several chapters and drew pictures to illustrate how to construct some of the equipment. Both the summers of 1961 and 1962 were used for meeting, planning, evaluating what had been written, editing and putting it all together. Gerald B. Harvey, whose visit had been the inspiration for the project, wrote the preface. When the book came off the press, I sent a copy to Carrie Lou Goddard. Several of the writers had been her students so something of her philosophy and personality had been written into the book. I had a letter from her telling me that she felt the book was excellent. She shared a very interesting incident. Dr. Harvey had been at Scarritt and had talked about the book and showed it. “I have the only copy in the United States,” he had said. So Carrie Lou pulled out her copy. “Where did you get that?” he asked in amazement. She told him that a number of the writers had been her students and that I had sent it to her. She also told me that she intended to use it in her class on Christian Education Beyond the Borders of the United States. As time went by we heard that the book was being translated into Asian languages and into Spanish and Portuguese for use in other countries. We were told that it was far more useful than stateside Christian Education material because it was more easily understood and was written for use in 128

a third-world country. Of course, we were all very pleased to hear that! Producing a New Sunday School Curriculum The second project was even more ambitious. With the inspiration provided by Dr. Harvey’s visit, they had decided to produce an entirely new curriculum for children’s Sunday School. They determined to do a thorough job of preparing and planning. It was to be written by Filipino writers for the Philippines. I was invited to become a member of this committee. First we produced a paper on theology and one on developmental tasks from psychological and spiritual points of view, and one on educational theory which would provide guidelines for the writers of the new curriculum. The foundation we were laying for our work was enormously time consuming and took many hours of discussion and planning. This was especially true since we represented different denominations and sometimes varying points of view. Yet we had all agreed that we were not going to “water down” the Christian message to avoid disagreements. During semester break in October, 1961, we began meeting every day. There were also personality differences. In the meetings during the semester break, I found myself being the mediator between two women. Their differences were probably more personal than theological. When I had been absent one day, I was told by others that only when I was present to act as a mediator were they able to work together at all. After producing theological, psychological and educational guidelines for children, we began laying out outlines for Biblical material appropriate for each age level. It would be a two-year curriculum with Book One and Book Two for each age, nursery through grade six and Junior Youth (In the Philippine school system, the children went into the four year high school directly from grade six.) We anticipated that curriculum for the senior youth would be produced by the youth workers. Each book was planned to cover fifty-two Sundays, or one year, with the year beginning at the start of the school year, so Christmas Sunday was the 25th lesson. The whole committee planned the content. In smaller, age-level committees, we made the outlines for each session including the purpose and the Scripture to be used. Sometime in 1963, Miss Cordelia Gobuyan, a young woman from the Baptist Church, came back from the States with her Masters in Christian Education degree with a major in Curriculum Development. She immediately joined the staff of the National Council as Associate Director for Curriculum Development and took over heading up our committee. Her leadership was invaluable and made a tremendous difference. It was generally agreed that the writing was to be done only by Filipinos. Each book was assigned to a writer or some books were assigned to two writers. The actual writing began in 1964 with the first books to come off the press in time for the opening of school in June of 1965. Naomi Santos, who had been my student and who was now on the Harris music faculty, was asked to write the first book for Younger Primary children. Of course, she felt a bit overwhelmed, but I assured her she could 129

do it and that I was there to support and help her as she needed it. So I spent quite a bit of time reading what she had written, usually affirming and thereby giving her support, sometimes suggesting or advising. I Am Adopted as a Filipina The second book for Juniors which was entitled “The Story of Jesus” had been assigned to two young women to write. They had not been a part of the planning committee, but had been suggested as capable as we were looking for writers. However, after working on about four sessions, they turned it back to Miss Gobuyan saying that they could not do the work. I had been doing a lot of editing and reviewing manuscripts that had already been written for the first set of books. Miss Gobuyan and I had worked together very efficiently and well. When these two women returned the material to Miss Gobuyan, she came to me. “We are adopting you as a Filipina,” she said, “and we want you to write this book.” I was overwhelmed. First, by the fact that I had won a place in the hearts of my Filipino co-workers and that they felt I had so identified with them that I could be a Filipina; and second, by the enormity of the task and the limited amount of time I would have to do it. Of course, I accepted the challenge. I almost never say “No” to any request that comes to me. It helped that the unit titles, the sessions to be included in each unit, the purpose for each session, together with the Scripture to be covered and even some of the activities, had been planned. And I had already been involved in that. But the actual plans for each session, instructions for teaching, interpretation of scripture, stories, song, worship experiences and activities for each session had to be planned and written. It had to be completed by the end of Christmas vacation and submitted by the first of January. It was an enormous task and a real challenge. I was also carrying a full teaching load of 15 hours plus field work supervision. But I got it done. Most was done during semester break when I went to Baguio and wrote 41 sessions. I wrote extra sessions so that it could be adjusted for the movement of Easter in the calendar. I really had no Christmas vacation in 1965. I was glad for the two weeks with no classes so I could concentrate on the finishing touches. I felt very good about the finished work. Miss Gobuyan and Rev. Catli were also pleased with it. And as it was used by teachers through many years, it was well received. I constantly thanked God for bringing me to the Philippines to be involved in this important task. God had used me again and I was glad. More Writing and Publishing I loved to write and had found some real acceptance of my writing. Having completed the writing for the curriculum, I was open to other opportunities. I was asked to write a page on Christian Education for the “Filipino Methodist” which was the Philippine Central Conference monthly newspaper. I had a term paper which I had written while at Scarritt. It was 130

concerned with religious experiences of infants from birth to three years. I felt it had something very important to say. So I edited it, making it more appropriate for the Philippines and submitted it to the National Council of Churches in the Philippines. It was accepted and published by Philippine Interchurch Books: “Christian Life Series” under the title “When Does It Start?” We inserted some pictures of Filipino families to illustrate some of the statements in the book. It was well received. When that was completed, I began writing a book about prayer which had been growing in my heart for about twenty years. It had begun with the message God gave me for a sermon when I was working with the Interchurch Council in Fargo. It had grown with many experiences during the intervening years. Now I was an accepted author and I felt that it was time to get it into book form. I felt God was urging me to get it into print so that the truths God had revealed to me might be available to others. I spent my semester break in Baguio writing the first draft. I felt quite good about it. I submitted it to the National Council and it was given to readers for evaluation. One reader was quite enthusiastic and recommended it for printing. However, there was a new missionary who had some experience with publishing. She refused it and so it was not printed. At first, I was very disappointed and discouraged, but I thought, “Maybe it is to be printed in the States where it would reach many more people.” I would be going home on furlough soon. I would take it home. A Medical Furlough My furlough was coming up. I would have been in the Philippines for four years in August of 1964. With the increased ability to use planes which cut travel time markedly, the regular term in the field had been reduced from seven to four years. But I really didn’t want to leave, and Dr. Fabro certainly didn’t want me to go. There was no one to replace me. Ester Alterado, one of our very capable deaconesses, was being prepared to become a teacher at Harris. She was studying at Garrett School of Theology in Evanston, Illinois, but would not finish until the spring of 1965. So, as Dr. Fabro and I discussed the situation, I offered to stay an additional year until Ester could return to take my place. But when I had my annual physical, the doctor found lumps in my breast. I had been aware of them for some months, but they tended to come and go, so I was not concerned. But the doctor felt differently. So suddenly, I was preparing to go to the States on a medical furlough. It would be for whatever length was needed but I hoped it would be only three months so I could return to Manila in time for the opening of school at the end of June. This, however would count as my furlough and I would not have another until 1967, which would set me back on finishing my master’s degree at Scarritt. I left Manila on April 15 at 5:00 P.M. and arrived in San Francisco at 5:15 P.M. on April 15. Jet planes are wonderful and crossing the dateline does interesting things. Leila Dingle and Kay King met me and I spent several hours with them before boarding the plane for New York about 10:00 P.M. 131

In New York I saw Dr. Wedigan who was in charge of all the missionary’s physical care. She sent me to Dr. Lucas, a cancer specialist. He aspirated the lumps and said he wanted to see me in a month. Since I was in the States, I visited my Dad and others, attended the North Dakota Annual Conference and led a Bible study at the Missionary Conference in Greencastle, Indiana. Early in May I returned to New York to see Dr. Lucas again. The lump was back and when I told him it had returned by Saturday after he had removed the fluid on Thursday, he said there must be a core that could create a problem and should be removed. He scheduled me to enter the hospital on Monday for the operation. I was in the hospital only one day and then after two days in a nearby hotel, I went to Buffalo, New York to visit Olga Sliper Allen, who had been my freshman high school teacher. I had asked if instead of paying for my room in a hotel, the Board would pay my way to Buffalo. It seemed too bad to be so close and not see Olga. They agreed. We had a good visit and I was able to see Niagara Falls. My furlough was only three months but I did a lot of visiting in those three months. I spent time with Dad, and had several good visits with Irene. I saw Libby several times. Libby had left the Philippines two years after I arrived. I was able to see my sisters and my brother and all their children. I went to Scarritt and visited with Carrie Lou Goddard which was very important. We discussed and made plans for my thesis which I would write when I returned to Scarritt. It was a good furlough and I was very much aware of God’s guidance in all that happened. I was glad to have been in the States, but I was eager to return to my “Harris Home.”

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Chapter 22 AT MY HARRIS HOME AGAIN The plane was landing in Manila. I think I was more excited than I had been when the ship docked four years earlier. Now I was returning to my Harris home and to the people and the work I loved. As the plane came to a stop on the tarmac, I peered through the window. There on the observation deck were the blue and white uniforms of Harris. I paused as I got to the foot of the stairs of the plane to look up and wave. There was Miss Fabro, several other teachers and students and Pearle Barter, my current house-mate. I was told by Miss Barter that when I had left, Miss Fabro said, “There goes our best teacher. I don’t see how we can open Harris without her.” During our first chapel service after school started a few days after my arrival, in her testimony, Miss Fabro told everyone how glad she was to have me back and that God had supplied all her needs. School opened a few days after I returned. As always, I had a full load of classes, plus I was teaching one of the classes Glenna Swenson would teach when she would arrive about a month later. Miss Fabro taught the other two. Each year the number of students enrolled in Harris grew. We now had more than 100 enrolled at the beginning of the 1964-65 school year. Dr. Fabro had asked me to act as registrar in 1962, so enrolling them was my responsibility. Harris had become a four-year college the year I arrived. There had been no graduation in 1960 as the curriculum had changed from three years to four and the first class with four years had graduated in 1961. However, Harris was still not fully accredited. I Become a Ninang One of the customs in the Philippines is that of having sponsors for baptisms and weddings. The sponsor is then a Ninang (if a woman), or Ninong (if a man). Rev. Eduardo Cajiuat and his wife Amy were good friends of mine. Now they had a new little daughter whom they named Amelita Grace for her mother and for me. They asked me to be the sponsor. I felt truly honored. Little Grace was my first inaanak (God-child). However, I was soon asked to sponsor weddings of some of my students. Then they became my mga inaanak. So they were my children. Their children became my grandchildren. I now have one son and seven daughters, fifteen grandchildren and at least six great-grandchildren. They mean so much to me. I am so grateful for them. Watching Girls Grow Someone has said, “Life is so daily!” and most often it is true. Rarely do we have sudden, life-changing experiences. And so while the work at Harris was ordinary and routine, it became the most challenging, thrilling, 133

and exciting thing possible as it was lived. I often felt the deep satisfaction of watching a girl grow from a narrow, warped understanding of the Bible to a deep love and appreciation for the Bible that opened the way to a whole new world of religious life and meaning, and of hearing her say, “I am so thankful for this course, because it has made the Bible really mean something to me.” Schedules were often heavy. One semester I found myself carrying a teaching load of 18 hours. Dr. Fabro was sick. She was not able to carry the load she usually did, so I took one of her classes. However, I was glad because the girls had been begging me to teach it and I felt “short-changed” if I didn’t have every girl in at least one class and the girls seemed to feel the same way. They felt deprived if they didn’t have me as their teacher for at least one class. They knew my classes were demanding and that I held them to high standards, but they also told me they learned much in my classes, and that they felt blessed to be with me and missed me when they did not have me as their teacher. “Ma’am, I just feel happy and blessed when I see you,” one girl told me. And I could understand for I have experienced the same thing as I have been near someone whom I love and whose love for me is real. “Maganda Kayo” As the pressure of work became heavy, I began to be aware that I was not setting aside enough time for prayer and listening to God. So I began arising earlier so that I could have at least a half-hour for morning prayer. I had been so aware of the value of my morning prayer time on the ship, but that had been so different and easy. Breakfast was at 8:00. There was plenty of time. Now classes started at 7:30 so breakfast had to be at 6:30. But I found it was worthwhile. Not only did it help me wonderfully in my whole approach to life, but interestingly enough, I began to get compliments from the girls on my looks. “Oh, Ma’am, maganda kayo.” “You are so beautiful,” the girls would say. One day when at the beginning of the class, several of the girls had made remarks about my becoming more beautiful, I took time to say to them, “I know the best beauty secret in the world. Do you want to know what it is?” Of course, there was a chorus of “Yes.” So I continued, “Be sure you take enough time every morning to pray and open your life to God. Then God’s beauty comes in. I’ve been taking more time for prayer. It is the best beauty secret I know.” An Annual Conference Because the Middle Philippines Annual Conference was a new one, there were times when we struggled a little. But it was a growing conference and immediately moved into doing all of the things which an annual conference of the Methodist Church does. Among them was mission work. Within the bounds of the conference, there were areas which had not been reached by the church. Work had been started and money was being 134

raised to support missions within our own conference. The church in Cabanatuan was a rather large church. Its pastor was a very fine young minister. He had worked hard to encourage giving to missions in his church and had succeeded quite well. The district superintendent of the Cabanatuan District had asked that all mission money be channeled through him rather than being sent directly to the conference treasurer. At Annual Conference, the amount given by each district was announced. The amount recorded by the Cabanatuan District was not large. This pastor stood up and said, “The amount raised by Cabanatuan City Temple was .....” Then he gave a number that was larger than the amount announced for the whole district. Everyone knew what had happened. The District Superintendent had not turned in all of the money which had been sent to him. But no one else was brave enough to call him to account. Of course the District Superintendent was not happy to have his dishonesty revealed in that way. And he had the power of appointment. So the pastor was told he was being moved from the large church at Cabanatuan to a very small church in the Bataan-Zambales district. Not only was the church very small, but the parsonage was a deteriorating nipa hut. His wife wanted him to leave the ministry rather than accept the appointment. I knew what was going on. My attitude had always been that I would go wherever I was sent and that God had work for me anywhere. I knew this young pastor was a very capable person and did not want him to leave the ministry. When the noon meal was served, I invited him to a quiet corner where we could eat together and talk. I assured him that “All things work together for good to those that love God and are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28 KJV) “You are the only one who can block God’s will for your life.” I assured him. “If you give it to God, God can take anything and make it work for your good and God’s glory.” We talked for some time. I prayed with him . “There are people in that town who need God’s word. Who knows what God has in store for you, or why he needs you there?” I told him. He accepted the appointment. One of our best newly graduated deaconesses was appointed to teach the kindergarten. The church prospered under their leadership and a new parsonage was built almost immediately. (Building is much easier and less costly in the Philippines than in the U.S.) After two years, the church had doubled its membership. He was appointed as the District Superintendent of that district. As years passed, he continued in the ministry and has served each of the two largest churches in the Philippines. When I returned to visit about twenty years later, I attended Knox United Methodist Church where he was then the pastor. He introduced me. He told them that I had encouraged him years before and that because of my support and prayer, he was still a pastor. Harris Begins a New Program Harris continued to seek to reach out to serve the church in the Philippines in any way possible. So, during the second semester of the 1966-67 school year, we began Lay Adult Evening Classes. Ester Alterado, 135

the young woman for whom we were waiting when I had applied for a year’s extension of my term, was now with us. This gave us another faculty member with a master’s degree. She and I each offered a class to lay church members who wished to become more effective in their Christian life and service in the church. The classes were well attended and it proved to be a very valuable experience for the class members and for us as instructors. Ministering in Knox Church Knox Church was the largest Methodist church in the Philippines, with more than 4,000 members. It had four congregations. At that time, the English-speaking was the largest, with the Tagalog a close second. Then there was also an Ilocano and a Pampango congregation. Each had its own minister. There was a girls high school called Bethel Girls’ School and a kindergarten, both sponsored by the church. But while church related kindergartens are very common in the Philippines, for some reason, this one was struggling. They asked me to serve on the kindergarten board. They were considering closing it. I suggested we try one more year and that they ask that Rosalina Concepcion, who was graduating that year, to be appointed as their kindergarten deaconess. This was done. And with a stronger, more supportive board and Rosalina as the teacher, the kindergarten prospered. Mila Berbana, another of our best students, had also been appointed to Knox in charge of the Christian Education program of the church. Both girls turned to me for advice and support. One day when I was meeting with Mila, Pastor Ben Canlas was also meeting with us. Ben had been appointed as pastor of the Tagalog congregation. He was a young man with a lot of promise, but also with a problem which destroyed many of the smartest and best Filipino youth. With the great respect for age which is a part of the culture of the Philippines, any young person who has real leadership ability is in danger if they do not know how to “Bow Properly.” (That is figurative language). Ben had come far, but he was also vulnerable. As we talked, I felt led to talk to Ben to let him know that I felt God was guiding him and had great things in store for him, but that he needed to be careful to show respect. A number of times as we talked, I felt God speaking to him through me. After we had talked for a while, I prayed for him. As we stood, I reached out, took his hand and said, “God bless you, Ben.” Suddenly, he put his arm around me and said, “Oh, how I love you!” It felt good to be 50 years old so I could receive that kind of love with no problem. I Choose Miss Huck There were several Canlas boys going into the ministry. Ben had a younger brother who was coming before us in the Board of Ordained Ministries of the Middle Philippines Annual Conference of which I was a member. His name was Querubin. He, like Ben, had difficulty with authority. The American missionaries (there were three of us on the board) saw his 136

potential. But some of the Philippine pastors did not appreciate what seemed to them to be an arrogant attitude. So he was in trouble as he sought to be approved for his Deacon’s ordination and acceptance on trial in the Annual Conference. Dr. Emerito Nacpil, who was a member of the faculty at Union Seminary and who would later become its president and finally a bishop of the Philippine church, was chairman of the board. It was decided by the board that Querubin would be accepted with certain conditions. When Querubin returned to the room after our discussion and decision, Dr. Nacpil announced, “We have decided that you will be accepted if you will meet monthly with one of the board members for counseling. You may choose any of the brethren.” Querubin stood there for a moment while his eyes swept over the group. Then, much to everyone’s surprise, he said, “I choose Miss Huck.” So, for the next year, he came to Harris once a month and we talked. He became a very effective pastor.

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Chapter 23 COMPLETING A TRIP AROUND THE WORLD My regular furlough would be in May, 1967. I had crossed the Pacific three times now—once by ship and twice by plane, but I had never been on the other side of the world. Now I wanted to go. Wanda Kelly, who was a Baptist Missionary, Dean of the School of Theology at the Baptist College in Iloilo, was going to the States about the same time. She would be going back to retire. We shared the same birthday, and she was exactly ten years older than I. It would be good for both of us to have a companion. When we went together to see the travel agent who would arrange our trip, we found our ideas of what we wanted to do matched exactly. Even personal agendas were compatible with each other. We left Manila on May 10 and flew to Bangkok. Wanda had made arrangements to meet with the family who had been so helpful to her and her husband, five or six years earlier. We checked into our hotel. Wanda contacted her friends. I was invited to go along, but I felt they would have a more meaningful visit without me and I was tired, so I stayed in the hotel and went to bed. The first morning when I took out my Bible and Upper Room for my devotions, Wanda asked me to share with her. In the evening she used her devotional book and again we shared. This was our pattern every day throughout the trip. We developed a rich spiritual fellowship. We spent another day in Bangkok viewing the temples. From Bangkok we flew to Calcutta. In Calcutta, our flight was delayed many hours, so they took all of us into Calcutta to a hotel. It looked like it had been a grand hotel in the 1800’s. Now it was clean but shabby. As we were being taken back out to the airport about 2:00 A.M., I could see many people sleeping on the sidewalks. The trip from Calcutta to Cairo was interesting. We had about an hour in Karachi, Pakistan. We were allowed to go into the terminal. When we got to Dhahran, in Iran, we also had about an hour for refueling and maintenance but we were not permitted to deplane. It really was good that we had the long unplanned layover in Calcutta because it brought us into Cairo after sunup instead of at 3:00 A.M., as originally planned. The Bible Lands In Cairo, I had chosen the Mena House Hotel because it was near the pyramids. We could see them from our hotel window. After getting settled, we walked out to look around. We rode camels and visited a pyramid. The next day we went into Cairo on a city bus. About three o’clock in the morning of May 15, the day we were to leave Cairo, we were awakened by the sound of heavy equipment being moved. At breakfast, we discovered that they were army tanks. We had some difficulty getting to the airport because the tanks were being mobilized 138

and the army had commandeered one of the three bridges across the Nile. From Cairo, we flew to Jerusalem. We were booked at the Inn City Hotel in the Jordan side of Jerusalem. It was a small, rather intimate hotel and the manager treated us as if we were his personal guests. When we began looking for tours that we might take, he told us it would be better if we let him use his personal car with his driver, which we did. We went on to the Dead Sea and I tasted the water. It was very bitter. At Qumran, we saw the remains of the Qumran community. We looked across the valley to the caves where the Dead Sea Scrolls had been found. Later, in a museum in Jerusalem, we saw one of the desks from the scriptorium with the ink-well visible. Some of the scrolls were also on display. We stood in the Garden of Gethsemane beside an olive tree which we were told was old enough to have been there when Jesus prayed in the garden. In the city of Jerusalem, we saw the ruins of the courtyard where Peter denied Jesus. We were taken to a prison under what is believed to be the house of the High Priest. One could see where the prisoners had been chained to the wall and where the stones were worn smooth from the many feet that had stood there. Our guide said, “If Jesus was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane in the evening and taken for trial to the High Priest the next morning, this is where he would have spent the night. You can be sure it would not have been in Ciaiphas’ bedroom.” We saw the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the Garden Tomb. Perhaps nothing was more meaningful to me than the Garden Tomb. There was so much about it that seemed so very authentic. It was carved out of the solid rock. There was a groove in front in which the stone would have rolled. Inside, there was a kind of shelf above where the body would have been laid. I could envision the grave clothes folded and lying there. I was able to step inside and so stood praying for some time. We visited Bethlehem and saw the Shepherds Fields, and a sheepfold where we were told the shepherd literally laid across the opening and became the door. I constantly, though silently, sang, “I walked today where Jesus walked.” I was so glad to have the privilege of being in the lands where Jesus lived. It was also especially meaningful to share it with Wanda. As we concluded our stay in the Jordan half of Jerusalem, the hotel manager sent his car and driver to take us to the Mondalbalm Gate where we would cross over into Israel. At that time, Israel would accept persons coming from Jordan, but Jordan would not accept persons coming from Israel. We had to walk from the point of exit in Jordan to the point of entry in Israel and carry our own luggage. We were grateful to our host at the Inn City Hotel for his special care for us. When we reached the Israeli side, there were taxis waiting. We went to the King David Hotel in Israeli Jerusalem. Touring Galilee There again we began looking for a tour. We found a man who was giving personally conducted six-day tours of Galilee. His name was Walter. 139

The next morning we started out. There were six of us in an old-fashioned touring car with jump-seats. Mrs. McCartny, an American woman of uncertain age, Wanda and I shared the back seat. The other passengers were Mr. Hitner, who rode in the passenger seat in front, Mr. Heinz, and Hans from Austria, who spoke only German, rode in the jump seats between the front and back seat of the car. As we drove along, of course we got acquainted. Walter was a Jew who had come to Israel from Germany just before Hitler came into power. His parents and siblings had remained in Germany. He did not know anything about them, but felt certain that they had perished in the Holocaust. He was very knowledgeable about both the Jewish and Christian heritage. Wanda and I were the only ones in the group with much knowledge of the Bible. Mrs. McCartny was a Roman Catholic who had attended parochial school as a child, but it was during the time when Catholics were not supposed to read the Bible and she had never even seen one. Of course, as we traveled, Walter constantly made references to Biblical facts. And Wanda and I added from our store of knowledge. Once when I had explained something from the Biblical History, Walter said, “I wish I could have been in your Sunday School class.” When we ascended the Mount of Transfiguration, Walter told us the road had been put in only a few years earlier when the Pope had visited. Walter was trying to explain why it was an important place, but he was having trouble. I had a copy of The New English Bible New Testament in my purse. I asked, “Shall I read it to you?” Walter said, “Yes!” and no one said “No” so I turned to the story in Matt. 17:1-13. When I paused, Mr. Hitner asked, “What are you reading? That doesn’t sound like the Bible.” I explained that it was a new translation. He was quite interested. He said he had never seen anything but a King James Version. I passed my New Testament up to him. He looked at it, read a little and passed it back saying he thought he would try to get a copy and begin reading the Bible again. I think being in the Holy Land was also arousing some interest. In Nazareth, we saw Mary’s Well and what was said to have been the carpenter shop and the home of Mary and Joseph under the shop. It was very interesting. We spent the night in a hotel in Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee. There was a mezzuza on the door of each room. I would have liked to have had a boat trip on the Sea of Galilee, but that was not part of our tour. From Palestine we went on to Athens. The Acropolis was breathtaking. I stumbled over a marker in the sidewalk and upon examining it, I decided it was intended to mark where Paul stood when he made the speech recorded in Acts 17. Italy and Switzerland From Athens, we flew to Naples with a quick stop in the Rome airport. We spent a couple of days in Naples and took a tour to Pompeii which was something I had dreamed of seeing since I’d read about it as a child. Returning to Rome we saw the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel and all 140

the other sights. We drove past the amphitheater many times and stopped once to view it close-up. Of course, we viewed museums and art galleries. We took a bus trip up to Florence where again we toured art galleries. There had been a flood and there had been damage which limited the paintings which were available for viewing. From Rome, we flew to Venice where we rode in a gondola to the glass blowing factory. Then when we were back in Venice, as we walked the streets, window shopping, a shopkeeper came to the door and invited us in. “We are just window shopping,” we said. “That is all right,” he replied. “Come in and enjoy your eyes.” From Venice, we went by bus to Milan. We continued on land, taking a train from Milan into Switzerland. The mountains were impressive and the tunnels fun. We talked to a travel agent in the train depot in Lucerne. When she suggested we go to Interlaken, a relatively small town between two small lakes, we followed her suggestion. She booked us into a bed and breakfast place just across the street from the train depot. It was wonderful. We could see the towering mountains from our window. We went to church and although we could not understand the words, we could understand the spirit. Some who could speak English welcomed us. We spent several days there just resting and enjoying the spring weather. Then we took the train and went on to Paris. Paris and New York When we got in the train depot in Paris, Wanda was going to stay with the luggage while I went to change money. I saw the money changer’s booth ahead of me and started toward it. Wanda, with the luggage and the porter, were directly behind me. A second later, when I turned to look, they had disappeared. I looked around some, but could not see them, so I decided to go ahead with my mission and find Wanda later. But I couldn’t! I wandered all over that huge building and could not find Wanda and our luggage. There was an Information Booth with a sign that said, “All Languages Spoken Here,” but there was nobody to speak it. The booth was empty. I was beginning to feel a little frantic and so was Wanda. She had known when they made a sudden sharp turn that I might have lost them. Of course, she had to stay with the luggage. It was more than half an hour later when I finally found her. Wanda had made reservations for us at a YWCA in Paris. So after we got together, we moved our luggage near the exit and she went to find a telephone to contact our housing. As we traveled together, I read the maps and Wanda asked the questions. She did not read maps very well and I did not like to approach strangers. So we made a good pair and could normally get around quite well, even in strange places. But we really had difficulty in Paris. Wanda discovered that the YWCA was not YWCA in France, but went under some other name. She thought she had an address, but something was wrong. While she worked the telephone, I stood by the luggage. Finally we gave up on the YWCA and 141

found a reasonably priced hotel nearby. We took a taxi and settled in. We had given the YWCA in Paris as a mail pickup, so we needed to find it. The next day, with the help of the desk clerk at the hotel, we did. Again, in Paris we visited art galleries and churches. From Paris we flew to New York When I had begun to plan my trip, the Women’s Division Secretary for the Philippines had asked if I wanted to be met in New York to be taken through customs. I wrote back saying that I thought that, after going through customs in as many places as I would have been by then, I could handle New York. However, while we were standing in the customs area after arriving from Paris, I suddenly heard, “Grace Huck” called out loudly by the man standing right next to me. Of course, I identified myself. It was nice to have someone to look after everything for me. Wanda and I said a loving good-bye in the New York terminal and she went on to Philadelphia where the Baptist headquarters were located. I went to the Mission Guest House in New York and the next day took care of all the business of coming home. The following day I flew to Denver and then Rapid City. Somebody met me and I went home to Dad in Spearfish.

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Chapter 24 BACK IN THE USA Dad was just as glad to see me as I was to see him. He seemed quite well and happy. He had moved into the Dorsett Retirement Home while I was in the Philippines. He shared the bathroom with a man who was 94 years old and Dad was able to be of help to him, and to some of the others in the home. This made him feel good. I had to find housing in Spearfish, for while I would be out itinerating for much of the time, I would also be home until I went to Scarritt for the second semester. There was a new apartment building at the Dorsett Home planned as low income housing for senior citizens. They were willing to let me live in one of the empty apartments while I was in Spearfish. I had fun fixing it up. It was an efficiency apartment with just one big room with a kitchen along one wall, and a bathroom. There was a folding door that could be pulled over the kitchen. I got a bed-davenport, made myself bookshelves with brick and boards which I built around an unfinished desk that I purchased. I had a very lovely little home. Itinerating Very shortly after I had finished my “nesting,” I went to Greencastle, Indiana for the New and Furloughed Missionary Conference where I led a Bible Study. Then I began itinerating. My first speaking appointments were in Illinois. Dr. Krong, who had been my faculty advisor for my thesis at NDAC, had moved to Macomb, Illinois, as a professor in the college there. His wife, Eileen, was active in the Women’s Society of Christian Service. She knew I would be coming home and recommended me as a speaker for the District WSCS meetings. I went, I spoke, and I had a wonderful time and received many words of appreciation. After finishing my speaking at WSCS conferences in Illinois and in many churches in Illinois, I went to Nashville and visited Carrie Lou Goddard. There I met with my thesis committee. Then I went to North Dakota speaking at churches. In Illinois, I had spoken 23 times to a total of approximately 3500 people. In North Dakota, I spoke 22 times to about 950 people. From North Dakota, I went to Oregon. I had asked to be assigned to Oregon so I could visit my sister Mabel while I was there. The crowds in Oregon were even more sparse and some days I did not have speaking engagements. However, as I went by bus from the coastal area to the eastern part, I saw snow for the first time since the winter of 1959. That was fun. A Board Meeting in Denver I would be going to Scarritt for the second semester to finish my M.A., but before I would go, I was invited to attend the Board of Global Ministries meeting in Denver and to remain for a meeting of persons with knowledge and interest in the Philippines, which would follow the meeting of the Board. 143

On Monday after the close of the Board Meeting, a group of about ten or twelve of us met together to discuss the situation of the Philippine Church. At that time, there was quite a movement among mission-based churches to sever their relation with the Board and to become autonomous churches, and the Board was encouraging it. A year or so earlier, there had been a worldwide meeting in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia at which the concept of autonomy had been presented. Some of the leaders of the Philippine Church had come back from that meeting ready to lead a movement for autonomy. Among the group in Denver was Dr. Holt, a former missionary to the Philippines. He had kept in touch with other missionaries and church leaders. As he spoke at our meeting, he indicated that he thought the Philippines might quickly move to become autonomous. The chairman of our group turned to me and asked what I felt the Philippine Church would do. I responded, “If you talk to some of the leaders of the church, you may be led to believe it will happen soon. But my contacts are with the common tao and there is no desire at the ‘grass root’s level’ for autonomy and I do not think it will come for many years.” Dr. Holt looked at me as if he thought I were crazy. But he did not try to refute what I had said because he knew that he really did not know the mind of the rank and file of the church in the Philippines. That was more than thirty-five years ago. The Philippines is still a part of the United Methodist Church. Autonomy has not yet come. Final Semester at Scarritt From Denver, I went to Indiana where I would make a few more speeches. After speaking on Sunday, I was taken to the airport to fly to Nashville. Weather created problems and my flights were changed several times. I finally got to Nashville. Carrie Lou was there to meet me and to take me to Scarritt. She told me she had considered asking me to live in her home, but had decided it might be difficult with only one car, so had decided against it. I had thought how nice it would be if I could live with Carrie Lou, but l, too, had decided as I considered everything that it would not be best. I was to share a suite on the first floor of Gibson Hall with Wan Chen Chow, who had been Libby’s good friend when she was in China. We also became good friends I registered for my classes. I was enrolled in Field of Social Welfare, which was required. It was a whole new area of study for me. I was allowed to substitute History and Theology of Methodism for Church History which was required, but not offered that semester. In that class were a number of students from Vanderbilt Seminary who were cross-enrolled. One was a young woman who would be the first woman to be received into the Tennessee Conference. Then I took Administration and Supervision of Christian Education under Dr. Leo Rippy, which provided some interesting experiences. I was supposed to take a course in Youth Work, but it was not being offered, so I was permitted to substitute a seminar on World Christian 144

Education with Miss Goddard as instructor. Of course, I was overjoyed because I wanted to be in her class, and she was very pleased because, not only was she glad for the contact it would give us, but she felt my experience in the Philippines would add much to the class. After we had been meeting for about a month, Miss Goddard received word that Dr. Grant Shockley, the Functional Secretary for Christian Education with the Board of Global Ministries was to visit Scarritt. He would spend several days with us. Our class began planning an introduction to a program on Christian Education at which he would be the featured speaker. Our plan was to gather slides showing Christian Education taking place throughout the world. In the class was a young man from Taiwan, a furloughed missionary from Korea, a student from India and one from Africa and I was from the Philippines. We planned to use three projectors, one for the Americas, one for the Pacific Region and Africa and one for India and Pakistan. We had music from various countries. Mark, from Taiwan, drew maps on a large piece of white paper. Then we would project similar pictures on the appropriate area of the world simultaneously. As we changed pictures, we held our hand over the projector so one picture faded out as the next faded in. It took an enormous amount of practice to make it work. Some of them wanted to give up. I was sure we could do it. And we did!! It was impressive. Miss Goddard was very pleased and Dr. Shockley was much impressed. The whole experience was extremely meaningful. Dr. Shockley and I would cross paths again in the Philippines a couple of years later. Writing a Thesis I had chosen as the subject of my thesis â&#x20AC;&#x153;A Study of Experiences and Influences Leading to Participation and Membership in the Evangelical Churches in the Philippines.â&#x20AC;? While I had been on my medical furlough, we had set up my thesis committee. Miss Goddard, Professor of Christian Education, was first reader. Dr. Wolcott, Professor of Missions and Dr. Tower, Professor of Evangelism, were second and third readers respectively. I had also laid out my purpose and anticipated method of collecting data. My former students would gather information based on questionnaires, which I would furnish them. During the time between my two furloughs, my former students, now serving churches in the Philippines, gathered the data for me. Now I had the results of the questionnaire which they had used and I was ready to document it, draw conclusions and write my thesis. I had thirty charts and graphs. Betty Letzig, who was a staff member of the Board of Global Ministries, was on a study leave, also studying at Scarritt and writing a thesis. Early in the semester, we met one another and formed a friendship. Betty also had some graphs or charts in her study but fewer than I had. A tank pen was essential for making bar graphs and was helpful for making any graph or chart. So I loaned her my tank pen. Tank pens are notorious for making blots when two lines intersect, 145

and they are hard to handle if you don’t know how. The first time Betty tried to use it, it slipped out of her hand, throwing India ink all over her papers, the desk, and her dress. She brought it back to me saying, “I am sure this thing is demon possessed.” So I offered to help her. One day I returned to my room to find some penciled graphs and the tank pen together with a note, “Would you please possess the demon and make these for me?” By the time I was working on our graphs, Xerox machines had come into being. There was one at the Board of Education office across the street, and while original work was required for first copy, xeroxed copies were permitted for additional ones. Final copies of the thesis were still made by a typist, on bond paper copy for the original and four carbon copies on onion skin. Betty and I used the same typist and shared the bond paper. The final copy of the thesis was due on May 1. We made it! I was pleased with my thesis, partly because it bore out what I had believed was true. The study definitely confirmed that Christian Education, in its many forms as carried out in the Philippines, was the major factor in bringing persons into membership in the church. Miss Goddard told me she was very pleased with it for several reasons. She felt it was well-written, had much good information which was carefully documented, and I am sure that not least among them was the fact that it affirmed Christian education as the leading method for reaching and retaining persons in the church. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Assassinated While the lunch counters in the department stores had been integrated while I was in Nashville before I went to the Philippines, in many ways integration was still taking place and racial tension was high. I was talking to Carolyn Wolcott on the telephone. I could hear the TV in the background. All of a sudden, she interrupted me by saying, “Wait a minute.” I stopped speaking. Then she said, “Martin Luther King has been shot.” She continued telling me what she was hearing. Many of the Conference Women’s Societies of Christian Service in the Nashville area made a practice of inviting missionaries who were studying at Scarritt to come to their annual meeting, mingle with the women and maybe speak briefly, or just be a presence. I was invited to the Kentucky/ Tennessee Annual Meeting and I accepted. I did not know that it was a Black Annual Conference. (This was at the time when the Central Jurisdiction of the Methodist Church was made up of Black churches.) When I arrived, I saw that I was one of only three white persons among all the Blacks. I was in the minority. It was a funny feeling. The speaker was a very fine woman from Memphis. The night before our meeting in Nashville, there had been a riot in Memphis. She could not return to her home in Memphis because she was Black and would not be allowed to enter the city. As she spoke, she talked about the racial problems. I sat there empathizing with those women, sensing their fear, their anxiety and deep concern. They were asking, “What can we do to bring about peace, harmony 146

and racial justice?” It was the same questions I’d heard discussed by Christian women many times. Only now these were black women speaking out of their own experience. We had a meeting on the campus a few days after Dr. King’s assassination. One member of the panel was a black minister. He spoke at length appealing to all of us to help to change the situation. He told about his little girl coming home from school crying because the other children would not play with her. He said, “You teach your children to play with my little girl and I’ll teach her so she won’t throw a molotov cocktail into your living room.” A white minister working in an integrated church told us of the unbelievable atrocities which he had witnessed being carried out against law-abiding black people in his parish. It was hard for me to believe I was in the United States, yet I knew I was. And these were not isolated incidents. My heart was heavy and my pain great, but I felt completely helpless to do anything. Graduation With spring came closing activities with tests, term papers and reports. My class in “History and Theology of Methodism” was especially interesting. Dr. White gave our test in a sealed envelope which we could take anytime we felt we were ready. We knew the subject matter which would be covered. I had handed in my last test some time before the end of class and when I had seen Dr. White, he told me I had an “A” on the test and for the course. Our closing activity in that class was to be a report. He gave us a list from which we could choose. One was related to the acceptance of women as full members of the Annual Conference. Another had to do with the organization of the church and the relation of the Central Conferences. I decided I would take the one about organization since I had personal knowledge of Central Conferences and was probably in a better situation to explain it. There was a young woman in the class who seemed always to be lagging behind. Dr. White asked me if I would work with her and give her a part in my report. Of course I would. I made charts and let her explain local church, district, and Annual Conference relationships. With the charts to guide her, she did quite well. I explained Jurisdictional Conferences, overseas Central Conference, Autonomous Methodist Churches and General Conference. But the most fun was with the report of the young woman who expected to be received into the Tennessee Annual Conference as its first woman member. She chose to report on the ordination and acceptance of women into the Annual Conference. She did a good job on the historical part and said that women as full members of the Annual Conference had been authorized at the 1956 General Conference. Dr. White asked her who had been the first woman to be received. She did not know, although all she would have had to do to find out was to look in the June 7, 1956 issue of the “Christian Advocate.” So, while they were wondering, I just quietly said, “I 147

was.” It caused a little stir in the class. Thursday, May 30 was a busy day with many activities. Then on Friday morning, May, 31, we all gathered on the lawn before the graduation exercises. Carrie Lou approached me, congratulated me and said, “With distinction, no less!” She sounded so proud and happy for me. Then she gave me a gold pin with an “H” for Huck engraved on it. I still wear it regularly. We all received our diplomas and our master’s hoods. Then we had a closing buffet luncheon in the dining room. Another milestone in my life was past! Closing Days in the U.S. Sometime back in 1967 Doris Willis, one of the missionaries who lived with me, had gone to the airport to meet someone. That person had not come on the plane as expected, so she had asked to see the manifest. On it she saw the name of V. Huck traveling with a tour group. She told me about it. I had a cousin, Virginia Huck and I thought it just might be she. The tour was booked at the Manila Hotel. So when I was near the hotel as I took my morning walk, I went in to inquire. I learned it was Mrs. Verna Huck, not my cousin. “Do you want to call her?” the clerk asked. “No, it is too early,” I said. The clerk responded, “No, that group is leaving on a tour soon. Some are already at breakfast.” So he rang the room. When I got an answer, I explained my reason for calling. “Oh, we’ve been out of the States so long,” Mrs. Huck responded, “an American voice sounds so good.” We decided to meet after they returned from their tour. When I told Maria about it, she told me to bring them home for supper. Mrs. Huck had a companion, Mrs. Hill. So, I met them at the hotel about 5:30 and they had supper with me at the Missionary Apartment at Harris. They were both quite impressed with Harris. Mrs. Huck was a Roman Catholic, but Mrs. Hill was a Methodist. Each gave me a small gift for Harris and Mrs. Huck and I kept in touch with one another over the years that followed. At Christmas or Easter, she often sent a check for $5.00 or $10.00 for Harris. While I was living in Spearfish during the first six months of my furlough, I got a letter from the bank in Angeles City in the Philippines asking “Did you negotiate a check for $500.00 from Mrs. Verna Huck of Union Grove, Wisconsin?” I replied telling them that I had not. Of course, as soon as I saw that, I knew someone had gotten hold of the check and raised it from five dollars to five hundred. I tried to call Mrs. Huck several times over a period of a week or two, but never got an answer, so I expected she was out traveling again. When I was packing up to leave Spearfish, I found the letter again, so tried once more to call her. This time she answered. After I had identified myself, I said, “I’m worried!” “Oh, I know what you are worried about, and it’s okay.” 148

Then she went on to tell me that when she had gotten her bank statement, she saw that she was $500.00 short, she started looking. All of her writing on the check had been carefully traced with a felt tip pen. The five and no/100 had been written over to make it into five hundred. She turned it over. The endorsement looked nothing like my handwriting. She took it down to the bank along with one of my letters with my signature on it. When she told the banker about it, his first question was, “How well do you know this woman?” She said she suddenly realized we had met once and spent maybe three hours together. But when she showed him my letter and my signature, he knew what had happened. Insurance made it right. But as we talked, we began to make plans for me to visit on my way home from Scarritt. She would meet me at O’Hare Airport. Union Grove was only about fifty miles from the airport. I left on Friday afternoon and flew to Chicago. I spent the weekend with Mrs. Huck. She had a little party for me, inviting all the Hucks and the banker. On Sunday I attended the early church service at the Catholic Church with Mrs. Huck and later worshipped at the Methodist Church with Mrs. Hill. On Monday I returned to Chicago, flew to Denver and then to Rapid City. After visiting at home, I started on my way back to the Philippines. I had a night and a day in Hawaii which I enjoyed very much. From Hawaii, I flew on to Manila.

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Chapter 25 RETURNING TO HARRIS Again, as the plane touched down in Manila, I could see many from Harris standing on the visitor’s balcony waving enthusiastically. I was met at the plane by Mr. Pangilinan. In Filipino relationship, he was now my compadre since he was Alex Pangilinan’s father. I had sponsored the wedding of Rosario Nicholas and Alex about two years earlier. Mr. Pangilinan worked at Manila International Airport. He pointed out little Alvin sitting on the rail. As soon as I got inside, Alvin greeted me by saying, “Welcome home, Lola (Grandmother).” Miss Felisa Magalit, who was the Women’s Division Treasurer, was also waiting inside. VIP Treatment I was given the VIP treatment as I entered the terminal. First, a girl from Philippine Airlines met me with a re-entry permit. Then when I got to the desk to show my customs declaration, the girl said, “Are you Grace Huck?” When I answered in the affirmative, she picked up a sampanguita lei, came around the desk, put it around my neck and gave me a welcoming kiss. Then she took me to the customs inspector and gave him a card with my name on it. When I got my luggage, he just initialed it and did not inspect it or even ask me anything. I was the second person out of the gate. When I got into the visitor’s area, there were ten or twelve persons waiting for me. The new Harris Toyota bus was almost full. Immediately after I got home, I quickly unpacked a few things, took a shower and went over to Central Church where Annual Conference was being held. I was introduced with the other missionaries. I was greeted royally. Many did not expect me to be back in time for Annual Conference. I felt a very warm welcome. Heat had never bothered me much, but I felt it then. Many Changes In some ways, I felt I had never been gone, although it had been a year and much had happened to me in that time. Much had also happened in the Philippines. When I had arrived in 1960, most of the area around Harris still showed the effects of the war. However, before I left, an area amounting to about one-fourth of the block just down United Nations Avenue from us which had lain barren except for accumulated trash, had been purchased and a new Manila Hilton Hotel was started. Now it was finished. There were many things that were good about having it there. A sub-post office was installed on the second floor which was a real blessing. Now we could do everything except get our mail almost next door. Rizal Park and the Lunetta had been overhauled with a beautiful “Chinese Park” added. There were walks, drinking fountains and other improvements. Most of all, it was clean. 150

Classes Begin When I arrived, Dr. Fabro was on a sabbatical and Mrs. Totaan was in charge. It was a very heavy burden for her. One morning as we were planning for the opening of school, Mrs. Totaan very spontaneously said, “Oh, I’m so glad you are back.” We had accepted 44 freshman students which brought the enrollment for 1968-69 up to 140. I had been told originally I would have only three classes, but the seniors requested Counseling and Guidance, so I taught it, one Bible Class and three Psychology Classes. Then I taught two classes for Bessie Silao until she was able return to the Philippines. New Plans for Field Work Field work was always an important part of the experiences of the Harris students. For years, the girls from the Sophomore, Junior and Senior classes were assigned to local churches for Sunday fieldwork experiences. Freshman girls were also assigned to accompany the older girls and to observe. Now, with the increased enrollment, it was becoming difficult to find enough churches where girls could be assigned for field work experience. Also, it was important that each girl have a faculty advisor and the increased number of girls was stretching the faculty too thin. I had an idea. We would assign the sophomore girls to Children’s Garden, which was an orphan’s village supported jointly by the Christian Children’s Fund and the Philippine Methodist Church. There were about seventeen cottages each supervised by a “Mommy” with ten to fifteen children in each “family.” The children ranged in age from about four to fourteen years of age. I talked it over with Mrs. Pangandian, who was the overall supervisor of Children’s Garden. She was very happy with the arrangement. Then I went to Children’s Garden and arranged for the classes. They were overjoyed. The “Mommy’s” had been trying to provide some kind of Sunday School and different pastors came each Sunday for a church service. Most of the girls would do team teaching with two teachers for each class. I accompanied and supervised the teachers of Older Primary and Junior children. Our Harris Kindergarten Education teacher accompanied and supervised the teachers of the Kindergarten and Younger Primary Children. I had some of my most interesting preaching experiences during the church services. Ministers from the area took turns preaching for the church services. But often the preacher failed to come. If no minister had appeared by the time the choir number was presented, I could be quite sure he would not arrive and then I would be expected to preach. I always remembered Isabelle Unkenholz saying, “A preacher should be ready to preach, pray or die at any moment.” So I would begin to think of a message often inspired by the choir number. I tried to preach in as much Tagalog as I could handle because the younger children did not understand English too well. One Sunday, Dr. Daniel Arichea, a young professor at the seminary who had just returned from studying in the United States, was the preacher. As we stood together waiting to board a bus to return to Manila, Danny was bragging because only about one-third of his students were able to pass his 151

tests. I said to him, “Danny, if only a third of your students are passing, one of two things is true. Either you are not teaching or you are not testing what you have taught. You are not teaching unless your students are learning.” I think he took it to heart because I began to hear good things about him as a teacher and he became one of the most effective teachers at the seminary. Later he became a Bishop of the church in the Philippines. I was also asked if I would lead a Bible Study for the “Mommy’s.” Because I wanted to be free to observe my students while they were teaching, I agreed to stay after the church services and lead a Bible Study. It meant I would arrive back at Harris sometime well after noon. By the school year of 1969-70, fifty freshman were enrolled, bringing the student body to more than 150. This was about two and one-half times the enrollment when I arrived in 1960. Sending Sophomore students to do fieldwork at Children’s Garden had helped but had not solved the field work problem. Now, we made another move. Leah Hattrick, a former Director of Christian Education, had joined the faculty in 1968 and sometime later her daughter, Charleah, a former social welfare worker, came and joined the faculty. So we set up a new field work experience for Seniors. Some were assigned to work at the Youth Reception Center, a home for homeless or delinquent youth. Others worked at the Methodist Social Center among children of poor families, while a third group taught Release-time Religious Education classes in a nearby high school. Charleah and Ester Alterado were the supervisors for the Seniors. Thus, only the Juniors needed to be placed in churches. Harris Becomes a Fully Accredited College Harris was in a very good part of Manila. The property was worth a great deal, especially after the Manila Hilton Hotel went in almost beside it, as well as the United Nations Building directly across the street. The name of that street had been changed from Isaac Peral to United Nations Avenue. The new Phil-Am Life Building was down the avenue about a block away. Because of this, there were periodic attempts to unite Harris with the Seminary, especially after the Seminary moved to a lovely campus out of Manila. Also, Philippine Christian College wanted to absorb Harris and Ellinwood, a smaller Deaconess Training School belonging to the Presbyterian Church. Of course, there could be some advantages, but Miss Fabro and I resisted. Miss Fabro was fearful that the unique quality of Harris would be lost and I had seen what happened to deaconess programs when they were absorbed by a seminary. I was sure Harris and the deaconess program would be lost. I strongly supported Miss Fabro, giving her the backing she needed. Ellinwood did unite with P.C.C. and in a year or two the deaconess program was gone. We held out and were not “cannibalized” which was how I saw it. But it was a constant threat. To become a fully accredited college was one way of retaining our independence In mid-September, 1968, Miss Fabro returned. How glad I was to see her. Harris just wasn’t Harris without her. Then, a few days after she arrived, 152

Harris was granted full accreditation by the Bureau of Private Schools. And most exciting of all, Harris was again a pioneer. In 1924, Harris had the first kindergarten and Kindergarten Education Program in the Philippines. Now, under the direction of Doris Wills, a new degree, Bachelor of Kindergarten Education, never before existing, was recognized, and it was offered at Harris. The Trustees had changed the name from Harris Memorial School to Harris Memorial College in 1963, but it was not until 1969 that the Bureau of Private Schools completed the legal action. So, when the students arrived in July 1969, they were greeted with the sign over the entrance, “Harris Memorial College.” Dr. Grant Shockley Visits In November, Dr. Grant Shockley, whom I had met at Scarritt, was making a trip to view Christian education in Asia. He was much impressed with the deaconesses he met and also with the influence of deaconesses on the men in the Conference Christian Education Staff as one after another proudly introduced themselves as sons and/or husbands of a deaconess. Of course, Harris was the fountainhead for all of this. Leah and I invited him for the evening meal before chapel. We also invited Dr. Fabro, Mrs. Totaan and Rev. LaVerne Mercado, who was the executive secretary for the Board of Christian Education of the Philippines. Of course, Dr Shockley remembered me from Scarritt and we were able to visit a little. By the time he had seen it all, Dr. Shockley had come to the conclusion that the Philippines had some very good Christian Education and that the strength of the Christian Education Program and maybe of the church Christian Education staff, were the deaconesses and Harris Memorial College. Far from wanting to close Harris, which Dr. Fabro had feared, he was going back suggesting the Board cooperate fully and that Harris expand its program, both to make room for more students and to begin planning for graduate education. He envisioned Harris as the Christian Education center for all of Asia. Of course, I was ecstatic. This had been my vision for some time. The very next day we had more good news. Dr. Murray, who had come to the Philippines as a consultant in higher education, reported on a survey he had taken of all the colleges. His survey covered a number of different aspects. Harris had topped the list in every one of them. We also got a report on the reaction of a group of American pastors who had visited the Philippines recently. Most of them wanted to “take home a pocket full of deaconesses.” I Become Academic Dean As we began planning the curriculum for a B.A. degree, there was much work involved. Dr. Fabro asked me to be the Academic Dean. Harris had never had an Academic Dean before. Arranging classes to meet the Bureau requirements in math, science and language needed for accreditation, while keeping the Bible, theology and 153

Christian education courses which we felt were essential for the work as a deaconess was difficult. Fortunately, just at that time, the government of the Philippines reduced the required units of Spanish from 24 to 12, which helped a lot. I served as the Academic Dean from 1968 through 1971, when I left the Philippines. In 1970, we published the Harris Memorial College catalog with all the information about the college. Three degrees were offered. The first was the Bachelor of Kindergarten Education, which was the first degree of its kind offered in the Philippines. Students graduating with this degree would serve in the church as teachers of church-related kindergartens which were an important part of the ministry of the church and served as an evangelistic outreach. Miss Doris Willis, a missionary teacher at Harris, worked very closely with both the Bureau of Private Schools and the Bureau of Public Schools to create and accredit this degree and our degree formed the foundation for the requirements for that degree which would be offered in other colleges in the Philippines. The Bachelor of Arts, with a Major in Christian Education, now a fully recognized degree, was granted to students who would serve the church in ways similar to a Director of Christian Education. We also offered a Bachelor of Christian Education Degree which did not meet the Bureau requirements for Language, Science and Math. This made it possible for girls who had a deep commitment to Christ and a desire to serve him through the church but who were intellectually incapable of carrying the heavy academic requirements (usually 21 units) necessary to meet the BKE or BA degree, to still become a deaconess and serve in the church. All would be commissioned as deaconesses. One thing which had not been carefully or completely worked out before was assigning department names and numbers to classes. This I did. Working out the numbers was an exciting challenge. Dr. Fabro was very pleased with what I had done. A second thing which I did was to work out the requirements for eight minors, one of which could be chosen by each of the girls receiving a Bachelor of Arts degree. One student, Eileen Clemente, had come to Harris after two years of college at another institution. She was a very intelligent young lady. As I worked with her looking at the credits she had brought by transfer, because many of the secular units had been completed, she could fulfill the requirements and graduate with a B.A. degree in 1969. The first full class to receive Bachelor of Arts degrees graduated in 1971. It was exciting having our first B.A. graduate. Lutheran Students Enroll As the 1969-70 school year opened, two young women came to my office. (As Academic Dean, I had a small room which opened into both the missionary apartment and the school sala.) They were from the Lutheran Church and had been employed by the Lutheran Church in the Philippines to write a Sunday School curriculum for their church. Both had Bachelor of 154

Science degrees in education and had been elementary school teachers. They had no training in Christian education, so asked if they might take classes in Christian education. Of course, we accepted them gladly. Then they asked if we would accept a man. I told them yes, we would. They had a companion, Manuel del Rosario. However, he had only an Associate of Arts degree, just two years of college. He had also been a teacher. They enrolled in Foundation of Christian Education under Miss Alterado and Curriculum Development which I taught. The next semester, they would take Curriculum Writing. After one semester, Manuel liked the kind of education he was getting at Harris and he decided he would like to complete his B.A. at Harris. I worked with him and planned his study so he would be able to graduate with a B.A. in 1972.

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Chapter 26 CLOSING DAYS

A Visit from the Pope In 1969, Pope Paul VI made a visit to the Philippines. Since the Philippines is a Catholic country, of course it was an important event. He celebrated Mass in the huge amphitheater in Rizal Park. I did not attempt to go but I gave Maria time off and told her she should go since she was a Catholic and this was a chance of a lifetime for her. The crowds were estimated at several million people. I began figuring and realized that there were more people gathered in that area, which was probably no more than a half section of land, than there were in the combined population of North and South Dakota together. Political Unrest When I arrived in the Philippines in 1960, the political situation was quite stableâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;at least as far as I was aware. American missionaries were quite generally loved and appreciated. In 1965, Ferdinand Marcos was elected as President. He started out doing much to improve the lot of his countrymen. He proposed the â&#x20AC;&#x153;New Society,â&#x20AC;? began building roads, bridges and schools. He reintroduced the program of land reform, which had been a program of President Macapagal more than ten years earlier. Of course, if land reform was to work, the big landowners would have to give up land. The program never really got off the ground. The landless whom it would have helped felt betrayed. In 1969, Marcos defeated Sergio Osmena Jr. This was the first time in the history of the Philippine democracy that a president had been reelected. Before the election, there were some demonstrations against President Marcos. As feelings against President Marcos grew, feelings against the United States and Americans also increased since the U.S. supported him. On January 26, 1970 President and Mrs. Marcos were attacked by protesters and on January 30, two were killed when about 2,000 protesters attacked the presidential palace. On March 3, police were called out to prevent an attack by about 1,000 protesters on the U.S. Embassy. In July, President Richard Nixon visited the Philippines to confer with President Marcos. President Nixon and his cavalcade had a parade through Manila. I stood along the street where the cavalcade would pass. It happened that as President Nixon passed, our eyes caught for just a second. Earlier, when President and Mrs. Lyndon B. Johnson visited the Philippines, we (whoever was my companion in the missionary residence at Harris at that time) went to the embassy to see them. However, President Johnson flew across to Vietnam, but I did shake hands with Mrs. Johnson. It was kind of fun to realize that because I was in the Philippines, I had contact with two U.S. presidents, an experience I never would have had in the United States. It was well-known that President Marcos was supported by the United States. The Philippine involvement in the Vietnam War was basically 156

in response to U.S. pressure. That did not please many of the Filipinos. Anti-American feelings were growing. While I was working on the plans for full accreditation for Harris, I needed to make frequent trips to the Bureau in the government building. Dr. Fabro began to be uneasy about my doing it. She began to ask Mrs. Totaan to make the needed contacts. This made my work more difficult but, of course, I acquiesced to her wisdom. When I went to the Philippines in 1960, I had every expectation that I would stay until I retired. But I was beginning to wonder if God was pushing, pulling and gently urging me to go home. Is My Work Accomplished? There were a number of things that made me question what I should do. One was the political situation. The growing animosity toward Americans made me wonder: Would Harris be better off without an American in a position of leadership? Have I finished my work here by guiding Harris through the process of full accreditation as a college? I had often heard it said that a missionary should work herself out of a job. Had I done that? We were graduating our first class with a B.A. and BKE in March of 1971. Also, many of my former students were now on the faculty and others were in the field carrying on what I had taught them. Miss Zenaida P. Lumba, who had gone to the States to get her master’s degree with the purpose of coming back to become the Academic Dean, would be back to take that position in the school year of 1971-72. I felt my presence on the faculty might make it hard for her. Since I was older, since I had been Dean with her as a faculty member, and since I was an American, would all of these factors in some way hinder her in her work? I felt it very well might. The considerations just listed were pushing me out. I was also being pulled. Dad was 87 years old and was feeling his age and needed help. My sister, Frances, had lived in Spearfish while teaching at Black Hills State College. But she had gone to the University at Grand Forks, North Dakota, working on her doctor’s degree. There was no question in my mind, but that Dad needed me, and I felt I had some responsibility to him. There was one more factor which played a part in my decision. I had a letter from the Board asking if I was considering “terminating” in 1971 which was the end of a three-year term. Increasingly, I felt God was telling me that I had finished my job in the Philippines, and that I should be a missionary in my own country. The complete dedication and commitment to Christ and the church which I saw in the Filipinos and the lack of that same kind of complete dedication that I saw in the church in the States made me feel that missionaries were more needed there than in the Philippines. God had always led me by opening and closing doors, so as I became increasingly sure that God was leading me back to the United States, I fully expected I would get a letter indicating some task for which I was needed there. That was the one indication that I should go home which I did not get. 157

All the others pushed and pulled me to go home. I talked it over with Dr. Fabro. Of course, she did not want me to leave. We had worked very closely together. I had been her support and mainstay for a number of years. But she was deeply aware of all the reasons why it would be wise for me to leave and was very sympathetic to my feeling that my father needed me. So she did not put pressure on me to stay. “I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane” So, after graduation in 1971, I would leave. But there was one last thing I needed to do. As I was telling my students that I would be leaving, Manuel del Rosario came to see me. He was going to be married and he wanted me to be his Ninang. He would be married at 5:00 A.M. on May 8. Philippine weddings are always set for early morning. Of course, they are usually about an hour later than the appointed time, “Filipino time.” I had planned to leave on May 7, the day before the wedding was planned, but I changed my plans and booked a flight at 1:00 P.M. on the day of the wedding. I participated in the wedding before I left in the afternoon. Off course, there were farewell activities at Harris. I think each class did something to say “Good-bye.” The seniors were especially grateful because I had played a large part in making it possible for them to graduate with a recognized degree. The Juniors were especially sad because they felt it wasn’t fair for me to leave before they could graduate. The song “I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane” was popular at that time. The students sang it at the farewell gatherings and I, myself, sang it in my mind over and over:

“I’m leaving on a jet plane Don’t know when I’ll be back again.”

I left a big part of my heart in the Philippines when I left, not knowing when, if ever, I would be back again, but certain I was following God’s will for me!

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PART 4 Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee.

(From John Wesleyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Covenant Prayer)

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Preaching at Faith United Methodist Church 1974

Snow: Winter of 1977-78 160

Confirmation Class at Claremont UMC 1984

Preaching at Hecla UMC - 1984 161

In Mitchell - 1986 with my God-Daughter, Grace Cajiuat.

In my room at Harris 1985-1987 when I returned and taught as a volunteer.

My class in â&#x20AC;&#x153;Teaching and Interpreting the Bibleâ&#x20AC;? presenting Dr. Lumba with a copy of A Brief Review of the Books of the Bible which the class had produced. 162

FILIPINO FAMILY Left: Grace Cajiuat 1982 Above: Del Rosario Family 1982 Manuel and Guia with Dada, Delia Ruth, Lee Grace, Luella Lois. Below: Grandchildren 1988 Back: Elmy, Lee Grace, Grace, Ting, Delia 2nd row: Dada, Michael, David, Luella, Joy in front

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Top Left: View of Huck Hall Lower Left: Entrance to Huck Hall Above: Dedication Plaque Below: Mortgage Burning at Dedication of Huck Hall, Oct. 1995

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With Dr. Zenaida P. Lumba, March 28, 1988 when I received the Honorary Doctor of Letters degree awarded by

Philippine Christian University in consortium with HARRIS MEMORIAL COLLEGE 165

Above Left: Pastor Kip Roozen, Pat Lucke and Grace with gifts gathered for Tree of Life Mission by the Spearfish United Methodist Women -1999. Above Right: Grace at her computer - 2000. Below: Grace leading the class in Abiding in Christ Bible study - 1999.

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Signing copies of WHEN YOU PRAY at the Spearfish United Methodist Church on June 11, 2000

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Chapter 27 GOD, WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME? I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane I settled back into my seat, fastened my seat belt and closed my eyes. I was leaving the Philippines after eleven eventful and fulfilling years as a missionary. Earlier that morning, my last act was to be a sponsor at the wedding of Manuel and Guia del Rosario. But it was not the wedding that occupied my mind as the plane lifted off from the Manila International Airport. Already, I was looking ahead. I prayed, “Lord, show me what you want of me.” As I had prepared to leave, Dr. Fabro, the teachers, church members and especially my students had urged me to take a year’s furlough and to return, but I felt God was telling me that my work at Harris was finished. But what lay ahead? I wanted, I needed, God’s guidance. I had a six months “pre-retirement furlough.” I didn’t need a job for six months, but after that—what? I was bone-tired and rather looked forward to a time of rest and relaxation. And, of course, I felt sure I would have opportunities to speak for missions. So though I felt certain I was following God’s guidance, there was still a deep sadness. Through my mind there was continually running the then-popular song: “I’m leaving on a jet plane, Don’t know when I’ll be back again.” And that was what hurt. “Will I ever be back?” There was no question I was leaving part of my heart behind in the Philippines. Learning Complete Submission I found a small furnished apartment in Spearfish and settled in. I had slides and pictures and a story to tell, and so I took speaking engagements as they opened up. Sometimes, I was asked to preach. I also had a few opportunities to do workshops on Christian Education, but as time passed, they became fewer and fewer and by mid-fall, there were none. My six months’ furlough, and its attendant salary, ended the first of October. I had talked to the Bishop and had visited with the District Superintendent. Both were polite, but completely uninterested. I was an ordained minister and would have been glad to take any church, but I was told there were none. What was happening? I had envisioned doing some itinerating, showing slides, talking about missions, and offering encouragement to local congregations, thus persuading them to become more involved in mission outreach. I had a Master’s Degree in Christian Education and was eager to help churches with their Church Schools. But now, no one invited me! It was almost as if I had ceased to exist as a human being. Surely God had a place for me somewhere. I was open. I was ready. But it seemed no one wanted me. 168

Since the church had no place for me, and I was very much in need of an income, I applied for work in all kinds of places, both those for which I was qualified, and many for which I was “over-qualified,” but found nothing. There seemed to be no way to support myself, to say nothing of serving God in any meaningful way. Even my offers of volunteer service were not accepted. There were two little churches of which I had personal knowledge, each needing a full-time pastor. Neither was able to pay a living wage for a family, but they offered opportunities to serve God. However, I was told “There is no place.” Since my conference membership was in the Philippines, I had no claim on the South Dakota Annual Conference. Finally, I found a part-time job caring for a little girl several hours, three days a week. This provided sufficient income to keep me in groceries by being very frugal. The rent and utilities still had to come from my fastdwindling savings. But of greater concern than my physical needs was my need to minister in the name of Christ in some meaningful way. Why was God denying me this? “God, what do you want of me? What are you trying to do to me?” I cried in bewilderment, anguish and pain one cold night in early January of 1972. As I lay on my bed, my heart felt as cold as the north wind blowing outside my window. In other years, I had been aware of God’s wonderful guidance as my life had unfolded. Why not now? As I cried in my anguish and despair, there came to my mind the words of the Covenant Prayer from John Wesley’s Watch Night Covenant Service: “Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee.” “Or laid aside for thee.” This was a new thought! I had always been ready to be employed for God, anywhere—the little church that no one else wanted and few could afford to serve. To be willing to do nothing? Was this the commitment God was asking of me? Did I need for God to bring me to the place where there was absolutely no opportunity for service that I might learn to be laid aside as well as to be employed for God? Could I trust God enough to surrender everything? It was an astounding question, but also a revelation. I arose from my bed, went to my study and got my Book of Worship Turning to the Covenant Service, I truly prayed: I am no longer my own, but thine. Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt; put me to doing, put me to suffering, let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee, let me be full, let me be empty; let me have all things, let me have nothing; I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now, O Glorious and Blessed God, Lord of All; Thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen. I had prayed that prayer many times in my life, yet it took the experiences of those months for me to understand it and to be able to make the total commitment for which it called. And I made it wholeheartedly! I felt my question was answered. Now I knew what God wanted of me. It was a 169

kind of commitment I had never imagined. And it was only as I made that commitment that I was ready for the next step in my life. I turned out the light and went to sleep. During the next week, I received a telephone call from a church asking me to come and speak about the Philippines and another from a church asking me to do a workshop for their Sunday School teachers. Then I received a call from the District Superintendent asking me to “supply” the church in the little town of Faith, South Dakota, on a part-time basis. It was one of those two small churches, which I knew needed a pastor. “Then, if you prove yourself,” he said, “at Annual Conference, we will transfer your membership from the Middle Philippine Annual Conference to the South Dakota Annual Conference.” “Prove yourself.” Those words hurt! Hadn’t I proved myself in the years I had served churches in North Dakota? Hadn’t I proved myself as I served as a missionary teacher in the Philippines? I thought I had! But, no matter. It was enough that I had a place to serve. Part of the reason I had come home from the Philippines was because I felt I needed to be near my father to give him the support, both emotional and physical, which he needed. He had cataracts on both eyes and was nearly blind, so he needed someone to write checks and care for anything that had to be read. He was in the Dorsett Home which was a good nursing home in Spearfish, so his basic physical needs were cared for. I did not need to provide a home for him, but I did need to be close enough to give other kinds of support. This meant I wanted to be within easy driving distance of Spearfish. Serving the Church in Faith Now, I had received a call from the District Superintendent asking if I would supply the church at Faith, about 110 miles north and east of Spearfish. The plan was that I would drive over on Sunday mornings, preach, do calling and any other pastoral duties. The church would rent a room in an old motel where I would stay Sunday and Monday night. Then I would drive back to Spearfish after lunch on Tuesday. Salary would be $250.00 per month. There was no travel allowance. I went, but driving across on that road which had many miles with no sign of human habitation in winter weather concerned me. I saw the parsonage sitting there empty, so, after about a month, I asked if, instead of paying rent at the motel, they would pay for the utilities at the parsonage. I would then be available full-time and I would still work for $250.00 a month. They agreed. It was much better for both the church and for me. After the first Official Board meeting, as we were standing around talking, the treasurer said, “We didn’t decide how much of the apportionments we were going to pay this month.” ( Apportionments is the name given to each churches’ share of the ministry of the church beyond the local congregation.) Someone else responded, “Well, we never do pay it all.” Without thinking, I quickly responded, “Oh, we can’t do that. That is what the whole church lives on.” Then I went on to say, “All of the programs 170

of the conference, the general church and our missions are paid from the apportionments.” They paid their apportionments without question from then on. By being at Faith full-time, I was able to begin participating in all the activities of the church. There had been no confirmation class for a number of years and there was a good group of young people from the seventh grade through high school. So I began a confirmation class for them. There were also a number of adults who were interested in becoming members of the church. I held a class for them also. During the first six months, I baptized six persons, some were youth and adults, and I received 34 persons into membership in the church. At Annual Conference in June, my membership was transferred from the Middle Philippines Annual Conference to the South Dakota Annual Conference, and I was appointed to the church at Faith. By that time, I “had proved myself.” Ministerial Association Formed There were five churches in Faith, which was a town of only a little over 500 persons. In addition to the Methodist church, there was a Catholic church, and two Lutheran churches (one Evangelical Free and the other Wisconsin Synod.) The fifth church was Church of Christ, which does not use musical instruments. It always designates itself that way. I thought it would be a good idea to have a Ministerial Association so we could work together. So, I sent invitations to all the clergy inviting them to my home “to get acquainted.” Because I was a woman and to avoid any possible problems, I also invited the wives. The only person who came was the wife of the Evangelical Free Lutheran pastor and her two pre-school age children. After we had visited, enjoyed the cake I had baked and she had gone home, I went to the post office to pick up my mail. There was a letter from the pastor of the Wisconsin Synod Lutheran Church. In it, he said, “I know what Methodists as a heterodoxical denomination believe.” Then he quoted all the Scriptures he could find against women, especially as ministers. He closed with, “You say you want to get acquainted, but I do not see how we can have any kind of relationship since we have no faith in common.” I considered replying to him, “You say ‘we have no faith in common.’ I believe in Jesus Christ. I’m sorry if you don’t.” But I decided it was best to simply ignore it and not respond at all. Later we did get together and were able to organize a Ministerial Organization which helped transients in need. Faith-Marcus United Parish Formed Faith was not the only church in that area of South Dakota which did not have full-time pastoral leadership. The state leaders of the Methodist, Presbyterian and Baptist churches began talking about cooperating since the Methodists now had strong pastoral leadership. The Baptists at the local level were not interested, but in July, a meeting of representatives of the Faith United Methodist church and the Marcus United Presbyterian, a small church 171

about forty miles from Faith, together with leaders of the denominations, met and drew up a plan to establish the “Faith-Marcus United Parish” consisting of the two churches. In August, I began preaching at Marcus. It was very effective. On October 29, 1972, I was installed as the pastor of the Marcus United Presbyterian church with the Rev. Charles White, pastor of the United Presbyterian church in Sturgis preaching. Three other Presbyterian ministers and Rev. Preston Brown, the United Methodist District Superintendent, participated. Serving the church at Marcus was rewarding. It gave me opportunity for more ministry, which I enjoyed, and they were grateful for a full-time pastor. It also added to my income, which helped. The church at Marcus began to grow. On Christmas Sunday, I baptized seven persons, both children and adults, and received seven into membership. Native American Friends Faith was near the Cheyenne River Indian Reservation, so there were many Native Americans coming to Faith. They almost always came begging for money for gas to get home. As the minister, I was a good target. Also, I enjoyed getting acquainted with them and they were always willing to work to earn the money they needed. I became a very good friend with several of them. One lady did very beautiful bead work. At first, I bought articles which she offered for sale, then I began asking her to do special pieces that I wanted. I drew the design of the United Methodist Cross and Flame and she made a pendant for me which I always wear with my ministerial robe. Her uncle was also a good worker and came often. I hired him to spade up my garden, which he did. It was a large garden. There was always hoeing that he could do and he was a good worker. There was one problem, and I often heard this said. “If you pay them, they won’t come back until they need more money.” That was true. Even if I had more work to do and asked him to come back the next day, if I paid him, it would be a week or so before he returned. But as I considered this, I remembered the term “Tribal unconscious” from my study of psychology. The Lakota Indians lived by having a buffalo hunt and getting what they needed for their livelihood. Then there was no reason to hunt again until the bounty from the first hunt was gone. So, while it does not make sense in today’s world, they did not work again until the bounty of their last hunt was gone. Elected to Conference Boards One problem which I faced at Faith was that the church was small and the members were not eager to do anything except have regular Sunday worship services. Yet, they wanted me to be available all the time in case of a death or illness. I wanted to do more to minister in and through the local churches. There was so much I could see that I wanted to do, or to have done by the church members; things that would strengthen them spiritually, things that the church could and should be doing to witness for Christ. Yet 172

because the church was small there were not enough persons to make a viable group unless everyone participated, and there just was not enough time or energy to carry out the vision I had for them. The same was true at Marcus, only they were an even smaller congregation. After I had been a part of the conference long enough to be known, I was elected to areas where I could use my skill as a Christian Educator. I was also put on the Committee on the Status and Role of Women. I think I made a contribution there also, although it was not a priority in my life agenda. I Am Grace from Faith During the Jurisdiction Conference in the summer of 1972, Rev. Harvey Sander from the South Dakota Conference was a member of the Nominating Committee. The number of members from each conference who should be elected to General Boards depended on the number of church members in each Annual Conference. Because South Dakota was so small, we had only one slot on all of the Boards, and that one slot was being taken by one of the ministers who had been on the Board of Pensions the last quadriennium and who would serve again for 1973-77. When they were nominating persons for the Board of Global Ministries, there was a request for an ordained woman. The spot should have gone to one of the Ohio Conferences, but they had no ordained woman available. Harvey spoke up, “We have just the person you want,” he said. “She is an ordained minister and has been a missionary in the Philippines for eleven years.” So the Ohio representatives said, “Okay, let’s put her on.” So I became a member of the General Board of Global Ministries on the Division of the United Methodist Committee on Relief. It was a wonderful experience. At the Board meeting, I met people and often told them, “ I am Grace from Faith.” That always brought a smile. Then they would ask, “Where is Faith? What is it near?” I would reply, “It isn’t near anything. It is a hundred miles from everywhere.” Even Rapid City meant nothing to most of the people to whom I spoke. In fact, South Dakota was no better known by most of the members of the Board than a province in the Philippines would be. Board meetings were in January and October. The first meeting in January, 1973 was a trip to Haiti. Since most Board members had little or no knowledge of third world countries, the staff decided it would be wise to give them some exposure. Haiti was close enough so the transportation costs would not be exorbitant. “Sunday School” on Monday In order to provide Christian Education for the children in Marcus, we began meeting at the church on Monday evening after school. The woman who drove the school bus was also one of the “Sunday School” teachers. She brought children in the school bus and took them home after classes were over. I drove down to Marcus on Monday afternoons and taught the older children. That class was studying the life and teachings of Jesus. One day, 173

one of the boys said with real admiration, “Jesus was sure some guy, wasn’t he?” After the “Sunday School,” I would take several children home who did not live on the bus route. Then I would stay at one of the homes and the adults would gather there for a Bible Study in the evenings. Several children also joined in the study. The evening Bible Study included four generations. It was good. My Father Dies I had been at Marcus for “Sunday School” on Monday. November 1, 1977. Then we had the adult Bible Study and I had spent the night at the Oldenberg’s. Snow had begun to fall by the time everyone was leaving after the Bible Study. By morning, there was six to ten inches of new snow. Getting to the highway from the Oldenberg’s was difficult and the highway was not much better. I asked about the road from Sturgis to Spearfish. Someone who had traveled it told me it was treacherous, so I called Dad and told him I would not be coming. I went north out of Sturgis to reach Highway 212 to go back to Faith. North of Sturgis, there was little or no snow. I got home with no difficulty. Thursday morning, I had a call from the nurse at the Dorsett Home saying Dad wanted to know if I could come. Yes, I could, and I did. Dad and I had a good visit. He told me again that he wanted me to have his funeral and that he wanted the committal sentence to be: “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” As we visited, I could see that he was failing some. I was glad he had asked me to come and that I had no responsibility that made it difficult. The next Sunday morning, the telephone rang about 3:30 A.M. It was the nurse telling me that she had gone into Dad’s room to check on him and found him gone. I told her to go ahead and call the undertaker when she was ready and that I would have my services and be there about 2:30 P.M. Then I called my sisters and brother at their homes. Geneva said she, too, would be there about 2:30. Willis said he was not coming. Mabel and Frances said they would fly. I had my services at both Marcus and Faith and during the announcements, I told them of Dad’s passing and that I would be going to Spearfish. We decided not to have the Sunday School or Bible Study at Marcus. We also had a Bible Study in Faith on Tuesday night. I told them I expected to return for it, so to plan for it unless I called and told them I would not come. After church, I drove to Spearfish. Geneva and I arrived about the same time. Mabel and Frances got there later. We planned for the funeral on Wednesday. The snow was all gone and the roads were okay, so I did return to Faith for Bible Study on Tuesday night. Mabel went with me. As we drove along, we visited and she made a comment which I felt was significant. She said, “I wonder why it is? You and I have both worked with children all our lives, but you have so many more spiritual children than I have.” (I think we had been discussing some of the young people who had been in our 174

classes who were actively serving the Lord in one way or another.) I thought about her remark for a few moments, then I answered, “I think it is because I have always worked within the church while you have always worked outside the church.” Then I continued, “It is a mystery, but the church is the Body of Christ and while the organized church is not necessarily the Body of Christ and not completely contiguous with the Body of Christ, there is certainly a great deal of overlapping. New Christians are nurtured in the church and they need the support which it supplies if they are to grow.” After she went home, she began trying to get the children with whom she worked more involved in the church. Mabel had written a song while she rode on the plane coming to the funeral. She revised the words of a poem she had written for Father’s Day. We girls practiced it and sang it for Dad’s funeral as he had asked. I preached the sermon as Dad had also requested. Rev. Peter Moe, who was the minister at the church at the time, assisted. There was also a very meaningful time when members of the congregation shared memories. By the time the funeral was over, a new snow storm was coming. Sneeze and You Start a Blizzard The snow continued to pile up. Once I had to call my neighbor to come and shovel the snow from the door so I could get out of the house. The wind blew much of the time, so we had constant blizzards. We laughingly said, “All you have to do is sneeze to start a blizzard.” I had one funeral when the man who had died was buried in the Veteran’s cemetery near Sturgis. I rode with the undertaker for the committal service, and back to Faith with the family. One stretch of road for about 10 miles almost always had ground blizzard. As we drove home, we could not see the road, or where the edge was. Our driver drove more by feel than by sight. We all were watching closely. Then I said, “ I don’t suppose it does much good for all of us to watch the road.” To which the driver replied, “I think we will get home safely with Grandma and the preacher in the back seat.” During Holy Week there was one snowfall after another. We were not able to have any services that week. However, Saturday dawned clear and still. In the afternoon, one of the ladies brought her shovel and began to shovel the snow from the door of the church. The snow was piled up against the door as high as the door knob. Several of us joined her and we shoveled the snow away so we could open the door. We did have a worship service on Easter. One family came to church in an old-fashioned one-horse cutter. The snow never melted and we couldn’t see the ground until May. When the snow did melt, I had pansies in bloom under the snow.

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Chapter 28 A NEW APPOINTMENT Is It Time to Move On? I believe there comes a time in the life of almost every church, especially small churches with few or no new persons coming into the community, when every pastor has reached all the persons he or she can reach and a new face and a new voice is needed. When I had been at Faith and Marcus for five years, I began to feel that it was time for that new face and new voice. However, there was nothing that was a good place for me near enough to Spearfish that I could continue to care for Dad, so I stayed a sixth year. It was a good year with some significant ministry. During that year, I met and became acquainted with a person who would make a significant contribution to my life. Rev. Rueben Job, who was a member of the North Dakota Annual Conference but who had been related to the General Board of Evangelism for a number of years, was asked by Bishop Armstrong to come back to the Dakotas and to become the District Superintendent of the Northern District of the South Dakota Conference. As I attended conference meetings of one kind or another and saw him in action, I was very impressed with his deep spirituality and beautiful spirit. As time to consider appointments for the 1978-79 conference year approached, I again told my district superintendent that I felt I should move. I had served Faith-Marcus for six years. My Dad had passed away so I could move anywhere in the conference. I had a call from Rev. Job. He was asking me if I would consider moving to Cresbard and Northville, two relatively small churches near Aberdeen. A new policy known as the Consultative Process had been inaugurated at the last General Conference. This meant that both the pastor and the congregation were consulted. I would go to the prospective church and meet with the Pastor-Parish Relations Committee of the church. We would assess one another and see if we felt that I could minister to their needs. It would be a completely new experience for me. I had a meeting in the eastern part of the state. Rev. Job set up a meeting at Cresbard. He and I met at a crossroads where I left my car and continued to Cresbard riding with him. As I had been in meetings with other pastors since I had returned from the Philippines, I had discovered that they considered a salary as grades. I had never thought much about salary. It was due me and it provided a way for me to meet my needs. But since housing and utilities were provided by the church and my personal needs were few, I accepted what was offered with little or no thought about the salary. Now, hearing other ministers talk, I began to wonder: Was the size of the salary in some way a measure of the effectiveness of the pastor?

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As Rev. Job and I rode together, we talked. I told him I had never thought of salary in this way before. I had received only minimum salary at Faith. Now, I was considering another church at minimum salary. “If I get only minimum salary, am I getting only a D-?” I asked. “You get an A+ in my book,” was his reply. “You are one of the most effective pastors I know.” Again, I knew it was the opportunity to serve, and especially in churches which needed the ministry I could give but could not pay a large salary, that was important. Cresbard and Northville As we drove up to the church, I was much impressed. It was a relatively new brick church. We entered and went into the pastor’s study. There were eight or ten men and women gathered there. It was a large room with bookshelves, a large desk and all the things I would enjoy. We talked about the churches. They were being served by a student from Aberdeen at that time. As we talked, I said, “You need to know that I am a dreamer of dreams and a seer of visions and if you don’t want that kind of a pastor, don’t ask me to come.” “I think that is just what we need,” one of the men said. As we drove away, I told Rev. Job that I thought I would be very happy in that church. I could tell also that they seemed pleased with me. At Annual Conference, I was appointed to the Cresbard/Northville charge. At the first Official Board meeting, I asked permission to put out a weekly newsletter. That would provide contact with persons who had not attended church on Sunday. They gave the permission. We called it “The Grapevine.” At that time, bulk mail went at one and one-half cents a piece. I soon found a young woman who was glad to work several hours a week typing for me. Monday morning was time to prepare “The Grapevine.” Two or three ladies from the church came in the afternoon, folded, stapled, counted and prepared it for mailing. It was effective. I believe, at least some of the effectiveness of my ministry at Cresbard/Northville, was the result of “The Grapevine” and the contact it provided. You Can’t Outgive God After I had moved into the parsonage at Cresbard, I decided I needed more seating in my living room. I liked to have Bible Studies, Prayer groups and even Board meetings in my home. The living room was large enough to easily accommodate an additional couch of some kind. So, I went to Aberdeen looking through the furniture stores. I found a beautiful love-seat. The original price had been $550.00. It had been marked down more than once and now it was priced at $250.00. I wrote out my check and arranged for it to be delivered. Several weeks went by and it was not delivered. During that time, a flood had occurred which did damage at Wesley Acres, our church camp in North Dakota. I gave $25.00 through each of my two churches for a total of $50.00 to help with repairs. 177

The School of Christian Missions was held in Mitchell, and I attended. As I was on my way home I called the furniture store in Aberdeen to see if they had been trying to get hold of me to deliver the couch. “Yes, we have been trying to reach you, but not to deliver the couch. We have had a flood here in Aberdeen and your love-seat has water damage,” I was told. “We would like you to come in and look at it.” I went straight to Aberdeen instead of continuing on to Cresbard. When I looked at the couch, I saw that one back leg was off. The fabric across the back was loose at one corner and stained and twisted. A water line across the front was visible, but probably wouldn’t be noticed if you were not looking for damage. “You don’t have to take it. We will refund your money, or if you want it we will repair it as best we can and give you a discount.” “How much discount?” I asked. The salesman called the store manager and then reported, “Fifty percent.” I looked at it and thought, the back will be against the wall, the front looks pretty good and the damage is scarcely noticeable. “I’ll take it,” I said. So, I went to the office and they gave me a check for $137.50, which was the 50% plus the tax on that portion. On the way home I thought, “Hey, you can’t outgive God.” I had given $50 for Wesley Acres. I got back $137.50. A few days later, they delivered the couch. By that time, the water line in the front had disappeared. Some time later, when I pulled the couch out away from the wall as I was cleaning, I saw that the couch had healed itself. There was no evidence of the flood damage. But that is not the end of the story. I used the couch for almost ten years. After I was retired and was moving into a small apartment, I held an auction sale for those things I could not take with me. The love seat sold for $400. How Can We Pay It? When the first special offering promoted by the general church came along, I offered it to the members. In “The Grapevine,” I wrote “This is an opportunity for you to reach out in the name of Christ to those beyond our local church. Each time such an opportunity comes, I shall offer it to you. You do not need to respond each time unless you want to, and you need not feel guilty if you do not give. Pick and choose! It would not be fair to you if I did the choosing. I might fail to choose the very project you would like most to assist. So I shall offer you all opportunities to witness to Christ’s love through your offering. But you choose the one or ones you wish to support.” I had been at Cresbard only a few months when it was time to report the salary which would be paid in 1979-80. The minimum salary had been raised $700 a year by the Annual Conference. The Pastor-Parish Relations Committee of the two churches met in Northville to discuss and set the salary. “I don’t see how we can pay $700 more next year,” one of the committee members from Northville said. 178

“We can scarcely meet our budget now. Each month we struggle,” a man from Cresbard added. Then one member of the committee suggested, “Well, we don’t have to pay the apportionments.” I spoke up, “I would be very distressed if you did not pay the apportionments. The apportionments are our fair share of the program of the church beyond our local church. Everything our church does is dependent on the apportionments. My churches always pay their apportionments.” There were nods of agreement and the apportionments were never mentioned again. But I continued, “I’ll tell you what we can do. You pay the additional $700 in salary and I’ll just return it as my offering. There is nothing that says how much I can or can’t give as my offering.” There was a chorus of “Oh, no! We don’t want you to do that.” After a few moments of silence, someone asked, “If we can’t make it, would the conference help us?” “Yes,” I replied. “There is a fund in the conference which can be drawn on by churches who are in trouble financially but it is limited and Rev. Job has worked very hard to get all the churches in the Northern District off that fund. I would hate for it to be my churches that spoiled all his work. But it is a possibility. That is why we are a connectional church and why we pay apportionments.” I went on, “My best recommendation, however, is that you take my offer.” Then I left them to struggle with it. The next day, Ken Peterson from Northville, told me that they had raised my salary $800. “That $100 is to say how much we appreciate your ministry. It should be a thousand, but you know we can’t do that.” The next year they gave me a good increase in salary, and the next year an even larger one. I was no longer on minimum salary. I retired at the end of three years at Cresbard/Northville and my Social Security is based on those two years of good salary. So, I am blessed with an above average Social Security check thanks to Cresbard/Northville’s generosity. What Good Thing Is Happening in Your Church? While I was the pastor in Cresbard, I became a member of the Conference Leadership Development Council with special responsibility for children’s work. Mr. Wendell Way, lay leader of the Cresbard church, and I went together to a meeting in which we were both involved. As a get acquainted icebreaker at the beginning of the meeting, the leader asked each of us to give our name, the name of our church and to tell something good or exciting that was happening in our church. When it was Wendell’s turn to speak, he said, “Wonderful things are happening in the Cresbard/Northville parish since Grace has been our pastor. Before, at every official board meeting, we would look at the bills to see which ones we could postpone paying until next month. But since Grace has come, she has gotten us giving to missions and there is plenty of money to pay our bills. In fact, we have a $500 CD that is for this year’s 179

budget still sitting in the bank drawing interest. We have not had to cash it. The church is growing with new members being added, and there is a spirit of joy in the church. We are so grateful for Grace’s ministry.” Sharing with Rueben Sometime after this, I had a letter from Rueben Job. I had written reporting things happening at the church, and he replied: “It was good to receive your letter and to learn of the many good and growing things that are happening in the parish and within your own life. When I think back to the low self-esteem, hopelessness, helplessness and frustration that were rampant in that parish when you were appointed and now to see the many positive results, it is hard to believe that you have been there only a short time. God has blessed your ministry with marvelous fruitfulness. I share in your thanksgiving to God for his empowerment and blessing through it all.” Perhaps one of the richest blessings of my three years’ ministry at Cresbard was sharing with Rueben Job. He was my District Superintendent, so reporting to him about my churches was very appropriate. On Monday morning I often went into the study and sat down at the typewriter to share with Rueben. He usually responded. All his letters blessed my soul and inspired me to greater faithfulness. But one especially blessed me. He wrote: “My days begin early and I seldom arrive home before midnight. One of the joys of my work is reading your faith-filled letters—even at 1:00 A.M. they inspire and bless! Thank you for the good work you are doing at Cresbard and Northville and for the ever-widening circle of your influence. Your life and ministry bring hope, courage and faith to many. Night before last, Marilyn Peters spoke of your influence on her life—others have said the same. The Lord is blessing and using your commitment!” Counting Bushels Years before I arrived in Northville, there was a layman in the Northville church who was a leader in getting the United Methodist Men’s organization started in South Dakota. A “Lord’s Acre” was a common project. He encouraged rural churches to choose a plot of ground, plant it and care for it and give the proceeds for some project of the church. Since his home had been in Northville, and although he had passed away sometime before I arrived, the impact of his life and ministry was still great in Northville, and they had a strong United Methodist Men’s organization. Usually, the money they raised was used to improve the church building in some way. I was still in contact with Rich and Eva Wehrman in the Philippines. I learned from their letters that they were involved in getting church buildings in some of the pioneer areas of the Philippines. While churches were usually built of native materials and the work done by the church members, they 180

liked to have a cement floor and corrugated tin roof. These two items usually added up to about $250 U.S. dollars. I began “dreaming dreams and seeing visions.” If I could just get the Northville United Methodist Men to use some of their “Lord’s Acre” money to help build a church in the Philippines, it would mean that the church would have the floor and roof it needed, and it would bring blessing to the Northville church, especially to its men. As a woman, I usually did not attend the United Methodist Men meetings. But when they were making plans for the year, I talked with Ken Peterson about coming to the meeting and making my proposal. Ken and his wife Linda had become very good friends and Linda had worked with me to get the United Methodist Women involved in mission work. I went to the UMM meeting and suggested that they might use part of the income from their Lord’s Acre to provide floor and roof for a church in the mountains of the Philippines. I wanted their gift somehow to be related to what they received, not just a set amount. I was not getting far when Ken whipped out his pocket calculator and after doing some quick figuring, he said, “We have fertilized for 30 bushels to the acre.” (Ken also sold fertilizer). “So, let’s give everything over 30 bushels to the acre.” That sounded all right to the other men who really did not expect to have anything to give. It also pleased me because I saw it as the perfect opportunity to prove God’s faithfulness. Leon Smith, the other man in the UMM who wanted to give beyond the local church was the one who drove the truck to the elevator after the harvest. He told me later that he prayed all the way to the elevator. He delivered 322 bushels of wheat to the elevator. The ten acres had gone just over 32 bushels to the acre, making almost exactly the $250 needed for the floor and the roof of the church in the Philippines. An interesting side-light is that Ken Peterson had a field right beside the UMM plot which had been fertilized the same way. It went 25 bushels to the acre. The field of the neighbor across the road made only 12.5 bushels to the acre. “You made believers of us,” they told me. I had felt completely confident that God would demonstrate his faithfulness. Dakota Wesleyan University I am sure I had heard of Dakota Wesleyan University while I was serving churches in North Dakota, but it was not until I began attending Annual Conference on its campus that I began to be fully aware of it. My first reaction was a shock that a Christian church-related college did not have a chapel on the campus. Then, as I learned more about DWU, I began to feel that I would like to get involved with it, especially since I had been so involved in a church-related college in the Philippines. After I had expressed my interest and concern for Dakota Wesleyan, I was named as a trustee. One of the things President Don Messer frequently did was to remind us of our responsibilities as trustees, one of which was to support the university financially. The second was to encourage students to enroll. 181

I kept wishing that I could give. This was especially true when there began to be talk about the need for a chapel on the campus. I was at Dakota Wesleyan University for a meeting. Most conferencewide church meetings were held at DWU. One morning I went to the little prayer room on the third floor of Smith Hall. There was a small prie-du in front of the window. I knelt there, looking out across the campus, envisioning the chapel and wishing I could give a significant gift. Suddenly, I remembered I would be retiring in about a year and that, upon retirement, I would have accumulated a little over $10,000 in my personal retirement fund. That was mine to do with as I wished. I could give that. I felt that the suggestion came from outside of me. It probably did. I thought, “I’ll take time to think about this” although I was so excited by the thought, I wanted to go to Dr. Messer immediately. Ten thousand dollars at that time could easily be considered “a significant gift.” In the afternoon, when we had a break in the meeting, I went to Dr. Messer’s office and told him that I would be giving $10,000 to start the chapel fund. I asked him not to tell anyone where it was coming from. “Oh, you can tell Bonnie,” I said. He was so excited and pleased that I knew he had to tell his wife. As time went on, he kept urging me to let him tell. “It will inspire others if they know it is you, rather than some wealthy person,” he said. Finally, after about a year, I agreed. Years went by. The presidency changed three times. Three new buildings were built. Frances Wagner raised $100,000 for a small chapel in honor of her husband, Dr. Robert Wagner but it was not until 2004 when Kenneth and Marion Sherman, who were both graduates of DWU, left a gift of more than one million dollars that the Sherman Center was completed. It will seat about 900 and serve as a chapel and auditorium for all school events. On November 4, 2004, the Sherman Center and Wagner Chapel were dedicated. The altar table in the Sherman Center was dedicated in my honor in recognition of my gift 23 years earlier. Retirement After three years at Cresbard and Northville, I reached my 65th birthday. It was time to retire. After much thought, I decided I wanted to retire in Mitchell. I found a lovely affordable two-bedroom apartment. I would have a study which would also be the guest room. I was pleased with my new home and soon had it arranged beautifully. So, in June of 1981, just a few days before my 65th birthday, I officially retired as an ordained full member of the South Dakota Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. The retirement ceremony varies from year to year. That year, a whole evening was given to it. One by one, we were introduced. Each of the ministers was introduced by someone who had known him over the years. Dick Unkenholz was the one who introduced me. He told everyone that I had been his pastor when he was a boy and had received him into the church. He then told something of my years of ministry We were each called forward. The ministers were given a retirement pin and a boutonniere or for me a corsage and the wives received a corsage. 182

We each were to respond briefly. There was applause for the first retiring minister who was introduced, louder applause for the second and a standing ovation for me. I was pleased and embarrassed. But I knew that the credit all belonged to God.

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Chapter 29 AROUND THE WORLD IN 76 DAYS An Invitation While I had been serving as pastor in Cresbard, I had a letter from Dr. Menken at Drew School of Theology in Madison, New Jersey. He was in charge of a program which had been initiated and was paid for by an endowment from Dr. Lambdon, former professor at Drew. The program was to bring in two pastors each quarter to live in the dormitory, take some classes tuition free and give inspiration and guidance to student pastors. I was being invited to be one of the Lambdon Pastor-Scholars. It sounded very interesting, but I was in the last year of my ministry and I did not want to take three months out of it. So, I replied that I was interested and that, if they wanted me after I had retired, I would love to come. The reply invited me for the spring quarter beginning February 1, 1982. I accepted. I had been thinking about returning to the Philippines for a visit. I wanted to be there over Christmas. Also, I had thought for some time that I would like to see more of the world, especially Australia and New Zealand. So, I began making plans with the travel agent. In July, Bob Nave, a missionary from India, was at the School of Christian Missions. He was selling tours of India, basically to see mission work. We would stay in private homes and mission schools. It was exactly what I was looking for, and I did want to go to India. I decided I would take a trip around the world, lasting about three months. I would spend Christmas in the Philippines and end up back in Madison, New Jersey, where I would spend another three months at Drew, arriving back in Mitchell just in time for Annual Conference. I worked with the travel agent and booked a tour in Australia and another in New Zealand. The tour in India was booked with Bob Nave. The rest of my trip involved visiting friends and spending time with them. Packing for Three Different Venues At Drew, I would be living in the â&#x20AC;&#x153;Couples Dormâ&#x20AC;? and needed to have all the household items which a home required. I was leaving Mitchell the middle of November which is winter in South Dakota. All of my travel was in the tropics or summer in Australia and New Zealand. I would arrive back in New Jersey in February, again it would be winter. Planning for my needs was a challenge. I got two big sturdy boxes in which I packed what I would need for living in the apartment at Drew. Those I shipped by UPS to Dr. Menken who kept them in his home until I would arrive in New Jersey. I left Mitchell wearing a winter coat and overshoes. I had a large suitcase, a smaller suitcase and a totebag. The tours in Australia and New Zealand allowed one suitcase and one totebag only. The flight to New York was pleasant. I spent several days in New 184

York visiting my niece, Ruth, picked up my passport with the required visas and visited the offices of the General Board of Global Ministries. I left New York the evening of November 19th. While visiting my niece, in New York, I packed all my winter clothes in the large suitcase. My summer clothes went into the smaller suitcase and tote bag. Ruth then shipped the large suitcase by UPS from New York to my niece, Eva Gene in Denver, where I could pick it up when I arrived back in the U.S. in late January. Between London and Delhi, I shared the seat with a English lady whose name was Sylvia Biddlecombe. She was being met by an Indian friend and she told me he would take me to the Methodist Guest House where I was to stay. However, since she went through customs in the Commonwealth line and I through the regular tourist line, we never found each other again. In India Bob Nave had told me to just take a taxi to 17 Boulevard Drive, which was the address of the guest house. It was about midnight Delhi time when I boarded the taxi. My driver spoke some English, but not much and I am sure my American English didn’t help. I knew almost immediately that he did not know where to go. We drove for hours. Once, he stopped at a hotel to ask directions and got them. Of course, most of the street signs were in Hindi and I could not read them. However, I did see a sign that said, “No parking from Nag Pur Road to Boulevard Drive.” I told the driver to go slowly. “I think we may T into Boulevard Drive,” I told him and I made a T with my fingers. However, we did not see Boulevard Drive. Finally, the driver who had put in only a couple of liters of gas into his tank, was running out of gas. He woke another driver who was sleeping in his taxi. I paid the first driver and he turned me over to the other driver. That driver paid no attention to anything I said, but simply took me to a nice hotel and I checked in. The man at the desk wanted to know when I would be checking out. I looked at the clock. It was 4:00 A.M. I had been on a three and a half hour tour of Delhi. “It won’t be early, but it will be before noon,” I told him. I asked if there was a telephone in the room. He assured me there was. I went to bed and slept. The next morning, I got up about 10:00 A.M. and, using my Prayer Calendar, found the names of Rev. and Mrs. Smyth who were missionaries in Delhi. I was able to talk to Mrs. Smyth and she told me how to find 17 Boulevard Drive. Outside the hotel was a little motorized tricycle which they call a scooter. I took it, and gave the driver the instructions I’d gotten from Mrs. Smyth. He was a pleasant young man who spoke and understood English quite well. We came to the corner I had seen the night before. Now, in daylight, I could read Boulevard Drive and saw the numbers 2, 4, 6, and when we reached number 12, there was the sign “United Methodist Bishop’s Office and Residence.” “Stop,” I told my driver. I went in. The Bishop was not in, but his secretary went out and told my driver how to reach 17 Boulevard Drive. It was, of course, on the other side of the boulevard, since it was an odd number. 185

We found the guest house. Mrs. Powell was very relieved to see me. However, she told me there was no room at the Guest House for me. There was a conference of the Upper Room translators which was being held at the guest house. Mr. Powell made a number of telephone calls, but could find no place where I could stay within the church family. Sylvia Biddlecombe, had told me the name of the hotel where she was staying, so Mr. Powell called and made a reservation for me at that hotel, then called a taxi to take me. As I was standing at the desk checking in, Sylvia and her Indian friend walked in. We were delighted to see one another. I had paid Bob Nave for a tour of India. I learned from the Powell’s that I was the only person to have booked that tour, but that a man with a mission car would be coming to take me on the planned tour. Sylvia’s friend had gotten her a ticket for a trip to Agra on Sunday. We decided to go together. The departure point was just around the corner from our hotel. The tour was to start about 6:30 A.M. so we went at 6:00 and I got my ticket. Then the man told me I would be on Bus #3, while Sylvia, whose ticket had been purchased on Thursday, would be on Bus #1. He was adamant. There was no way we could be on the same bus. That distressed both of us, of course. We went outside. Soon one of the buses pulled up. It was Bus #3. I asked the driver if Sylvia and I could be on the same bus. “Give me your ticket,” he said to Sylvia. He went inside and came back with a ticket for Bus #3. We spent the day together. The road was terrible but the Taj Mahal was beautiful. We also saw the fort which was near the Taj Mahal. I could see evidence of a very advanced society and I wondered how Britain had been able to take over the sub-continent of India. We arrived back at the hotel about 10:00 P.M. As I came in and picked up my key at the desk, the clerk said, “That man has been sitting there waiting for you all day,” and he nodded toward a man sitting in the corner. I walked over. He stood up and we introduced ourselves. He was Mr. Todd, the man who was to be my guide on the tour. It was late so we did little except to greet one another and express our relief at having gotten together. He would come back Monday morning. Monday morning, November 23rd, Mr. Todd arrived. He was an Englishman who had lived his whole life in India. His father had been in the British army. He was employed by the missionaries and was an important part of the mission work. He told me that Peter Chowfin, who was taking over for Bob Nave, called the Powell’s on Saturday morning to find out if I had arrived on schedule. I had not, so they called the airport. Yes, I had gone through customs, so I was somewhere in Delhi, but where? “You take the car and go to Delhi and find Miss Huck,” Mr. Chowfin had told Mr. Todd. So, Saturday, he drove to Delhi. It was late when he got in so it was not until Sunday morning that he called the Powell’s. They knew I was at the Nirula Hotel in New Delhi. He went there and learned I had left early in the morning. He waited all day. Finally, I came and we made plans for Monday. 186

I had been invited to return to the Guest House for the noon meal. They permitted me to sit in on the Upper Room Conference which Danny Morris from the Upper Room in Nashville was leading. I heard a very exciting report from a man belonging to the Meitei tribe who told how he had gotten a copy of The Upper Room. He had translated it into the Meitei language, and, with the help of another tribe who were part of the Upper Room distribution, had gotten it printed and distributed. As a result, there were about 300 new converts to Christianity, and 11 cottage churches. After the noon meal, Mr. Todd took Rosalie Morris and me to Bethany Lepers Village. Several wore shoes that looked like a horseâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hoof because they had no toes. I was interested in learning that the shoes and medicine came from United Methodist Committee on Relief. The next day, Mr. Todd and I started out on our travel across the northern part of India. Travel was always somewhat slow and difficult. Roads were poor and we saw many places where repairs were being made by hand with primitive tools. Yet, I was glad to see it provided employment for the many people who would have had nothing without it. We shared the road with many carts pushed or pulled by hand, ox carts, and at one point with an elephant, and always, everywhere, free roaming cattle. I watched a woman making patties from cow dung and laying them out to dry. There was a huge haystack-like mound of dried dung carefully arranged to allow removal of patties without a collapse. I grew in my appreciation as I realized the value of burning dung cakes. It kept the streets clean and provided a constant renewable source of fuel. Somewhere in our travels, Mr. Todd took me to a carpet factory. The show room had the most beautiful hand-woven carpets. After I had admired the carpets, we were taken to the back room where small boys were seated in front of the looms making the intricate patterns of the beautiful rugs. I was much impressed with the dexterity of their small fingers as they tied the knots and how quickly they worked with many spools of different colored thread, counting carefully to make the pattern exactly right. Some of the boys looked as if they would not be more than six years old, but they said most were eight to twelve years, and that they were earning money to help their families. At the time, I was not fully aware of the horrible conditions under which they were working, and that it may well have been almost slave labor. I did feel sorry for them, and wondered how they could stand to work as they were, but it was only later that I really began to know the full extent of their condition. The Church at Work I was much impressed with the lack of waste in the Indian culture and especially the many ways the church made a difference. There was a sugar mill which was a new mission project. The local church was responsible for it. After several processes, white sugar was produced and what was left of the cane was burned to power the mill. Another church-related project was making very tasty, nutritious and inexpensive snacks from soybeans. 187

We arrived at Bareilly mid-afternoon. Methodist work had started in Bareilly and I saw the monument which marked the first Methodist mission in India. I was especially happy to see Warne Baby Fold in Bareilly because some years earlier, when I had been working with the youth in Spearfish, we had a “Christmas in October” and gathered gifts for them. The Baby Fold had been started in 1918 during the flu epidemic when many babies had been orphaned. It had been a part of Clara Swain Hospital, which was a hospital for women started by Dr. Clara Swain because women could not be treated by a male physician. At the time we were visiting, the Baby Fold housed 17 children from birth to five years of age. There were six “Mother Craft” girls who were teenagers learning skills in child care from the director, a very fine Indian nurse with degrees from schools of nursing in both India and the United States. Perhaps one of the most meaningful experiences of my time in India was going to Sat Tal, which is where Brother E. Stanley Jones had his Ashram. As I stood by Brother Stanley’s grave, I was flooded with emotion too deep for words. I felt a sense of the holy, of the presence of God and of memories of a man of God who had made a deep impression on my life. In Lucknow, I visited Isabella Thoburn College, the Publishing House and Central Church. Before I had left for my trip, Dr. Leonard Wolcott had asked me to see if I could find a record of his service in the church in India. We went to Central Church where Rev. Dillu gave us the information I needed. He was increasingly interested as he began to remember Dr. Wolcott who had been a missionary there when Rev. Dillu had been a young boy. As I looked at the material Rev. Dillu gave me, I realized it was at that church where Brother Stanley had made the commitment that released God’s power in his life. At Katmandu At the airport in Varanasi, I met the Gilmans from Chicago going to Katmandu. Landing in Katmandu was in itself an experience. As we approached, the mountains were impressive, but as we were about to land, there seemed to be nothing under us. But of course, there was. I was met at the airport by a representative of the Katmandu Travel and Tour, courtesy of my tour with Bob Nave. He took me to the Malla Hotel. Someone from the travel agency came and took me on a tour of the temples and the king’s palace where he no longer lived. I ran into the Gilmans at the palace. I did not take the rest of the tours planned by the travel agency because I wanted church activities, not tourist attractions. The next morning, I took a rickshaw to the United Missions of Nepal. The driver took me first to the United Nations Building. When I told him that was wrong, he took the address which I had gotten from the Prayer Calendar, went inside and got directions to the Mission. I would never travel without the Prayer Calendar, not just to guide my prayers, but also to guide my travel. The United Mission includes mission work of a great many denominations and countries. The lady in the office was a Swedish woman named Gunred. She gave me a lot of good information, then got a taxi for 188

me. She had a motorcycle. It was about noon, so she closed the office and led my taxi to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Shields, who were Methodist missionaries assigned as house parents for children of missionaries in Nepal. The children attended school in Katmandu. They shared their noon meal with me. Then Mr. Shields took me to see some of the mission work. I stayed for the evening meal and the evening devotions with the children. Then they took me back to my hotel. The next day, I just enjoyed the beauty of my surroundings, wrote letters, washed my hair and did laundry, all of which were important to me. The Gilmans and I shared a seat on the plane to Calcutta. We had an interesting visit as we rode along. They were quite depressed by what they saw in India, while I had been much impressed. What I had seen was the church at work. It makes such a difference! The Gilmans gave me the name and address of their hotel. I would be staying at the YWCA Guest House. Calcutta Again, after a long taxi ride and a ride in a rickshaw pulled by a man, I arrived at the YWCA Guest House. My room, with a very ramshackle lock on the door and an unscreened, completely open window, was relatively clean. I was a little afraid a crow would fly in, but it never did. There was warm water between 5:30 and 9:00, both morning and evening. There was a water bottle in my room and a clean glass. I had gotten water-purifying pills at the mission office in New York before I left, so I used them. Sunday morning, I went out of my room. I saw a young woman and began visiting with her. She was from Germany and worked with Mother Teresa. She said I could go with her on Monday. She took me to breakfast. When I told the women who were at breakfast that I was a Methodist minister, they told me there was another Methodist minister there. When she came to breakfast, we were introduced to each other. She was Ruth Douglas from Minnesota. One of the girls gave me her map. We found Thoburn Church on the map. It was not too far, so we walked. We were early, so we visited with one another. Holy Communion was celebrated at the service. At the service I saw a woman whom I guessed was a missionary. She came and introduced herself after the service. She was Frances Majors, a missionary at Lee Memorial Home, and she invited us to come for dinner at the Home. We had a good meal and Miss Majors showed us Lee Memorial Home which I was very glad to see since this was where my friend, Karuna Lee had grown up. She also took us to Calcutta Girlsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; School, where I was invited to return Monday afternoon to meet the teachers and some girls. (It was vacation time so school was not in session.) Miss Majors also took us to see several other Methodist institutions. I arose early Monday and walked down to Kennilworth Hotel after trying unsuccessfully to use the telephone. I was certain the Gilmans would like to go with me to see Mother Teresaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work. They were glad I had invited them. I went back for breakfast. The Gilmans arrived at the Y before 8:00 A.M. Angelica, my German friend, took us by bus. When we arrived at the 189

site, she got permission for us to go in. After we got in, Angelica left us to go about her work. There was a large room with many sick and dying lying on mats. Many were lining up outside the door waiting for distribution of food. Young women, very evidently from many different countries, moved about ministering to the sick. A TV camera team arrived to film a documentary on Mother Teresa and her work. We felt we were in the way, so left before Mother Teresa arrived. We took a bus back into the city and walked through crowded streets and markets. I invited the Gilmans to join me in the afternoon. I took them to the Calcutta Methodist Girls School. Miss Layll, director of the school, made a wonderful impression on them with her witness to her faith in God’s providence. There were some young women in a sewing class who danced for us. I was glad that I had the opportunity to give the Gilmans a little glimpse of what a difference the church is making in the world. They were impressed with what little they saw. I hoped it made a difference for them. In Singapore What a pleasant contrast! The Singapore Airport was clean, orderly and easy to find my way about. As I got to the passenger lobby, there was Wan Chen Chow and another lady. It took a few moments before I recognized Ing Eng Wong. She had studied at Harris for one semester as a special student when I had been the academic dean. Wan Chen’s husband, Timothy Chow, was the president of Trinity Seminary in Singapore. Wan Chen settled me in one of the rooms for faculty which was not being used. She told me it had been Libby’s room when she worked at Trinity. As soon as I got settled, I asked Wan Chen if I could wash some clothes. My jacket was so dirty it could almost stand alone. She took me to the roof of the building where there were some wash tubs and lines for drying and gave me some laundry soap. I washed the jacket three times before the water looked clear enough for me to rinse and hang up. The next morning, Ju Gek, who had been one of my students at Harris, came with Ing Eng and they took me sight-seeing and shopping. Singapore is a good place to shop. I picked up a few Christmas gifts to take to the Philippines. The next day, Swee Ling, another of my students, came with Ju Gek and again, we went sight-seeing. We went to the bird park which was very interesting. We also saw many other beautiful sights and visited Ju Gek’s church where she supervised four different classes for nursery and kindergarten children. Swee Ling was now married and had a business. She seemed to be doing very well. She took us to her beautiful home where I met her two children. On December 12, I left Singapore to fly to Manila. Back Home in the Philippines As we arrived, I could not see anyone I knew on the observation deck, but after I had cleared customs, I saw Mrs. Totaan—only she had remarried 190

and was now Mrs. Velasco. Dr. Lumba was behind her and when we got outside, there was Manuel. They had planned that I would go first to the del Rosario’s, so we all rode in the Harris car and went to the del Rosario home. Dr. Lumba informed me of my “engagements.” There would be a reception at Harris on Monday evening. I was to speak at chapel on Tuesday evening and at Central Church at the Christmas morning service. When we arrived at the del Rosario’s, we all went in and had refreshments. It was the first time I had seen Manuel and Guia since their wedding. Now they had three little girls, Lwiliwa Grace, named for me, and twins, Luella Lois and Delia Ruth. Lee Grace, though the oldest, was most shy. My time in the Philippines was all I had hoped for. At Harris, I saw many of my former students and it was good to be part of the Harris family and to share in Christmas festivities. I was glad to be with the Cajiuats and to see what they were doing in and through Central Church where Ding was the pastor. Grace Cajiuat, my inaanak, was a delightful young girl who directed the choir of youth of her own age. They lived in the parsonage which was above the church office. When Grace and some of her friends came home from school and found me there, she introduced me saying, “This is my ninang, Grace Huck. She was named for me.” Of course everybody laughed. The church was reaching out to the poor in many ways. Mrs. Ongkiko was heading up the social services. There was a feeding program for children at the church. I also accompanied Mrs. Ongkiko to Tangos, a poor section of Manila where fishing was the source of livelihood. There was also a feeding program for children supported by the Philippine Methodist Church and the Christian Children’s Fund. I flew up to Tuguegero to visit Remedios Quilang who was an inaanak. I flew in on a jet plane. She, her husband and two daughters met me with a horse-drawn calesa which is typical of the contrast in the Philippines. We all went to Simbang gabi (Night Worship) at 4:00 A.M. the next morning. Remy and two other former Harris students sang beautifully. Viewing the Vietnamese Refugee Center Back in Manila, I attended church Sunday morning, a Christmas concert in Rizal Park in the afternoon and a song fest at the church in the evening at which Grace Cajiuat very ably conducted the youth choir. Then a number of us from Harris went to the Cultural Center to view a beautiful ballet. Security was very tight. Both our bags and our persons were searched for arms. On Monday I went to San Fernando, Pampanga, spending the night at Edna Thomas Hall. The next morning Pastor Ding Cajiuat came from Manila. We went by bus to Zambales to view the Vietnamese Refugee Center. The Philippine government had set up the station for boat people arriving from Vietnam. I was much impressed. The refugees were provided with a 16-week experience to prepare them for life in the country which would 191

receive them: America, Norway, Sweden, or others. There was a “Model House” to help them learn how to live in an American or European home: using electricity, flushing toilets, bathing in a bath tub, and other amenities of modern homes. At the time we were there, the center was providing a home for more than 16,000 people. More than 64,000 had lived there, learned and had gone on to new homes in other lands. Christmas With My Filipino Families I spent Christmas Eve afternoon and night again with the del Rosarios. It was wonderful to be with my family at Christmas. The children were very pleased with the dresses and other gifts I had for them. And I had a very good visit with Manuel and Guia after the girls had gone to bed. I took a taxi back to Harris on Christmas morning, preached at the Christmas morning service at Central Church, had Christmas dinner with the Cajiuats and again rejoiced in my Filipino families. After Christmas, I went to Decker, the deaconess retirement home in Quezon City to visit Miss Fabro. Oh, how good to see her, to visit and to pray together. On Sunday, we went to the Tagalog service at Knox Memorial Church where Nonato Vengco was the pastor. He introduced me and I spoke to the congregation using quite a bit of Tagalog. Then he told the congregation how God had used me to provide him the support that kept him in the ministry during a difficult time years before. I was also able to go to Cabanatuan and see Corazon Cleto. Her oldest daughter is also my namesake. Her husband, Tony, was abroad studying at that time. Cora was on the faculty at Wesleyan UniversityPhilippine. I was distressed to see the home in which they lived. It was small and very inadequate even by Filipino standards. I spent the night in the home of Dr. Lacson, WU-P President, and Cora joined me so we had a good visit. I said good-bye to everyone in the Philippines on December 30th and left for Australia, with a stop in Singapore where I saw Wan Chen once more at the airport. Australia I had always wanted to visit Australia. Now I was there. In Sidney International Airport, I checked my bag to Alice Springs. Then by bus, I was transported to the Domestic Airport where I boarded a small plane for Alice Springs. It was fun watching the landscape as we flew out of the lush green into increasingly dry and barren red soil. I was met at Alice Springs by the tour guide and taken to Oasis Motel. My roommate was a young German woman named Mechthild. To pronounce her name correctly, you had to sort of clear your throat. Most of the other members of the tour called her Matilda—a good Australian name. There were twenty-three of us in the bus. After our first trip, our guide pointed out the numbers on the seats. We were told that each day we were to take the seat with the next consecutive number. Since the numbers 192

are not in order, it meant that each day we moved from one side to another, or from front to back to middle. It was a good arrangement. No one was consistently in the sun or in the shade, near the front or in the back. There was much to see in and around Alice Springs. We saw Ayers Rock, called Uluru by the aborigines, and the Olgas, which looked a little like a bunch of haystacks. Helicopter rides were offered, and when I felt I could not afford to take it, Mechtield bought a ticket for me to fly over the area while she climbed Ayers Rock. We went to a camel farm and rode camels. We were told that settlers had brought grand pianos into the outback on the backs of camels. Of course, they had to have something equally heavy on the other side to balance the weight. I pitied the poor camels. The next day we started on the tour from Alice Springs to Melbourne. Each day we traveled many miles carrying our noon lunch with us which we ate from the side of the bus. Every so often, where there was some kind of cover, we would observe a “rest stop.” The guide would say, “Men to the right, women to the left.” The second night we stopped at Marla Bore. I learned “Bore” is the word for well. The places we stayed at night were rather primitive rooms built by ranchers to accommodate tourists. Usually, the bathhouse and toilet block was separated from our rooms. Also, air conditioning in the whole line of rooms worked only when all doors were closed. Always someone would try to cool his/her room by opening the door. Then the air conditioning stopped in all of our rooms. This was explained to us, but as usual, some did not listen, so I walked the length of the rooms asking everyone to close the door and again, explaining. It worked. People closed their doors. I thought that the most interesting stop on our trip was at Coober Pedy. It was the center of the opal mining industry. As we drew near, we began to see pyramids of small rocks. I learned that they bore a hole into the rock underlying the ground and sucked up the rock with a kind of giant vacuum cleaner that spit it out in these piles. Then they sorted out the opals. Most of the town of Coober Pedy is underground. We visited a church, shops and a home all underground. Some are mined out areas, others chiseled out of the rock on purpose to provide a home or shop. The temperature underground is a constant 25 degrees C, which is about 75 degrees F, but above ground it was usually well over 100 F. We saw our first kangaroos between Marla Bore and Coober Pedy. The next day, Mechthild and I had our seat directly behind the driver, a perfect location. We began seeing more kangaroos and I started counting. We saw 49 kangaroos, not counting the dead ones beside the road. We also saw ten emu and many dingos. As we drove, I often saw abandoned cars some distance off the road. When I saw one while we were observing a rest stop, I said to our guide, “It looks like that car went as far as it could, then crawled off and died.” “That is about right,” she replied. “If a car breaks down out here, it is abandoned. It is more costly to bring it in for repair than to buy a new car.” As we began to reach the southern edge of Australia, we began to see lovely little towns and in the center of each was a public toilet block 193

surrounded by flowers. In some places were huge roses, each at least as large as a salad plate. The landscape was more pleasant, but not nearly as interesting as it had been. Our group split in Melbourne and a new driver took those of us going to Sidney. The driver took each of us to his/her hotels in Sidney. I had a call waiting for me from Tom and Vivian Kelsey. They are relatives on Dad’s side of the family to whom I had written telling them I was coming. It was fun visiting with them. They took me for a drive around Sidney. Since we had arrived after 6:00 P.M., of course, it was dark, but that may have made the Opera House even more beautiful. New Zealand From Sidney, I flew to Aukland, New Zealand. It is a beautiful city on the ocean. I could see the docks from my hotel room. I had a terrible shock when I was met by my tour guide to learn that meals were not included in my tour. I was booked in the nicest room in the best hotel. There were not many sight-seeing tours either. But there was always fresh fruit in the hotel room. The most interesting experience of the first day was the Waitomo Glowworm caves. We traveled in a small boat which the driver moved by hand over hand on a rope in the ceiling of the cave. Complete silence was required so that the glowworms would glow. The scenery was beautiful. We traveled to Rotorua which has many geysers. There was a strong sulphur smell. I woke the next morning to an eerie land full of mist and fog from the geysers. As the sun came up, the fog was dissipated. The area was much like Yellowstone Park, with bubbling mud caldrons. In the evening, there was to be a meal which would be cooked by lowering net bags into the boiling water in holes in the ground. I thought I would participate in the meal, but decided it was too costly. The Mauri Museum was very interesting and the Polynesian background of the Mauri people is very evident. The Mauri tradition indicates they may have come from Hawaii. I went by plane from the North Island to the South, changing planes at Christ Church and continuing on to Queenstown. It is a delightful place. Of course, again, I had a nice room in Travel Lodge, a lovely hotel on the lake shore. Mountains named “The Remarkables” were across the lake. The next day, I took a trip to Medford Sound. It was fantastic. The road was very circuitous due to going through the mountains. On the South Island, it can be truly said, “You can’t get there from here.” Finally, the road straightened out following a river to the sea. I’ve been in the Rockies, the Alps and even the Himalayas, but none are like these. Usually, if you are on a road through mile-high mountains, the road is at least a half-mile up. Here, the road was almost at sea level, while the mountain towered above us at 5,000 or 6,000 feet, almost perpendicular. As I walked around Queenstown, I found the church. It was a Presbyterian church. I went in and picked up a bulletin. I discovered it was part of a parish and that there was another church on the circuit with an 194

early service, so I called the pastor, Rev. Norman Fink, and asked if I could go with him to Frankton where I could attend church and get back in time to leave on my planned flight. He, his wife and two children picked me up at 9:00 A.M. The church was small. There were two church groups camping in the area who also attended the service. It filled the church to overflowing. They set up chairs even in the pulpit area. It was a good service and the first time I had been able to attend a worship service since I had left the Philippines. I walked back from the church in Queenstown to my hotel where I was picked up by the driver and taken to Mt. Cook. From there, I flew back to Aukland for my flight back to the U.S.A.

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Chapter 30 BACK IN THE USA AGAIN We arrived in San Francisco about 4:30 P.M. Dr. Max Brown met me. We had a good visit over an evening meal. Then he took me to Kay King’s home where I spent the night. From San Francisco, I took a bus to San Diego, with a stop in Bakersfield where I visited my cousin and her family and a friend. Then on to San Diego where I spent time with the Pangilinans who were my mga inaanak. They took me to Tijuana, so I added Mexico to the list of countries I had visited. I flew from San Diego to Denver, where I spent a couple of days with my niece, Eva Gene and her family, and picked up my suitcase full of winter clothes and then went on to Newark, New Jersey. Mr. Menken was there to meet me and take me to Drew, and to my apartment. There were the boxes I’d sent about three months earlier. We arrived a little before midnight on January 30, 1982, seventy-six days and eight countries from the time I had left Mitchell, South Dakota on November 16, 1981. It had been a very interesting and experience-filled time. I had learned much and had often been aware of God’s guidance as well as enjoying my trip immensely. Lamdon Pastor-Scholar My apartment was a two-room with bath. The first thing I was aware of was that there was no toilet tissue and I had not thought to pack a roll. When I left, I deliberately left a partial roll on the spindle. I did some unpacking as I got out sheets and blankets to make up my bed and by the time I went to bed, dishes were in the cupboards and towels on the rack or in the drawer. I had asked Dr. Menken about church, so was able to find the church just off the campus. I stayed for Sunday School. Lonnie Turnipreed, whom I had met when on the Board of Global Ministries, was leading a lesson on China. Mrs. Curry, who was the Chairperson of the Missions Committee, was in charge. She introduced herself to me and when she learned I was just moving in, she offered to take me to the store after Sunday School so I could get groceries and other supplies. I was very grateful. The Tacadenas, a couple from the Philippines who were studying at Drew, lived downstairs. He was a cousin to one of the girls who had been my student at Harris. I went with them to get groceries once a week from that time on. After a siesta, I went to visit Bob and Alice McLeod. Bob was the other Lambdon Pastor-Scholar. We had a good time getting acquainted. On Monday afternoon, Dr. Menken, Rev. McLeod and I met together to plan. It was good. We planned some workshops and also how we could work informally and be a friend to the students. More than half of the students were women which gave me a special responsibility. As time went on, I felt I was making a difference, especially for several of the young women. I got registered for my classes, got my ID and post office box, my 196

telephone, rearranged the furniture so that I had the living area separated from the kitchen and got my apartment feeling like it was my home. I registered for Teaching Strategies with Adults, Johannine Literature and a World Mission class under Tracy Jones who had retired from the Board of Global Ministries and was on the adjunct faculty at Drew. All of my studies were challenging and I enjoyed them as well as the work with the students. As the school term was coming to a close, I discovered I had taken on almost more than I could handle. I was not taking classes for credit, so did not need to fulfill any requirement I did not want to. I got so involved in the paper I was doing for my project in World Missions that I worked night and day to finish it and did not finish everything for the other two classes. Classes were over mid-May. I came back to my home in Mitchell just in time for the Annual Conference. It had been an exciting, rewarding six months. I had seen many friends and family who were dear to me. I had seen the church at work in many parts of the world and I was much impressed with the difference it could make. I had seen many new and beautiful places. All in all, it had been a very worthwhile experience. The summer of 1982 was a pleasant one. I had no responsibilities, but I did some pulpit supply for pastors near Mitchell when they took their vacations. I think I preached in every church within 50 miles of Mitchell. I preached for six weeks at Alexandria and Fulton while they waited for a new pastor to arrive. I was active in the church in Mitchell and as a Trustee of Dakota Wesleyan. Dr. and Mrs. Job lived out in the country and Rueben had plowed up a garden spot. They let me have a small plot so I planted some vegetables which I tend. Sometimes I also hoed the trees they had planted. Employed Again Beverly Job had been acting as Director of Christian Education at the church in Mitchell, but sometime in the fall, Rueben was asked to move back to Nashville to become the Editor and Publisher of the devotional book “The Upper Room.” Rev. Bob Nielsen, who was pastor of the church in Mitchell, came to see me. He asked if I would replace Beverly and work part-time as the Director of Christian Education at the church. So I did. I enjoyed working with Rev. Nielsen and the bishop told me, “Bob Nielsen thinks you walk on water.” During the year, the associate pastor moved to another church and I was asked to become the associate pastor with special responsibility for Christian Education. I also served as editor for the church newsletter. Since I had my pension and Social Security (though, of course, it was reduced because I was earning), I had enough to live on comfortably without my salary from the church, so I decided I would start establishing a scholarship at Dakota Wesleyan. By the time I left Mitchell, I had been able to set up a five thousand dollar scholarship for which I was glad! As Annual Conference approached, we knew that Rev. Nielsen was going to be the new District Superintendent. Rev. Kent Millard, who was a 197

good friend, would be the new pastor at Mitchell. I had always liked Kent and I was looking forward to working with him, but he decided he wanted to choose his own staff, so I retired again and the Mitchell church included me in the farewell party for the Nielsen’s. A New Appointment At conference Rev. Nielsen approached me. The minister who had been serving the Claremont/Hecla parish had been trying to transfer to the New York area for some time. Now, he had received a call. He could go. This left Claremont and Hecla open. “Would you be willing to go there for several months until someone is available?” “Sure,” I replied. “I’d love to.” So I went. After I had been there for about two months, I decided I really enjoyed it and the people wanted me to stay. I talked to Rev. Neilson and told him that I wanted to stay for the year, and that the people wanted me, so he appointed me for the year. I gave up my apartment in Mitchell and moved my furniture into the parsonage in Claremont. Borrowing to Help Harris One day, I had a letter from Dr. Lumba. Some property outside of Manila had become available. There was a growing feeling that Harris should move out of the center of the city. In order to stay alive financially, the outer area of the Harris building had been converted into shops that could be leased. This had cut the available space while the student body continued to grow. Increased traffic on the streets around the building added to both air and noise pollution. There was no question but that Harris needed to find a new home. Dr. Lumba needed ten thousand dollars as a down payment. “Could you help?” I wrote asking if it was a good piece of land and if it was large enough. Her answer to both was “Yes.” So, I began to plan. I now had the best salary I had ever earned, so I decided I would just borrow $10,000 which was needed, paying it off a thousand dollars a month. The parsonage at Claremont was the nicest house in which I had ever lived. I enjoyed it and my ministry. I began Bible Studies in both churches. They were really good. Attendance at services were good. I had confirmation classes in both churches that brought young people into the churches. Everything went well. When the conference asked the congregation to evaluate my ministry, what surprised me most was that among the highest mark was in Christian Education. I had no part in the Sunday Schools because I was preaching in one church while Sunday School was held in the other. When I expressed my surprise, I was told, “Oh, we learn from every sermon you preach. And we appreciate your Bible Studies so much.” Just before Christmas, the weather turned extremely cold. We were to have Christmas Eve services at each church, but I had a call from Hecla telling me not to come. It was just too cold. We did have a five o’clock service at Claremont, however. After the service the men went out and started the 198

cars before the women and children would go out. Someone started my car as well. When I went out to get into the car, the moisture from the exhaust of many cars was freezing into tiny ice pellets that stung my face as I moved through them. When I went to a member’s home for Christmas dinner, the thermometer on the bank registered just above zero for the first time in two weeks. When Annual Conference came, someone else was appointed at Claremont and Hecla and I retired again. And I had completed the payment of the loan I had taken out for the down-payment on a new site for Harris in Taytay, Rizal. Back to Mitchell I knew before Annual Conference that I would be leaving Claremont, so the next question was, “Where will I live?” The Nielsens had their house in Mitchell, but as the District Superintendent of the Northern District, they lived in Huron. There house was empty, so by mutual agreement, we decided I would rent the house. The conference paid moving expenses. I packed up even before Annual Conference. I always plan so that the movers put furniture in the living room and bedrooms in the way I want them so they are all arranged ready for living. Since Annual Conference was to be in Mitchell and the movers had taken my furniture to the Nielsen house, it was ready to live in. Our lay delegate came with me. My guest room was ready for her and my bedroom was ready for me. The living room and dining room had furniture placed as I wanted it. The dishes and kitchen utensils were in boxes in the kitchen and books and office materials were in boxes in the study, which was in the basement. But, as a whole, the house was very livable. I went back to Claremont and stayed in the home of one of the members the week following conference. I preached my last sermon, participated in farewell parties and retired for the third time. There was an unusual amount of rain in the Mitchell area and the water table was rising. I heard that some basements were flooding. While I was back in Claremont, I called the Nielsens and asked if there was any danger of water problems with neither of us there. Bob said they had never had water in the basement, but he decided to go down. He found there was water. He soaked some of it up and bought a wet-vac and pumped some of it out. When I got there, I found even more water. I got up several times in the night using the wet-vac to pump out the water. As I lifted the canister of the wet-vac to dump it in the sink in the basement, I strained my back quite badly and was laid up for some time, which made it impossible for me to unpack the books and other things in the study. Some of my books were badly damaged. The next day, Bob came down and put in a sump-pump. I enjoyed living in the Nielsen’s home. There were many beautiful flowers and it was very comfortable. It was about a block from the Dakota Wesleyan Campus and the conference office. 199

A Daughter in My Home Earlier, I had talked to Ding and Amy Cajiuat. They were then in Texas where Ding was pastor of a Filipino church in Dallas. Grace had been traveling around the world with a choir from the Philippines. The group was on the west coast of the United States, but the choir was breaking up. Pastor and Mrs. Cajiuat told me they hoped they might be able to enroll Grace in Perkins, a Methodist college in Dallas. I had told them I would give them $1,000 to help with her tuition. As we were coming to the end of August, I suddenly remembered my offer and realized I had not heard from them. So I called and I talked to Amy who told me it was much too expensive and there was no way they could send Grace to Perkins. Grace had taken two years of college at the University of the Philippines before she started out with the choir. The next morning while I was having my devotions, it suddenly occurred to me that I was within a block of a university. I had room. Why not invite Grace to come and live with me and go to Dakota Wesleyan? So I called again. This time I got Ding. I asked him to get in touch with Grace and see if she would like to come, live with me and go to school. If she was interested, she was to call me before 7:00 the next morning. I was in my study working the next morning when I realized it was almost nine o’clock, and Grace had not called. About that time, the phone rang. It was Grace. I realized later that 7:00 her time was 9:00 my time. I told her she could come live with me and go to school if she wanted to. “But, Ninang,” she said, “I don’t have any money.” “That’s okay,” I told her. “That can be cared for, I am sure.” “But Ninang, I don’t have a visa.” “Grace, that isn’t the question,” I said. “The question is, do you want to come? I am certain we can get you a student visa.” “Yes,” she replied. “Okay,” I told her. “I’ll go up to the school and see what I can do about scholarships and other aid. Where can I reach you at noon?” She gave me a telephone number, and I went to the university. First, I went to the admittance office. I told them about her. “Does she speak English?” was the first question. “She has been speaking English all her life,” I assured them. “What kind of grades does she have?” “I don’t know exactly, but they will be good.” (When we got her transcript, she had a 94% average.) “Okay, on your recommendation, we will take her,” they told me. Then I started to see what scholarships and other help I could get. With her music, they felt sure she would qualify for a special music scholarship. By the time I had finished, I had $60 in tuition and fees not covered. It really was not actually that good. I ended up covering some of her expenses, but that was okay. I went back to my house and called the number she had given me. “It is all arranged. You are accepted and most of your tuition is covered,” I told her. 200

“Ninang, what did you tell them?” she asked in amazement. “Nothing but the truth,” I assured her. We began making plans. I went to my travel agent and paid for her ticket which she could pick up at the airport in Los Angeles. She arrived about three days later. Having Grace with me was a real joy. She was a delightful young lady, as I was sure she would be. It was fun because all I had to do was to mention her name to anyone related to the university and I got an affirming response. Everyone liked Grace. The Poverty of Affluence My income was limited. I was paying rent on a large house. Utility bills for that large a house were high. Almost immediately after Grace arrived, I realized I needed a washer and dryer. I bought them on time. Food bills skyrocketed. It wasn’t just that there were two instead of one, it was that the kind of food we ate was much more costly. I had rarely bought meat. Now, we ate it daily. Of course, Grace wanted rice, which was not expensive and I was as careful as I could be, but I was continually concerned because I had debts and my income barely covered day-to-day expenses. I realized it was not because I was actually poor, but because I had too much. I was living in affluence. The TV constantly showed pictures of the starvation in Ethiopia. I wanted so much to help them. I took $500 out of my savings, paid off the washer and dryer and the new glasses that I had gotten several months before, and gave $100 for Ethiopia relief. I’d had much less many times in my life, but I had never found myself needing more the way I did the winter of 1984-85. However, I had never lived in such affluence either. I began looking to see if there was some way I could increase my income. I had a few invitations to preach, but nothing significant. I kept reminding myself of the promise, “Seek first the Kingdom of God....and all these things will be yours as well.” I know it is true, but for the first time in my life, I found myself worrying. I struggled trying to find how I could do something. Finally, I committed it all to God and began to find peace. Shortly after that, I had a call from people at the Congregational Church at Letcher asking if my name might be considered as an interim pastor for the Letcher and Loomis churches. I said, “Yes.” I Am a Pastor Again I had preached several times at the Congregational churches in Loomis and Letcher and when they had their official meeting, they voted to call me as an interim pastor. Letcher, the larger church, was about twelve miles north of Mitchell and Loomis another eight miles farther. I began serving as of the first of March. My first check would come April 1st. I would have salary and would voucher my travel. This would help. When I paid my bills the first of March, I made some interesting discoveries. Knowing that I would have more income probably helped free me from my “poverty complex.” I paid all my usual bills, paid some for Grace’s 201

dentist bill and some on my hospital bill and ended with $60 left over. “God’s arithmetic doesn’t make sense, it makes dollars,” I thought. As I considered it all, I realized I had been focusing on money and using God rather than focusing on God and using money. I had been serving mammon and not God. When I released that concern, even before I had more money, my problem had been solved. As always, when I serve churches of another denomination, I work to help them become stronger in their own denomination. So I went to the pastor of the Congregational Church in Mitchell to learn about their organization and especially, giving beyond the local church. In May, the Congregational Church conference was held in Spearfish. I persuaded them to send a delegate and we went together. It was the first time their church had a delegate to the conference in many years. By the time I left at the end of August, several new members had joined the church and both churches were stronger than they had been when I began serving them. It had been a good six months. I had relished the privilege of preaching and pastoring them and they had grown. God had used me.

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Chapter 31 A NEW CHAPTER IN MY LIFE The Nielsens were also having difficulty making ends meet. They decided they must sell the house in Mitchell. They put the house up for sale. I would need to be out of the house by the first of September. Grace was able to get housing in the Honors Dorm at the university. By now, she felt sufficiently acclimated so she was happy to be even more independent. I thought over my options. I decided that since I wanted to be buried in Spearfish, and Spearfish was as close as I could come to “Going home,” I would move to Spearfish. There was a growing community of Senior Citizens’ apartments related to the Dorsett Home where Dad had spent his last days. I would get an apartment there. I resigned from Letcher and Loomis and retired for the fourth time. I went to Spearfish and signed up for an apartment. Since these were subsidized Senior Citizens’ apartments and I was single, I could not get a two bedroom apartment, which meant I could not have a study/office. But there were some roses already planted in front of the apartment which I would rent. That pleased me very much. Moving to Spearfish My apartment consisted of one bedroom, a bathroom, a combination living and dining room, a very small kitchen which was actually a hallway with stove and refrigerator and cupboards on one side, sink and cupboards on the other. This meant I must get rid of a great deal of my furniture and most of my books. When I went to the Philippines as a missionary, I had said, “Never again am I going to have so many things.” Now, I probably had twice as many. As I began to plan for disposal, I said, “Somewhere, I’ve read ‘Sell all you have and give to the poor.’” I invited the librarian at Dakota Wesleyan University and my good friend Barbara Gist who was the Professor of Religion at DWU to come and choose any of my books which they wanted Then I had an auction sale. When all was over and I had paid my moving expenses, I had $250 left to give to United Methodist Committee on Relief for World Hunger projects. Returning to Visit the Philippines One reason I had chosen to live in an apartment complex was so that I could turn the key in the lock and walk away, knowing everything would be cared for. I began making plans to return to the Philippines. I wrote to Dr. Lumba offering to teach two or three classes in return for my room and board. I planned to be able to visit my Philippine families and do some traveling. I was not yet seventy and still strong, with plenty of energy and the desire to serve. I was also eager to see the new site which I had helped to purchase. 203

So, again, I was at Harris. Much had changed. The whole outer portion of the first floor was given over to shops. There was a Mercury Drug Store, a Mr. Donut and a number of small cafes. This brought in a steady income, but it cut off air in the dormitories, which were even more crowded. It limited the library space and other areas of the school. No longer were students required to spend time in the library studying. In fact, space for study was limited. I felt the academic quality of the school had been compromised. “The People Power Revolution” While I had felt that President Marcos had done some good things in the Philippines in the first days of his administration, as time went on, he became more and more greedy. “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” so the saying goes, and its truth was certainly demonstrated. There had been demonstrations against President Marcos when I had been in the Philippines before. Now, there were even more. Nearly every week there were demonstrations with thousands of students, farmers, and others marching and protesting the Marcos government. They were intended to be peaceful, but always there was a clash with the police. And always at least one, often several demonstrators were killed. President Marcos had ruled in one way or another for about twenty years. In 1981, he had been re-elected for a six year term with opposition parties not participating in the election. Now, in November of 1985, he announced what he was calling a “Snap Election” designed to make him president again though the constitution in force at that time decreed a six-year term without possibility of re-election. A month after the announcement of the “Snap Election,” Corazon Aquino declared her candidacy for president. She was the widow of the late Senator Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino, who had been gunned down on August 21, 1983, as he deplaned at Manila International Airport returning from the United States. On February 7, 1986, the election took place, but many were not able to vote because of “revised” voter lists. One of my friends told of her experience. She went to her usual polling place to vote, but was told that her registration was not there. She was sent to another place. Her name was not listed. After a third try, she started home discouraged. She met an acquaintance and told him of her problem. “Who were you going to vote for?” he asked. “Cory,” was her reply. “Well, you might as well go home,” he told her. “You won’t find your name.” There were many incidents of intimidation, violence, fraud and tampering with election returns. Some laughingly reported that “cats, dogs and the residents of cemeteries were listed as voters and cast ballots in Marcos strongholds.” Thirty of the computer encoders of the COMELEC walked out in protest of the tampering with election returns. The Catholic Bishop’s Conference issued a statement condemning the election as fraudulent. 204

* When on February 15th, Marcos and Tolentina were declared winners by the “rubber-stamp” assembly of Batasang Pambansa, the international observers declared Corazon Aquino as the legitimate winner. Both the Catholic Bishop’s Conference and Protestant Church leaders implored all Christians to reject and resist through non-violent means any authority or power gained through fraudulence. On Saturday, February 22, 1986, Defense Minister Enrile and General Ramos defected from the corrupt Marcos regime and barricaded themselves in Camp Aginaldo, along with about 300 Reformist army officers. At 6:30 P.M., they gave a two hour press conference announcing their support of Cory Aquino as the duly elected president and denouncing Marcos. They declared they would fight to the death against Marcos and his corruptly installed government. About 9:00 P.M. Jamie Cardinal Sin, leader of the Philippine Roman Catholic Church, made an appeal over Radio Veritas, for people to bring food and to form a human barricade for protection around the rebels at Camp Aginaldo. We were told that he released all of the nuns who wanted to go to Camp Aginaldo. To those who preferred to fight in another way, he said, “Go to your cloisters and pray, and don’t come out until I tell you that you can.” By midnight, between 10,000 and 20,000 people had come to EDSA (Epifanio de los Santos Avenue), which was the street between Camp Aginaldo and Camp Crame to which the rebels later moved. As cannons were moved in during the early hours of Sunday aiming at Camp Crame and Aginaldo, they were met by thousands, including nuns, kneeling, praying the rosary and giving flowers. Someone was reported as saying, “Marcos had the guns, but Cory had the nuns.” Marines in tanks and armed personnel carriers (APC) were stopped by unarmed citizens a kilometer short of Camp Crame. Buses and cars and thousands of people blocked the roads leading to Camp Crame and Camp Aginaldo. While the nuns were most in evidence, many from Protestant churches, schools and other civilians also participated in the blockade. Marines using clubs and tear gas tried to break through the crowds blocking the approach to Camp Crame. Suddenly, the wind shifted, blowing the tear gas back into the faces of the troops and they retreated in disarray. Thousands of people swarmed the streets around Camp Crame and Camp Alginado, while many knelt in prayer in front of the cannons, tanks and APC with guns pointed at them. Thousands more were praying in their homes. Probably never in the history of Christendom has heaven been bombarded with so many prayers for one cause at the same time. Many of the girls at Harris wanted to join the demonstrators, but Dr. Lumba would not permit them. “But,” the girls countered, “students from other schools are going.” .............................................. * I am indebted to Onward Christians, New Day Publishers, Quezon City, Philippines 1986 by Richard L. Schwenk for the details that follow. 205

“Yes, but they are schools where students live on their own. This is your home as well as your school, and your parents have entrusted you to my care,” Dr. Lumba replied. They understood. However, they decided to fast for the evening meal and they took up an offering to buy food for the demonstrators guarding the camps. Members of the Student Council took the food saved by the fast and purchased by the offering to the demonstrators. Dr. Lumba accompanied them and, because she felt it wise to have a man in addition to the driver, Rev. Florendo, Youth Pastor at Central Church, also went along. The rest of us gathered in the chapel for prayer. Dr. Lumba had given me a radio which I had by my bed. I had it on most of the night listening to Radio Veritas, which broadcast news of the events constantly. About 4:00 A.M. Monday morning, I heard an appeal concerning TV Channel 4 which was about to be attacked. “Call your friends and ask them to pray,” we were told. So, I went through the dormitories, awakening the girls and urging them to pray. The attack did not take place. On Tuesday, February 25th at 10:50 A.M., Supreme Court Chief Justice Claudio Teehankee swore in Corazon C. Aquino and Salvador Laurel as President and Vice President of the Philippines. At noon of that same day, Ferdinand E. Marcos went through the motions of taking the oath of office at Malacanang Palace. Arturo Tolenteno, Marcos’ Vice President, was strangely absent. Just after 9:00 P.M. that same day, two U.S. helicopters landed at Malacanang Palace and took the Marcos family to Clark Air Base. As soon as the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Marcos was announced on the radio and TV, a tumult broke loose. We had long heard the car horns affirming their support for Mrs. Aquino with the one short followed by a longer blast of the horn that said “Co-ryyy, Co-ryyy.” Earlier, they had been countered by the two quick blasts followed by two more which said “Mar-cos-pa-rin” (Marcos still again.) Now, it was only “Co-ryyy, Co-ryyy.” People power and prayer power had won an almost bloodless revolution. There were only four lives lost in the total 77 hours of revolution. Does prayer make a difference? How can it be doubted? After it was all over and Cory was in control, there were celebrations and assessments. At one meeting, one of the young men who had been behind the trigger on a cannon facing hundreds of people told us, “I was given the order to pull the trigger, but I could not do it. I felt a Power that held my hand. I could not pull the trigger.” Back to Life as Usual It was wonderful, frightening and exciting to have lived through the exhilaration of seeing God at work in history. Now, we must return to the less exciting, but just as important task of preparing to carry out God’s work in day-by-day living. Classes went on. Graduation came in late March. It was time for me to go back to Spearfish, only I did not want to go. There was no reason for me to return and many reasons for me to stay. As usual, my students, 206

especially the juniors, were begging, “Please stay until we graduate.” Why not? The ground-breaking for the dormitory at the Taytay property had been held and the foundation was going in. It would be fun to see it grow. I had been given four classes instead of the two or three I had offered to teach and so I had done almost no visiting. Summer would give me an opportunity to spend time with friends and Filipino families. I was enjoying my teaching and eager to do more. So I decided to stay one more year. The new building was progressing nicely, but more money was needed. About ten years earlier, I had taken out a health and accident insurance policy. I had paid the premiums regularly. This policy carried a clause which stipulated that at the end of ten years, any balance of the $5,000 which had not been used to pay claims would be returned. Since I had never used it, in about six months I would have $5,000 available. As I visited with Dr. Lumba about the needs, I decided I would borrow $5,000, paying it back when the insurance came due. I could then give the $5,000 needed for the Chapel-Multipurpose room in the new administration/classroom building. But before I could carry out my plans, I got my bank statement in the mail. It showed that I had received $6,639.40 in back Social Security payments. I never did know exactly how this happened, but why question the U.S. government and God? Again I realized: “You can’t outgive God.” I had planned to give $5,000. God sent me enough so I could give the needed $5,000 as I had planned and an additional $1,500 for the July land payment. I still had some left. Buildings at the New Site Are Named At their spring meeting in March, 1986, the trustees voted to name the dormitory Grace E. Huck Hall. Of course, I felt honored. The administration/ classroom building would be Jones Hall, named for Dr. Lumba’s friends who had given a significant gift, both for additional land and for building. Soon after this, Mrs. Fernando died. She was the woman who had begun the kindergarten program at Harris in 1924, making Harris the pioneer in kindergarten education in the Philippines. The third building that would be built at the new site would be the Early Childhood Education Building. Dr. Fernando, her son, was my doctor. I suggested that the family, along with other memorial money, might build that building in her memory. They liked the suggestion and a little later the third building named the Brigada G. Fernando Early Childhood Education Building was begun. Helping Manuel When I returned to the Philippines in October of 1985, I became aware that Manuel del Rasario had never finished his bachelor’s degree. His had been a checkered study program. When he had come to me as the Academic Dean in 1970, I had planned his program so he could finish his degree in 1972. However, after the first year, he was not permitted by the church to continue his studies. He did a good job in his work of planning for and directing Christian 207

Education in the Lutheran Church. However, after several years, mission money from the States was cut. The program of Christian Education, of which Manuel was an important part, was dropped by the Lutheran Church in the Philippines. So, his position was discontinued. I was his Ninang (god-mother), so he wrote to me. It was one of the saddest letters I’ve ever received. He felt he had been treated unjustly. He had discontinued his study so that he could do what they wanted, and now they had dropped him. I wrote, “Manuel, don’t be discouraged. I think God is in this. Go back to Harris and see what you need to do to finish your degree. I will send money each month for your family.” I was preaching and $100 a month when changed into pesos was sufficient to provide for the family. But before he was able to complete the course (he had just one 5 unit laboratory science class to finish), the Lutheran Church turned to him again. They recognized the quality of his leadership. “We want you to go to seminary and become a preacher.” The seminary did not care that he lacked 5 units of science in his B.A. degree. So, he packed up his family and moved to Baguio and enrolled in the seminary. After graduation, he began preaching in churches in Manila. Again, the quality of both his work and his education was recognized. Because of the Christian Education background he had received at Harris, he was the best qualified to direct Christian Education; but because he lacked a Bachelor of Arts Degree, he was not recognized by the government as qualified to be the superintendent of a private school. I was back at Harris. Again, I encouraged him to come back and earn his degree. Now he was a pastor and he could make his own decisions concerning the use of his time. He returned to Harris to enroll and finish his degree. However, the curriculum had been changed so he had one Bible class which he needed to take in addition to the laboratory science. I had been assigned to teach that class. We were both glad that he could be in my class. In March, 1986, Manuel earned his Bachelor of Arts with a major in Christian Education Degree, the first man to receive a degree from Harris. Serving as Chaplain As the school year of 1986-87 began, Dr. Lumba asked me to serve as Chaplain. This was a new position in the school. As Chaplain, I would also be the Guidance Counselor. It was more responsibility, but it also offered opportunity for more service. In the Philippines, it is the practice for each organization or group to which a person belongs to hold a memorial service after his/her death but before the official funeral. One of the deaconesses had died, and Harris had a memorial service for her in the chapel at Central Church. As Chaplain, I was in charge. Before the service, a young man came up and spoke to me. He introduced himself as Rev. Nicholas and asked if I remembered him. I recognized him as one of the young pastors who had gone through the Board of Ordained Ministry of which I had been a member while I had been 208

in the Philippines as a regular missionary. Then he told me I had given him money to finish high school. There was scholarship money to support student pastors for college, but nothing for high school and he had not yet graduated from high school. So I had helped him. He thanked me as he told me where he was now appointed as a full elder in the church. After he told me, I remembered having supported him. I rejoiced that God had enabled me to help him. My Class Produces a Book During the second semester, I was assigned to teach the class Teaching and Interpreting the Bible. It was a class for seniors and it was a challenging class to teach. It was a new class that had been added since I had been at Harris as a missionary teacher. I had taught it when I had first returned to the Philippines the year before. Now I would teach it for the second time and I felt more comfortable. There were ten very capable young ladies enrolled. I decided to let the students write the syllabus. “What do you want to learn? How do you feel is the best way to learn it?” I asked them. They felt that since they had studied each of the books of the Bible more or less thoroughly in other courses during their earlier years, now they wanted to do a quick review of every book documenting author, date, the situation which led to its being written, an outline of the content and a note of special passages which were best known or loved. This was basically what I had planned the year before, but they wanted to produce a book which would document their work. I assigned each girl a book of the Bible to research. She would make a brief verbal presentation to the class. And she would write for the book we would put together. Our study followed the Hebrew arrangement of the Old Testament: The Torah, the Prophets and the Writings. I read the written work and edited if I felt it necessary, or if the basic information was lacking, or if the best scholarship had not been used, it was returned for rewriting. I was proud of them and they felt that this exercise made all they had learned before more meaningful and certainly more concise and clear. Four girls who were typists typed all the material when it was approved. I wrote an introduction. Dalisay P. Ocampo, was a deaconess and my former student. She was now Bishop Nacpil’s secretary. She volunteered to copy the typed material on the good electric typewriter in the Bishop’s office. (The typewriters the girls had used had old carbon ribbons and did not make clear copies, nor were they all the same style of print.) Bishop Nacpil was on a trip to the U.S. and Dalisay had very little to do in the office while he was gone. God had provided for us. After it was typed in good form, the girls took the material to a Xerox machine near Harris and made copies. They took full responsibility, even collecting money from class members to pay for the copying. We made thirteen copies, one for each student, one for the library, one for Dr. Lumba and one for me. They decided they would have them bound. Binding in the 209

Philippines was much less expensive than it would have been in the United States. Harris was in the process of being recertified by the Association of Theological Schools and Colleges. Among the exhibits was a copy of A Brief Review of the Books of the Bible produced by my class. The people who were evaluating Harris were much impressed. It is a very well done study and has proved very helpful. I have made copies and used it many times as I have led Bible studies since I returned to the States. Cerna Castro Rand, who was a member of the class which had produced the book used it as a resource when writing a term paper at Garrett-Evangelical Theological School. The professor asked about it and when Cerna told him what it was, he asked to see and study it over Christmas vacation. When he returned it to her, he said, â&#x20AC;&#x153;This is a very scholarly piece of work.â&#x20AC;? He could scarcely believe it had been done by undergraduate students in the Philippines.

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Chapter 32 AN HONORARY DOCTORATE DEGREE The spring meeting of the Trustees of Harris had been going on all day. There were many decisions to be made on March 6, 1987, as the new campus in Barrio Dolores, Taytay, Rizal was steadily coming into being. Huck Hall was nearly finished. Jones Hall and even the Fernando Building were taking shape. The trustees had gone to the new site to view the progress. A Special Gift As I went downstairs, I stopped for a moment to speak to Dr. Lumba and Mrs. Lucas, who had just returned from the visit to the Taytay Campus. I could see that they were excited. Then Dr. Lumba spoke. “We want to give you a very special gift, but we want it to be a surprise.” “Oh, thank you,” I responded. “When will I know?” It was evident that she was torn between wanting to keep her secret and her eagerness to share it. Her excitement won out and she said, “The trustees have voted to confer on you our first honorary doctorate degree.” I was completely overwhelmed. One of the things I wanted more than anything else was to have a doctorate degree. I would have preferred if it could have been an earned degree, but there was perhaps something even more meaningful about an honorary degree, for in some ways it, too, was earned. I was so overwhelmed that I simply stood there completely silent, scarcely breathing. She continued, “You have given us so much. Not only have you given of your money, you have given yourself, your physical energy, your intellectual ability, your spiritual leadership and your love. We want to recognize this and honor you for it.” By the time she had finished speaking, I was breathing again. I was able to speak. “Oh, thank you,” I said. “I don’t think there is anything in all the world that could make me more happy.” “It can’t be this year,” she said. “We don’t have time to do all the paperwork to award it at this year’s graduation. You will have to come back for graduation next year.” “At this point, I don’t know whether I will be able to,” I said. “But it could be granted in absentia couldn’t it.” “Yes,” she replied, “but we want you here.” “And I want to be here, but I can’t promise.” I had planned to be at Harris only one semester when I left Spearfish in October of 1985. But I had stayed for three semesters. Now I felt it was time to return to the States. It had been a wonderful and fruitful experience. I had been able to visit friends and my Filipino families. Best of all, I had been able to teach again. The book completed by the class in Teaching and Interpreting the Bible had been a significant accomplishment. But it was time to leave again. So, I retired for the fifth time and started back to Spearfish. As I made my plans to return to Spearfish at the end of the school 211

year, I decided I would go through Korea. Helen Tieszen, a native of South Dakota, was a missionary teacher at Yonsei University. She had visited me at Faith. Now, I would visit her in Seoul. Phyllis Powers, who had been at Scarrett during my first time there, was in Taejon and I could also visit her and see some of Korea and of our work. So I went through Korea. I had a meaningful visit there. The Korean church is noted for early morning prayer meetings. I participated in one. I also shared in a foot washing service, which I had always wanted to do, and visited Ewah University. One especially interesting experience was finding one of my former classmates at Scarritt who was the principal of a school. It was good to see what the church was doing in Korea. I stopped in Los Angeles on the way home. I spent Maundy Thursday through Easter with my godchildren, Afrie and Charles Joye, and I also saw some of my former students. Then I continued on my way. Graduation When I left Manila, I had serious doubts about returning for graduation and receiving my doctorate degree in person. However, Dr. Lumba continued to encourage me to come and my friends in Spearfish also encouraged me. I really did not want to travel alone, but when Thelma McCright, who was a member of the Mission Committee in the Spearfish church agreed to accompany me, I decided to go. It was a quick trip for graduation in March of 1988. We were gone just two weeks. The Philippine Airlines were becoming more and more strict about who they let into the terminal, so no one was inside to greet us. My suitcase came through about midway in the unloading, but when all the luggage had been unloaded and Thelma’s suitcase had not come through, I went through customs and Thelma made out a “Missing Luggage Form.” Of course, there was a crowd outside the terminal. I looked and spotted Guia, or she saw me. Anyway, we got together. She knew the Harris people were at the other exit. We made our way through the throngs and found Dr. Lumba and others from Harris. We returned to Harris without Thelma’s bag. It came the next day. On Saturday, we went out to view the Taytay sight. Huck Hall was almost finished. Light fixtures needed to be installed and it needed to be painted, but that would come later. There were no clothes closets and the beds had not been built. Jones Hall was close to being structurally complete on the outside. Some of the plans I had made had been abandoned. I was somewhat disappointed, but had to let it go. After all, it is theirs, not mine. Sunday afternoon was the baccalaureate service at Central Church and Monday afternoon the graduation and the granting of degrees. I had brought my cap, but Harris provided the appropriate hood and a new gown complete with doctorate stripes on the sleeves. I liked it much better than my old one. For one thing, the material was so much lighter that it was more comfortable and a great deal cooler. The girls were given their diplomas and granted their degrees first. 212

Then Dr. Lumba made a very beautiful speech, telling why they were giving me the degree. Then I was called forward and handed the diploma which said:

Though Harris pre-dated PCU by many years, dating back to 1903, it had been a fully accredited college only since 1969. It had not been a recognized institution long enough to grant an honorary degree. So the degree was granted in consortium with Philippines Christian University which had been established in 1946.

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Chapter 33 CONTINUING MINISTRY WITH HARRIS A Volunteer in Mission Work Team A new program known as “Volunteers In Mission” work teams was being initiated in the church. So, I began to think about the possibility of taking a work team to the Philippines. Nothing was painted in any of the rooms in the new campus at Taytay. I knew there was no money to paint it. I began to plan. If I could take a team to Harris, we could paint at least the public areas of some of the buildings. It would also do something for those who went on the team. When Joann and Everett Follette celebrated their wedding anniversary on September 15, 1988 they invited some of us to their backyard for a picnic. I began telling some of the people about my plan to take a work team to the Philippines. When I told Joann Hoffman, she said, “Don would never go. He hates painting.” Later, she asked, “Have you told Don about your plans?” “No, I haven’t had a chance,” I replied. Then since she had introduced it, I told everyone that I hoped to take a work team to the Philippines to paint some of the new buildings. Don responded immediately, “I’m going.” Joann was amazed. As time went on, both money and volunteers began to accumulate. I spoke in the eastern part of the state at a Mission Saturation events and recruited two women from the Sioux Falls area. I spoke in Northville and then personally invited Ken and Linda Peterson to join us. Then the Stiegelmeirs from Selby volunteered. They had both served in the Peace Corps in the Philippines. They had met and married there. They had three children. There were two men from First Church in Rapid City, our pastor, Gordon Higgins, the Hoffmans, and Linfred Schuttler from Spearfish making a team of fifteen including myself. As I communicated with Dr. Lumba, I learned that there was need for rip-rapping on the hill below Huck Hall, which was eroding and could endanger the building. That work would be done by local labor, but they needed us to bring money for the project. We decided we needed $10,000 in cash to do the things we wanted to do. I started to the Philippines in January 1989 carrying $9,800, just $200 short of what we needed, but I felt confident the additional $200 would come. It did! Judy, from Sioux Falls, brought $200 for the work and then Linda Peterson also brought $200 from a family in Creshard. So, we had $10,200, which changed into 238,720 pesos. God is always faithful when we do our part. Because Huck Hall was named for me, of course, the team wanted to work there. However, Dr. Lumba wanted the lobby and halls of Jones Hall painted. So we did what she asked. But there was also work done in Huck Hall that provided real improvement. God’s wisdom in choosing the members of the Work Team was 214

clearly evident as we began our labors. Most of the team did painting. I asked Linda Peterson to act as foreperson of that crew. She did it very well. A team from Michigan had been at Harris about two weeks before we came. They had painted Dr. Lumba’s office, the conference room and the office of the Chaplain who was a missionary from Michigan. Our team painted the entrance area of both floors and the other offices on first floor. Ken Peterson and Rich Roessler were the carpenters. As soon as the team had arrived, I took those two men to the dormitory. As I walked around the dormitory, I saw that there were no mirrors. Imagine a girls dormitory with no mirrors! We made plans for mirrors with the girls helping us decide where they would be placed. Mrs. Lucas guided us to the places where the mirrors and other materials could be purchased. They installed mirrors in each room. They also made ironing boards for the ironing room and installed a chalkboard flanked on each side by a bulletin board in the Conference Room in Jones Hall. Everett Balcalm was a plumber and he worked on the toilets which needed service. He said, “I think I’ve hugged every toilet in this building.” Don Hoffman used his skills to survey and planned for sidewalks. It was wonderful how each person had his or her own gift to provide what was needed. I enjoyed being the director of the team. The “fallout” was also wonderful. Several students who needed scholarship help received it as team members bonded with students. Two of the students have received master’s degrees in the States because team members have sponsored them. Although there was no painting in Huck Hall while we were there, four couples returned, some more than once. They painted the dining room, the sala, the library, and the lower entrance hall. Also, an additional classroom was added in Jones Hall. The lives of team members were greatly enriched, and in some cases, perhaps transformed by the experience. The lives of many of the students were also impacted for good in many ways. And the buildings were made much more beautiful as a result of that work team which went to Harris in 1989. We saw God at work in Harris and in all of our lives. Paying Off the Debt When the new dormitory at the Taytay site was begun in 1986, Harris borrowed $100,000 from the General Board of Global Ministries. Interest was to be at 8%, which at that time was low in comparison to bank loans. This meant that the interest due each year was $8,000. I did not pay much attention to what was happening until October of 1989, when I learned that money was being withheld from the Block Grant sent by General Board of Global Ministries to the Philippines in order to pay on the Harris debt. While, of course, my first love and concern was for Harris, it was not my only concern. I saw two very real problems which would arise from this practice. First, it took money from other mission projects in the Philippines, such as salary for pastors in pioneer churches and from other institutions in the Philippines which received missionary support. The second was I felt very sure that there would be a growing disaffection for Harris by anyone 215

affected by the withholding of money needed for their work if it was used to pay off the Harris debt. And then, since the dormitory bore my name, I felt a personal responsibility for it. So I decided something must be done, and I must do it. We had gotten the Harris Building accepted as an Advance Special earlier. But if money went through the Advance, it went to New York, then to the Philippine World Division Treasurer in Manila, then to Harris who would then send it back to New York for payment on the loan. That process could take six months, maybe more. I thought if money could go directly to New York, and if they would credit it as soon as it arrived, we could save a great deal in interest. So I wrote to William C. Wyman at the General Board of Global Ministries to see what could be done. It took some time before all the details were worked out, but eventually it was completed. After many letters and telephone calls, I was finally able to get a number to which money for debt repayment could be sent directly to New York. I sent out letters to friends and churches just before Christmas, 1990. That letter brought results. I, of course, gave what I could. I lived off my Social Security check and gave all of both my ministers and missionary pension to pay off the debt. During 1991, more than $15,000 was raised. The payment schedule was supposed to be $10,000 per year. Employed Again There were three churches in Harding County which had been a concern of mine over many years, mostly because they were in my home county, but also because they were small and struggling. The church in Buffalo was a United Church of Christ, but the Camp Crook and Harding churches were United Methodist. The Harding church had not had regular services for some years, but the Camp Crook church, though small, only about fifteen members, had a vital congregation and continued to function. Though of two different denominations, the three churches had been one parish for a number of years. In the summer of 1991, their pastor left. Since Buffalo had the larger church and it was a U.C.C., it looked to the United Church of Christ for its pastor and followed the U.C.C. pattern of â&#x20AC;&#x153;callingâ&#x20AC;? a pastor. Only there was none to call. One of the members was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Hanson, in whose home I had lived when I taught my second school. She suggested me as an interim supply. They called me to come up and preach. I did. In late fall or early winter, we began talking about the possibility of my becoming their full-time interim pastor. At the Annual Meeting just before Christmas, I was called to be the pastor. So, early in January of 1991, I gave up my apartment in Spearfish and moved into the parsonage in Buffalo. I enjoyed the congregations. I was glad to be living in the parsonage where I had a very adequate office/ study. Because the parsonage and all utilities were furnished, I had additional money. Then, of course, I had a salary. It was not large, but all of it along with my pensions, could go to pay off the Harris debt. As always, the churches prospered though there was no dramatic 216

growth. Immediately after I was called to Buffalo, I wrote to the U.C.C. Conference Minister. I told him I was serving at Buffalo and asked for information. “Please send me material that will help me to be a good pastor of a United Church of Christ,” I wrote. As a result of my letter, I had his full support, but more importantly, I was able to lead the church to become more supportive of the worldwide program of their church. Mission Accomplished When I began paying off the Harris debt, the principal was just over $85,000, and of course, there was interest. When I got to the place where more of each payment went to pay on the principal than on interest, I felt I was on the way. And by paying monthly, we saved thousands of dollars in interest. The annual payment date was October 1st. I began paying January 1, 1991, and by June of 1994, it was down to $21,355. During the summer of 1994, I began to feel that I should not spend another winter in Buffalo, so I told the churches that I was retiring again (the sixth time) and leaving at the end of September. However, since the first Sunday in October was World Communion Sunday and they needed an ordained pastor to celebrate the Communion service, I would be there as a pulpit supply. About the middle of August, I began watching the “For Rent” ads in Spearfish. Then, near the end of September, I saw an ad for a two bedroom apartment “Available October 1,” the ad said. I called and it had not been rented. “I’ll be down on Thursday to look at it,” I told the gentleman who answered when I called. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t show it to anyone until you have seen it.” On Thursday, I met Ed Johnson and he took me to the house. Actually, it was a house with two smaller apartments below. We walked in. My first impression was, “Oh, how lovely.” Everything about it was just what I wanted. I had hoped to pay no more than $400 a month, but he was asking $425. It was so exactly what I wanted, I took it. About the time I moved, I had a letter from the Board asking me not to send money monthly but just to wait. I knew that the balance was down to about $12,000, and we had until 1999 to fulfill the contract. Then on December 24th, I received a letter saying, “This letter is first to express our appreciation to you for your long-time support of Harris Memorial College and for the payment you have made against this loan.” Then it continued, “The Board of Directors have recently voted to authorize, under certain circumstances, the forgiveness of loan balances. Harris Memorial College falls within the criteria and therefore, effectively immediately, the current balance of $12,857.01 will be brought down to zero.” What a wonderful Christmas present! Mortgage Burning Ceremony In October of 1995, I returned to the Philippines again for the Founder’s Day celebration and a Mortgage Burning Ceremony and the Dedication of Grace E. Huck Hall. 217

It was wonderful to be a part of the dedication of the building that not only bears my name, but also testifies to my love for and commitment to the college which is so important in the life of the Church in the Philippines and around the world. I thank God he could use me! I stayed through the semester, though I did not take any regular teaching assignments. I was a guest lecturer in many different classes. During a typhoon, while Dr.Lumba was absent, someone stole the pump from the pump house and the treasurer at Harris asked me to serve as “Officer in Charge” when we dealt with the police. Just before I left, we received a check for $9,725 from the Grace E. Huck Trust provided by my share of a new lease on the oil on my father’s farm. The trust agreement gave money from the oil to Harris. By adding a personal check of $225 to bring the amount up to $10,000 we were able to add two much needed apartments to the Faculty-Staff Townhouses. Again God had provided.

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Chapter 34 LIFE GOES ON When I returned to Spearfish in October, 1994 and retired for the sixth time after serving the churches in Buffalo and Camp Crook, I was aware that life goes on, and wondered what was next. I was slowing down physically but my mind and spirit continued strong and so I continued to seek for ways I could serve God and the church. A New Church Building For perhaps a decade the Spearfish church had been considering a new building. They were outgrowing the present building which had been built in 1889. Though an education wing had been added to the west side of the building in 1955 with a kitchen and fellowship hall on the upper floor and classrooms on the lower floor, some children’s classes were still being held in what was laughingly called “the catacombs” in the old basement. An entirely new building in a growing section in the north-east part of town was considered, but finally abandoned, and the decision was made to remodel and enlarge the original church. Gordon Higgins was the pastor at that time. He had some architectural skills and he did the first planning for the new church. At Annual Conference in June, Gordon was moved to a church in North Dakota. Some of us felt that it was not fair to Gordon since he had done so much to prepare for the new church. However, Gordon was willing to go. A New Pastor At the Annual Conference in June 1995, just as work was about to begin on the church, the Rev. Kip Roozen was appointed to the church in Spearfish. As we became acquainted with him everyone was very pleased. He was quite young, but very mature. The words “Kip is fantastic” began to be heard frequently. It seemed there was nothing that he could not do. My admiration and appreciation of Kip deepened as our relationship grew. In the early years of his ministry in Spearfish, if he had to be gone, he would ask me to take care of things, filling the pulpit and even once holding a funeral. “I feel so comfortable leaving things in your care,” he once told me. And I felt blessed to be able to be of service and for the privilege of working with him. We moved out of the church building in the summer of 1995 and work on the new building began. During the time of construction the Catholic church, across the street from us, offered their facilities so we worshipped in the Catholic Church. Some years earlier when they were building, they has worshipped in our church. One of the families of the church offered the lower floor of their home as office space. We moved back into the newly remodeled and greatly enlarged building for the first worship service on August 11, 1996. Bishop William B. 219

Lewis preached the consecration service for the new church on August 25. Classes for New Members With a new church building and a new pastor, attendance at the services began to grow. Spearfish was growing and many new people were moving in. I saw that there were many new persons attending the services, and I also realized that Kip did not have the time to give to a membership class. Since I was a minister, I felt that new people would be willing to accept my leading a class, so I asked if I might lead classes for new members. Kip was happy to have me do it. We set up a small committee and as new people came to our attention, the committee members invited them to unite with us. For several years I held a class which lasted for six Sundays. It was wonderful to be a part of the ministry of the church in that way. Another Avenue for Ministry When I returned to Spearfish after serving at the Buffalo/Camp Crook parish, I was asked to serve on the Mission Committee. Della Dibley was the new chair. She was a relatively new member of the church coming from another denomination, so she asked me to give her guidance as she led the committee on Missions. We developed a very close friendship. Having finished paying off the debt on the Harris property, I asked God, “What shall I do now?” And the answer came, “Support a missionary.” Esther Wehrman, whom I had first met as a child of two when her parents and I were both missionaries in the Philippines, was now married to Carlos Otero. They were missionaries serving in Bulgaria. There is a program in the church for Missionary support, whereby a church could give $1,000 per year for support of a “Covenant Missionary.” I suggested this to Della and then to the Mission committee assuring them that if the church was not able to raise the $1,000, I would be sure it was paid. Thus began a program in the church of support for a “Covenant Missionary.” When the Oteros terminated their relationship with the Board, and returned to serve a church in Florida, we chose another missionary. The church is now supporting the third missionary family. A Year of Writing In October 1999, I was asked to lead the devotions on Saturday morning at the Annual Meeting of the Conference United Methodist Women using a message on prayer. After she had heard my message at the conference, Della Dibly, then president of the local United Methodist Women, asked me to use that same message for the UMW Sunday in January in our own church. Kip would be gone for two Sundays on a Volunteer in Missions trip to Haiti so I would be preaching for two Sundays. I decided to preach on prayer both weeks. I went to my files and pulled out the manuscript of When You Pray, the book which I had written in the Philippines, but which had been rejected for publication. As I read it in preparation for my sermons, I felt, “This is good. It ought to be printed!” It spoke to me as if it were not my own writing. A friend had 220

sent me a gift of $500, so I decided I would edit the book and have it printed by Sand Creek Printing, a company in Spearfish. I hired a young woman who had a computer and needed a job to do the typing. It was finished the end of May and I took copies to Annual Conference to sell. The response has been very gratifying. From what I am told, I was right in feeling that it should be printed. “You have had such an interesting life. You should write your life story,” I have been told many times over the last twenty or thirty years by those who know me well, some who know me less well, and some whom I had only met briefly. Rueben and Beverly Job were especially supportive and urged me to write. So I began to write the story of my life as a witness to God’s amazing grace, goodness and guidance. By the end of December, 2000, I had finished the manuscript and I thought I had finished my writing. I gave the manuscript to Bishop Rueben Job who had promised he would try to get it published. “It is much to long,” he told me, so I cut it by about one third, and gave it back to him, but no one was interested in a book which would not sell a million copies. So it has been sitting here for about five years. And life goes on. Much that is important has happened in these five years, so I am adding this last chapter. God continues to guide and to perform marvelous works, and they need to be a part of my witness to God’s amazing grace. Parking Lot Needed When the church was remodeled and enlarged, it covered almost every square inch of the land owned by our church. The rest of the block on which the church sat was owned by the school board and elementary school classes were held in the building on the property. Later it housed only a kindergarten. A playground occupied a part of the lot. The church had to have off-street parking. So the church entered into an agreement with the school board by which they permitted us to pave a section of their land on the west side of the church for parking. In return, the school held their Christmas programs, graduations and other public activities in our sanctuary. Then in about 2003, the school was closed. For a time some offices from the university were held in the building. In late 2004 the school board decided to sell the property. If someone else bought the property, the church would be without parking space. For several months Pastor Kip and John Swanson, chair of the trustees, sought to negotiate some way we could keep the parking lot. But the school board decided to sell all of their property, and to put it up for bids. It was appraised at $1,100,000. How could we possibly purchase it? It became a matter of sincere prayer for many of us. I felt certain that it was God’s will that our church, which had witnessed to God’s love and presence for more than a century, should continue to serve God for many more years. As Kip and I talked we both felt confident that in some way God would provide. We claimed the promise, If two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. (Matt. 221

18:19) Several times before, Kip and I had covenanted with one another and with God as we shared a concern for the church and a particular program. Always our prayer was answered. We were sure that somehow, God would make it possible for us to purchase the property. When I walked to the church, I usually entered the property through a gate on the west side. For many months as I walked across the land owned by the school, on my way to enter the church, I would claim it for God and for the church. Miracle Sunday Some church members felt it was impossible for us to raise the kind of money it would take to purchase the property. But we continued to pray for guidance and to claim God’s promises. Then an anonymous benefactor offered $300,000 if the church members would match it. This would give $600,000. The trustees and the Administrative Council decided we must move forward to purchase the land if our church was to continue. We all were confident that God wanted us there. A Charge Conference at which all church members could vote was called and a vote taken. The overwhelming decision was to proceed in the purchase of the property. When the school board decided to sell it by sealed bid, we had some concern. However we had no choice but to make a bid. A small committee consisting of chair of the Trustees, chair of the Administrative Council and chair of the Committee on Stewardship and Finance were authorized to decide on the bid. Several of us prayed for them as they deliberated. Their decision must be kept secret until the bids were opened by the school board. We continued to pray. Kip continued to encourage our faith. We began to make plans for what would be called a Miracle Sunday on Palm Sunday when we would raise more than half a million dollars on one weekend. In the church newsletter, Kip wrote, “In preparation for the Miracle Sunday, I am asking you to do three things: 1) Believe that a miracle of generosity is possible. 2) Pray about it and give whatever you feel God wants you to give. 3) Accept whatever miracle God wants to give. Kip continued to tell us, “Don’t say ‘I won’t believe it until I see it,’ for you won’t see it until you believe it.” Of course I was confident that God would provide in some way. God had done it so many times before and I was sure it was God’s will. Jesus had said, “If you ask anything according to my will, I will do it.” (John 15:7) I claimed that promise. On March 14, the opening of the bids was only a five minute meeting by the school board. Ours was the only bid. They could have rejected it, and sold the land by public auction, but they did not. They accepted the bid, which was $750,040.73. Later we were told that the committee determined it should not be in round numbers. They decided on $750,000 and then asked Kip for some good Biblical numbers. He gave them 40, 7, and 3. I thought there should have been a 12 in there somewhere. The hard part was over. Our bid had been accepted. Now all that 222

was left was to expect a miracle of generosity and give our gifts. Palm Sunday was chosen as Miracle Sunday. At each of the three services, the offering was taken early in the service, counted and reported at the end. At the Saturday evening service on March 19 we received more than $100,000 in cash. By the end of the second service on Palm Sunday morning, we had gathered $557,039.94 including the $300,000 from our anonymous friends. But money continued to come in. By the time the check was submitted on April 7, $595,164.55 had been raised. A loan was taken out for the balance. We had raised over half a million dollars on one weekend. God had truly given us a miracle and the ministry of the Spearfish United Methodist Church was assured for many years to come. Now we had the Central school building. Again there were questions about what should be done. Some wanted to demolish it. Others wanted to use it for ministry. As this is being written, several groups which are community ministries are renting space and it seems as if the building can be used as an outreach of the church into the community. Again, I feel that God has given us an opportunity to continue to serve. “Employed for thee, or laid aside for thee” It was disappointing when I had finished my book, had edited it down to the size that might be acceptable, and it was still not accepted for publication. When Rueben wrote to me about the book, he said, “I feel certain God will get this printed.” But it seemed certain that no company was going to print it. Then as plans for the celebration of the 50th anniversary of women being received into full membership in the Annual Conference were being made, I was contacted by several of those working on the plans, urging me to make the book available for the celebration. I had published When You Pray with Sand Creek Printing doing the work. They did excellent work, so I talked to Coral Sand about doing my life story. She was eager to do it. I began to make plans for “Pre-Publication” sales to finance the printing. Others told me about a Domain Name under which I could sell over the Internet. Slowly I began to learn enough so I felt that God was leading me to trust Him and go out on my own. I continually felt God’s guidance and leading. So this book is being printed. But that is not all, I feel that a whole new ministry is opening up for me. Physically I am becoming less able to do things, but as Paul said, “Even though our physical being is gradually decaying, yet our spiritual being is renewed day after day.” (2 Cor. 4:16 TEV) (I like the translation in the Good News Bible TEV translation best.) Already more copies of When You Pray are being ordered. I can put it on the website and offer it. I have several other writings that I can prepare for publication and can be made available through the website. I remember reading that the books of Chronicles in the LXX version of the Bible were entitled, “Things Passed Over” so I am considering going back, looking at some of the stories which have a rich Christian messages but were passed over when I edited God’s Amazing Grace and producing 223

a small volume entitled Chronicles of God’s Grace. I feel God is opening a whole new avenue for ministry. Even though the “physical being is gradually decaying,” new avenues of ministry are opening up. So, again I am ready to be “employed for {God} or laid aside for {God}” in accordance with God’s perfect will. I praise and thank God for his continued amazing grace!

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LET ME BE YOUR CHANNEL Let me be a channel of your love, O God! My physical strength is waning, But my spirit grows strong. Use me as you will. Your people cry out in their need. The homeless cry for shelter, The lonely cry for friends, The sick and dying are crying out for healing, And the hungry cry for bread. Show me how and where I can help, O God! Let me be a human channel Through which your love can flow. I am ready, I am open, I am yours. Let me be employed for you Or laid aside for you. Use me if and as you will Or let me quietly rest. Fill me to overflowing with your love Which alone can bring the healing to tormented souls. I am here! I am yours!

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BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION FOR GRACE E. HUCK June 27, 1916 1922-1930 1930-1932 1932-1933 1933-1935 1935-1936 1936-1937 1937-1938 1938-1939 1939-1940 1940-1941

Born on father’s ranch in Harding County, SD Attended Karinen Rural School Attended High School in Bowman, ND At home. Couldn’t afford to go to school Attended High School in Spearfish, SD. Graduated 1935 Attended Black Hills Teachers College, Spearfish, SD Taught Clarkson School, Harding Co., SD Taught Hanson School, Ludlow, SD Taught Bjerke School, Ralph, SD. Resigned in February. At home helping Mother At home. Attended Dickinson State Teachers College, Dickinson, ND Winter Quarter June 1941 Received Local Preachers’ License 1941-1943 Preaching at Rural/Fort Rice Methodist Church, south of Mandan, ND 1943-1944 Attended Taylor University, Upland, IN 1944-1945 Taught Karinen School, Karinen, SD Lived at home. May 1945 Ordained Deacon, Annual Conference, Dickinson, ND Sept. 1945 Appointed to Velva/Volaire/Benedict Methodist Churches. 1945-1947 Preaching at Velva/Voltaire/Benedict Methodist Velva, ND 1947-1948 Preaching at Juanita/Grace City/Sutton, Methodist Churches, Juanita, SD 1948 Summer Worked for North Dakota Interchurch Council, Fargo, ND 1948-1949 Attended Black Hills State College, Spearfish. Finished BS in Ed in November. Worked with youth in Spearfish Methodist Church June 1949 Ordained Elder, Annual Conference, Jamestown, ND 1949-1950 Field Worker for North Dakota Interchurch Church Council, Fargo, ND 1950-1951 Taught a Rural School near Wilton, ND 1951-1952 Taught in BHSC Laboratory School and DCE at Methodist Church, Spearfish, SD 1952-1953 Taught 7th and 8th grade at Navajo Methodist Mission School, Farmington, NM 1953-1959 DCE, First Methodist Church, Fargo, ND 1954-1956 Attended NDAC, Fargo, ND. Graduated May 1956 MS in Ed. Major Ed/Psy. May 1956 Received into membership in North Dakota Annual Conference June 1959 Preached at Hope and Finley Methodist Churches Sept. 1959 Accepted as Missionary of Methodist Church, Women’s Division 1959-1960 Attended Scarritt College, Nashville, TN Jan. 1960 Commissioned as a missionary, Women’s Division, Methodist Church 226

Aug. 1960

Sailed to Manila, Philippines. Assigned to Harris Memorial College 1960 -1961 Language study June 1961 Founding member of Middle Philippines Annual Conference 1961-1964 Teaching at Harris Memorial College Summer 1964 Medical Furlough 1964 -1967 Teaching at Harris Memorial College 1967-1968 Furlough, Attended Scarritt College January to June June 1968 Graduated from Scarritt College, Nashville, TN MA â&#x20AC;&#x153;With Distinctionâ&#x20AC;? Major CE 1968-1971 Academic Dean at Harris Memorial College. Also taught May-Oct. 1971 Pre-withdrawal furlough, Spearfish, SD Jan. 1972 Began preaching at Faith United Methodist Church, Faith, SD June 1972 Received into South Dakota Annual Conference 1972-1978 Served Faith/Marcus United Parish 1976-1980 Served as Director of General Board of Global Ministries, 1976-1980 Trustee of Dakota Wesleyan University, Mitchell, SD 1978-1981 Served Cresbard/Northville United Methodist Churches, Cresbard, SD June 1981 Retired. Moved to Mitchell, SD Nov. 1981- Feb. 1982 Trip around the world. Feb.-May 1982 Lamdon Pastor Scholar at Drew University School of Theology, Madison, NJ 1982-1983 Minister of Education, First UMC Mitchell, SD 1983-1984 Served Claremont/Hecla UMC, Claremont, SD 1984-1985 Retired, living in Mitchell, SD Mar. 1985-Sept. 1985 Interim Pastor at Letcher/Loomis United Church of Christ Sept. 1985 Moved to Spearfish, SD Oct. 1985- April 1987 Volunteer teacher at Harris Memorial College, Manila, PI Apr. 1987 Retired in Spearfish, SD Mar. 1988 Awarded Honorary Doctor of Letters degree by Philippine Christian University in consortium with Harris Memorial College, Taytay, Rizal, Philippines Jan.-Feb. 1989 Led VIM work team to Harris Memorial College. Taytay, Rizal, Philippines 1987-1991 Living in Spearfish, SD 1991-1994 Pastor at Buffalo UCC and Camp Crook UMC, Buffalo, SD Oct. 1994 Retired again in Spearfish Oct. 1995 Returned to Harris Memorial College for Mortgage burning Oct. 1995 - Mar. 1996 At Harris Memorial College, guest lecturer and visiting friends. Mar. 1996 Returned to Spearfish, SD 227

Oct. 1998

Returned to Philippines for the Methodist Centennial and launching of The Impact of One Life by Dr Liwliwa T. Robledo honoring Dr. Prudencia L. Fabro June 2000 Published When You Pray 2000 - present Writing and Publishing Godâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Amazing Grace. Living in Spearfish, serving God through the church in any way I can.

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EPILOGUE God’s Amazing Grace: Stories From My Life is an extension of Rev. Grace Huck’s entire ministry – to witness to God’s amazing grace, goodness and guidance. This is a witness that continues to this very day. Now 100 years old and in very frail physical health, Grace’s spirit burns bright and her call to ministry is as vibrant as it was when God first called her while growing up on the prairie of western South Dakota. During my most recent visit with her, I learned that she had befriended one of her young caregivers and was witnessing to her about God’s amazing, saving grace. When God claimed Grace Huck and Grace responded to God’s call, neither let go. Nothing deterred her from following the heavenly vision God had given her. She writes of her own journey: “I was continually aware of Paul’s words, ‘I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision.’ (Acts 26:19) as I was struggling to be faithful to my call to the ordained ministry in the church at a time when women were not permitted to be fully recognized ministers.” Grace’s life and ministry have been remarkable, bordering on miraculous. Grace was a pioneer for clergywomen when ordained an elder in 1949. She was a pioneer when received into full membership in the North Dakota Conference on May 22, 1956 – the second woman, by only four days, to be accorded full clergy rights in The Methodist Church. As we celebrate the 60th anniversary of full clergy rights being extended to women in The United Methodist Church, we also celebrate that Grace remains an ageless pioneer in the faith. Rev. Grace Huck continues to be obedient to the heavenly vision – a vision of God’s beloved community. Throughout her life, and to this day, she has a deep and unshakable faith. Throughout her life, and to this day, she gives herself completely, extravagantly to Christ and the Church. Throughout her ministry, and to this day, she loves all of God’s people and is in solidarity with the poor. Throughout her journey, and to this day, she demonstrates that a passion for mission overcomes all difficulties and barriers. Throughout her life, and to this very day, she incarnates our distinctive Wesleyan emphasis of grace upon grace. Indeed, Rev. Grace Huck is obedient to the heavenly vision. Thanks be to God for such a witness to God’s amazing grace. Bishop Bruce R. Ough Dakotas-Minnesota Episcopal Area The United Methodist Church 229

. $18

God’s

Amazing

Grace

describes the remarkable life of Grace Huck, a pioneer in two senses of the word. Born to homesteading parents living in western South Dakota, Grace’s childhood was one of prairie adventures (including a brush with a rattlesnake), one-room schools and of neighbors helping neighbors in a land remote from urban amenities. The lessons she learned during those days - especially ones of faith and perseverance - never left Grace, and years later she found herself a pioneer again. She opened herself to God’s will in finding a purpose for her life and became the first woman in the United States to be received into full membership as a pastor in an Annual Conference in the Methodist Church. Her vocation took her across the heartland of America to small rural schools as a teacher and as a pastor to country churches whose membership numbered less than 20 and to a city church with a membership of more than 2000. It took her also to the Philippines as a missionary, college professor and Christian educator. Now Grace has written an intimate, first person account of her work and travels. The book is rich with anecdotes, personalities and, above all else, insights into God’s amazing grace and guidance in the lives of those willing to listen.