Saturday, June 26, 2010

Country Churches














COUNTRY CHURCHES

Traveling across the rolling prairie it would stand out for miles, a land mark. The church steeple dominated the land, high above the plains, crowning the trees nearby. Many of these churches today are more than 100 years old and in a young country that is outstanding.
Settlers of the prairie brought their families with them when they settled on the plains. A part of their family was their religion. Many of the early settlers fled to the new world because of their religion. When they settled they built their homes and grew with the community. The community was a similar mind and they would have a church raising.
One in the community would donate some land and the neighbors would get together and build their church. A pastor would be invited to be the preacher and the church was soon completed. Next to the church, there would sometimes be a cemetery. The country church became a way of life, here the children were baptized, and there would be weddings, social gatherings and funerals. A country church was a focal point for the pioneers settling in the area.
Sundays the bell would chime for services and in front would be wagons parked, nearby was a well and tank for watering. 100 years back the horse was primary form of transportation. On Monday Bessie would be out in front of a plow or some other work, on Sunday though the horse brought the family to church. After services folks would stay for a time, visit, talk about the weather, family or crops. Coffee and fresh baked goods were to be had. The children scurried outside to run and play.
Country life years ago had a different pace and the church was part of this pace. Meetings would be held, clubs met here, classes held, country church life offered a place for the members of the community to discuss common problems and help each other. Sometimes the town was a day’s ride away or more and the parish was a good place to meet.
Neighbors would go to other churches but in cases of emergency they would come together to help each other. Somebody get hurt or sick, families would put their work aside to go help the neighbor. Food would be prepared and brought to the house, all able bodies went into the field to help, men, women and older children. Young ones were watched by older brothers and sisters while those unable to do field work prepared the food and helped in the house. Whatever it took, everybody pitched to help the neighbor.

From the Country church came this outpouring of concern for their neighbors. Helping each other was part of being in the country community and on Sunday they would gather to listen to the preacher and then visit. How are the crops, the weather, is the misses okay, how are the children doing and the talking goes on.
Across the windswept prairie there are a few of these country churches still stand, their steeple pointing to heaven, a cemetery beside it. Sometimes the church has faded into memory and the cemetery is but a reminder of an earlier day.
Five, six or seven generations have served their country church. Grandpa and Granma, along with brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles are in the cemetery. Generations of pioneers grew up working the land and on Sunday they laid down their tools to give God thanks for what He has done for them.
Hours of toil and hard work went into the land years ago. Done by hand, very few machines and the store was a long journey away. The settlers relied on themselves and helped each other to see their way on a journey few today travel.
The family bible that was purchased for Sunday was also the family record. In the bible would be the records of marriage, births, baptism and deaths. It was in God they trusted.
Reaching skyward sits many small churches, some still used others are empty. Some have caretakers, others will fade into memories. The Icon of the prairie still stands, to guide the way for those who seek.

9 comments:

Lady Penelope said...

A lovely picture painted by your words, of a caring and sharing community, and the heart of it being the Church, almost the 'heartbeat' of the people, at the centre of all things. The slow pace of life seems much more preferable than today's 'hustle and bustle' and the inability to find time to keep in contact with relatives and neighbours alike.
Yes, slower in pace but 'quicker' in the true understanding of what really matters in this world of ours.
Yes,

TenMile said...

Good stuff, John.

Joe said...

Our church here in town actually looks a lot like those old country churches and we've got two or three generations attending...a blast from the past is there every time we go to church. I think such things were meant to be the strength of any community. I sure liked the pictures John, thanks for sharing!

Anonymous said...

Good story John. I loved driving on the old back roads when I was driving, amazing the things that you would see.
Have a great day

Ramblingon said...

Thing is, coming from the South as I do, this still exists in a more limited way. It was lovely reading your blog as there are some things we will never see in this day and age again. The Country has largely lost its innocence.

Lisa said...

I love to see these Churches large. I have a small collection as you do . Yes I agree few and far between. Here in Canada there are some but I do have to go looking. Lots of them also from the Ukanine around here and RC. Some old and some new yet still old.
My Grandfather and Dad used to tell me stories of how familys perished, also helped one another . Here we still do during Havest . Hay and Grain. If the rains come we all come together before it hits or try too.. Some cant be bothered to help out.

Here I Am Carrie said...

Yes so much you to centralize around the church. Life in the country just isn't the same anymore. No one has time to spend to help each other. I know I am so guilty as well. I love when traveling and spot an old church off by it's self. Always drawn to want to go look inside.

Anonymous said...

You paint such a poignant story with your words. Sad that the faster we travel, the further we get from each other.

Home on the Range said...

My Mom's family were Norwegian immigrants who settled first in North Dakota. In their Bible was a genealogy that went back generations. My Dad is Scot/Irish/English, in his family bible the same, including gravestone rubbings of where the ancestors lay.

Being adopted, I didn't pay it much mind growing up, as I was not related to any of them. But I am, in that I was raised with their core values, principles and strength, for which I am blessed.
B.