Faithful Foundations

Our family was lucky enough to attend two wonderful celebrations this summer. . . both Dale and my home churches turned 125 years old this year, and we appreciated the opportunity to head back and celebrate years of faithfulness from several generations before us. 

Our churches have similar, but different stories.  I grew up in a small, Catholic, mission parish.  The church is perched upon a knoll (or a hill, I suppose) two miles off the highway and about 10 miles from the nearest town.  There is no plumbing.  At times there was no heat.  (I remember sitting through mass one morning, seeing my breath, wrapped up in a lap blanket).   On a sad day about twenty-five years ago, someone stole the bell that used to sit by the back door.  I have many memories of climbing on the side of the bell to ring it, as we were too weak to ring it from above.  If your heart isn't filled with holy spirit on Christmas Eve as you walk through the snow in complete darkness toward a wooden church spilling with music and scattering light through stained glass windows, I don't know what would do it.  One hundred twenty-five years ago a group of farm families came together to form a parish. . . and I am so glad they did.  I am grateful for generations before me who made the trek faithfully, every Sunday morning, to cultivate their faith, to develop a relationship with Jesus Christ, and to form a "family" that still lingers today.  I am blessed to have begun my spiritual journey in such a wonderful place. There are currently about a dozen families who come together on Sunday morning to worship.  There is still no plumbing (or air conditioning. . . although I think the furnace is a little more reliable).  There's no microphone, no audio-visual aids, no distractions (well I suppose there are plenty of distractions. . . especially when my children are in attendance).  I am so proud of my little St. Francis de Sales/Schoolcraft parish, and wish you one hundred twenty-five more years of vibrant faithful attendance.

(sorry, I don't have a photo right now. . . I didn't find one that was easily hijacked)



Dale's home church, the Arcadia United Methodist Church, is also steeped in tradition, faithfulness, and active membership who love their families, love the Lord, and love to share the love of the Lord with others.  Shortly after we met, it became very apparent (and attractive) to me that Dale's faith, particularly his participation in the UMC was important to him and had help to define the man he was and the man he wanted to be for his family.  The Village (yep, village) of Arcadia, and in particular the UMC never ceases to amaze me.  They pack the sanctuary week after week, their roster includes generation after generation of faithful followers, and no task is too great!  They have a marked presence in the community, but perhaps one of their greatest accomplishments (in my humble opinion) is their ability to motivate people, in particular their youth members and those of surrouding communities, to participate in service mission trips around the country.  They pile people of all skill levels on a bus, take them to wherever the Lord's called them, and do GREAT things, literally rebuilding communities that have been stricken by disaster.  I can't say enough about how impressed I've been with the vibrance of this congregation.

As I reflect on these two small church families who have been so important to Dale and me, I am just so grateful and feel so blessed that we were able, with the guidance of our families, to grow roots into great foundations.  It can only serve to strengthen our relationships now, and give us a humble springboard as we attempt to raise a faithful family of our own.