IN THE UNLIKLIEST OF PLACES, inside a box of vintage bullet pencils at the Rice County Steam and Gas Engines Flea Market, between the Corn Palace in Mitchell, S.D., and Mount Rushmore in the Black Hills, I spotted a mini sermon:
Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me.”—John 14:6
© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Fine craftsmanship defines the sanctuary.
STEP INSIDE AN AGED COUNTRY CHURCH anywhere and you will be drawn in by the history, the craftsmanship, the holiness of a house dedicated to God and the fellowship of the faithful.
A poster board with photos and well wishes stands in the Moland Lutheran Church entry.
You need only pause and look, really look, to see the care, the love, the devotion, which fill such a sacred place.
Moland features architecture common in country churches.
Join me on a photographic tour of Moland Lutheran Church, 7618 Northeast 84th Avenue, rural Kenyon, Minnesota. The church, built by Norwegians in 1884, still holds Sunday morning worship services, currently led by the Rev. Nancy Edwardson.
Worship service is at 9 a.m. on Sunday. These photos were taken during the congregation’s June 23 strawberry festival.
From 25-30 worshipers fill the pews each week. And if that number seems too few to keep these doors open, do not underestimate the strength of a congregation rooted deep in this place, connected to this church building, this spot of land in rural Minnesota.
A verse from Matthew graces the altar.
A full view of the altar painting done by A. Pederson and based on Matthew 28 – 30.
One can only imagine how many faithful have knelt at this altar railing.
Or how many pastors have occupied this chair.
Stunning stained glass windows grace the sanctuary.
Suspended from the ceiling is this incredible historic light fixture.
Stats, posted in a corner behind the organ at the front of the church.
And more stats posted on paper just outside the sanctuary.
And, on the edge of the church property, this sense of community.
TO VIEW A PREVIOUS post about Moland Lutheran, click here. And then click here for another post.
To view my post about the Moland Lutheran Strawberry Festival, click here.
Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
IF YOU’RE NORWEGIAN (which I’m not), appreciate historic country churches (which I do), rejoice in the preservation of old buildings (which I do) and value worshiping God in a rural setting (which I do), then venture into Monkey Valley this weekend.
If you can’t resist a tasty meal in a church basement (which I can’t), love strawberries (which I do), enjoy good fellowship with the locals (which I do) and delight in a beautiful and historic country church (which I do), drive south of Monkey Valley to Moland on Sunday.
A rear view of the Old Stone Church, a simple structure with three shuttered windows running along each side of the building.
Within miles of each other, two area churches are celebrating this weekend, first with a Norwegian church service in an 1875 limestone church, appropriately called the Old Stone Church and located 2.3 miles south and west of Kenyon along Monkey Valley Road.
A stone’s throw from the Old Stone Church, a view of Monkey Valley.
The road name alone was enough to draw me to this ethnic worship service three years ago. As one story goes, monkeys escaped here from a traveling circus and fled into the woods. True or not, I’m buying it.
During a worship service filled with music, choir and congregational members sing in Norwegian, “Ja, vi elsker.”
To read about the Norwegian worship service I attended in 2010 and to learn more about the Old Stone Church, click here and here and here.
Sunday’s once-a-year worship service begins at 9:30 a.m.
Moland Lutheran Church, a Norwegian Lutheran church south of Kenyon in Steele County near Owatonna.
About the time the service wraps up at the Old Stone Church and you’ve finished mingling, you’ll start thinking about lunch, conveniently served at Moland Lutheran Church a few miles to the south and west at 7618 84th Avenue N.E., rural Kenyon, close to where the counties of Rice, Steele, Dodge and Goodhue meet.
From 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., Moland folks will serve pulled pork sandwiches, potato salad, strawberries with angel food cake and/or ice cream, chocolate cake (if the menu is the same as in 2010) and beverages. As church meals go, I’d highly recommend this one for the food, the hospitality and setting.
Be sure to check out the sanctuary and history of this 1884 country church before leaving. Moland reminds me of the Lutheran church I attended growing up in southwestern Minnesota.
The Moland folks serve a generous amount of strawberries with two scoops of ice cream.
To read my 2010 post on the Moland strawberry festival, click here.
My Moland post, “In Praise of Preserving Country Churches,” was featured in WordPress’ “Freshly Pressed” on July 9, 2010. That’s a huge honor for any blogger, to have his/her work selected as among the best of the day from WordPress blogs world-wide. You can read about that honor by clicking here. Last year I was also featured in WordPress and you can read that post about the Faribault Heritage Days Soapbox Derby by clicking here.
The real honors, though, go to all those men and women out there who preserve country churches and serve all those delicious meals in church basements.
FYI: To read about more church dinners/meals, check out the Faribault-based blog, Church Cuisine of Minnesota, by clicking here.
© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
A member of the Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge Choir rehearses his solo before a concert on Sunday at Trinity Lutheran Church in Faribault.
SHE’S FOUR MONTHS to graduation, this mother of four, this 13-year meth addict.
Jill speaks with passion, sharing her downward spiral into addiction and her remarkable recovery through Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge. Her voice raw with emotion, Jill reveals how, as a single mom trying to raise a son and a daughter, who had cystic fibrosis, she gave her girl up for adoption. That pushed her over the edge.
Later, she would marry, have two more children and, eventually, her husband would enter treatment at Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge, a faith-based recovery program for those with drug and alcohol addictions. “I watched him turn into a godly man,” Jill says. “Our lives are unbelievable. We love each other. It’s amazing what God can do when He’s in your life. He restores.”
Praise and personal testimonies highlighted the choir’s performance.
By age 13, James from my community of Faribault, was smoking crank out of a light bulb. The son of a teacher and social worker, he had no direction or purpose in life. He was using and selling drugs and breaking into places. By age 22, he’d been to prison twice, had a son. “You try to manage and have as much fun as you can before you get locked up again,” he says.
He also used heroin. Then his brother died. “They’re thinking they’re going to bury two kids in the same month,” James says of his parents.
In 2011 he graduated from the Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge treatment program. “I found God and feel God. I have the joy of the Lord.”
And then James shares more. He was once best friends with a 27-year-old Faribault man charged last week with first-degree attempted murder and first-degree and second-degree assault in an attack on his fiance, stabbed more than 30 times. She survived and is out of the hospital.
“Bad things happen…God sustains you,” this former addict says.
A soloist performs with the choir.
Heidi, 22, the daughter of divorced parents and an alcoholic father, grew up in a small town. She started drinking, eventually wracked up two driving under the influence charges, was in and out of court-ordered treatment.
She turned to abusing prescription drugs, yet managed to go to college, even held a job in sales. She stole from her family, got into heroin.
By her admission, Heidi says, “I threw away opportunities in life…I hated myself…I was sitting in my apartment all day getting high.”
Then she overdosed, suffered a seizure.
Heidi is set to graduate in May from Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge. “I needed a relationship with God,” this young woman says.
IF YOU’VE NEVER attended a Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge presentation like the concert/personal testimonies I heard at my church, Trinity Lutheran in Faribault, on Sunday, I’d encourage you to do so. You will never forget the stories of these courageous individuals who have overcome so much to reclaim their lives and their families and forge new relationships with God.
Choir members line up and dish up at the potluck after the service and concert.
At the potluck dinner after the concert, I sat with Tyler, a 20-year recovering heroin addict and father of two boys, 9 and 13. When his wife died two years ago, Tyler knew he needed to change. You’d never guess, just looking at and talking with this well-groomed and articulate young man, that he’d once been into drugs. He’s been in and out of treatment several times. But this time, in the longer one-year faith-based recovery program, Tyler’s succeeded. He’s set to graduate soon, will start college and work, and get his boys back.
Tyler, Jill, James and Heidi and about 35 others, through primarily song and those few personal testimonials, brought their messages of hope, joy and recovery to my church through the center’s community outreach program.
Anthony Bass, who played for the Minnesota Vikings from 1998-2000 and is now the church relations manager for Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge and is planting a church in northeast Minneapolis, says the on-the-road programs are part of an effort to help fight heroin, meth and prescription drug addictions, showing “how God’s power has helped and restored.”
Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge has eight facilities in Minnesota—in Minneapolis, Brainerd and Duluth and one soon to open in Rochester. The name was changed last October from Minnesota Teen Challenge to Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge, more accurately reflecting the ages of program participants. Eighty percent are over age 18.
Bass also asked for prayers and financial support.
The Trinity Quilt Makers gifted the group with this stash of quilts.
As I sang the hymn, “Who Are You Who Walk in Sorrow,” with the congregation and choir members, I considered how fitting these words:
Great companion on our journey,
Still surprise us with Your grace!
Make each day a new Emmaus;
On our hearts Your image trace!
FYI: Click here to learn more about Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge.
© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
(Note that I may or may not have the correct spellings of names referenced in this story. I did not check the spellings. And, yes, I asked and was given permission, to photograph the Minnesota Adult and Teen Challenge Choir.)
A cross in Trebon Cemetery, 10 miles northwest of Faribault in Shieldsville Township.
I know that my Redeemer lives;
What comfort this sweet sentence gives!
He lives, He lives, who once was dead;
He lives, my ever-living head.
He lives triumphant from the grave;
He lives eternally to save:
He lives all-glorious in the sky;
He lives exalted there on high.
This, one of my favorite hymns, I sang with the congregation of Trinity Lutheran Church in Faribault this Easter Sunday morning.
The words are imprinted upon my memory from childhood Easters, of singing from the balcony of St. John’s Lutheran Church in Vesta with my Sunday School classmates.
I know that my Redeemer lives. I knew that then. I still know that now. He is risen. He is risen, indeed.
Wishing you a most blessed Easter in our risen Lord.
Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
“TRICK OR TREAT,” I blurted upon my turn, realizing in the very moment I shouted those words that I had erred big time, as in a major brain fart moment.
My teammates’ mouths dropped. Their laughter chastised, mocked me. I could hear their question—“What were you thinking, Audrey?”—even though they dared not speak it aloud in the church fellowship hall setting. They exercised that bit of restrained Christian charity.
But I deserved the laughter. Who would respond “trick or treat” to a Family Feud question about a popular holiday greeting? Me.
First, the specific Family Feud game version we were playing focused on Christmas, a theme I failed to remember. Second, Halloween may be a holiday for kids, but not officially.
Thus went the annual Trinity Lutheran Church, Faribault, Family Game Night Christmas Party on Saturday, an event that always brings laughter. Lyda, who attended with her husband, Sean, and daughters, Rosemary and Anne, summarized the get together quite well in an email thank you to party planner Billie Jo. “We haven’t laughed this much in a long time,” Lyda wrote. Me either.
Laughter is good for the soul, even if the laughter is sometimes because of you.
Mandy, left, and Billie Jo vie to open a gift wrapped in multiple layers of boxes and wrapping paper and secured with layers of duct and packaging tape. Rules called for contestants to dress in scarves, hats and mittens before attempting to open the gift.
From the exchange of white elephant gifts (more on that shortly) to the drawing of a Christmas scene upon a paper plate placed atop our heads, to tearing snowmen from paper tucked behind our backs to the pushing/near-wrestling/grabbing involved in the competitive unwrapping of a single gift secured in layers of paper and rolls of duct and packaging tapes to parceling M & Ms into bowls, the evening’s activities showcased comedic competitiveness.
Racing to sort M & Ms by color is not as easy as it looks.
Honestly, you would not expect grown-ups to behave like this, especially in church. But, and this is just my thought, I think sometimes we all need to act like kids, to let loose and freewheel our way through life, if but for a few moments.
We competed for prize packages like this snowman poop.
Now if you’re thinking my Family Feud Halloween stupidity rates as the evening’s most memorable moment, you would be wrong. It ties with Jeff’s unwrapping of a white elephant gift which has become a Family Game Night Christmas Party tradition. For years, a gaudy holiday photo frame has circulated into the gift exchange. And, at some point, photos were added. Unbeknownst to Jeff, he grabbed the wrapped photo frame.
I knew, just knew, that my friend Jesse (who is a doctor, but not a medical doctor—so says his son Noah) would wrack his brilliant librarian brain until he came up with an incredibly creative photo to insert into the frame. Little did I know that my husband and I would be the subjects of Jesse’s creative efforts.
Jesse totally outdid himself. We party-goers erupted into thunderous laughter upon seeing his version of artist Grant Wood’s American Gothic.
This modern day version of Grant Wood’s American Gothic painting was created by artist Jesse and features my husband and me. Outstanding, isn’t it? The garish frame will be regifted next year with a new photo inserted.
The only disappointment was that Jesse could not witness our reaction; he was home with his two youngest children who were ill. However, I asked Jesse’s wife, Tammy, to tell him I would be seeking revenge, to which there was some response about revenge belonging to the Lord. OK then, get back at/get even.
And I can get even, because that hideous photo frame is now in my possession. Yes, I actually stole the frame from Jeff at one point during the game because I really did not need a silverware tray from a dishwasher or two can coolers. My husband later stole this from Jeff—apparently for the can coolers.
I expect we broke many of the 10 Commandments Saturday evening what with stealing, infliction of bodily harm, mocking, maybe even coveting of some gifts, over-indulgence (ahem, consumption of too much chocolate)…
But we redeemed ourselves with laughter and with love.
Another of the coveted prizes awarded to game winners.
© Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
REMINDING MOTORISTS traveling in southwestern Minnesota of the real reason for Christmas is this billboard along U.S. Highway 14 just east of Springfield.
Thank you, St. Raphael’s Knights of Columbus Council #2769 of Springfield for sponsoring this message.
Well done.
Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
A snippet of the pews and beautiful stained glass windows.
THE PEWS ARC in graceful curves in this holy house where the muted grey gloom of a December afternoon filters through the western wall of stained glass windows.
Just another interior view, looking toward the balcony.
Dark wood fills this place. If not for the glorious side windows and the stained glass dome, darkness would prevail.
Focusing on the altar area and the eastern stained glass windows.
Like so many churches in my southeastern Minnesota community, Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church in Faribault is steeped in history, bathed in beauty. One need only stand within this sanctuary, dedicated in December 1915, to feel the overpowering influence of the past in fine craftsmanship.
The obvious Greek influence in the church architecture.
It is humbling to consider the hours devoted with hands-on manual labor to create such a reverent place resembling a Greek temple, particularly noticeable in the exterior stately Tuscan style columns.
I don’t pretend to know much about architecture.
But I do recognize beauty.
Looking up at a Christmas star suspended from the center stained glass dome.
Three sets of heavy wooden doors lead into the sanctuary. To read about the Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church annual Community Christmas Dinner, check my December 17 post.
Another view of the sanctuary.
Editing tools were applied to this photo of Mary and Joseph, lending a dreamy quality to the image.
I noticed this message posted in a church hallway.
© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Guests hung up their coats before heading for the dining room.
WE SHRUGGED OFF our winter coats, my husband and I, and secured them onto hooks before following the tantalizing aroma of turkey and meatballs into the church basement dining area.
My meal, minus the cranberries, bread and cake which were also served.
I grabbed a plate and the volunteers passed it down the line, spooning on mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, turkey and two Swedish meatballs.
Then I heard the clatter, the sound of a cane falling upon tile and saw the elderly man directly behind me lying face down, motionless, on the floor between the serving line and the table for take-outs.
Volunteers expected to serve around 225 diners at the free Community Christmas Dinner. A free will offering could be given.
“Call 911,” I ordered my husband. I knew, given my hearing loss, that I wouldn’t be able to hear above the drone of conversation filling the basement at the Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church Community Christmas Dinner.
A sampling of the volunteer crew it takes to put on the Christmas dinner.
At some point, a server took the plate from my hand. “Give it to someone else,” I said.
“Is there a nurse here?” I asked as a cluster gathered around the fallen man. I mostly wanted someone to be with him, down there on the floor, comforting him until the paramedics arrived. And there was and that relieved me although I was still very much worried.
I felt helpless standing there, camera bag slung over one shoulder, camera on the other. I couldn’t simply take back my plate, sit down like nothing had happened and enjoy my Christmas meal.
Eventually, the man was eased off the floor and onto a chair and I sought out my husband who stood outside the glass doors in the bitter cold talking on the phone with the emergency dispatcher. I relayed that the man was now sitting and alert. And I wondered why the rescue squad had not yet arrived from two blocks away, knowing full well from personal experience that time seems to stand still when you are in need of emergency services.
And so the story ended. No broken bones. No heart attack. Not even shattered eyeglasses as the unsteady aged man tripped on a table leg and plunged forward, his fall broken only by the shoe of the woman scooping mashed potatoes at the beginning of the serving line.
If not for that shoe, he would have smashed face first onto the tile.
It seemed a Christmas miracle.
And so I stepped back into the serving line, the crew filling my plate for the second time. I pondered how grateful I am to live in a community where volunteers cook and serve savory meals in church basements and, when in a time of need, are there to comfort and assist.
Friends gave friends rides to and from the church dinner.
The beautiful Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church in Faribault. I’ll take you inside the sanctuary in a follow-up post.
Coffee maker Dan Tersteeg mans the coffee corner. The coffee makers always use Folgers, he says, because it works best with Faribault’s water.
I noticed this full coffee cup sitting on a cupboard lined with holiday decorations. During the congregation’s Lenten soup luncheons, desserts fill the shelves.
Inside a room labeled “Fourth Avenue Room,” where women were slicing Christmas cake, among other tasks, I found this humorous sign posted.
And then these directions, too, posted, perhaps, by the boss?
In the kitchen, a team of workers tended the food and washed the dishes, etc.
Another worker handed out slices of festive and delicious Christmas cake.
Diners enjoyed each other’s company and observed the goings-on.
Some of the guests took home gifts of poinsettias which served as table centerpieces.
A street-side sign welcomes diners to the free Community Christmas dinner.
© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Sunday School students at Trinity Lutheran Church, Faribault, present the Christmas story Saturday evening.
EMBEDDED DEEP in the memories of, I expect, many Midwestern Baby Boomers like me is the rich tradition of the Sunday School Christmas program.
There is simply nothing sweeter, nothing more meaningful to me, than viewing the Christmas story from the perspective of a child. Such telling, such re-enacting of the biblical account of Christ’s birth exorcises the frills, the stress, the hustle and bustle, the worldliness from my holiday experience. And that is a good thing.
Every little girl wants to portray an angel…
For one evening, for one hour, I take it all in—this most basic sharing of the gospel by darling angels in glittery halos and restless wings, by usually rambunctious boys cinched in bath robes, by the honored two portraying Mary and Joseph, by the other children who sing and tell of Jesus’ birth.
Dressed in holiday finery, the little ones wait in the fellowship hall before the start of the worship service.
It is a magical time, a butterflies-in-your-stomach worship service for the children, giddy with joy yet nervous about stepping before the congregation,.
I grew up with the Sunday School Christmas Program, lined up on the basement steps of the old wood-frame church in Vesta packed shoulder to shoulder with my classmates, awaiting that moment when the organist would begin playing “O Come, All Ye Faithful” and we would enter, pair-by-pair, into the sanctuary.
An angel proclaims the news of Christ’s birth.
Although costumed pageantry was not allowed in the conservative Lutheran church of my youth, I remember with fondness those traditional Christmas hymns—“Away in a Manger,” “Joy to the World,” “Behold, A Branch is Growing,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem”—which told of Christ’s birth as did the memorized sharing of the gospel when we each “spoke our piece.”
I always prayed I would never be assigned to recite the confusing verse: So Joseph went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David…
And so the years passed until I outgrew the Sunday School Christmas program.
The cast from the biblical account of the Savior’s birth.
Decades later I would pass the tradition along to my own three children, this time in a Lutheran church which allowed the costumed pageantry of sharing the biblical account of the Savior’s birth. The halos and bathrobes, the reading of the gospel, the singing of Christmas hymns all wove into their memories.
Now I am at that place in my life when I sit side-by-side with my husband in a pew, our children grown and gone, not yet married, awaiting those Christmases when the tradition of the Sunday School Christmas Program will pass along to the next generation.
After the service, my friends’ children, Nevaeh (Mary) and Braxton, pose for photos in the fellowship hall.
TELL ME, is a Sunday School Christmas Program (or something similar) part of your Christmas experience? Do you have such fond memories from your youth?
© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
Recent Comments