Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Photographing a mission festival near Janesville August 9, 2012

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WHEN I PHOTOGRAPH an event such as the mission festival last Sunday at Marquardt’s Grove, rural Janesville, I slip into my sleuth persona. Hey, I read Nancy Drew mysteries as a young girl, what can I say?

The overall scene at Sunday’s mission fest, looking toward the stage and worship areas.

Perhaps it’s not as much sleuthing as observing which, I suppose, is the essential component of good detective work. First I’ll view the big picture, the overall scene. And then I’ll begin to break it down, to notice the details.

It takes concentration, effort, and an ability to understand the smaller parts which, pieced together, comprise the whole.

This I do all the while also trying to remember what I am hearing and the general mood of the setting. It is not easy because I sometimes become so zoned in on shooting images that I shut down my other senses.

The other challenge comes in being respectful to those attending such events. On Sunday I was especially concerned about that given this was a worship service. I think, I hope, that after awhile worshipers no longer noticed me slinking around trees, weaving my way past temporary plank pews or pointing my camera down at their hands and toward their faces.

Yes, I expect observers sometimes wonder what exactly I am photographing. Digital photography has unleashed my creativity. I aim to tell a story with my photos, to take you there, to show you the details that make life especially interesting.

Here then are some of my detailed photos—the ones you likely would not think of taking—from the mission festival of Freedom and Wilton Lutheran churches.

The first detail: the sign on the front steps of Freedom Church about a mile from the mission site in Marquardt’s Grove.

The jacks, as they are termed, which hold the planks in place, have been used for some 60 years. The planks, for the “pews,” are borrowed from a local lumberyard and then returned after the mission festival.

Sharlou Quiram measured the makeshift altar before crafting a cross design quilt of satins, velvets and brocades nearly 10 years ago. It hides the altar, “a bunch of really old board nailed together,” says Len Marquardt, and in use for 60 years. Flowers come from parishioners’ gardens, patios, decks, yards.

When I took this photo of the choir, I was aiming to emphasize the outdoor setting in the woods.

Vintage pocket-size songbooks were boxed and stashed on the stage behind the Freedom Band. The first hymn of the day was “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty.” At the end of the service these books, which have been used for decades, were collected.

Some of the music used by the Freedom Band was transposed decades ago from a hymnal.

Ava, 15 months, hangs out at the pop and candy stand with her dad, Ben.

A 12-volt battery and converter amplifier powered the speaker system for the worship service.

Desserts, including coveted homemade blueberry pie, and an abundance of main dishes and salads lined makeshift tables (boards supported by sawhorses) at the potluck following the worship service.

Enjoying the potluck dinner in Marquardt’s Grove while diners wait in line to dish up food. The vivid colors, the contrast of neon orange and hot pink, caught my visual interest as I captured this photo.

That’s exactly what you think it is, an outhouse in the woods, built from old barn boards. Follow the cow trail and you’re there. The outhouse is meticulously scrubbed every year before the mission fest. The grounds are also cleaned by volunteers who pick up the cow poop and sticks and then mow portions of the pasture as needed. Lynne Holst, wife of guest pastor, the Rev. Dr. Robert Holst, told my husband an interesting story about outhouses. When the Holst family served as missionaries in New Guinea from 1962 – 1968, Pastor Holst asked his wife what she wanted as a birthday gift one year. She thought, then replied, “A new outhouse.” She got her wish.

FYI: Click here to read an earlier blog post about the mission festival.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

In southern Minnesota: “An old-time mission festival out in the woods” August 7, 2012

A sign marks the mission festival site at Marquardt’s Grove where cattle gates to the pasture are opened to allow entry. That’s the dry bed of Bull Run Creek on the left.

AT 8 A.M. SUNDAY, Harold Krienke swung his truck into Marquardt’s Grove some 10 miles south of Janesville to help set up for the annual mission festival in the woods near his country church, Immanuel Lutheran.

It was then he spotted the large black cat with the long tail edging dried up Bull Run Creek some 100 feet from the site where worshipers would gather 2 ½ hours later. “It wasn’t a house cat,” Krienke laughs. The cat—perhaps a panther, some speculate—didn’t scare him; it had been seen previously in the area.

Krienke’s animal encounter certainly wasn’t the first, and won’t be the last, at this mission festival held for the past 75 years in a five-acre wooded section of a 70-acre pasture where cattle still graze days before the event. Last year several head of cattle busted through an electric fence and charged across the creek toward the worship site. Another time horses caused a bit of trouble. No harm done, though, as the wayward animals were chased away.

Len Marquardt, who owns the woodlot and pasture, previously owned by his father, Alfred, and Alfred’s father, Gustav, before him, takes it all in stride. A few wandering animals won’t stop him from continuing the tradition of three generations of his family hosting the long-time festival of Freedom Church, as it is commonly known (referencing its location in Freedom Township), and the past two years in conjunction with Trinity Lutheran Church, Wilton Township, also known as the Wilton Church.

An overview of the worship site with the Freedom Band seated on the stage and the audience seated on plank benches and lawn chairs on the hillside. Freedom and Trinity Pastor Glenn Korb is standing at the makeshift altar.

Len’s heart and soul are committed to what he defines as “an old-time mission festival out in the woods.”

That definition seems apt for this event which, many Freedom members estimate, has been ongoing for a century. In the early days, area farmers took turns hosting the annual summer mission festival. The outdoor worship service has always been held around the same time of year, initially chosen, Len says, because the wheat harvest would have just been completed and farmers would have had more money to donate to the church.

Offerings are collected in ice cream buckets at the mission festival.

Money, though, has never been the focus of the festival although a collection is taken. Rather, the purpose is to “help people to focus on missions,” says Len, who several years ago accompanied his daughter, Julie, and others on a mission trip to Nicaragua. It changed him and he now takes personally the words “Here am I, send me” from the hymn “Hark! the Voice of Jesus Crying.” Julie, now a third-year student at Concordia University in Seward, Nebraska, followed up with a mission trip to Hong Kong and is now considering a career as a missionary.

“I think we need to be a church in mission,” Len says as he explains the purpose of the mission fest on his family’s property. The natural setting of farm fields, open pasture and woods, with a cool breeze stirring oak leaves and raising goosebumps on Sunday morning, connected worshipers to the message delivered by the Rev. Dr. Robert Holst, retired president of Concordia University, St. Paul, and a former missionary to Papua, New Guinea.

The Rev. Dr. Robert Holst delivered a message on missions and afterward answered questions about his missionary service in New Guinea. Len Marquardt says the congregation has never had trouble finding a guest pastor as they savor participating in an “old-time mission festival out in the woods.”

As Rev. Holst spoke of his experiences in his sermon, “Global Missions: International Love,” worshipers, sitting among the trees, could easily imagine the primitive ways of the New Guinea people, their belief in spirits, their sacrifice of pigs, their mistrust and misunderstandings and lack of knowledge about God and the challenges the pastor faced in telling them about Christ.

Foreign missions seemed as close as a thought away for attendees like Jeanette Schoenfeld of Wilton Church who enjoys the mission fest because, she says, “It’s like they do in Africa,” worshiping outdoors.

Baby Jaci sits with her dad, Mike, and brother, Bales, during the worship service.

Len Marquardt and others, including his sister, Sally Hodge, appreciate, too, the traditions they are passing from family to family through generations of mission festivals. As Sally samples a vinegary, potato-green bean dish prepared for the mission fest potluck, she glances back to kids racing up the wooded hillside. “I remember tromping up the hills, tromping up the trails, building wood forts…talk about history and family and pleasure in knowing each other…” Sally says as she glances across the table at friend and fellow parishioner Davin Quiram.

All ages, and several generations of families, attended the mission fest on Sunday.

Sally Hodge sings in the choir and usually plays in the band. But this year she didn’t make the practices so was unable to join the Freedom Band. She lives just up the hill from Marquardt’s Grove and grew up on the other side of “just up the hill.”

Davin, like Sally a life-long member of Freedom, concurs as the two reminisce and remember the rare treat of soda pop from the mission fest pop and candy stand, which Davin will later man. The friends don’t recall specific mission speakers or messages from their childhood days, only those racing through the woods and gulping pop memories.

Davin, though, is quick to rattle off the areas of ministry covered by mission speakers in the past 10 years: American Indians, Hispanic, college, Japanese and such.

An elderly man turns to a hymn in the old pocket-size songbook that’s been used for decades.

While guest speakers change from year to year, the music remains constant with worshipers singing hymns from the pocket-size Mission Hymns Suitable for Mission Festivals and Similar Gatherings (out of print for 80 years).

Likewise, the Freedom Band, the church band comprised of Freedom members and others from the area and in existence for an estimated 80 years, uses the same familiar music books such as The Church Band Book—Choral Melodies of the Lutheran church for Military Band by A. Grimm, published in 1919 by Antigo Publishing Co., and a handwritten book of music transposed from a hymnal for the band.

The Freedom Band and some of its handwritten music.

The Freedom Band has always played at the mission fest and other area mission events in years gone by. At any time, 5 – 7 members of Sally’s family, the Marquardts, may be playing in the band—all on the trumpet but for one on the sax.

Gemma Lin returned to the mission fest, one year after her baptism there in 2011.

Part of mission fest also includes the occasional outdoor baptism. Sally’s father, Alfred, born in 1911, was baptized at the Freedom Mission Festival. Last year, a century later, two-month-old Gemma Lin of Mankato was baptized in Marquardt’s Grove and her great uncle was baptized the night before at Freedom Church. Aleta Lin, Gemma’s mom, treasures her daughter’s unique baptism and the story of that baptism which will always be a part of family history. She hopes Gemma will, through the years, continue to attend mission fest, a life-long tradition for Aleta, a life-long member of Freedom Church.

A bible lies on the floor of the stage where the band played and the preachers preached.

For those outside of Freedom, memories of past mission fests also come quickly. Such festivals were once a staple among rural congregations as a time to worship God in the outdoors, to socialize afterward at a potluck dinner and even meet future spouses.

Worshipers line up for a potluck dinner after the worship service.

Guest pastor Holst opened his message by reminiscing about the mission fests of his youth, recalling the washtubs full of soda pop—root beer, 7-UP and Orange Crush—set out by the youth group. He also remembered the ball games between fathers and children.

On Sunday there were no ball games or kids racing for a rare treat of pop. But plenty of kids—from babies to teens—settled onto temporary wood plank benches and lawn chairs or upon blankets or in car seats on the same ground in Marquardt’s Grove that has, for generations, served as an outdoor house of worship on one Sunday in August.

The vintage mini songbook lying on planks and the mission site in the background.

FYI: Check back for an additional post featuring mission fest photos and for a separate photo essay of Freedom Church.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Ten months after the storm, a rural Minnesota congregation returns “home” May 4, 2012

St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Vesta, hours after a July 1, 2011, storm ripped half the roof from the sanctuary. Photo courtesy of Brian Kletscher.

“There is no place like home. We cannot wait to be back in our own church.”

And so, 10 months after a powerful July 1, 2011, storm packing winds of 90 – 100 mph ripped half the roof from St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in my hometown of Vesta in southwestern Minnesota, congregants will worship for the first time in their rebuilt sanctuary this Sunday morning.

I expect many of St. John’s 323 baptized members feel exactly as my uncle, Milan Stage, does—simply happy to return to the comfortable familiarity of their home church.

Since the storm, parishioners have worshiped at their sister congregation in neighboring Echo. Says long-time St. John’s member Karen Lemcke, “We thank Peace Lutheran of Echo for allowing us to join their services for all of this time. It was enjoyable to be in fellowship with them but still nice to be back in our church.”

Inside St. John’s sanctuary in September, I listened to the wind flap the tarp that covered the damaged roof.

When worshipers arrive at St. John’s Sunday morning, they will enter through a new south-facing 20 x 40-foot addition which includes a handicap accessible bathroom, storage room and study area/office for the pastor.

And above them a new south roof—the portion ripped off by the winds—and a new exterior steel roof cover the sanctuary refurbished with new ceiling planking and hanging lights.

The pews and other items from the church were moved into the undamaged social hall after the storm.

They’ll walk on new carpeting and settle onto new pew cushions to hear the sermon delivered by a former St. John’s pastor, the Rev. Randy Bader, Mission Advancement Director of Great Plains Lutheran High School in Watertown, S.D.  Says Rev. Bader, in part:

I am planning on using the Holy Spirit-inspired words of Isaiah as the basis for the sermon. It includes these words: “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.”

We may wonder why our gracious God would allow such a dangerous and difficult situation to touch the lives of His people as it did on that July day last summer. So often we do not understand. But the truth is, we don’t have to understand. Jesus has a purpose for everything that he allows to happen to us, and His ultimate purpose is to bless and save us. 

…Trust Him. His love is the constant, in, and even through, challenging circumstances.

A debris pile on the edge of the church parking lot includes pieces of steel from the roof and brick from the bell tower. Photo taken in September 2011.

Under construction in March, a pastor’s office, bathroom and storage room were added to the south side of the early 1970s era church.

St. John’s members like my 80-year-old mom, especially, welcome the reopening of the church. It’s much easier for her to drive across town to worship services and other functions than to drive or catch a ride the eight miles to Peace Lutheran in Echo. I’m thankful for family members who’ve taken my mom to church services.

During the 10 months since the storm ravaged Vesta and the surrounding area, I’ve kept tabs on St. John’s, checking in most visits back to my hometown to see how the reconstruction was progressing. This, after all, is the church where I was married 30 years ago this May 15. It is the church where my family mourned the loss of our father, maternal grandfather, paternal grandmother and many other loved ones. We celebrated family weddings here and attended confirmations and worshiped here on Sunday mornings and on Christmas Eve.

The old saying goes that a church is not a building. That adage holds true if you consider the essence of a congregation.

But, there is much to be said for a physical structure, for the memories it holds, for the comfort it gives in familiarity. Boards and walls and details in construction and décor connect us to our past, to emotions and to loved ones. A place represents, if anything, a tangible legacy of faith.

And in a farming town like Vesta, population 330, a church building also serves as a place to gather, to swap rain gauge totals and crop reports, to exchange family news, to embrace each other in sorrow and in joy, to welcome the newest residents with baptism banners, to grieve the loss of neighbors and friends and family. A church building represents community within a community, the very soul of small town life.

© Copyright 2012 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Praying for the tornado survivors March 6, 2012

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ON SUNDAY I ATTENDED morning worship services at Peace Lutheran Church in Echo, the sister congregation of St. John’s Lutheran Church in Vesta, the congregation of my youth.

St. John’s members have been worshipping at Peace since a July 1, 2011, series of downbursts with wind speeds of 90 – 100 mph ripped the south roof from the sanctuary.

St. John's, hours after the July 1 storm tore through Vesta. Photo courtesy of Brian Kletscher.

Just to the north, west and east in this region of southwestern Minnesota, EF-1 tornadoes with winds of 95 – 105 mph wreaked havoc on farms and on the neighboring community of Belview.

Eight months later, St. John’s is still in the process of rebuilding.

Eight months after the storm, St. John's is still under construction with a new addition to the right. Congregants had hoped to be back in the church by Easter, but that likely will not happen until May.

The narthex was expanded and a pastor's office and handicapped accessible bathroom were added on the southwest side of the church built in 1974. This photo and the one above were taken on Saturday.

Despite the inconvenience of driving additional miles to worship and the temporary loss of their church home, St. John’s members realize the situation could have been so much worse. No lives were lost in the storms and their church could be salvaged.

This we—visitors and members of the two sister congregations—understood as we bowed our heads to pray for the survivors of the recent deadly tornadoes.

© Copyright 2012 by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Snapped out of complacency November 23, 2011

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Globes and flags decorated tables at a missions appreciation dinner Sunday in Faribault.

YOU KNOW HOW EVERY once in awhile someone says something and you suddenly appreciate your life a whole lot more than you did only minutes earlier?

Take me on Sunday, when I spent an hour at morning worship services, another hour in bible study, 2 ½ hours at a mission gathering and another 3 ½ hours at a mission-centered appreciation dinner.

You can bet I heard enough in those eight hours to realize I have it pretty good living right her in Faribault, Minnesota, in a three-bedroom mortgage-free home with one bathroom.

Good because—

  • Even though I have an outdated kitchen with a brown sink, leaky faucet, vintage countertops and yellowing cupboards, at least I don’t cook my meals outside over an open fire and I don’t live in a yurt.
  • I don’t rely on the generosity of a missionary to supply me with two bags of rice so I have something to eat.
  • I can speak freely about, and live, my faith without fear of reprisal. Missionaries in Iran would be killed for doing so if they were caught.
  • Even though I’m unhappy with the high costs of health insurance and medical care, at least I have healthcare, unlike so many in Third World countries. Tears edged my eyes when I saw the photos and heard the story of 11-year-old Emay who died from an inoperable tumor.
  • I am blessed to have been raised by Christian parents.
  • I can read a bible that has not been censored and/or edited by the government.
  • God is my boss.

To those who spoke and sang during the “Let the People Praise!” Mission Event on Sunday at Trinity Lutheran Church in Faribault, and to Gary Thies of Mission Central in Mapleton, Iowa, thank you for snapping me out of my complacency.

The timing couldn’t have been better, coming right before Thanksgiving.

HOW ABOUT YOU? Have you heard or seen something lately that made you more appreciative of all that you have?

FYI: Click here to learn more about Mission Central, the largest mission supporting agency in the U.S. for the Lutheran Church Missouri Synod. Credit goes to Thies for the “God is my boss” phrase cited above. Like a company president’s portrait in a corporate boardroom, Christ’s portrait hangs in Gary’s office, above his desk.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Reaching “the nations” November 21, 2011

I STILL REMEMBER the derogatory label, even after all these years. “Gooks,” he called them. I lashed back, defending the Asian families who fled their war torn countries to start new lives in America in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

“Didn’t your great grandparents immigrate here?” I asked, trying to control my emotions as I confronted the Faribault man who spit out the venomous word. But I knew, even as I spoke, that I could not quell his hatred.

Now, nearly 30 years later, I hear similar disparaging terms directed toward Somalis and Sudanese and, yes, Hispanics, too.

Don’t we ever learn?

These thoughts, of anything I could have considered, passed through my mind yesterday afternoon as I photographed Hmong families participating in a “Let the People Praise!” mission event at my Faribault church, Trinity Lutheran.

Deacon Johnny Vang of New Life Lutheran Church, Robbinsdale, with his wife Tina and children, Leviticus, 10, Cecilia, 7, and Christian, 4.

I could forgive the man who nearly three decades prior had spoken with such ignorance. But I could not forget.

The organizers and participants in Sunday’s mission gathering wouldn’t expect my thoughts to wander back to that previous unwelcoming American attitude toward Southeast Asians. But I am honest and this post would not be mine if I ignored that unsettling flashback.

With that historic frame of reference, I could only admire the faith and fortitude of the men and women who stood before me in the sanctuary singing in the Hmong choir, speaking of their mission outreach to Southeast Asia and in Minnesota, specifically in Robbinsdale and the east side of St. Paul.

Members of the Hmong choir wore colorful, ethnic costumes.

The congregation, including individuals from the Hmong community, sang at Sunday's mission celebration.

Churches initially embraced Cambodian and Laotian refugees in the years following the divisive and turbulent Vietnam War. I remember, during my first newspaper reporting job out of college in 1978, writing about a Southeast Asian family resettling to the small Minnesota town of Gaylord. I don’t recall details now, but the compassionate sponsorship of this family by a local church made an impression on me.

That care and love triumph over the hateful words and attitudes of the past.

It pleased me to listen to those involved in the Hmong Lutheran Ministry speak of mission trips to the Communist countries of Laos and Vietnam and to Cambodia and Thailand. The “Communist” part certainly doesn’t please me, but the Christian outreach does.

“They are hungry for the gospel and they want to be saved,” a Hmong deacon told us.

My favorite photo of the day shows the Vang children, Leviticus, Cecilia and Christian on the floor in the narthex, the church doors into the sanctuary flung wide open. This symbolizes to me the doors that are being opened to Christianity through mission work here in Minnesota and in Southeast Asia.

Later the Rev. David Seabaugh of Bethel Lutheran Church in St. Paul, home to a Liberian ministry, used nearly the same words: “The Liberian people are hungry for the gospel.”

I considered then how complacent I’ve sometimes become in my Christian faith, even in my free access to the bible, and in my personal outreach.

I needed to hear this Scripture from I Chronicles 16: 24:

Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples.

God doesn’t care if we’re black or white or yellow, or even Lutheran for that matter, or where we live. He considers us “the nations.”

Today, just like 100 years ago when the Germans and Italians and Swedes and Norwegians and so many others immigrated to America, “the nations” are still arriving on our doorstep.

Are you welcoming them?

A sombrero rests in the side aisle prior to a musical performance by Hispanic children from the Le Sueur and Henderson areas.

Members of the Hispanic children's choir perform.

A representative of the Sudanese ministry spoke at the mission gathering. "Before, we suffer a lot," he said, calling it "God' s plan" that the Sudanese came to America and to Minnesota.

A musical performance by the Sudanese.

Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Grieving September 22, 2011

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“THANK GOD FOR MY FAITH,” my mom said as she shared yet another piece of tragic news that has touched my extended family this week.

Her dear cousin Alice, 79, died Tuesday as a result of injuries sustained in a car accident in North Mankato. This I learned in a phone call on Wednesday. After I hung up, and per my mom’s request, I began phoning four of my five siblings.

A day earlier I had done the same.

My sister-in-law’s 64-year-old father was found dead at the scene of a single-vehicle accident in Cottonwood County early Tuesday morning, news I was asked to share with other family members.

This is almost more than we, my extended family, can bear right now. We’ve leaned on and supported each other and relied on our strong faith in God and on friends to get us through our hours and days.

Yet, I know the most difficult minutes are yet to come—when I see my brother and his wife and their two children. What will I say that will console them? Words and hugs seem inadequate. Prayers are not.

My mom is right. It is faith in God that sustains us. We are not alone.

And, certainly, we are not the only family grieving. In Waseca, many are mourning the loss of 11-year-old Jaiden, a sixth-grader who on Monday committed suicide. My sister, a Waseca floral designer, has been creating floral arrangements for Jaiden’s funeral. My two young nieces, who attend school in Waseca, and my other sister, who teaches in Waseca, have all been impacted by Jaiden’s death.

Grief runs deep.

In Faribault, family and friends are mourning the death of 25-year-old Wendi due to injuries sustained in a motor vehicle accident. She was a Faribault High School classmate of my eldest; my daughter did not know her well.

Grief runs deep.

We all know we are going to die. Yet, when a death comes unexpectedly, in a tragic way, it’s especially difficult to comprehend, to accept, to understand.

We do the best we can. We cry and pray and talk and, for me, write.

And last night I laughed, a laugh that built and rolled into a deep belly laugh that left my muscles aching. When I think about it now, the subject of my laughter wasn’t at all funny—as my husband told me at the time. But I asked him, “Would you rather I cry?”

So I laughed. Because I’ve already cried too much.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

God’s beauty blooms in Richard’s art September 18, 2011

I HAVE NOT MET Richard Vilendrer, only spoken with him briefly on the phone.

Yet, I feel a connection to this 72-year-old Faribault man, this artist who creates art for the pure joy of doing so. I understand that. It is the same reason I write and take photos for this blog.

You can see that joy in Richard’s art, which I discovered Saturday morning at the Faribault Farmer’s Market. I had passed only a few vendors’ booths—laden with the typical fresh produce, flowers and baked goods you would expect to find in this venue—when I noticed the pen-and-ink and colored pencil drawings vended by Carol Vilendrer, Richard’s wife of 35 years.

I stopped and just stood there. And it flashed through my mind that this Christian-themed art would be a good fit for Christian greeting cards. And when I looked further, I saw that Richard had already made cards. But I write greeting card verses for an Indiana-based publisher and I asked Carol then and there if I could direct my editor to Richard’s work. So I am. I don’t know if this will go anywhere; I have to try, though.

There’s a certain passion in Richard’s art and you can sense that when you speak with the man. He doesn’t do this for the money—although he’s sold some pieces—but for the pure enjoyment of creating art.

Since grade school this former Faribault Regional Center employee, who worked with handicapped children until the center closed, has put pencil to paper. As a youth, when he should have been listening in English class, he was instead inspired by textbook images—of Indians and of soldiers in helmets and of airplanes—to duplicate those drawings.

Scripture and Christian songs inspire Richard.

Today words from a song heard on Twin Cities-based Christian radio station KTIS, or words from Scripture or a found feather on a nature walk inspire him to first draw in pencil, then go over the pencil with ink and finally fill in with colored pencil.

He prefers to draw small, detailed subjects like his hand or a feather or a maple leaf. Yet, he’s also drawn John Deere tractors and buildings and classic cars.

Richard uses a technique called cross hatching—to perfect shading—by using a ball point pen to draw lines close together in one direction and then crosses in an opposite direction. He learned that in high school. Mostly, though, he’s self-taught, without formal training. He calls his artistic skills a “God-given talent.”

This man of faith has used that gift from God to create artwork for fundraisers at his church, Divine Mercy in Faribault.

A year ago, he suffered a stroke. But even in that he sees the blessing—the stroke affected his entire right side, not his left. Richard, the artist, is left-handed.

Nature and faith inspire his detailed art.

A pen-and-ink drawing of a building at the former Faribault Regional Center where Richard worked.

St. Lawrence Church in Faribault where Richard and Carol Vilendrer were married 35 years ago this coming October 1.

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED in purchasing Richard’s art or learning more about him, submit your contact information (which I will not publish) in a comment and I will pass that along to Richard.

PLEASE NOTE THAT the photos in this post are not 100 percent accurate to the true colors of Richard’s work. His drawings were wrapped in plastic, which filtered the colors and which created some glare. I edited each image somewhat to overcome those challenges.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

The armless Jesus at storm-damaged St. John’s in Vesta August 4, 2011

THE ARMLESS JESUS stood there, shoved into the back corner against a desk in the dark fellowship hall packed with misplaced pews.

That’s when I panicked, thought for a moment that Jesus had lost his arms in the July 1 storm, until I realized his appendages had been removed, not broken.

To the right in this photo, stands Jesus. His arms were removed and lie behind him on a desk.

The statue of Christ has been my greatest concern ever since a series of downbursts with winds of 90 – 100 mph ripped half the roof from St. John’s Lutheran Church, exposing the sanctuary and Jesus to the heavens.

One month after that strong windstorm, I returned to my hometown of Vesta in southwestern Minnesota and viewed the damage I’d only seen in photos. The town looks better than I’d feared, although I’m certain if I’d been there right after the storm, I wouldn’t be writing that.

St. John's, hours after the July 1 storm with half of the south roof ripped off by high winds. The roof fell against and cracked the bell tower, which has since been taken down. Photo courtesy of Brian Kletscher.

It’s the damage to St. John’s that I knew would impact me the most emotionally. My worries centered on that Jesus statue, the single remaining visual reminder of the old 1900 church building across town where I was baptized and confirmed and worshipped for the first 18 years of my life. In May of 1982, I was married in the new brick church built in 1974.

Jesus, who once blessed us with outstretched arms from the altar of the old church, was alright. For that I was thankful.

As St. John’s members await word from an engineer on whether the damaged building is structurally-sound or will need to be demolished, they are attending their sister church, Peace Lutheran, in Echo seven miles to the north.

That seems to be working for now. But come winter, when travel can sometimes be difficult and dangerous on the southwestern Minnesota prairie due to blowing snow, options to worship in Vesta may need to be considered. Or maybe not. Pastor Dale Schliewe doesn’t expect the church to be rebuilt by the time the snow flies.

Right now, though, church members are more concerned about getting the building process started. That could include an expansion.

No matter what ultimately happens, this congregation remains a thriving one, attended by many members of my extended family. My great grandfather, Rudolph Kletscher, helped found St. John’s. The first church service was held in his home one mile east of Vesta.

My emotional attachment to this congregation runs deep, rooted in that legacy of faith passed from generation to generation.

I understand that a building does not comprise a church. Yet, when I walked into the empty sanctuary of St. John’s, gazed upward at the tarp covering the missing roof, saw the splintered wood, walked around the pews jammed into the fellowship hall, noticed Jesus standing armless in the corner, spotted the hymnals stacked on a kitchen counter and skirted the pile of debris in the church parking lot, my soul ached.

Inside the sanctuary, you see the damage to the roof, now covered by a tarp. To the right, a stained glass cross centers the worship area in this photo shot at an angle.

One month after the storm, the south side of the roof is covered with a tarp.

A debris pile on the edge of the parking lot includes pieces of steel from the roof and brick from the bell tower.

Another angle of that debris pile shows uprooted trees and, to the east, a house which was damaged.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

St. Mary’s of Melrose, Part II July 17, 2011

STARK CHURCHES appeal to me. The ones with the simple wooden cross, the white clapboard siding, the time-worn pews settled upon plain plank floors.

But the ornate houses of worship likewise snag my soul with crosses of gold, walls of brick and gleaming, carved pews.

One of the many ornate carvings at St. Mary's Catholic Church in Melrose.

I am most comfortable with, most accustomed to, the unadorned churches of the Lutherans, my religious heritage. We keep things simple. No cluster of burning candles. No wafting incense. No pools of holy water. Minimal, if any, gold.

Perhaps for that reason, when I step into an historic Catholic church, I feel like I’ve entered a foreign land. I am often awed by the opulence, by the details that visually overwhelm me.

The side aisle on the left leads to an ornate altar in St. Mary's which is on the National Register of Historic Places.

That’s exactly how I felt upon entering St. Mary’s Catholic Church of Melrose, featured here in an earlier post. Overwhelmed. But good overwhelmed. Because I could not possibly present all of the images I wanted to share with you in a single post, here are the remainder.

No matter your religious affiliation, you simply have to appreciate a place like St. Mary’s. What beauty. What art. What history. What heavenly splendor.

This was the top or bottom of something. Can't recall what. But it sure is stunning.

Look at this gorgeous, carved door, will you?

Golden statues. Beautiful.

Just look at this detailed side altar. I could have spent hours in St. Mary's.

And then I discovered these collection baskets hanging from a rack. We Lutherans don't have wicker baskets with long handles. These contrast so sharply with the the ornateness in the church and that is why I so appreciated this grouping.

St. Mary's Catholic Church stands strong as a fortress in Melrose, next to the turkey plant, its towering steeples visible from nearby Interstate 94 in west central Minnesota.

© Copyright 2011 Audrey Kletscher Helbling