Pastor Streufert's Memoirs

At Middleville

"Precisely four years to the day after my ordination our belongings, including horses King and Queen, were loaded into a freight car enroute to our new home. With our two babies in arms, we travelled per passenger train to Howard Lake, Minnesota., where Pastor A. L. Oetjen, the vacancy pastor, awaited our arrival. Apologizing that his old dilapidated parsonage did not provide room for four over-night guests, he had asked Mr. Otto Reich, a merchant in Maple Lake and also an active member of our parish to be, to provide lodging. In his rough riding Reo Automobile, without a top and a buckboard seat he transported us over 15 miles of bumpy roads to his home for a most welcome rest. Early next morning he drove me out to our parsonage, seven miles away.

To be frank I was not too favorably impressed by what I saw. A parsonage surrounded by gorgeous spruce and trimmed lawns with flowerbeds had just vacated. To say the least, I was distressed by the first glance at the unsightly church property. An L-shaped one and a half story brick veneered parsonage was set on a knoll about 200 feet from the road and a water hole covered with green scum in front of it was anything but inviting. This health hazard was soon removed, when one day in the fall approximately fifty men gathered to haul 400 wagon-loads of ground to fill the pool to some extent. The parsonage was, indeed a far cry from the beautiful homes which we were privileged to occupy in later years. No where (in this neck of the woods) were to be found such facilities as running water, furnaces and bathrooms. On the other hand, we were favorably impressed with the small but neat church with its pipe organ, a carpeted chancel and a large melodious bell.

Early in the afternoon, our household goods were transported from Howard Lake and, as well as was possible, we set up housekeeping for the first night in our new home. The following Sunday I was inducted into office by Pastor A. L. Oetjen. Making home calls during the following weeks, we became acquainted with our new parishioners, many of whom expressed their satisfaction that, unlike their foregoing Pastor, their new Reverend did not wear a Prince Albert coat and a "stove-pipe hat."

Reasonably well adjusted to home life in unappealing surroundings, Mother could now enjoy a well deserved vacation with her folks in Forest Park, III. After attending the Delegate Synod in Chicago, I escorted my family on the way home and immediately prepared for the opening of our Christian Day School.

School

As specified in my call I was obligated to teach Christian Day School. This stipulation involved more than the congregation had implied. In those years, the Minnesota state school laws required a minimum of forty days attendance per annum. In accordance therewith my predecessor, he had "taught school" from November 1st to Palm Sunday to complete the entire catechetical instruction in a scant four months. To the life long detriment of the children, no other courses were offered than German, Reading and Writing besides Religion.

Obviously some young people were almost illiterate. Protests were many when I announced that instruction lessons would begin in September. Eleven scholars appeared on the first day of school, all prospective confirmands, hardly able to read the assigned memory work. An urgent appeal to parents in the next Sunday's school sermon resulted in the enrollment of 25 pupils the next morning. Though nearly half of the church members voiced their determined opposition against a full parochial school, year after year another subject was added to the curriculum until in 1917 we could offer a full eight grade course of study to our fifty students. Parents began to appreciate the efforts put forth for the education of their children. In a rather stormy voters meeting, friends of our Christian Day School succeeded in passing a resolution to employ a Vicar to teach the elementary subjects while the Pastor took charge of religious instructions and German. In the following years our now two room school system developed rapidly, with the assistance of the following St. Louis Seminary students: Sam Beckmann (2 years), Waldemar Roth, R. Troeger, Walter Luecke, Arthur Senne, A. Roegge, Ernst Stahlke, Gust Gehlhar, and Walter Sylvester. These young men all roomed and boarded in the parsonage, which gave them an opportunity to do private study under guidance of the Pastor in sermonizing.

Our modest country school received public recognition in 1923. In the year before, I had applied and received a Minnesota State Teachers Certificate, which authorized me to give the State Board examinations (passing mark was set at 75%). What an embarrassment when the County Superintendent of Schools refused to honor the tests written in our school! She even questioned the integrity of the tests! I threatened to take up the issue with the State Board of Education, unless she would permit our pupils to participate in the county spelling match held in the Court House in Buffalo. Over-confidently, she yielded to the compromise. To the utter surprise of all present at the match, our Martha Elfmann out-spelled all contestants from Public, Catholic, and Private Schools within Wright County. Soon thereafter, I received a report on the performance of our scholars in the State Board examinations. Even more rewarding was that our entire eighth grade of 14 students were successful in their admission test for high school. By the grace of God, this, our small rural school has been in continuous operation for fifty years. During this half century, the Good Shepherd has nurtured in it many lambs of His flock to become active members of their home congregation or in sister parishes elsewhere. In addition thereto, I am glad to report that some of our scholars have entered into church work as pastors or teachers and many others are successful in business.

The Bethlehem Church in Middleville had reason to rejoice over an increase in membership during the next years. Some unchurched families were gained, others came to us by transfer from neighboring congregations and a few adults were confirmed. Encouraging were indications of Christian growth among our people. Though we had no special Bible Classes for adults, we had another course of instruction equally effective and better attended than Bible Classes of today. My congregation requested me to introduce the so-called "Christenlehre", that is twenty minutes were set aside before the sermon on each Sunday for the discussion of Bible doctrines with our school children on the basis of the Catechism. Thus, our school served to create renewed interest in Bible Study in the whole congregation.

Our Home Life In Middleville

The first year of our residence in Middleville passed by rapidly without note-worthy incidents. Having gained the confidence of our people, our family was blessed with peaceful home life. However, with no little anxiety we looked forward to spend another winter in, to state it mildly, our uncomfortably "chilly" home. The building had been erected 35 years ago with green elm lumber, but without insulation whatsoever. The brick facing was now crumbling. A hard coal heater going full blast day and night could not keep our two rooms warm, nor sufficient to prevent a nook, called pantry, from turning into a natural deep-freeze. To make things worse, little Gertrude developed chilblains while crawling over the icy floors. We became all the more apprehensive when on September 28th, 1914, Edgar was born. Strangely the attending physician remarked, "This boy was born under a lucky star. Did you observe the bright comet in the sky? Your son will grow up to be a strong man and will be favored with great opportunities for a successful life." Was this mere superstition or a prophetic saying?

In the next annual meeting, I declared that for the sake of my family's health, I would not and could not spend another winter in a home without storm sash and tight doors. To my utter surprise, a resolution was offered by one (who stubbornly had objected to my every effort in behalf of school matters), to replace the old house with a big two story parsonage with a full basement, provided the Pastor would solicit the contributions and pay all expenses over and above the funds collected. Undaunted by the derisive grin of such who were positive that the building project would be doomed to failure, I accepted the challenge with the provison that all lumber salvaged from the old house would be used. Confidentially I had previously discussed plans and the approximate cost. By Divine providence the improbable was made possible. Without exerting high powered salesmanship, I approached every family for a free-will contribution with the result that more was pledged than the necessary $2,600.00. Of course, there were people who indignantly cancelled their membership. During the week after Easter, a group of 50 men carefully took down the old building, removed all nails and mortar from the bricks, and carefully piled the salvaged lumber. The next morning, Mr. Kloss arrived with his work crew of ten men who put in ten to twelve hours each day. During the building operation, our family lived in a tiny log house on the adjacent farm. As stipulated in the contract, we, with the help of Anna Bartels and other ladies, served the meals at a nominal cost. The workmen slept in the barn. A rather amusing side issue was that the carpenters, nearly all Catholics, spread rumors in Maple Lake concerning the wonderful meals they received. While in a barber shop I was asked, "What kind of delicacies do you feed the boys out there? One of the men just reported that he had a noon meal fit for a king." This being Friday, Anna had prepared a huge batch of baked beans and cleverly mixed into it a goodly amount of pork and thus, served meat as the unsuspecting Catholics feasted on forbidden meat on Friday. Well before schedule, our new home was completed so that we could move in before our annual Mission Festival, when on the second Sunday in August, well over a thousand people gathered under the shade trees next to the church for open-air services.

Cramped and inconvenient as our living conditions had been in the past, we rejoiced to have a spacious and warm home, modern in every respect, excepting furnace and electric light. While it was under construction, I had personally, with the help of our good neighbor Herman Marohn, installed a gravity water system at my own expense. For $52.00 I had purchased all necessary piping and a gasoline engine to pump both the well water and rain water into storage tanks in the attic to supply running water for the bathroom and kitchen. Such facilities, as were not found in the entire neighborhood, appreciated especially when Mark was born in the following year on August

16, 1916.

To provide my growing family with milk and butter, I purchased a cow. A very productive garden supplied us with abundant vegetables and berries. Generously our parishioners remembered us with gifts of eggs, sausage, and meats, before World War I was declared on July 28, 1914. On that eventful day, brother Paul and his wife Emma were with us. The vacation they spent in beautiful Minnesota was ever after a topic of discussion as often as I visited them in Aurora, Illinois. With great delight, Paul retold the fishing trips we made to Rock Lake, especially that he hooked a six pound catfish and in his excitement nearly upset the boat. Years later, Emma admitted that she trembled with fear on drives with my speedy team and, though she was a farmer's daughter, she was frightened when our little boys dared to milk the cow.

Paul accompanied me on a bright morning to our County Seat in Buffalo to bid farewell to the first draftees from my congregation. The noisy demonstrations bore evidence that the general public was not in the least aware of the tremendous impact which this war would make on the economy of our country. At once, food prices soared sky high. For instance, after a few weeks I was asked $1.00 for two small pork chops. Because of restrictions on wheat flour, we were forced to use substitutes. Sugar rose to 32 cents a pound. A failure of the potato crop sent prices up to $7.00 a bushel. To support my family on a salary of $75.00 a month became increasingly difficult.

Wonderfully, the Good Lord provided for our needs, as the following will verify. Little Herbert asked to accompany me one cold winter day. On arrival at the Schmidt farm, he spied a number of scrawny piglets scurrying around the place. Said he, "Papa, sind das Ratzen?" (Papa, are those red rats?) Somewhat offended, the farmer retorted, "Jung, brauchst auch nicht grade spotten!" (Boy, you need not poke fun!) explaining that the mother of these pigs had died and that her entire litter would perish. In disgust he added, "Jung, fang die Ferkel und nimm sie mit." (Boy, catch the runts and take them along). Herb darted to the rear of the buggy, picked up two gunny sacks and the chase was on. Six squealing porkers raised rumpus in the buggy-box. At home, Herb loaded his loot into our barn and fed them skimmed milk. In August, when John Schmidt attended Mission Festival, he questioned Herb what had happened to those six pigs. With no little pride, Herb guided him to the sty in the barnyard to show off with his six hogs now weighing nearly 200 pounds each. Said John Schmidt, "Boy, the Lord must love our preacher."

Encouraged by such success, the boys now were determined to expand their business.

Said Herbert and Edgar, "We want a war-garden as all the boys in school have!"

"What do you intend to plant?"

"Navy beans for the army."

Asked where they planned to make a war-garden, they pointed to an unused acre of land in the cemetery. Realizing that the plot would thus be cleared from weeds, I consented and had the ground plowed. While I was attending a Pastoral Conference in St. Paul, the two boys set to work planting beans, but in rows so close together that cultivating was impossible. However, the vines of the beans soon became so dense that weeds were kept under control and during the nearly rainless season, the beans could mature perfectly. The fertile black loam on the east slope near the barn yielded over 500 pounds of cleaned beans which the boys sold for 22 cents a pound or $110 - the nest egg for their college expenses. Their assets increased rapidly when they assumed extra stable duties by attending to an additional cow and running the milk through our small cream separator. Their cream check per month amounted to more than I earned preaching, for the price of butter fat per pound had advanced to 94 cents.

Meanwhile another brother stepped to their side, when Mark was born on August 16, 1916. Already in childhood, Mark displayed mechanical talent which in later years became his highly skilled profession as a Field Engineer for I.B.M.

A bitter drop of misfortune occasionally fell into our cup of happiness. Though frequently warned never to enter in the stable silently without making his presence known, Edgar slipped quietly between the horses to clear the manger. Frightened, ill-tempered Queen reared up knocking him under King. Only by Divine providence, I was near enough to hear the boy scream. Dashing

between the horses, I was able to pick him up and hold him in my arms until the horses calmed down. Bruised, but not seriously hurt, I carried Edgar in the house. Involved in another mishap was Edgar and Bert some years later. On a summer evening, Mother and I called on Mr. and Mrs. Kloss in Maple Lake. Soon after our arrival, Herbert telephoned that Bert had been hurt, but not to worry since the bleeding had stopped. After a hurried trip home, we found the accident more serious than expected. Playfully, Edgar had tried his hand at mowing weeds with my scythe, which had been sharpened to a keen edge to cut tough grass. Taking a hefty swath, he struck Bert in the upper left thigh. How fortunate that the gash was not three inches lower, which would have severed the ligaments and left him a cripple. Hastily, Herbert applied a towel for a tourniquet to stop the bleeding, yet it took the doctor ten stitches to close the wound. Childish tampering with machinery brought on a near loss of a thumb for Edgar during a Fourth of July Celebration at Ed Lamperts. Playmates tried to push a recently sharpened lawn mower through a stand of tough grass. Edgar wanted to be helpful in the maneuver by a shove at the roller. The blade caught his thumb and cut through it at the first joint, leaving the upper portion hanging by the mere skin. Though taken to the doctor to suture back the portion of the thumb, a crippled thumb resulted, which remains as a life-long reminder of his youthful folly. Though these occasional bitter drops of misfortune fell into our overflowing cup of happiness, we had thousands of reasons to join in St. John's hymn of Thanksgiving (John 1:16) "From His fulness have all we received grace for grace." This was particularly true one windy Saturday afternoon. Ever since early childhood, when Mark could get around, under his own power, he enjoyed moving into spots to get unobstructed views of his surroundings. On boxes, on chairs, on tables, on the sewing machine, he would take his lofty position. (See the scar under his right jaw, received when he slipped atop the sewing machine and fell upon the pointed needle bar). This craving got the best of him, as he one day looked up to the platform near the top of our 50 foot windmill. For a precaution I had cut away the lower part of the ladder, but that did not prevent Mark from climbing up the corner post and getting to the rungs above. Not satisfied to have reached the platform to be close to the fan whirling around in the wind, he was about to mount the housing of the gears when the boys called for help. Momentarily, Lydia stood in breathless anxiety. To reprimand him would have induced him to descend with undue haste and cause him to lose his hold. Wisely, his mother rushed into the house for a bag of chocolate candy, his favorite sweet. With cat-like dexterity he swung himself under the platform, held fast to the protruding boards, and in a few moments jumped to the last flat from the ladder's end and straight for Mother's arms. Surely a guardian angel hovered about him.

Pastoral Life

Until 1915, I could devote my entire time and all my efforts to minister to the Bethlehem parish. Opportunity however, presented itself to open a mission in Maple Lake. Members and non-members residing there and in adjacent areas suggested that Lutheran evening services be held in an abandoned church. I complied with the wish expressed. When, during the fall and winter months, the Lutheran chapel was filled to capacity, the Chamber of Commerce even spoke of building a chapel for us with the proviso that I conduct nondenominational services. However, when I indicated that I would be guided only by Scriptural principles which denounces separation from the heterodox, not only was the offer withdrawn, but the attendance divided to only a few who could continue to worship with us in Middleville.

Soon I was to realize that the Lord had another assignment. I consented to officiate as Vacancy Pastor, which for the next 13 years I would administer to this small group of 20 families. Several calls to pastors were declined because the District Mission Board, short on funds, denied supplementary salary, but did support my application for a Vicar to assist me.

Organized in 1886, the congregation was located in a predominately Methodist area and ever had remained to be a small parish struggling to support its own resident Pastor. To conduct services every Sunday afternoon while teaching in my Middleville School five days a week was quite some grind. I found it especially difficult to drive thirteen miles to Corina for six weeks of Vacation Bible School during the hot summer months. My suggestion to the congregation to relocate and move their chapel to the village of Annandale (four miles away), where there were fairer prospects of gaining more souls, fell on deaf ears. Church attendance left much to be desired, since a goodly number of most older people resided near Silver Creek, and had no means of transportation to travel eight miles to church. Despite the vigorous protest of many, I established a preaching station in the village by conducting services in the Methodist church every other Sunday evening.

Let me relate an interesting episode. For the nominal fee of one hundred dollars, we were able to rent the Methodist church, a frame building, erected during the Civil War somewhere in a rural area and years ago had been moved to town onto a half acre lot. Monthly services conducted by a Methodist Pastor in Clear Lake were poorly attended. When, after a house to house convos, our first Lutheran services had an attendance of not less that 60 people, the Methodist Minister began to take notice. One Sunday evening, he appeared in a Prince Albert suit, while I conducted services dressed in a gray suit, to overcome the antagonism on the part of Reformed people against the customary Lutheran pulpit gowns. He expressed his purpose to the group assembling for worship. His offer to conduct a union service, I denied flatly, declaring that I had put forth much effort during the past weeks to find and invite people. "This is my church," said he "and I shall do the preaching." The spat ended by announcing aloud that Lutheran services would be held in the Town Hall. With a pack of hymnals in hand, I led the group across town, excepting 6 persons, who would not leave the church. That was the end of Methodism in Silver Creek. Denied further use of the church, we assembled every other Sunday evening in the filthy Town Hall. About a year later, I received a letter from the Methodist Conference, offering us their entire property for $500. The building being in bad repair, I offered $375, which was refused. A year later I was informed that the Conference would accept the bid, whereupon I stated that the place damaged by hail was worth only $250. This fixed bid was accepted and so the chapel, property, including pianos, organ, lecturn, etc. became our property paid by free will contributions of those who found nearby attendance convenient. Repair work under the supervision of Mr. Kloss was begun at once. Being constructed of solid oak dimension lumber, the building was raised several feet to provide basement room for a modern heating and Sunday school rooms. By volunteer work, the roof and sidings were replaced, stained glass windows installed, and by a home-made altar and pulpit, the unsightly chapel was transformed into an inviting Lutheran church of Immanuel Congregation, organized during the pastorate of my successor in 1931.

Meanwhile, the membership of Zion congregation in Corina declined gradually. Finally, after 14 years, my suggestion made in 1917, to relocate in the village of Annandale was found acceptable. Retaining it's cemetery, but selling the parsonage, the ancient Zion Church built in 1887 was moved to a very desirable place in the village in 19__Beyond expectation was the increase in membership and especially the attendance taken of tourists during the summer months. Since 19__, the congregation worships in a beautiful brick church built under the spiritual leadership of its own resident pastor.

In 1917, I had the honor of delivering a dedicatory sermon in the new Bethlehem Church in St. Paul, to which Uncle Theodore had recently transferred. After many years of faithful service, he left St. Mark's in Chicago after a most disappointing experience with it's congregation's treasurer and now began work in a parish in the midst of a half finished church building project imprudently financed.

In 1918, with the signing of an Armistice on November 11th, hopes ran high that normal times would soon return though antagonism of "Super Americans" against people of German descent was still very much in evidence. The invasion of so-called Vigilantes into our school and their presence during our church services had not deterred us from preaching and teaching in the German language, nor was this the reason for initiating English evening services. While our parish work continued at a normal pace, we were hampered by a wide spread epidemic of scarlet fever, black small pox, and individual cases of spinal meningitis. Our family was graciously spared of these diseases, and grateful we were for the protection granted us from Above. For on July 2, 1918, another sturdy boy made a hasty debut into our family circle. We named him Berthold. By his lusty cry, he demanded the immediate attention of the belated physician, while the three brothers were jubilant now to have a short-stop on the ball team.

Days of sore, trial, and affliction however, were in store for our nation and in particular for the Middleville community. The Asian Flu spread as wild fire over our neighborhood during the extremely wet late fall. Entire rural families were stricken and to make conditions worse, doctors were over-burdened with the care of patients living in town, so the traveling over deep roads to country homes appeared to be a waste of time. 213 individuals of our parish including thirteen persons afflicted with dread pneumonia were abed. Doctors not being available, it was the Pastor's obligation to visit the bedside of his people stricken with severe illness and death. Day by day, I entered home after home until late at night on sick-calls. A Catholic doctor in Maple Lake over telephone, cautioned me against contagion, but promised no assistance. However, I found a doctor in Howard Lake more co-operative. He gave me prescriptions and told me to administer the drug in all cases when the temperature was above 102 degrees. By the gallon I purchased the mixture at the pharmacy and then distributed it in the houses after brief devotions with the patients. Truly, God blessed my efforts for only three men, though fore-warned, went out into the cold and contracted the deathly pneumonia and were buried at once without public memorial services. As a precaution for our family, I changed clothes in the barn and washed hands and face with lysoled water before entering the house. We all were graciously spared. The Catholic doctor phoned once more to express his appreciation for my efforts and added, "Another Hand is protecting you."

I should mention the most pathetic situation encountered during those dreadful weeks in November. While in the home of a sick family, my attention was called to a nearby house, which had no smoke rising from the chimney for two days. A churchless Finlander had married one of our girls. Rapping at the door of the square bungalow, I received no answer. Tapping at the windows as I went around the house, I heard a faint reply, "Come in." Reminding me now that the door was locked, he replied, "Knock it down." Punching through the glass panel, I entered to find husband and wife abed with pneumonia and between them a dead year-old child. Unchurched as these people were, the Word of God of admonition and of comfort struck home in this hour of sorrowful trial. Assuring them of my return within an hour or two, I went to the barn to find horses unfed and cows unmilked for two days. After leaving the bewildered animals out to feed on a stack of hay, I appealed to a Swede across the road to lend a helping hand, but hearing that I had been with his flu sick neighbors, he chased me off the place. I then proceeded to town on my own to get a little casket, returned with it to the house, wrapped the little body into a bed sheet and upon reading a brief committal service, placed the casket on the back seat of my open-air Chevy. A dismal task it was for me to dig even a small grave on the cemetery in the rain. This was perhaps the most mournful task of my entire Pastoral career.

Six weeks of daily plowing through rain-soaked mud roads had left my car almost a wreck after the flu epidemic. In appreciation of help rendered, my parishioners handed me a purse as a Christmas present to cover most of the cost of a new automobile. Now I could travel in comfort in a glass enclosed machine, but not the year around. An unusual heavy snow fall made the use of our automobile impossible (on country roads not opened in those days) and driving with my team hazardous. On one sick call, after midnight, King and I were plunged into a four foot snow drift blocking the road. King slipped and fell, shattering the pole and ripping the harness. An exhausting task to lead the team home in the bitter cold. My generous people soon replaced the old vehicle with a family sleigh with two plush covered seats and the gear with a $100 light harness.

For me as pastor, it was of not little concern to observe the unwholesome impact...the feeling of insecurity and undue apprehension exerted by the horror of war and the by-gone flu epidemic upon otherwise good church people. Example: some parishioners had spread rumor of mighty voices coming from the cemetery, probably of those buried during the flu epidemic without the benefit of a church service. Trembling, a man stood at my door, positive, in his opinion, to have heard voices coming over the graves and that he saw lights blinking. I endeavored to convince his friend that those sleeping only 75 feet from my bedroom were the most peaceful neighbors. To calm this man, I lit my barn lantern and proceeded to the grave yard. Herbert aroused from sleep came to follow me. Oh yes, we did hear something. Said Herb, "It's yonder in the center of the graves." Going there, we heard the "moaning" noise more distinctly up in the tree. A brisk wind caused two branches to rub together. The blinking light, which the man had claimed to have seen, was nothing more than the reflection of our light on the polished face of tombstones.

1917

Elected to represent the Minnesota District at the General Synodical Convention in Milwaukee, I took my two boys along for a day long train ride. A warm welcome awaited us at 1219 Garfield St., the home of Mr. & Mrs. Ed Klemke. The next morning, Mrs. Klemke in her motherly way, urged my two somewhat bashful lads to enjoy their breakfast as she placed one slice of buttered bread after another before them. I was almost embarrassed to see the boys pitch in. Mama Klemke said in wonderment, "Ja Jungen, das brot ist al," stroking the heads of the red cheeked northern kids.

Room to spare, we were glad to welcome visitors during the summer months. Frank and three of his boys drove up in a car from Chicago, arriving about sundown. (In years after, the boys assured me that never they relished a meal more than that evening). It was but a lunch consisting of bread, coffee, and homemade dried beef. Annually since the war, we butchered a young beef raised on our place and hogs which we sugar cured in our own smoke house. On a power grinder, we usually ground about one hundred pounds of beef, cutting into sausage meat, canned a goodly portion, but the choicest portions we placed into brine for six weeks, had the chucks sliced into chunks in a butcher shop and then tightly sealed it into glass jars. A lot of work, but oh! how we still do think of the "Fleishchtopfe in Egyten" now that we do not relish the often tasteless meat purchased from a counter. Frank's boys had the time of their life pulling fish galore from Rock Lake. Frank and I enjoyed a trip back to my first parish in Bertha, Minnesota.

1919

By Christmas and New Years, health conditions in our neighborhood had improved so we could resume preaching and teaching. Though blessed with good health, I was sorely in need of a brief period of rest. This came unexpectedly when realtors trying to sell Texas orchard plots to our farmers offered me a free ticket and expenses paid to the Rio Grande area. I accepted the offer and in mid-summer, accompanied a group to places offered for sale by the Colonization Association. Pleasant was the trip through the mid-western states until in Oklahoma and the Texas Panhandle, we encountered dust storms which delayed our train to the extent we found all lunch counters along the line closed for the night. More hungry than weary, we pulled into Houston, Texas early next morning. All headed for an eat-shop where we were served a monstrous slice of delicious steak. How I did enjoy that breakfast!

Back to the train were we for another 3 hours ride until we came to Galveston, where an intended delicacy of sea food was on the menu, which plunged the entire group into a daylong "Moralischen Katenjammer."

A brief visit to Motamoris, Mexico, the next day was fascinating, especially for me, as I visited the ancient Spanish Mission Church, and had the opportunity to enter a monastery and speak with the quaintly robed superior while he sipped beer out of a mug. Then on to Harrington, from where we were escorted by auto to existing citrus groves of the Germans. With pride, the agent pointed to the trees laden with oranges, lemons, and grapefruit and told of the enormous profits the owner had realized. But Alas! Being true and honest men, one of his own nationality took me aside and remarked, "Der Dievel leucht!" (This devil lies) thus warning the prospective buyers that because of inadequate freight transportation, his income had been miserably meager. Dumbfounded by his failure to make a sale, the Irish agent abandoned the group, but tickets in hand we were homeward bound over Austin, Texas and Kansas City, Missouri and back to marvelous Minnesota.

As in our first parish we were obliged to have Confirmands stay at our house during the months of instruction lessons. Glad to have the assistance of Vicars, we shared study and the use of a bedroom with these young men and the Vicar for $20. During the severest of weather, lady teachers from the public school across the road asked to stay with us also.

1920-1922

To foster closer acquaintance and more mutual understanding among our parishioners, the Pastor and his Vicar since 1920 arranged a picnic on the church grounds early in the week before Confirmation toward the end of May. The children prepared skits and plays, which fascinated the older folks, sang German folk songs with which grandparents chimed in. Free refreshments were served to boys and girls who participated in games. The fellowship made for more unity and even more so the annual Mission Festival which was held the second Sunday in August. On the spacious church property, it was not uncommon that 1,000-1,200 people assembled for outdoor services. Only but once did rain interfere. Our brass band, under the leadership of Ed Lambert, accompanied the singing to be heard a mile away. This was set aside by farmer members residing far and near for a homecoming to renew their friendship with former neighbors. People from sister congregations came to spend the day with us, beginning with the early morning service. Wide circles were seated for noon lunches under the sprawling shade trees. Such Mission Sunday celebrations are, to our regret, no more prevalent but in a few parishes.

Members of our family will certainly also recall the days when neighboring pastors and their families gathered at one place for a pastor's

picnic. There was no fishing or boating, as Fairhaven as well as other communities could offer, but we did have hilarious baseball games. Do you remember when a foul ball narrowly missed a window, came down the side of the house squarely into the ice cream container, sending a splash of the sweet stuff into the huge bowl of pork and beans? Or when Rev. Lueck batted the ball with such force that to the horror of the women seated on the terrace before our house, the seat of his pants split wide open from side to side! There was a scream of feminine laughter when he retired into the parsonage and then came back in my bibless overalls far too narrow around his waist. Those were the days when there was sociability among pastors and their families.

In the fall of 1917, the same year Uncle Theodore came from St. Paul to see us, we went into the orchard to the same spot where eight years before he had watched me as I planted young apple trees, then remarking: "Ja, jung wer wird wohl Apfel essen von diesen Baumen." Now munching a delicious red wealthy, he exclaimed "Alfred, du lebet in einen halben Paradies" (Alfred, you are living in half a Paradise), but then quoted Psalm 128:2, "Thou shalt eat the fruit of the labor of your hands; happy shalt thou be."

A survey of the first nine years of my pastorate in Middleville disclosed that time was destined to be a period of constructive pastoral guidance and of parish training through the parochial school. This became evident in the course of the next more pleasant ten years by more regular church attendance, less turbulent voter's meetings; by yielding to a two years' Confirmation instruction; by the consent of older people to conduct English services; in willingness to practice unknown English hymns for twenty minutes after the morning services; by the participation of my former scholars in choir rehearsals; by the co-operation of most members to make improvement (such as the excavation of a furnace room under the church and the digging of that long one thousand foot trench to the Sunshine Creek as an outlet for the septic tank). Inspiring for me was to see all children with few exception, arriving on Saturdays of Advent Season for preparation of the Children's Service. Today, people still speak of the fascinating singing of carols by the children's' choir in their voices with the organ and the trumpet, played by Ed Lambert in accompaniment. Deo soli gloria.

Ex officio, I was obligated as District Secretary to attend the Synod Fiscal Conference at River Forest in 1922. This gave us an opportunity with our family to visit Frank and Lydia's home. As usual, these were by no means noiseless, but very happy and delightful days in the Brauer home, but who could anticipate that this was to be my beloved wife's last visit in her parental home?

Four jacks and one queen thus far, was the hand at our family round-table, until Cordelia's appearance on Oct. 20, 1922. A tiny baby was she, yet she made up for her smallness by her strong, clear voice, and a surprising alertness and agility. Just nine months old to the day was she when she began to walk by herself.

1923-1924

Unlike to present day conditions, the interest and social activity of rural people centered in their church. Lacking telephones and reading only, ...German newspaper (Die Westliche Post), the farmers stood in groups before and after services to exchange information and to discuss their problems, and to seek mutual assistance - when the heavy timbers for a new barn were to be raised, or help was needed to haul grain bundles to the threshing machine. Neighborliness was at it's best in cases of serious illness. Doctors demanding hospitalization for surgery, neighbors alternated in keeping night watch at the bedsides and in helping with the chores during the day... The Pastor was no exception, as the following case will illustrate. An aging Russian was afflicted with a cancer on his foot. Finding it impossible to daily drive eleven miles to his home to apply new dressings to the huge growth forming on the ankle, Dr. Harrison requested my help by supplying me with spigot sponges (an antiseptic) to remove the living vermin from the growth. Early one morning, I was about to get into my car when one of my deacons, John, passing by, inquired what my early mission might be. Upon telling him that I was on my way to help Charlie, he took a seat beside me. As we entered the humble home, filled with nauseating odor, John went back to the door and lost his breakfast. Now, this John, had on a previous Easter said to me, "Pastor, I have always believed you, but when you explained Jobs' 'worms under my skin destroy his body is to say that worms crawled under his skin while still alive', no, that I cannot believe." Said I, "Perhaps you may get to see it." That moment, was at hand, to convince him. Asking the pale-faced deacon to be a man and to hold up the foot while I dressed it, he sank to the floor with a thud. Mercifully, within a short time, Charlie was delivered from his misery. Hence to be pastor among early settlers required more than merely preach and teach.

1923, was as mentioned above, a banner year for our congregation, since a little girl from our school was champion speller in Wright County. Exceptional however, was also the winter. Blizzard upon blizzard swept across our part of the state and piled up a snow in our yard that the boys could step over the telephone wire leading to the house. Weeks on end we were almost completely snow bound with the result that our supply of flour was exhausted. Though we had potatoes, meat, and milk, Mother began to worry. Gertrude said, "Can ravens bring us bread?" Suddenly Otto Uecker's sleigh pulled up the drive on his way home from Albrecht's Mill, operated by the water of Crow River. For two days, Mr. Uecker had been on the road and now stepped to our door saying, "Are you too out of flour?" as he placed a one hundred pound sack on the floor. Visible proof for the devine promise: "He careth for you."

Early in summer, Grandpa Brauer payed us his last visit. Recouperated somewhat from his nervous condition, he kept himself busy as a colporteur, selling religious books, wall mottoes and the like, though we children did not approve of his lugging around suit cases. Using my team, I warned him that my frisky team was not to be trusted unless hitched to a post during house calls. Our apprehensions materialized when, about to leave a farm place, he found the buggy on top of a wood pile and the team had broken away. Only a long nail on either side of the buggy body seemed to keep the top in place, but not for long. King and Queen were calmly helping themselves to some hay. When I started out on my next trip, my team remembering the incident, started off with a sudden jerk throwing me helplessly backward to the ground. This was the one and only accident I ever had with my team.

Despite unsettled conditions on our "business affairs" during and after both wars, our congregation prospered. True, fanatic "super-Americans" harassed our people, even entered our school room and church services to find cause to brand us Nazi's, and also began to ramsack the cellars and graineries of our people, under the pretense of gathering war supplies. But, when the Draft Board illegally took a last boy from the farm of a widowed mother, while deferring boys of large Irish and French families, I considered it my civic duty to rise in defense of my people. Having already dared the "visitors" in our services to interfere with my preaching and teaching in the German language, I filed a successful protest in the Court House in Buffalo, accusing the Draft Board of unlawful discrimination. Not only did I continue without interruption in the use of the German language, but gained the release from military service for the above mentioned widow's son. Furthermore, every trace of slurring remarks was silenced when our congregation made a sizeable contribution to the Red Cross, far in excess to that of any organization of its kind in the vicinity. Subsequently the State Office appointed me as chairman of the U.S. Liberty Bond Drive.

Circumstances demanded that I become active in other civic affairs as welfare, road improvements, etc. Telephone service had deteriorated, to such an extent, that calls for doctors became impossible. One Saturday midnight, I was forced to drive through snow to Maple Lake, over bad roads, to ask the mortician to come. Promptly, I drew up a petition to the State Railroad and Warehouse Commission and after next morning's services, asked my people to sign it. By two o'clock, two Catholics, one residing to the east, the other to the north of us, requested a copy of the petition. By night fall, they returned with 144 signatures. Since the telephone had ignored our repeated appeal to repair its lines, I went to the State Capitol the next morning to officially file a complaint. A hearing was ordered to be held within a week in the Maple Lake High School. I presented the case of our people, as best as I could, against the company's defending lawyer. The upshot was that the company was ordered to rebuild it's entire system at once or cease operation. Father O' Brien congratulated me saying, "I admire your loyalty to your community. That's what I call being civic minded."

A show of joy rang out from the girl's room when in the morning hours of October 25th, 1924, a baby sister made known its arrival. We named her Hildegarde. Inseparable, this sister trio, appeared to be, as Gertrude lovingly fondled the baby, little Cordy stood by cooing and sang the lullaby in her way. But too soon it would become evident how fortunate the two little girls were to have an older sister to attend to their needs.

By Divine grace, we had thus far been privileged to live together as a healthy, blessed, and happy family. With the next years, our household witnessed changes. Herbert, our first born, was confirmed on Palm Sunday together with classmates. During the following summer, he was employed as a farm hand by Mr. Albert Strohschein, but could after evening chores be with us for a brief stay. As autumn approached, he made ready to enroll as a student at Concordia, St. Paul. This first leave, taking from our family circle, was not easy for any of us, yet the time was now at hand to receive the necessary education for his life's profession, the Ministry. Being a likeable chap, he soon found close friends and enjoyed the dormitory life. His earnings during his elementary school days now helped to defray rather heavy expenses.

All was well with Herb, until one day we were notified that he was in the Anchor Hospital. A diptheria epidemic was prevalent in St. Paul and so the Health Board demanded that students of every type of school undergo an examination. Herb, besides others, were found to be carriers of the dread disease. Though not at all ill, he was placed into an isolation ward for several weeks and then discharged.

1925-1926

For me, personally, 1925 was to be a significant year. For the past twelve years, I had compiled the minutes of the semi-annual meetings for the large Minnesota Conference, attended by 125 pastors. During the Convention of the Minnesota District, I was entrusted with the secretaryship and was obligated to present this report on previous sessions, both in German and English. When President Herman Meyer called for a candidate skilled in German stenography, I was nominated. For the next 22 years, all leisure time during conventions (so much appreciated by pastors to chat) was taken up by transcribing and preparing minutes. How true, "Wem die Wuerde dem die Buerde." (An honorable position brings burdens). It has been my privilege to serve the Church in this capacity to a total of 34 years.

A month after the 1925 District Convention, we received a telephone message that my esteemed benefactor in Milwaukee, Mrs. Ed Klemke had passed away on July 20th. Like her husband, she had been afflicted with Pernicious Anemia. For Mr. Klemke's memorial service two years ago, I briefly rendered a tribute to this truly Christian lady who, as a member of the Ladies Aid had for years not only called at the homes of sick parishioners, but as a "student mother" had charitably taken more into her home.

More than ever, I now was kept busy preaching at three places, with some help from the Vicars, teaching Vacation Bible School in Corina and after the close of the school in Middleville. I was obligated as member of the Board of Directors to travel to St. Paul for two day meetings every other month and to send copies of the minutes to each board member. This, however, did not keep me from making regular sick calls and visiting members who were in need of my pastoral care. Of course vacations, such as fishing trips and the like were out of question.

1926 was a less eventful year. To the joy of Mother and myself, our children, day by day, were blessed with good health and all grew sturdy and strong. Seldom bothered by colds since they romped around outdoors in winter as well as in summer.

Returning home from Concordia for the summer, Herbert informed us that he had made an agreement with a representative of Concordia Publishing House to be active during his vacation selling books, wall mottoes, etc. to rural families. We consented, since he had had a light case of pneumonia during the last weeks before the close of the semester, and therefore, physically not able to do farm work. Fair results he had among people in our community, but very successful in the Fairhaven congregation. My ponies earned their keep during that summer.

In fall, Edgar entered Concordia College in St. Paul, though, as yet, he had not been confirmed because congregation required a child to be thirteen years old before Confirmation. Having passed the 8th grade state examinations, he would have lost an entire year. So, he accompanied Herbert to Concordia. For the following Spring Vacation, he came home early to join the Confirmands.

Herb and Edgar, being away from home, the empty chair in our family circle table was filled when Victor arrived in our family circle on Oct. 1, 1926.

1927

1927 was destined to become a most eventful year in the history of our family. Gertrude had completed her two years of Catechetical instructions and was confirmed in the month of May. Successfully she passed also the 8th grade State Board examination.

As I now begin to tell the story of early 1927, I am inclined to introduce this chapter with the adage, "Some rain drops must fall on the path of all." More than usual joy prevailed in our happy home so the singing of carols daily renewed the Christmas cheer throughout the week. The sound of our melodious church bell rang in the New Year. As had been our custom for years, we had engaged Mr. Uecker to slaughter two hogs and a beef for us on the second day of January, in order to have ample time for process of the meat before classes were resumed. This was accomplished by Friday noon. Vicar Ernest Stahlke and I were busy in the study until late at night preparing for Sunday services, not aware of blizzard condition that would probably interfere with our next day's schedule. All were well and happy when we retired for the night. At 5:30 on Sunday, the 9th of January and Herbert's birthday, I arose to memorize my sermon. Then Mother complained of pains in her chest, but added that all would pass over. Had we only known that those pains were indeed serious symptoms. When I returned to the bedroom upstairs about seven o'clock, my heart well nigh stood still in fright, for my beloved wife had departed from her earthly habitation, with little Victor fast asleep in her arms. All at once I phoned Dr. Harriman, who replied that alone he dare not venture into the blizzard. Notifying my neighbor, Herman Marohn, who in my need was friend indeed. Within minutes, he was on the way to get the doctor. About 9 o'clock, the physician stepped into the parsonage. He declared this to be a case of thrombosis, by which a tiny clot of blood formed in vericose veins (with which Mother had long been afflicted) is carried into the ventricle of the heart and leads to instant death.

Through wind and storm, a number of our people soon stood before me speechless, yet deeply sympathetic. During that sad Sunday morning, when I had intended to preach of a Christian never failing hope, the mortician upstairs embalmed the one nearest and dearest to me in this world. Troubled on every side, yet not distressed, perplexed, but not in despair, (2 Cor. 4:8) I gazed upon her, who so completely had shared with me weal and woe of life for over seventeen years, the loving mother of my seven children.

Memorial services conducted by Pastor Luek were held on Tuesday morning with a congregation and many fellow pastors in attendance. Unforgettable were the mournful moments, as men and women with tear filled eyes bid farewell to her, who for the good of church and school, had done so much. Farmers, mostly non-Lutheran, had with teams opened the seven and a half miles of snow logged road to Maple Lake, where the casket was placed aboard the 3:30 P.M. Zoo Line train, which transported me and my bereaved children directly to Forest Park, III. only 3 blocks from the Brauer home. May the Lord eternally reward the kindness extended to my family by Mr. Aug Kloss, Mrs. Adolf Goerke, Mrs. Herman Beneke, and Mr. Otto Uecker, who accompanied us on our sorrow filled journey. (At this writing only one of these our faithful friends has already joined the multitude in the heavenly mansions.) Brother Frank engaged the service of an undertaker and met us at the railroad station. Words cannot describe the heart rendering scene in the parental home. As we all gathered about the flower covered casket, we were comforted by the Scripture reading, Rev. 7:9-17, which tells of the never ending joy and blessedness of those who have lived for the Lord and died in faith in the Lord.

On Wednesday morning, we had arrived in Forest Park. A snow storm and ten degree below zero weather made it impossible to conduct funeral services before Friday, January 14th. At noon, a family devotion was held, conducted by Mother's uncle, Pastor Adolf Bartling. St. John's Church was nearly filled by relatives and friends from Chicago and also from Milwaukee. My uncle, Dr. William Kohn, delivered a most comforting address on the words of our Savior (John 14:4) "Whither I go ye know and the way ye know." On a lot on Concordia's Cemetery, we layed to rest our beloved helpmate and mother to await the glorious Day of Resurrection. The committal service was read by the Rev. Marcus Wagner.

Grief stricken, we spent Saturday and Sunday afternoon in reading the nearly hundred cards and letters of condolence. Because the Brauer home could not well accommodate us all, Brother Frank came with his car to take us to his place. There we stayed until the cold spell had let up somewhat. Then, I returned to Forest Park to settle with the mortician, and others. Twice, with sorrowing heart, I found my way, alone, to the flower covered grave of my beloved one.

Afflictions multiplied during our stay with relatives. Infant Victor began to cough heavily, then Hildy and Cordy, and as we boarded the train for our homeward journey, the younger boys. They all were stricken with the Whooping Cough. Upon insistence of Grandpa and Grandma Brauer, we left our 2 1/2 month old Victor to the care of Walter and Anna Berndt, who being without children, begged for the privilege. They promised to bring Victor back to us as soon as feasible, but never did. Victor stayed in the Berndt home throughout his school and college years receiving from them their love and affection and necessary financial support until he graduated from Concordia.

A night of fear and anxiety, I and the children spent on our return trip. My good friends from Middleville had gone home immediately after the funeral, and here I was, alone, to care for 5 whooping children alone. To make conditions worse, the Conductor threatened to put us off at the next city to forestall contagion, however he yielded to our request to let us ride in a coach, occupied by only one passenger. At long last, we arrived at Make Lake, where friendly neighbors bundled the boys and girls into warm blankets and brought us to our home. The next four weeks, with many sleepless nights, to say the least, were agonizing. How often I stared into the little faces turning blue because of difficulty to breathe. In all, however, the Lord did not forsake me, nor my motherless children. After the disease had run it's course, all gradually returned to normal life.

Ever thankful shall I be to the good ladies of Middleville who helped in the household while I resumed teaching. During the first week, they supplied us with more than sufficient food, did the laundry and mending and even sewed clothes. Such assistance I could not expect forever, so I engaged the services of a maid. All was well at first, but soon, this girl grew tired of working for a large family and even left the below school age girls alone to go to a movie in town. As a dagger in my heart, it hurt me, when on Easter morning no bread was on hand nor biscuits to eat with eggs. When this "help" left without notice, we decided to stay alone, then 14 year old Gertrude had learned the art of baking bread and how to prepare a meal with canned beef and pork. Tenderly, she cared for her little sisters by keeping them and their clothes neat and clean. Naturally, I was compelled to devote a goodly portion of my time to housework in a home that seemed empty. In fact, in the silence which prevailed after the children had gone to bed, the ticking of the clock almost became unbearable. I would have been in despair had not I ever and again repeated the words spoken to me in a day of trouble: The Lord says, "Fear not, I am with thee, be not discouraged, I am thy God. I will strengthen thee, I will help thee, yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness." (Isaiah 41:10)

Dear children, this lengthy report in days of trial and affliction I have inserted, but for the purpose that in the days to come, your God leads you over a rugged and shadowy path, do not despair in your trouble, but cast your cares upon Him who careth for you. Of this our certain Christian hope is.

1928 -1929

On a warm spring day, soon after Easter, our Carver County pastors and their wives came to visit me and my family in our loneliness. As we now sat in my study, discussing various matters of synodical interest, one of the brethren interrupted saying, "We have come here to bring cheer and comfort into a desolate home." Then quoted from memory the 8th verse of Paul Gerhardt's hymn: "Soon He, His promise keeping, with wonder-working skill shall put away thy sorrows that now thy spirit fill."

At that moment, none of the visitors knew that the gracious Father in Heaven had already devised plans for the good of our family. In His merciful Divine Promise, He so guided the heart of Miss Adela Klemke, the daughter and only child of my benefactors in Milwaukee, to become the second mother in my home. We were united in holy wedlock in May, 1928, in Milwaukee with Rev. E. Dietz officiating. After a trip to the Niagara Falls and a brief visit with the relatives in Chicago, we arrived in our rural parsonage two weeks later. For the evening of our arrival, our parishioners had arranged a reception to meet "die neue Frau Pastora." What a God-sent blessing for me to have a truly Christian helpmate again, who, at once, gained the love and confidence of my sons and daughters, yea who confided their many wants and needs, without ever mentioning the little troubles to me. Surely "Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal."

Relieved of household duties, Gertrude now was able to attend the Buffalo High School. We were fortunate to find a fine Lutheran family who provided room and board for her for a dollar a day. She was happy to spend the weekends with us.

1928 will long be remembered as an anniversary year of Bethlehem Church. Organized in 1887, under Pastor Kohn, Sr., pastorate, the congregation planned a major celebration of its 50th anniversary with special services of Thanksgiving. The intentions of our people, in general, was to serve a free lunch at noon and in the evening to all fellow Christians, who would participate in the observance of this festival day. However, the three deacons were opposed to it. Then, upon my request, this matter had been placed before the congregation for a vote and had, with 3 exceptions, been approved and hitherto most cooperative relationship between pastor and elders had become somewhat strained. Yet, favored with the fairest of autumn weather, the largest audience in the history of the congregation assembled on the spacious church grounds to listen to the inspiring sermon of the guest speaker and all were thrilled to have the aged Pastor Hertrich, their second pastor, appear in the pulpit. According to the count of the paper plates, over 2,000 people were served an evening meal under a huge tent attached to the house. That evening, Herb and Edgar returned to Concordia with some Minneapolis folk carrying with them a large carton filled with left over chicken. Most interesting were our conversations with Pastor Hertrich concerning his trials in Middleville nearly 50 years ago. I brought this veteran of the Cross back to his home in Plato, Minnesota on the following day.

In the fall meeting of the voter's assembly, the resolution was offered by an elder and adopted to request Zion's church in Corina to call it's own resident Pastor, after being served from Middleville for the past thirteen years. Having no information in advance, this motion came to my utter surprise. True, I welcomed a relief in my work load, however I also realized at once, that the chief ground for declining the six calls received in the last nine years was cancelled out. Would this mean that I would have to move soon into the service of a larger parish? Notified of this resolution after next Sunday's service, the Corina congregation instructed me to get a slate of candidates from the District Office and to arrange for a call meeting as soon as possible. The President placed the name of Rev. A. Cloeter, the former missionary in China, first on the list. A diploma of vocation addressed to him was properly filled out and signed. Within a week, we received his letter of acceptance. I inducted him into Office on the third Sunday of Advent.

1930

As I surmised it came to pass. Early in March, the Immanuel Congregation of Gaylord, Minnesota addressed a Call to me to become their Pastor. This was a parish in the village registering approximately 650 communicants, hence, twice the size of my present charge. Consulting other pastors in this important matter, I received but one advice, namely, accept the call. Reluctantly, Middleville admitted that Gaylord now reaped what they had sown, but granted to me a peaceful dismissal, however with the request to finish the year's course of Confirmation lessons. Things now moved on in a rapid pace. On April 27, 1930, I preached my farewell sermon and in the course of that week, a moving van and a truck from Gaylord transported our household effects to a modern parsonage.

Aside from the greater membership of Gaylord Church, the future of my children compelled me to leave a parish which was home to my heart, a congregation where during the past 17 years, in good and evil days, my labors had been richly blessed. Being of school age, my boys and girls now had opportunity to enroll in a two room Christian Day School and Gertrude could finish her High School studies living in our home. More important was that I would now find time for private study. Questionable was also whether the school in Middleville would be maintained for the effects of the tragic 1929 stock market crash already caused a slump in farm income. A cut in salary offered us did not present a financial future, yet the Lord's mandate: "Thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee" (Jer. 1:7) was my only directive.

In the late afternoon of April 29th, we were welcomed by Teacher O. Weissenborn and the elders before our beautiful new home. I hurried into the house to change clothes since during my last hours in Middleville, I had officiated at a funeral.

320.963.3592

7809 County Road 35 W
Middleville Township
Annandale, Minnesota