Church In Rippey By CaroleAnne Souder Vannoy

My granddaughters love to hear my stories of growing up on the farm in a rural community, which is something they have yet to experience.  What I find myself coming back to time and again is the feeling of security we shared.

All of my memories are centered around church, school & family.  My earliest memories are of the love I received from Mary Bardole and Lila Johnston in the church nursery when I was confused by the fact that I had a treasured red plastic bear at home and they had the exact bear at church.  Completely sure that they had MY bear, I held tightly to it.  There was never a raised voice or even a scowl.  Is it any wonder that I loved church?

I remember the kitchen in that same building being used to make raised donuts. The chatter sprinkled with laughter and imbued with the smell of donuts frying up in a row of electric skillets made for a cheery environment. That same building was used for our Sunday School classes.

Something I always looked forward to was Darlene Morse asking me to sit with her.  Being a year younger than her made that twice as special.  I can still feel the rough canvas cover of our little blue children’s hymnals.  Oh, the joy of being the one who picked the next hymn!  I always knew what Darlene would pick if she was chosen:  This is My Father’s World. Sometimes I would pick it for her because I knew how happy it would make her. This would be the first hymn I taught my own children and I still sing it when life seems uncertain.

One of my fondest memories is of Sue Diehl being my Sunday School teacher. She was beautiful inside and out.  Her gentle ways made each of us feel welcomed.  One lesson that still means a lot to me was one she shared on the importance of names in the Bible.  She concluded the lesson by telling each of us what our name meant.  She told me mine meant “song of joy” and that she knew it was most certainly true of me.  I took that to heart and I credit her with putting me on the path to being an optimist.

Another happy memory was being to church on time to help LeRoy Overman ring the church bell.  LeRoy always smelled of aftershave, and I cannot think of even one time that it didn’t seem his smile came all the way from his toes.  He even walked in a cheerful way.

The other profound memory I have of the old church building is the whisper of hand fans over the pastor’s words, the way the sounds filled the church when we sang hymns together, the quiet silence of the sanctuary if you were the first to arrive or the last to leave, and the glory of light streaming through the stained glass.

I don’t remember what we called the church building to the south but I remember several rummage sales being organized by the church ladies in there.  After the new church was built, I would have to say that most of my church memories involve food:  soup suppers, potlucks, socials, weddings, showers and such. It seemed that we had meals together regularly, but more important, we did the work together.  I remember all the fathers and grandfathers cranking ice cream makers out in the summer heat for our ice cream socials.  Then there were tables filled with slices of cake and pie to go with the ice cream.  Admittedly I resented clearing the table and washing dishes at home, but at church it felt completely different.  I saved up all the kind words about how thoughtful and diligent I was like nuggets of gold.  In that kitchen are all my most tender memories of being loved and appreciated.

 I also have fond memories of Sunday School and Vacation Bible School.  It seemed that Velda DeMoss and Jean Borgeson lead every singing group for us kids.  Can anyone forget their infectious laughter?  The kids I teach Bible to now will ask for my “old” songs.  My favorite one to share is Sunshine Mountain.

My own favorite Bible teachers were Jake Peters, Paul Bardole and Myron Rinker.  Paul & Jake were so engaging because they spoke from their hearts.  I never remember them reading from a lesson, and I crafted my own teaching style based on theirs:  know the topic well and share it enthusiastically.

I love Myron for completely different reasons.  By the time he was my teacher, I was a hardened skeptic and I venture to guess a bit of a pain in the backside. Yet he was there for me every Sunday patiently addressing my questions of faith.  We chuckled about those struggles over coffee at the Perry HyVee not so long ago.  I am most assuredly glad he can laugh about it, and I am ever more glad that faith triumphed over skepticism.

Another treasured memory is going through Confirmation Class with my peers. Previous to this class I took great pride in being the first to raise my hand whenever a question was asked.  But I found myself completely stumped when the pastor asked who could say the books of the Bible.  Not me.  Truth be told I still can’t.  Good to be humbled now and again.

I wish I had a picture from Vacation Bible School so you could see what a joyful church looks like.  I remember families who didn’t send their kids for Sunday School would send their kids to VBS, so we were bursting from the seams. What stands out most vividly are memories of all the moms and grandmas pitching in to make every moment memorable.  There were new songs, bountiful snacks to be washed down with Kool-Aid and crafts galore.  I could wax eloquent for hours, but I will close by saying thank you to all those who made church a wonderful place to grow up.  I hope a lot of my friends and family will also share their memories.  We were blessed to grow up together.