Clinton, Tennessee (1953 - 1958)
A call had come from Clinton, Tennessee and Brother Bolender felt it was God’s leading. Rev. King from Indiana was called to take our place. He and his family came for a service before we left. His call was confirmed. Although we were well aware that no resigning pastor dictate or influence the church they are leaving, with high hopes of continuing growth of the church both physically and spiritually, a parsonage was needed.
We left behind us one tie. After Father Bolender’s death, his will was probated. Mother was left the cottage in town where they lived for 24 years and enough cash, as he figured, to care for her the rest of her life. After funeral expenses were paid the remainder was to be equally divided between the three children. When my husband received his share, a few thousand, I remarked to my husband, “We do not want new furniture or new clothes, let us put this into a home.” He explained that we would have to soon have a different car. The Lord beautifully supplied this need through the watchful eye of our son. We bought a car almost as good as new at a very reasonable price. Of course the tithe was paid and still we had enough left for a substantial down payment on a nice house near a school. With the help of a young man at the church, a small apartment was finished on the second floor with an outside stairway and entrance. The young man rented it for himself and his young wife. The downstairs was soon rented, so our loan payments and incidental expenses were met. The church treasurer assumed the responsibility of collecting the rent and making loan payments. For 4 years she had shown her honesty and ability in business matters, so we left it with confidence.
We left behind us one tie. After Father Bolender’s death, his will was probated. Mother was left the cottage in town where they lived for 24 years and enough cash, as he figured, to care for her the rest of her life. After funeral expenses were paid the remainder was to be equally divided between the three children. When my husband received his share, a few thousand, I remarked to my husband, “We do not want new furniture or new clothes, let us put this into a home.” He explained that we would have to soon have a different car. The Lord beautifully supplied this need through the watchful eye of our son. We bought a car almost as good as new at a very reasonable price. Of course the tithe was paid and still we had enough left for a substantial down payment on a nice house near a school. With the help of a young man at the church, a small apartment was finished on the second floor with an outside stairway and entrance. The young man rented it for himself and his young wife. The downstairs was soon rented, so our loan payments and incidental expenses were met. The church treasurer assumed the responsibility of collecting the rent and making loan payments. For 4 years she had shown her honesty and ability in business matters, so we left it with confidence.
Clinton parsonage and church building -- 2021
So goodbyes were said and we were on our way to a new field of labor that we had never seen. But we had met some of the members at the old Aspen Grove camp meeting 30 years before when the church was started, before the Tennessee District was organized. We drove up to the church about midnight and found a dear brother waiting. He explained that the new parsonage was not quite complete and we would need to occupy a S.S. room for a while. He helped to unload furniture and set up a bed which I made ready for some rest. He shared some food his wife and others had sent for us, then went home. We were very tired and soon slept. The next morning others came to help and we soon had temporary living quarters in order. We were delighted with the new parsonage. A large front porch with low cement walls had been filled with stone leaving room for the cement floor to be poured. The basement was not finished and the wiring had to be done. There were four nice sized rooms, hall bath, and pantry downstairs, with two nice bedrooms upstairs. In a few weeks we moved in. We liked the town. It was almost on Clinch River. The people were friendly. We felt a warm welcome in the services. There was another Pilgrim church about 12 miles away at Lake City. We soon met the pastor and his wife, Bro. and Sis. Adams. We had met her many years before when she was a widow with a daughter of about 10 years. We were holding a revival meeting in California, KY. Someone suggested we call on Sr. Kenny Dawn who was sick. We did; she was in bed. We told her about the revival, read the Bible and prayed for her. We got blessed and I said, “Sr. Dawn, I believe you will be at church tonight.” And sure enough she was and was a great blessing. She soon joined the Pilgrim Church and held many revivals. She was used of God in home missionary work and started the Clinton church. She had met and married Bro. Adams and now we met after years and enjoyed holy fellowship.
Clinton was a small beautiful little town. We soon fell in love with it. We were only 18 miles from Knoxville and near Oak Ridge where the first atomic bomb was made.[1] Norris dame across Clinch River formed beautiful Norris Lake, a real scenic attraction. We often drove to the dam. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship. Nearby was an old water wheel grist mill. We like to buy stone ground corn meal. The delicious mush I made from it took me back to childhood when I made mush for the family when I had to stand on a box in order to make and stir the mush. I carefully watched the clock for I must cook it slowly in the big iron cooking pot for one hour. But it was worth all the work, for that mush was delicious and we liked it even better fried for breakfast.
Clinton was a small beautiful little town. We soon fell in love with it. We were only 18 miles from Knoxville and near Oak Ridge where the first atomic bomb was made.[1] Norris dame across Clinch River formed beautiful Norris Lake, a real scenic attraction. We often drove to the dam. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship. Nearby was an old water wheel grist mill. We like to buy stone ground corn meal. The delicious mush I made from it took me back to childhood when I made mush for the family when I had to stand on a box in order to make and stir the mush. I carefully watched the clock for I must cook it slowly in the big iron cooking pot for one hour. But it was worth all the work, for that mush was delicious and we liked it even better fried for breakfast.
Norris Dam - 2021
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The mill near Norris Dam -- 2021
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I think we never pastored in a more pleasant and beautiful place. This was the nicest parsonage we had ever had. I was then fifty four and, except in Phoenix, Arizona where a small water tank on the roof of the small new parsonage furnished sun heated water, we had never had running hot water. It was really a luxury.
We found some precious saints in the church and enjoyed our getting acquainted period with few problems. Our first effort of church growth was with the children, though there were quite a few in the congregation. There were no children’s or youth services. Our children and young teens seemed eager to participate in the church activities. We soon had a strong and talented youth choir and a children’s service each Sunday evening. Later youth services were started and a young missionary society. As always we made home visitation a strong arm of church building. As was the usual custom we had revival meetings twice each year, sometimes lasting two full weeks. We had some splendid revivals with people praying through in the old fashioned way. Among the evangelists that ministered to us on this charge, four that we know of have gone on to their reward: Rev. R. A. Beltz, Rev. H. Barton, Rev. Luttral, and Rev. Horton. They are gone on but their works do follow them.
A few outstanding things remain clearly in my mind that I think are worthy of recording. One of our precious members had a son who, with his wife, was unsaved. The mother often brought their two little daughters to church with her. She was praying for her children’s salvation. We began visiting the home, the parents began attending church occasionally, and we could see God was dealing with his heart. We continued visiting in the home and praying. During the revival he was clearly saved. His testimony was definite, but as we had often seen, the victory over his tobacco using did not come instantly. He talked with Bro. Bolender about it. He had prayed desperately for deliverance and was determined he would get the victory. His wife smoked at home. The men with whom he worked smoked. He was honest. He had yielded to temptation and smoked but he was still praying and fighting. When a baptismal service was announced he expressed his desire for baptism. Bro. Bolender had never faced a situation just like this before; we felt sure of his conversion. He had been faithful in church attendance, giving clear witness, and had been clear and honest about his continued battle with cigarettes. He earnestly prayed, seeking to know the leading of the Spirit. Although he had never done so before, he definitely felt led to baptize Ralph even though he was still not delivered from smoking. He was waging a terrific battle. We were gathered on the bank of the Clinch River. A short service was conducted and the candidates answered in unison to the questions of our ritual for baptism. Then Bro. Bolender led them one by one down the even sloping bank to the right depths according to their heights, baptized them, then led them out. Ralph, being the tallest, was led a little farther than the rest. As he waded with Bro. Bolender into the stream I was breathing an earnest prayer in his behalf. The presence of the Lord was very real. He testified afterward that just as he was baptized, every desire for smoking left him and he was completely delivered.
We have never forgotten that experience. We have often related another miracle that transpired while we were at Clinton. We had a very devout member whose name was Avance, a rather large built man but somewhat lean, not at all handsome but of such a gentle nature, children soon learned to trust him. When he was a child he was timid and had a teacher who did not understand him and did not try to teach him. His parents got the idea that Rufus was too dumb for book learning and let him stay home and work, which he liked much better. Therefore, he never learned to read or write, but he was far from dumb. He traveled and held good jobs. At one place he was made foreman of a group. He was an attentive listener in church and could quote many scriptures. He was a good gardener and loved to bring vegetables to the parsonage. They also kept chickens and he enjoyed fresh eggs from their flock. One year a blight hit the area killing the tomatoes. It began to look like no one would have tomatoes regardless of all care given. One day Bro. Avance came in from his garden and asked his wife, “Ella, where in the Bible does it say to bring the tithes into the storehouse?” She told him that it was found in Malachi. He said, “Get the Bible and read it.” She did; then he took the Bible and went to his tomato patch, got on his knees, placed his finger on the promise and prayed. “Now Lord, you promised that if we pay our tithes you will rebuke the devourer. Now Lord, our tithes are all paid. I believe you will rebuke this blight.” He took the Bible to the house fully expecting an answer, and he was not disappointed. While neighbors all around them had no tomatoes, Avance's had plenty and also shared with others. And rest assured, the pastor’s family had their share.
We had many times of pleasures and went through the deep valleys of sorrow and grief while at Clinton. I remember one Mother’s Day, we had planned a special service featuring a male quartet from Knoxville. All of the ladies were to bring food for a fellowship dinner. Gifts were to be given to mothers. I always tried to do my share on such occasions. Circumstances had hindered either of our children coming and we could not go to Mother Bolender. There was a big vacancy in my heart, but I put the gnawing feeling aside, busying myself with finishing my dinner and praying for the service and my missing loved ones. Bro. Bolender had already gone to the church next door to greet the first worshipper or Sunday Schooler. I still had a few last duties. At last as I opened the door to leave just in time to avoid being late, I thought, “Oh no!”, as the telephone rang. I turned to answer, musing the children surely would have called earlier or later knowing our church hours. As I lifted the receiver, sure enough it was long distance, but no Happy Mother’s Day. To my humiliated heart and listening ears a voice across the miles began an accusing and abusing lecture. Tears flowed and sobs choked me. I had nothing to answer the unexpected and undeserved assault. I tried to tell the one on the other end of the line that I loved them, but that made no difference. They continued until I thought, “Will they never get through?” But finally I heard the receiver click. I put the telephone back on the cradle. I prayed, trying to control my emotions. I knew the service was well in progress; with slow steps and heavy heart I made my way to the church door. The young men were singing “There will be peace in the valley for me some day.” I stood as the words of that song penetrated every fiber of my battered heart. While the melody of their voices stilled the surging billows of my storm tossed soul. The Holy Spirit lifted me in praise and assurance. To this day that song is a favorite. Yes! It was a good Mother’s Day, and I have had many since.
I can never think of the years at Clinton without associating them with the many trips to the Smoky Mountains and the Indian Village. We easily made the trip in a day. When possible we took our evangelists and always our relatives and friends. There was always beauty regardless of the season even if it was winter, but the choice time was when the mountains were in full bloom and bears roamed the hills and roads. Signs warned, “Do not feed the bears,” but how our grandchildren would squeal with delight when a big bear stood on hind feet while reaching in a large garbage barrel chained to an iron post and pulled out a watermelon rind. Only once did we make the trip in summer that we did not see bears in the open. Great sky scrapers and museums of art have had little attraction for us, but God’s great outdoors are exciting. Till today as I lie on my sick bed writing, I think how God took a little backwoods girl who found a 12 mile trip on horseback or in a buggy an unusual occasion and permit my husband and I to see such grandeur from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from Canada to the West Indies, not because of great education, money, or fame. But we distinctly heard the call to leave all and follow Him to win the lost.
We made the trip to see Mother Bolender as often as possible. In 1957 she took to her bed. Herbert and his wife took turns driving to town, seeing to her needs. Neighbors sometimes came to help. Her daughter, though not strong, came as often as she could. Mother refused to leave her home though any of us would have taken her. In September Bro. Bolender took me to stay and care for her awhile. He had to return to the church.
Our daughter and family had moved from Cloverport, Kentucky to Ashland in August. Her husband was teaching school and pastoring a church out in the country. They were expecting their fourth baby. In less than a week a long distance call came saying Juanita was in the hospital in critical condition and they did not know if the baby would survive. I repacked my suitcase and caught the first train, relieved to find both stabilizing. After two weeks we were happy to have them both at home. Little Herbert was a normal healthy baby, but Juanita was weak and nervous. I stayed four more weeks. She still was not able to cope with the demands. Feeling I must go home, I offered to take the baby and the four-year-old, Byron, and keep them until she was stronger. It was a hard decision for the father and not easy for Juanita, but we all know it was for the best. After an all-night ride in the day coach, Harry met us at daybreak. How wonderful to be home again and back to the usual duties of a minister’s wife plus the care of these precious little grandsons. After four weeks the parents felt they could stand the separation no longer and Juanita felt that she could manage. We missed the boys, but truly life moves on and now we turn again to our responsibility of caring for dear Mother Bolender.
The brothers had talked it over together but the difficult problem was to deal with Mother. Her heart had been to stay in her own home till death. With our welcome and the exchange of several letters she began planning on what she wanted to bring of her furniture for her room, for Harry had written her that she could bring anything she wished and we would remove our furniture. She first said no, but we continued writing to encourage her. She never consented, but began to tell Herbert, “If I go to Harry’s I want to take this or that.” Harry wrote, “Mother we are coming on _____ a given date.” (I do not recall exactly.) “Herbert and I will bring your things on a truck. Bertha will stay to come in the ambulance with you later.” When we arrived and went into her bedroom we were delighted to see her smiling welcome instead of tears. Her things were all loaded that night. She had wanted her own bed, so another had been brought in for her. How desolate that bedroom looked, but I never saw a tear or heard a sigh. That night a grandson and his wife came to say goodbye. She looked at them with a twinkle in her eye and said, “I have not said yet that I am going.” We all had to smile. I was up early the next morning, had our breakfast over, everything in order when the ambulance drove into the drive. Oh, how I had dreaded this hour, but as she was lifted from the bed to the ambulance cart her attitude never changed. I marveled, for she fully realized that she would never again see the little cottage that her talent and hands had made so different, comfortable, and beautiful. She was always a very frugal person, could take what others would throw away and create a thing of beauty. She was a woman of great faith, character as lasting as granite, and undaunted courage. I watched her closely as she was wheeled through the house and I locked the door behind me, placing the key in my purse, then took my seat beside her, and we were off. She never looked back, but held herself completely composed. It was an all day trip. We reached Clinton late in the afternoon. When she was wheeled into the bedroom and laid in her own bed, she looked around with an exclamation of surprise, for Harry had made a diagram of everything in her room, lest he forget, and had placed them just as near as possible as they had been. She seemed to feel at home immediately. The dear church people came to see her. She enjoyed this so much. Since she had been totally deaf for years, communication was difficult, but some soon adjusted, just as the family had, to listening and writing. Her beautiful cheerful spirit was captivating. She became interested in making awards to send to the West Indies. From used greeting cards she cut lovely flowers, birds, and designs. The church people brought the cards and old scripture text calendars. I kept her supplied with paper plates and glue. She cut out very small birds perfectly. I admired the artistic designs she made with a scripture verse on each one. We punched holes and she tied colored cord for hanging them. I mailed out hundreds of these as she finished them. This was very helpful to her as well as a blessing to many Sunday Schools.
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oak_Ridge,_Tennessee
We found some precious saints in the church and enjoyed our getting acquainted period with few problems. Our first effort of church growth was with the children, though there were quite a few in the congregation. There were no children’s or youth services. Our children and young teens seemed eager to participate in the church activities. We soon had a strong and talented youth choir and a children’s service each Sunday evening. Later youth services were started and a young missionary society. As always we made home visitation a strong arm of church building. As was the usual custom we had revival meetings twice each year, sometimes lasting two full weeks. We had some splendid revivals with people praying through in the old fashioned way. Among the evangelists that ministered to us on this charge, four that we know of have gone on to their reward: Rev. R. A. Beltz, Rev. H. Barton, Rev. Luttral, and Rev. Horton. They are gone on but their works do follow them.
A few outstanding things remain clearly in my mind that I think are worthy of recording. One of our precious members had a son who, with his wife, was unsaved. The mother often brought their two little daughters to church with her. She was praying for her children’s salvation. We began visiting the home, the parents began attending church occasionally, and we could see God was dealing with his heart. We continued visiting in the home and praying. During the revival he was clearly saved. His testimony was definite, but as we had often seen, the victory over his tobacco using did not come instantly. He talked with Bro. Bolender about it. He had prayed desperately for deliverance and was determined he would get the victory. His wife smoked at home. The men with whom he worked smoked. He was honest. He had yielded to temptation and smoked but he was still praying and fighting. When a baptismal service was announced he expressed his desire for baptism. Bro. Bolender had never faced a situation just like this before; we felt sure of his conversion. He had been faithful in church attendance, giving clear witness, and had been clear and honest about his continued battle with cigarettes. He earnestly prayed, seeking to know the leading of the Spirit. Although he had never done so before, he definitely felt led to baptize Ralph even though he was still not delivered from smoking. He was waging a terrific battle. We were gathered on the bank of the Clinch River. A short service was conducted and the candidates answered in unison to the questions of our ritual for baptism. Then Bro. Bolender led them one by one down the even sloping bank to the right depths according to their heights, baptized them, then led them out. Ralph, being the tallest, was led a little farther than the rest. As he waded with Bro. Bolender into the stream I was breathing an earnest prayer in his behalf. The presence of the Lord was very real. He testified afterward that just as he was baptized, every desire for smoking left him and he was completely delivered.
We have never forgotten that experience. We have often related another miracle that transpired while we were at Clinton. We had a very devout member whose name was Avance, a rather large built man but somewhat lean, not at all handsome but of such a gentle nature, children soon learned to trust him. When he was a child he was timid and had a teacher who did not understand him and did not try to teach him. His parents got the idea that Rufus was too dumb for book learning and let him stay home and work, which he liked much better. Therefore, he never learned to read or write, but he was far from dumb. He traveled and held good jobs. At one place he was made foreman of a group. He was an attentive listener in church and could quote many scriptures. He was a good gardener and loved to bring vegetables to the parsonage. They also kept chickens and he enjoyed fresh eggs from their flock. One year a blight hit the area killing the tomatoes. It began to look like no one would have tomatoes regardless of all care given. One day Bro. Avance came in from his garden and asked his wife, “Ella, where in the Bible does it say to bring the tithes into the storehouse?” She told him that it was found in Malachi. He said, “Get the Bible and read it.” She did; then he took the Bible and went to his tomato patch, got on his knees, placed his finger on the promise and prayed. “Now Lord, you promised that if we pay our tithes you will rebuke the devourer. Now Lord, our tithes are all paid. I believe you will rebuke this blight.” He took the Bible to the house fully expecting an answer, and he was not disappointed. While neighbors all around them had no tomatoes, Avance's had plenty and also shared with others. And rest assured, the pastor’s family had their share.
We had many times of pleasures and went through the deep valleys of sorrow and grief while at Clinton. I remember one Mother’s Day, we had planned a special service featuring a male quartet from Knoxville. All of the ladies were to bring food for a fellowship dinner. Gifts were to be given to mothers. I always tried to do my share on such occasions. Circumstances had hindered either of our children coming and we could not go to Mother Bolender. There was a big vacancy in my heart, but I put the gnawing feeling aside, busying myself with finishing my dinner and praying for the service and my missing loved ones. Bro. Bolender had already gone to the church next door to greet the first worshipper or Sunday Schooler. I still had a few last duties. At last as I opened the door to leave just in time to avoid being late, I thought, “Oh no!”, as the telephone rang. I turned to answer, musing the children surely would have called earlier or later knowing our church hours. As I lifted the receiver, sure enough it was long distance, but no Happy Mother’s Day. To my humiliated heart and listening ears a voice across the miles began an accusing and abusing lecture. Tears flowed and sobs choked me. I had nothing to answer the unexpected and undeserved assault. I tried to tell the one on the other end of the line that I loved them, but that made no difference. They continued until I thought, “Will they never get through?” But finally I heard the receiver click. I put the telephone back on the cradle. I prayed, trying to control my emotions. I knew the service was well in progress; with slow steps and heavy heart I made my way to the church door. The young men were singing “There will be peace in the valley for me some day.” I stood as the words of that song penetrated every fiber of my battered heart. While the melody of their voices stilled the surging billows of my storm tossed soul. The Holy Spirit lifted me in praise and assurance. To this day that song is a favorite. Yes! It was a good Mother’s Day, and I have had many since.
I can never think of the years at Clinton without associating them with the many trips to the Smoky Mountains and the Indian Village. We easily made the trip in a day. When possible we took our evangelists and always our relatives and friends. There was always beauty regardless of the season even if it was winter, but the choice time was when the mountains were in full bloom and bears roamed the hills and roads. Signs warned, “Do not feed the bears,” but how our grandchildren would squeal with delight when a big bear stood on hind feet while reaching in a large garbage barrel chained to an iron post and pulled out a watermelon rind. Only once did we make the trip in summer that we did not see bears in the open. Great sky scrapers and museums of art have had little attraction for us, but God’s great outdoors are exciting. Till today as I lie on my sick bed writing, I think how God took a little backwoods girl who found a 12 mile trip on horseback or in a buggy an unusual occasion and permit my husband and I to see such grandeur from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from Canada to the West Indies, not because of great education, money, or fame. But we distinctly heard the call to leave all and follow Him to win the lost.
We made the trip to see Mother Bolender as often as possible. In 1957 she took to her bed. Herbert and his wife took turns driving to town, seeing to her needs. Neighbors sometimes came to help. Her daughter, though not strong, came as often as she could. Mother refused to leave her home though any of us would have taken her. In September Bro. Bolender took me to stay and care for her awhile. He had to return to the church.
Our daughter and family had moved from Cloverport, Kentucky to Ashland in August. Her husband was teaching school and pastoring a church out in the country. They were expecting their fourth baby. In less than a week a long distance call came saying Juanita was in the hospital in critical condition and they did not know if the baby would survive. I repacked my suitcase and caught the first train, relieved to find both stabilizing. After two weeks we were happy to have them both at home. Little Herbert was a normal healthy baby, but Juanita was weak and nervous. I stayed four more weeks. She still was not able to cope with the demands. Feeling I must go home, I offered to take the baby and the four-year-old, Byron, and keep them until she was stronger. It was a hard decision for the father and not easy for Juanita, but we all know it was for the best. After an all-night ride in the day coach, Harry met us at daybreak. How wonderful to be home again and back to the usual duties of a minister’s wife plus the care of these precious little grandsons. After four weeks the parents felt they could stand the separation no longer and Juanita felt that she could manage. We missed the boys, but truly life moves on and now we turn again to our responsibility of caring for dear Mother Bolender.
The brothers had talked it over together but the difficult problem was to deal with Mother. Her heart had been to stay in her own home till death. With our welcome and the exchange of several letters she began planning on what she wanted to bring of her furniture for her room, for Harry had written her that she could bring anything she wished and we would remove our furniture. She first said no, but we continued writing to encourage her. She never consented, but began to tell Herbert, “If I go to Harry’s I want to take this or that.” Harry wrote, “Mother we are coming on _____ a given date.” (I do not recall exactly.) “Herbert and I will bring your things on a truck. Bertha will stay to come in the ambulance with you later.” When we arrived and went into her bedroom we were delighted to see her smiling welcome instead of tears. Her things were all loaded that night. She had wanted her own bed, so another had been brought in for her. How desolate that bedroom looked, but I never saw a tear or heard a sigh. That night a grandson and his wife came to say goodbye. She looked at them with a twinkle in her eye and said, “I have not said yet that I am going.” We all had to smile. I was up early the next morning, had our breakfast over, everything in order when the ambulance drove into the drive. Oh, how I had dreaded this hour, but as she was lifted from the bed to the ambulance cart her attitude never changed. I marveled, for she fully realized that she would never again see the little cottage that her talent and hands had made so different, comfortable, and beautiful. She was always a very frugal person, could take what others would throw away and create a thing of beauty. She was a woman of great faith, character as lasting as granite, and undaunted courage. I watched her closely as she was wheeled through the house and I locked the door behind me, placing the key in my purse, then took my seat beside her, and we were off. She never looked back, but held herself completely composed. It was an all day trip. We reached Clinton late in the afternoon. When she was wheeled into the bedroom and laid in her own bed, she looked around with an exclamation of surprise, for Harry had made a diagram of everything in her room, lest he forget, and had placed them just as near as possible as they had been. She seemed to feel at home immediately. The dear church people came to see her. She enjoyed this so much. Since she had been totally deaf for years, communication was difficult, but some soon adjusted, just as the family had, to listening and writing. Her beautiful cheerful spirit was captivating. She became interested in making awards to send to the West Indies. From used greeting cards she cut lovely flowers, birds, and designs. The church people brought the cards and old scripture text calendars. I kept her supplied with paper plates and glue. She cut out very small birds perfectly. I admired the artistic designs she made with a scripture verse on each one. We punched holes and she tied colored cord for hanging them. I mailed out hundreds of these as she finished them. This was very helpful to her as well as a blessing to many Sunday Schools.
[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oak_Ridge,_Tennessee
