Oshkosh, Nebraska (1926 - 1928)
Oshkosh was a county seat town in the N. Platte River Valley. There were no public industries, but the fertile valley produced thousands of pounds of sugar beets annually. Ranches from the river bottoms covered with grazing for cattle and small lakes furnishing water created a thrifty environment. I do not know where the beet crop was shipped, but cattle were shipped to Omaha. The Pilgrims were worshipping in a rented building. We found some very fine substantial people in the church and were happy to again be in full-time service for the Lord. The first Sunday I was there, request was made for prayer for a very sick member of the congregation.
She was being cared for in the home of one of the members. Her husband, an unsaved man, was in the service. I felt led to invite him to go home with us for dinner, and he accepted the invitation. I can't remember what we had, put I know we had sufficient. Our things to come by freight had not arrived, so we ate from pie pans. (Paper plates had not yet come on the market.) I made a simple explanation, which he accepted without comment. We enjoyed our dinner, visited awhile after which he thanked us and left. The next week, we called on his sick wife who was being nursed at the Campbell home. God spared her and in a few weeks she was able to resume her home duties. His name was added to our prayer list.
Bro. L. L. Waddell was called to hold a revival. Among the converts was Ralph Armstrong. He later remarked that he never could get over the fact that the new preacher and his wife invited him to have dinner with them when his wife was so sick and even when they did not have dishes for serving. That experience has been a blessing to me. Some people might have taken it as an insult, but God knew Ralph Armstrong would not, and used our humble hospitality to touch his heart. He was afterward sanctified and called into the ministry.
Plans were underway for a church to be built. Bro. Sharp knew that Dr. Morris, the only physician in town, owned several vacant lots. So he approached him about getting one on which to build. Dr. Morris replied, I have three lots, describing where they were. You choose one and I will make out the deed. He then said if you had not held that meeting and Bill Elkins got religion, he never would have paid that bill he owed me. The most suitable lot of the three was chosen and true to his promise, Dr. Morris gave us the lot; a real answer to prayer. Work began in the digging of the basement. A lot of volunteer help came, but the pastor was on the job working hard. The board decided to finish the basement properly and use it until such time as they could build the church above.
There were some outstanding Christians in that church. Among them was the Campbell family. The story of their conversion is unusual. Some young men from God's Bible School had gone west holding revivals. A young lady by the name of Dorothea Peterson was gloriously saved. Richard Sharp fell in love with her and after they married, they rented a house very near the Campbells, who were ordinary ungodly ranchers and fairly well to do, shipping carloads of fat cattle to Omaha each year. The Sharps held family devotions with doors and windows open. Their neighbors heard Richard spend much time in prayer but his secret prayer was not very secret. His voice would raise in loud petition and praise. The Sharps were ridiculed and made fun of. Sometimes the boys and hired men rang bells, honked car horns and yelled to drown the voice of prayer. But the Sharps acted as though they did not know. They just kept praying and being as friendly as they could.
One hot summer day a bee stung Mrs. Campbell. Intense pain and swelling followed. She thought she was going to die so she sent for the Sharps. In minutes they were on their knees by her side. Mighty conviction struck her soul. She was gloriously saved and the swelling receded. One by one, her family was saved. By the time we arrived, they were among the leaders of the church. Their youngest son became a Pilgrim minister and his son is a minister.
One of our ladies, Mrs. Knouse, became very burdened for her two sisters who lived far up in the Sand Hills. She was praying that someone would hold revival in their community. Bro. Bolender was so involved at the time that he could not leave, so arrangements were made for me to go. Sr. Knouse was helping take care of the children. Services were announced to be in the neighborhood school house. The home where I stayed was small. The floor in my room was of wide, rough planks with wide cracks between. I could see the chickens on the ground through the cracks, but that did not bother me. But the big hog fleas that I could watch crawling along the cracks did. The hog lot was not far from the house and the fleas were everywhere. Good people were giving me the best they had and I appreciated it.
The meeting started with good interest. The school house proved too small, so arrangements were made to finish the meeting in a community church a few miles away. Crowds increased. God was helping me to preach under divine anointing. Conviction settled and some sought God. Some precious famishing Christians renewed their covenants with God. Before the revival closed, my hostess informed me that her sister wanted me to stay in her home. The sister was a widow with two daughters. I was grateful for the change. Here there were no hogs, so the premises were not infested with fleas. Many times I was thankful for the opportunity of moving about as I preached, as I saw many in the congregation twisting and scratching from the tormenting bites. Most of those sand hill ranchers had hogs. If they had hogs, they had fleas, big fleas. The church became infested with fleas. Crowds and interest continued. When the time came to close the revival, they wanted it to continue; but my responsibilities were at home. I left with a deep concern for those sand hill people who seemed like sheep without a shepherd. Sister Knouse and the church were thrilled as I reported the meeting.
In a few months, requests came for another revival. After prayer, Bro. Bolender decided I should go for the second revival. The postmaster's wife was a member of our church. God had blessed her with a lovely voice and she was an excellent guitarist. She wanted to go to help in this home missionary revival. I was apprehensive because I feared the rugged experiences she would meet in those hills might prove too much. They had a nice home, modernly furnished for those days. She was a splendid housekeeper who had a place for everything and everything in its place. The husband and young son also observed the same habits. She dressed very modestly, as all Pilgrims did in those days, but she also dressed attractively. I wondered how those common hill people would react.
I went ahead to start the meeting. She was to come the following Monday by train to North Platte where a car was to meet her and bring her to the home where I was entertained. I knew she would not be there until very late, so when we arrived from the night service, I followed my usual habit of taking my night clothes and flashlight to a small grove of young Cottonwood trees near the house, undressing, leaving the clothes I had worn to the flea infested church building. We did everything we could to keep the house free from fleas. As I have said, there were no men in the house, and no neighbors nearby. I insisted that my good hostess and the girls get their rest and that I would meet Sr. Swanson when she came. She was to share my room and bed. Being weary from a days work, they agreed. I waited and listened. When I heard a car approaching, I hurriedly slipped on a loose garment and went out to meet them, explaining that the family was asleep. We took the luggage and guitar and tiptoed our way to my room. She quickly looked the clean sparsely furnished room over. When she saw all four bed posts in tin cans containing liquid, her eyes opened wide as she said, “What’s that?” I put my finger over my lips. I quietly explained that the purpose was to prevent bed bugs from crawling up the bed post. I shall never forget her face expressing surprise and almost horror as she gathered her shirt tightly around her legs and landed in the middle of the bed. I finally calmed her fears as I told her I had not seen a bedbug and that our good friend was using that as means of prevention.
We finished the delicious lunch she had prepared to eat on the train. Finally she undressed and we settled for the night, or was it morning? For all these years I have never been able to think of that experience without laughing. The worst was over; my coworker adjusted beautifully. Her hearty handshakes and beaming smiles soon won the hearts of the hill people. God not only blessed her playing and singing in the services, but we were taken to homes to sing and play with sick and shut-ins. This meeting began with the same enthusiasm as the former one closed, with people coming from miles away. God blessed and we saw some wonderful victories.
One precious woman, whose husband was a very ungodly man, came to the altar, seeking to be sanctified. She seemed to be struggling over some commitment. We prayed with her and for her until she reached the place of total surrender and received the clear witness to her sanctification. Afterward, she said the Lord was telling her to begin family devotions. She was afraid her husband would object. But when she told him she was starting daily scripture reading and prayer in their home, he looked at her and said, "You ought to have done that long ago." I have used this many times to encourage timid Christians. Eternity alone will reveal what was accomplished in that meeting. I recall two texts God burned upon my heart and helped me preach from. One, “Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting.” Daniel 5:27. The closing night it seemed the air was charged with the presence of God as He helped me preach from Joel 3:14, "Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision.” During that meeting we met Bro. and Sister R. I. Gibbs for the first time. They were a fine holiness couple who later proved to be a great blessing in our lives. Years later their youngest son became our son-in-law.
The second year at Oshkosh proved to be a blessing of God. The district Superintendent, Rev. L. D. Sharp, who was elected after the Nebraska and Colorado district united forming the Rocky Mountain District of the Pilgrim Holiness Church, came to ask if we could assist with opening services at Antelope Valley. This was a well-settled community with a nice small church building with a community cemetery adjoining. It was just six miles from town. After Bro. Bolender and Bro. Sharp met with a delegation, the decision was made that I pastor Antelope Valley and Bro. Bolender give his full time to Oshkosh. These were indeed busy days. We mutually agreed that I should take Juanita, then three years, and Warren, four, would be with his father. For the night service we reversed. I enjoyed ministering to the small congregation and felt we had a good year, though being a homemaker, caring for our children, and helping my husband with his duties of pastoral calling, I am sure left much for improvement.
One thing occurred that year that I have relived scores of times. Seventeen miles west of us was a small Pilgrim Church pastored by Bro. Hartman. He and his wife were truly sacrificing servants of the Lord. Word came that Lucille, their eleven year old daughter was sick. Much prayer went up for her. The doctor was called, but she grew worse. One afternoon she called her father to her bedside and said, “Papa, Jesus is coming for me tomorrow.” Though young Lucille was a conscientious Christian, the family were deeply affected, but still hoped she might live. The next day she slipped away leaving them sad, but resigned. The day she died, as I was busy, the text, “And a little child shall lead them,” came forcibly to my mind, and it did not leave. Over and over this text seemed to burn its way into my mind. I did not understand it. The next day a messenger came saying the Hartmans wanted me to preach the funeral. I was dumbfounded. I had never preached a funeral in my life. I knew the district Superintendent was still in the area. We had thought he would be called for the service. Then there was Bro. Bolender, or pastor Elkins just east of us. But the Holy Spirit whispered, "I have already given you the text.” So I replied, "I'll do the best I can." It was winter and the temperature dropped to zero. When we arrived at the Hartman home, it was far from comfortable. The church was small; someone had been firing the coal stove since morning, but the temperature never got above freezing. The crowd was small. No one removed heavy coats or overshoes. Sr. Swanson, the special singer from Oshkosh, sang at first with almost chattering teeth, then the anointing Spirit of God took over as her beautiful voice brought a message of comfort and challenge. Prayer was offered and a short obituary read. When I got up to speak, God took over in a marvelous way. There was no excitement, no loud weeping, but the mighty presence of God. The undertaker that I was told was very wicked gripped the back seat while tears came to his eyes. The mortal remains of Lucille Hartman were laid to rest in the Antelope Valley cemetery.
The last revival while we were at Oshkosh was conducted by Rev. L. D. Sharp. He was a good evangelist and results were good. As I am writing this about fifty-five years afterward, our son who is now a grandfather had been recalling some of his memories of those early years. One of them occurred on Sunday morning of the revival just mentioned. As the altar call was given, a young lady, who often had Warren sit by her while his father conducted the services, went to the altar along with others. As Christians gathered around for prayer, Warren was left alone; struck by some childish impulse, he stepped up and kicked the young lady’s foot. It happened that his father was watching as well as praying at that moment. I had not returned from services from Antelope Valley when they got home. Warren declares to this day that when his father took him into the bedroom, he was horrified to see two clubs on the bed (they were switches his father had cut off a tree with his pen knife). One thing sure, the preacher's little son was taught a lesson by both words and action he never forgot. On a Monday morning after I had preached from Ephesians 4:24 of putting on the new man, Warren was asked by a neighbor, “What did your mama preach about last night?" Very calmly he replied, “Oh about getting another man." You can rest assured I heard about that. The Psalmist said, "Children are an heritage from the Lord." Oh that more parents realized that and brought them up as such.
Our two years at Oshkosh were full and happy years; preaching, building, visiting the sick, burying the dead and marrying the young filled our days along with the pleasures and problems of seeing our little ones developing from babyhood into their individual personalities.
Going to the Rocky Mountain District Assembly and camp meeting at Colorado Springs was a wonderful experience. The climate and scenery were lovely in June. We were deeply impressed as we viewed Pike’s Peak's snow covered dome. Our main interest was the camp meeting. Who could forget sitting under the quaint but forceful ministry of Charles Stalker? Our souls were fed, and many sought pardon and purity at the altar.
She was being cared for in the home of one of the members. Her husband, an unsaved man, was in the service. I felt led to invite him to go home with us for dinner, and he accepted the invitation. I can't remember what we had, put I know we had sufficient. Our things to come by freight had not arrived, so we ate from pie pans. (Paper plates had not yet come on the market.) I made a simple explanation, which he accepted without comment. We enjoyed our dinner, visited awhile after which he thanked us and left. The next week, we called on his sick wife who was being nursed at the Campbell home. God spared her and in a few weeks she was able to resume her home duties. His name was added to our prayer list.
Bro. L. L. Waddell was called to hold a revival. Among the converts was Ralph Armstrong. He later remarked that he never could get over the fact that the new preacher and his wife invited him to have dinner with them when his wife was so sick and even when they did not have dishes for serving. That experience has been a blessing to me. Some people might have taken it as an insult, but God knew Ralph Armstrong would not, and used our humble hospitality to touch his heart. He was afterward sanctified and called into the ministry.
Plans were underway for a church to be built. Bro. Sharp knew that Dr. Morris, the only physician in town, owned several vacant lots. So he approached him about getting one on which to build. Dr. Morris replied, I have three lots, describing where they were. You choose one and I will make out the deed. He then said if you had not held that meeting and Bill Elkins got religion, he never would have paid that bill he owed me. The most suitable lot of the three was chosen and true to his promise, Dr. Morris gave us the lot; a real answer to prayer. Work began in the digging of the basement. A lot of volunteer help came, but the pastor was on the job working hard. The board decided to finish the basement properly and use it until such time as they could build the church above.
There were some outstanding Christians in that church. Among them was the Campbell family. The story of their conversion is unusual. Some young men from God's Bible School had gone west holding revivals. A young lady by the name of Dorothea Peterson was gloriously saved. Richard Sharp fell in love with her and after they married, they rented a house very near the Campbells, who were ordinary ungodly ranchers and fairly well to do, shipping carloads of fat cattle to Omaha each year. The Sharps held family devotions with doors and windows open. Their neighbors heard Richard spend much time in prayer but his secret prayer was not very secret. His voice would raise in loud petition and praise. The Sharps were ridiculed and made fun of. Sometimes the boys and hired men rang bells, honked car horns and yelled to drown the voice of prayer. But the Sharps acted as though they did not know. They just kept praying and being as friendly as they could.
One hot summer day a bee stung Mrs. Campbell. Intense pain and swelling followed. She thought she was going to die so she sent for the Sharps. In minutes they were on their knees by her side. Mighty conviction struck her soul. She was gloriously saved and the swelling receded. One by one, her family was saved. By the time we arrived, they were among the leaders of the church. Their youngest son became a Pilgrim minister and his son is a minister.
One of our ladies, Mrs. Knouse, became very burdened for her two sisters who lived far up in the Sand Hills. She was praying that someone would hold revival in their community. Bro. Bolender was so involved at the time that he could not leave, so arrangements were made for me to go. Sr. Knouse was helping take care of the children. Services were announced to be in the neighborhood school house. The home where I stayed was small. The floor in my room was of wide, rough planks with wide cracks between. I could see the chickens on the ground through the cracks, but that did not bother me. But the big hog fleas that I could watch crawling along the cracks did. The hog lot was not far from the house and the fleas were everywhere. Good people were giving me the best they had and I appreciated it.
The meeting started with good interest. The school house proved too small, so arrangements were made to finish the meeting in a community church a few miles away. Crowds increased. God was helping me to preach under divine anointing. Conviction settled and some sought God. Some precious famishing Christians renewed their covenants with God. Before the revival closed, my hostess informed me that her sister wanted me to stay in her home. The sister was a widow with two daughters. I was grateful for the change. Here there were no hogs, so the premises were not infested with fleas. Many times I was thankful for the opportunity of moving about as I preached, as I saw many in the congregation twisting and scratching from the tormenting bites. Most of those sand hill ranchers had hogs. If they had hogs, they had fleas, big fleas. The church became infested with fleas. Crowds and interest continued. When the time came to close the revival, they wanted it to continue; but my responsibilities were at home. I left with a deep concern for those sand hill people who seemed like sheep without a shepherd. Sister Knouse and the church were thrilled as I reported the meeting.
In a few months, requests came for another revival. After prayer, Bro. Bolender decided I should go for the second revival. The postmaster's wife was a member of our church. God had blessed her with a lovely voice and she was an excellent guitarist. She wanted to go to help in this home missionary revival. I was apprehensive because I feared the rugged experiences she would meet in those hills might prove too much. They had a nice home, modernly furnished for those days. She was a splendid housekeeper who had a place for everything and everything in its place. The husband and young son also observed the same habits. She dressed very modestly, as all Pilgrims did in those days, but she also dressed attractively. I wondered how those common hill people would react.
I went ahead to start the meeting. She was to come the following Monday by train to North Platte where a car was to meet her and bring her to the home where I was entertained. I knew she would not be there until very late, so when we arrived from the night service, I followed my usual habit of taking my night clothes and flashlight to a small grove of young Cottonwood trees near the house, undressing, leaving the clothes I had worn to the flea infested church building. We did everything we could to keep the house free from fleas. As I have said, there were no men in the house, and no neighbors nearby. I insisted that my good hostess and the girls get their rest and that I would meet Sr. Swanson when she came. She was to share my room and bed. Being weary from a days work, they agreed. I waited and listened. When I heard a car approaching, I hurriedly slipped on a loose garment and went out to meet them, explaining that the family was asleep. We took the luggage and guitar and tiptoed our way to my room. She quickly looked the clean sparsely furnished room over. When she saw all four bed posts in tin cans containing liquid, her eyes opened wide as she said, “What’s that?” I put my finger over my lips. I quietly explained that the purpose was to prevent bed bugs from crawling up the bed post. I shall never forget her face expressing surprise and almost horror as she gathered her shirt tightly around her legs and landed in the middle of the bed. I finally calmed her fears as I told her I had not seen a bedbug and that our good friend was using that as means of prevention.
We finished the delicious lunch she had prepared to eat on the train. Finally she undressed and we settled for the night, or was it morning? For all these years I have never been able to think of that experience without laughing. The worst was over; my coworker adjusted beautifully. Her hearty handshakes and beaming smiles soon won the hearts of the hill people. God not only blessed her playing and singing in the services, but we were taken to homes to sing and play with sick and shut-ins. This meeting began with the same enthusiasm as the former one closed, with people coming from miles away. God blessed and we saw some wonderful victories.
One precious woman, whose husband was a very ungodly man, came to the altar, seeking to be sanctified. She seemed to be struggling over some commitment. We prayed with her and for her until she reached the place of total surrender and received the clear witness to her sanctification. Afterward, she said the Lord was telling her to begin family devotions. She was afraid her husband would object. But when she told him she was starting daily scripture reading and prayer in their home, he looked at her and said, "You ought to have done that long ago." I have used this many times to encourage timid Christians. Eternity alone will reveal what was accomplished in that meeting. I recall two texts God burned upon my heart and helped me preach from. One, “Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting.” Daniel 5:27. The closing night it seemed the air was charged with the presence of God as He helped me preach from Joel 3:14, "Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision.” During that meeting we met Bro. and Sister R. I. Gibbs for the first time. They were a fine holiness couple who later proved to be a great blessing in our lives. Years later their youngest son became our son-in-law.
The second year at Oshkosh proved to be a blessing of God. The district Superintendent, Rev. L. D. Sharp, who was elected after the Nebraska and Colorado district united forming the Rocky Mountain District of the Pilgrim Holiness Church, came to ask if we could assist with opening services at Antelope Valley. This was a well-settled community with a nice small church building with a community cemetery adjoining. It was just six miles from town. After Bro. Bolender and Bro. Sharp met with a delegation, the decision was made that I pastor Antelope Valley and Bro. Bolender give his full time to Oshkosh. These were indeed busy days. We mutually agreed that I should take Juanita, then three years, and Warren, four, would be with his father. For the night service we reversed. I enjoyed ministering to the small congregation and felt we had a good year, though being a homemaker, caring for our children, and helping my husband with his duties of pastoral calling, I am sure left much for improvement.
One thing occurred that year that I have relived scores of times. Seventeen miles west of us was a small Pilgrim Church pastored by Bro. Hartman. He and his wife were truly sacrificing servants of the Lord. Word came that Lucille, their eleven year old daughter was sick. Much prayer went up for her. The doctor was called, but she grew worse. One afternoon she called her father to her bedside and said, “Papa, Jesus is coming for me tomorrow.” Though young Lucille was a conscientious Christian, the family were deeply affected, but still hoped she might live. The next day she slipped away leaving them sad, but resigned. The day she died, as I was busy, the text, “And a little child shall lead them,” came forcibly to my mind, and it did not leave. Over and over this text seemed to burn its way into my mind. I did not understand it. The next day a messenger came saying the Hartmans wanted me to preach the funeral. I was dumbfounded. I had never preached a funeral in my life. I knew the district Superintendent was still in the area. We had thought he would be called for the service. Then there was Bro. Bolender, or pastor Elkins just east of us. But the Holy Spirit whispered, "I have already given you the text.” So I replied, "I'll do the best I can." It was winter and the temperature dropped to zero. When we arrived at the Hartman home, it was far from comfortable. The church was small; someone had been firing the coal stove since morning, but the temperature never got above freezing. The crowd was small. No one removed heavy coats or overshoes. Sr. Swanson, the special singer from Oshkosh, sang at first with almost chattering teeth, then the anointing Spirit of God took over as her beautiful voice brought a message of comfort and challenge. Prayer was offered and a short obituary read. When I got up to speak, God took over in a marvelous way. There was no excitement, no loud weeping, but the mighty presence of God. The undertaker that I was told was very wicked gripped the back seat while tears came to his eyes. The mortal remains of Lucille Hartman were laid to rest in the Antelope Valley cemetery.
The last revival while we were at Oshkosh was conducted by Rev. L. D. Sharp. He was a good evangelist and results were good. As I am writing this about fifty-five years afterward, our son who is now a grandfather had been recalling some of his memories of those early years. One of them occurred on Sunday morning of the revival just mentioned. As the altar call was given, a young lady, who often had Warren sit by her while his father conducted the services, went to the altar along with others. As Christians gathered around for prayer, Warren was left alone; struck by some childish impulse, he stepped up and kicked the young lady’s foot. It happened that his father was watching as well as praying at that moment. I had not returned from services from Antelope Valley when they got home. Warren declares to this day that when his father took him into the bedroom, he was horrified to see two clubs on the bed (they were switches his father had cut off a tree with his pen knife). One thing sure, the preacher's little son was taught a lesson by both words and action he never forgot. On a Monday morning after I had preached from Ephesians 4:24 of putting on the new man, Warren was asked by a neighbor, “What did your mama preach about last night?" Very calmly he replied, “Oh about getting another man." You can rest assured I heard about that. The Psalmist said, "Children are an heritage from the Lord." Oh that more parents realized that and brought them up as such.
Our two years at Oshkosh were full and happy years; preaching, building, visiting the sick, burying the dead and marrying the young filled our days along with the pleasures and problems of seeing our little ones developing from babyhood into their individual personalities.
Going to the Rocky Mountain District Assembly and camp meeting at Colorado Springs was a wonderful experience. The climate and scenery were lovely in June. We were deeply impressed as we viewed Pike’s Peak's snow covered dome. Our main interest was the camp meeting. Who could forget sitting under the quaint but forceful ministry of Charles Stalker? Our souls were fed, and many sought pardon and purity at the altar.
