Stapleton, Nebraska & Evangelistic Work (1928 - 1930)
Bro. Bolender was feeling a pull toward evangelism. There was no way the children and I could accompany him, but we knew we could trust everything into the Lord's hands. A visit from our friends, Mr. & Mrs. R. I. Gibbs of Stapleton, Nebraska, who had attended some of the services at Millers Chapel in the Sand Hills, revealed that the Nesbit community[1] in which they lived had conducted a Sunday school for sixteen years in their district school building and now desired a resident pastor. As Bro. Bolender planned to go into evangelism, they asked if I would accept the responsibility. They said they would furnish us a house and pay $50.00 a month. This we felt was an answer to prayer. Our farewells were said and we moved into an empty farmhouse near the Gibbs’ home thirty-five miles north of North Platte, Nebraska. Brother Reynolds followed us at Oshkosh. Their son Paul was born while they were there. Brother Paul Reynolds has now for several years been principal of the high school department at God’s Bible School, Cincinnati, Ohio. Being an evangelist’s wife had never appealed to me, and the children faced some problems and loneliness as Daddy was away for weeks at a time.
Juanita and Warren
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Juanita and Warren
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Now let me try to get a sketchy report of some of Brother Bolender’s evangelistic meetings. I am writing in 1983 and that began in 1928. Sorry no diary was kept, so it is impossible for me to do otherwise.
At Tryon, Nebraska, he held a tent revival with Rev. and Mrs. John Doll as singers. This was within driving distance so I got to go to some of the services. A storm blew the tent down, but with minor repair they were able to raise it again and continue the meeting. One thing we have not forgotten is that the people who entertained them had recently purchased a nice set of books from an agent -- thinking they were getting some wonderful helps to understand the Bible. It only took the evangelist a few minutes to discover the books were products of Pastor Russell, whose followers were known as Russellites, now Jehovah’s Witnesses. When the real facts of teaching of those books was shown they said, “We hate to burn them; they are so nice. We don’t want them in our home.” So Brother Bolender asked, “Would you want to give them to me?” They assured him they would be glad to do so. He felt to be strictly honest he should ask, "Does it matter to you what I do with these books?" They replied, "Not at all." The set of books made a nice bonfire. That was one of the marks of a New Testament revival during that tent meeting. Please read Acts 19:19.
The next meeting to report was at Arthur, Nebraska, a tiny county seat town. Several years before, some holiness preachers had held meetings in the area. Several of the surrounding ranchers had been saved, some sanctified. They decided they wanted a Pilgrim Holiness Church building. Material was hard to get and expensive, but where there is a will, there is a way. There was abundance of bailed hay, so they decided to erect a two story baled hay building. The first story was for the auditorium, the second for a parsonage. Down through the years, we had had meetings and worshipped in churches, school houses, tabernacles, tents, brush arbors, and in the open air; but that was the first and last time to conduct a revival in a baled hay edifice. Brother Bolender’s coworker for the meeting was Rev. William Elkins, who was pastor of LeWellen Pilgrim Church. Bill Elkins, as he was known, was well acquainted with that section of the Sand Hills, having lived there when he was a wicked rancher. He was a great help not only in preaching, but also in contacting people who were non-church goers. At that that time, there was no resident pastor. The members supplied furniture enough to make it livable. So between Sundays, I could go over, prepare meals and attend the services, which was a privilege. The outside walls were stuccoed. The inside walls were plastered so it was not so bad.
What I am about to relate has no connection to the revival, but I trust there is no inconsistency in the use. One of the families of the congregation had a son who had joined the armed forces. He wrote home that one night he was so homesick and lonesome that he decided he would go see a movie. To his surprise a “Believe It or Not” strip presented a picture of the Arthur, Nebraska baled hay church. His father and brothers were leaving after a service. We never learned if it relieved or intensified his homesickness.
At Tryon, Nebraska, he held a tent revival with Rev. and Mrs. John Doll as singers. This was within driving distance so I got to go to some of the services. A storm blew the tent down, but with minor repair they were able to raise it again and continue the meeting. One thing we have not forgotten is that the people who entertained them had recently purchased a nice set of books from an agent -- thinking they were getting some wonderful helps to understand the Bible. It only took the evangelist a few minutes to discover the books were products of Pastor Russell, whose followers were known as Russellites, now Jehovah’s Witnesses. When the real facts of teaching of those books was shown they said, “We hate to burn them; they are so nice. We don’t want them in our home.” So Brother Bolender asked, “Would you want to give them to me?” They assured him they would be glad to do so. He felt to be strictly honest he should ask, "Does it matter to you what I do with these books?" They replied, "Not at all." The set of books made a nice bonfire. That was one of the marks of a New Testament revival during that tent meeting. Please read Acts 19:19.
The next meeting to report was at Arthur, Nebraska, a tiny county seat town. Several years before, some holiness preachers had held meetings in the area. Several of the surrounding ranchers had been saved, some sanctified. They decided they wanted a Pilgrim Holiness Church building. Material was hard to get and expensive, but where there is a will, there is a way. There was abundance of bailed hay, so they decided to erect a two story baled hay building. The first story was for the auditorium, the second for a parsonage. Down through the years, we had had meetings and worshipped in churches, school houses, tabernacles, tents, brush arbors, and in the open air; but that was the first and last time to conduct a revival in a baled hay edifice. Brother Bolender’s coworker for the meeting was Rev. William Elkins, who was pastor of LeWellen Pilgrim Church. Bill Elkins, as he was known, was well acquainted with that section of the Sand Hills, having lived there when he was a wicked rancher. He was a great help not only in preaching, but also in contacting people who were non-church goers. At that that time, there was no resident pastor. The members supplied furniture enough to make it livable. So between Sundays, I could go over, prepare meals and attend the services, which was a privilege. The outside walls were stuccoed. The inside walls were plastered so it was not so bad.
What I am about to relate has no connection to the revival, but I trust there is no inconsistency in the use. One of the families of the congregation had a son who had joined the armed forces. He wrote home that one night he was so homesick and lonesome that he decided he would go see a movie. To his surprise a “Believe It or Not” strip presented a picture of the Arthur, Nebraska baled hay church. His father and brothers were leaving after a service. We never learned if it relieved or intensified his homesickness.
Baled Hay Church in Arthur Nebraska
Another revival was scheduled at Colorado Springs Pilgrim Church pastured by Rev. Chester McCarty. This was a well organized and growing church where many of the students and faculty of the Colorado Springs Pilgrim Holiness High School and Bible students attended this church much of the time. Many times revival under such circumstances demands more prayer and Bible study than one on a home missionary frontier. The meeting was blessed with gifted musicians and special singing. God honored the preaching of His word. The saints were blessed and precious souls were reclaimed, saved, and sanctified.
There was one small home missionary church in Eastern Wyoming that was connected with the Rocky Mountain District. The congregation was small. The call for a revival came and Brother Bolender accepted. It was in November and the weather was getting cold. The country was sparsely settled, but people came for miles in old Ford touring cars and trucks to the meeting. The outward results seemed meager, but seed was sown. Perhaps someone else was permitted to a fuller reaping.
Another revival was held at Deer Trail, Colorado where Rev. Robert Miller pastored. One of the outstanding traits of this meeting was a revival awakening in Bible reading and study. One mother and daughter were so motivated that after they got home from a night service, they read random references and studied all night till the break of day. With such turning to God and His word, no wonder souls were saved and the church edified.
There was a new work, opened at Kiowa, Colorado. The District Superintendent arranged for Brother Bolender to hold a revival. He then stayed for three or four months helping to get a good foundation laid for a strong church. He was made welcome in the Carlson home. Mrs. Carlson’s father, Mr. Oleson lived with them. They were devout people really dedicated to the cause of holiness. Mrs. Carlson had attended God’s Bible School. There were several families involved in the work among whom there were some wide awake young people. They were a great boost to the work. At the time, they were worshipping in a public hall, but in time a church was built and the work went forward. While there, Brother Bolender experienced his first real western blizzard. As I remember, it lasted three days.
I now focus attention to the 17 months the children and I spent in the Nesbit neighborhood, about 12 miles from Stapleton, Nebraska. As I stated before, we had gotten acquainted with the R. I. Gibbs family, who were instrumental in my going there as a community pastor. Mrs. Gibbs had a holiness background. Her father was a minister under the Faith and Hephzibah Work whose headquarters and school was located at Tabor, Iowa. He was deceased, when I went there, but I met his wife, Mrs. Bakewell. It was a remarkable community. There were families of different denominations, but churches were far apart although the community was well settled and many had nice homes. Those who regularly attended the community Sunday School seemed to receive us with open hearts. They continued their Sunday School as they had for 16 years, after which I preached. We started Sunday night services and midweek prayer meetings.
There was one small home missionary church in Eastern Wyoming that was connected with the Rocky Mountain District. The congregation was small. The call for a revival came and Brother Bolender accepted. It was in November and the weather was getting cold. The country was sparsely settled, but people came for miles in old Ford touring cars and trucks to the meeting. The outward results seemed meager, but seed was sown. Perhaps someone else was permitted to a fuller reaping.
Another revival was held at Deer Trail, Colorado where Rev. Robert Miller pastored. One of the outstanding traits of this meeting was a revival awakening in Bible reading and study. One mother and daughter were so motivated that after they got home from a night service, they read random references and studied all night till the break of day. With such turning to God and His word, no wonder souls were saved and the church edified.
There was a new work, opened at Kiowa, Colorado. The District Superintendent arranged for Brother Bolender to hold a revival. He then stayed for three or four months helping to get a good foundation laid for a strong church. He was made welcome in the Carlson home. Mrs. Carlson’s father, Mr. Oleson lived with them. They were devout people really dedicated to the cause of holiness. Mrs. Carlson had attended God’s Bible School. There were several families involved in the work among whom there were some wide awake young people. They were a great boost to the work. At the time, they were worshipping in a public hall, but in time a church was built and the work went forward. While there, Brother Bolender experienced his first real western blizzard. As I remember, it lasted three days.
I now focus attention to the 17 months the children and I spent in the Nesbit neighborhood, about 12 miles from Stapleton, Nebraska. As I stated before, we had gotten acquainted with the R. I. Gibbs family, who were instrumental in my going there as a community pastor. Mrs. Gibbs had a holiness background. Her father was a minister under the Faith and Hephzibah Work whose headquarters and school was located at Tabor, Iowa. He was deceased, when I went there, but I met his wife, Mrs. Bakewell. It was a remarkable community. There were families of different denominations, but churches were far apart although the community was well settled and many had nice homes. Those who regularly attended the community Sunday School seemed to receive us with open hearts. They continued their Sunday School as they had for 16 years, after which I preached. We started Sunday night services and midweek prayer meetings.
Nesbitt School House in the early 1950s. Victor Gibbs on the right.
The late Rev. L. L. Waddell held the first revival which was a great blessing and help as I started the work. As we recall, Brother Waddell's next revival was to be at Hastings, Nebraska, with Brother Herbert Haines; but Brother Waddell got a call that his baby son Mark had arrived. He felt that he must go home, so Brother Bolender substituted in his place. The Haines family was from Dayton, Ohio, and most of them attended and graduated from God's Bible School. The Oldest daughter married Rev. E. G. Marsh who taught at the school many years.
We experienced so many “firsts" while living in the Nesbit community. I hardly know where to begin, but one very nice one was that my husband was so concerned about our safety when he would be away that he went to Omaha and brought back a new Model A Ford. We had owned several used Model T’s and after we had been married ten years, he knew I did not know how to clean spark plugs or perform any other simple repair. I was very grateful for his thoughtfulness.
Our next important “first" was the children starting to school. Warren was then five and a half years old. Children started school there at five years of age. Juanita begged to go with her brother. The teacher encouraged me to send her, so I agreed; but she was a rather nervous child. I later realized that it would have been better had we waited another year. Like thousands of other mothers, I shall always remember that morning just how they looked. Both were happy as they started a new epoch in their lives.
We were fortunate to be living where the Gibbs’ children could stop and get our children, and take them to school in their one horse wagon. There were three of the Gibbs' children, two cousins, and our two, ages four to thirteen. The Gibbs' and Bakewell children were well behaved, so I felt no anxiety about their welfare. Mr. Bakewell was the Sunday School Superintendent. His wife had a crippling type of arthritis, but she was still able to drive. She had a home department going in the Sunday School and she welcomed me to accompany her. This was a great blessing, for it gave me an opportunity to meet many who could not attend our services. Home visitation became a great part of my ministry. Churches were miles apart and ministers few, but I found open doors. One home I visited, the wife was an invalid. Mrs. Bakewell and I read the scripture and prayed with her. When we talked with her husband about church and the Lord, he would laughingly call himself the old reprobate. Soon the mother passed away, and in a few months a son found the father dead in the house. We were saddened but thankful we had tried to lead them to the Lord.
As I got acquainted with the neighborhood, I began to learn of a family who seemed to live apart. The children attended school, but they took no part in community affairs. I was puzzled about the situation, but did not receive much encouragement about trying to change things. The story went that during World War I a rumor started that the McFerrins were pro-German. How or why the rumor started, I did not know; but I did know that the spirit of patriotism ran high in those days and sometimes unwise things occurred. At any rate, the story went that a party got together one night and painted the fence posts around the McFerrin place yellow. That did it. It had been more than ten years, but the barrier was there. Brother Bolender was home occasionally between revivals, so we talked and prayed over the problem of winning this family, and decided the time was ripe for an effort. We did not know what to expect as we drove into the yard of this large sod house; I think the largest one l ever saw. We got out of the car and started toward the house. Mrs. McFerrin came out. We introduced ourselves and received a cordial welcome to come inside. What a relief. We had a friendly visit. We spoke of the benefits of the sod house; the thick walls keeping out much of the heat of summer and cold of winter. She told us of her family. There was no hint of a hostile feeling. We concluded our call with a hearty invitation to the services at the school house and a short prayer. We had been told they had a large metal safe and that they kept their money safely locked inside, and that they had plenty of guns for protection. We saw the massive safe all right, but we were not interested in how much money it contained. We were concerned about the spiritual and social welfare of that family.
We experienced so many “firsts" while living in the Nesbit community. I hardly know where to begin, but one very nice one was that my husband was so concerned about our safety when he would be away that he went to Omaha and brought back a new Model A Ford. We had owned several used Model T’s and after we had been married ten years, he knew I did not know how to clean spark plugs or perform any other simple repair. I was very grateful for his thoughtfulness.
Our next important “first" was the children starting to school. Warren was then five and a half years old. Children started school there at five years of age. Juanita begged to go with her brother. The teacher encouraged me to send her, so I agreed; but she was a rather nervous child. I later realized that it would have been better had we waited another year. Like thousands of other mothers, I shall always remember that morning just how they looked. Both were happy as they started a new epoch in their lives.
We were fortunate to be living where the Gibbs’ children could stop and get our children, and take them to school in their one horse wagon. There were three of the Gibbs' children, two cousins, and our two, ages four to thirteen. The Gibbs' and Bakewell children were well behaved, so I felt no anxiety about their welfare. Mr. Bakewell was the Sunday School Superintendent. His wife had a crippling type of arthritis, but she was still able to drive. She had a home department going in the Sunday School and she welcomed me to accompany her. This was a great blessing, for it gave me an opportunity to meet many who could not attend our services. Home visitation became a great part of my ministry. Churches were miles apart and ministers few, but I found open doors. One home I visited, the wife was an invalid. Mrs. Bakewell and I read the scripture and prayed with her. When we talked with her husband about church and the Lord, he would laughingly call himself the old reprobate. Soon the mother passed away, and in a few months a son found the father dead in the house. We were saddened but thankful we had tried to lead them to the Lord.
As I got acquainted with the neighborhood, I began to learn of a family who seemed to live apart. The children attended school, but they took no part in community affairs. I was puzzled about the situation, but did not receive much encouragement about trying to change things. The story went that during World War I a rumor started that the McFerrins were pro-German. How or why the rumor started, I did not know; but I did know that the spirit of patriotism ran high in those days and sometimes unwise things occurred. At any rate, the story went that a party got together one night and painted the fence posts around the McFerrin place yellow. That did it. It had been more than ten years, but the barrier was there. Brother Bolender was home occasionally between revivals, so we talked and prayed over the problem of winning this family, and decided the time was ripe for an effort. We did not know what to expect as we drove into the yard of this large sod house; I think the largest one l ever saw. We got out of the car and started toward the house. Mrs. McFerrin came out. We introduced ourselves and received a cordial welcome to come inside. What a relief. We had a friendly visit. We spoke of the benefits of the sod house; the thick walls keeping out much of the heat of summer and cold of winter. She told us of her family. There was no hint of a hostile feeling. We concluded our call with a hearty invitation to the services at the school house and a short prayer. We had been told they had a large metal safe and that they kept their money safely locked inside, and that they had plenty of guns for protection. We saw the massive safe all right, but we were not interested in how much money it contained. We were concerned about the spiritual and social welfare of that family.
Sod House in Custer County, NE -- 1886
The barrier was broken. Soon Margaret, the only daughter, and her younger brother were enrolled in Sunday School. I made calls after that and enjoyed the friendship and respect of the entire family. Some of them were won to the Lord. Many of the earlier homesteaders and ranchers, including our good friend Mr. Gibbs, had started with sod houses; but by 1928, they were few. Most of the homes were nice frame or brick buildings. I recall visiting in two other sod houses. One was the home of a dear Christian woman who lived far from our community, but I had several opportunities to visit her and encourage her in the Lord. Once I spent the night there. We were told of a colored woman who lived several miles across the Sand Hills in a small sod house and that she was a Christian. We decided to visit her. She was getting up in years. She gave us a real Christian welcome and asked us to have dinner with her. She raised pigeons. I remember two things about her dinner. One was the delicious pigeon and the other is the dinner was cooked with cow chips. As some may not know what cow chips are, I will explain. It is dried cow manure. We felt well rewarded for our trip as we shared with her not only of her meager material possessions, but of the riches in Christ Jesus. Yes another “first" visiting in sod houses.
The house we were occupying changed ownership which necessitated a move. In the process, the children and I were invited to the Gibbs’ home. While there, their hired man became quite sick. After a few days, he went to a doctor. When he returned home, he was not only breaking out with bumps, but told us the doctor told him it was smallpox. Early the next morning, Mr. Gibbs took his family, seven of them, and I took my children to North Platte, 35 miles to their doctor. We all got vaccinated before the quarantine was posted. There we were, eleven of us in for six weeks. The hired man had a very severe case. Between Mrs. Gibbs and me, we nursed him, as he could not go home. Neither could his mother come to him. Several of us had light cases, but we were grateful that the vaccine had helped so much.
The house we were occupying changed ownership which necessitated a move. In the process, the children and I were invited to the Gibbs’ home. While there, their hired man became quite sick. After a few days, he went to a doctor. When he returned home, he was not only breaking out with bumps, but told us the doctor told him it was smallpox. Early the next morning, Mr. Gibbs took his family, seven of them, and I took my children to North Platte, 35 miles to their doctor. We all got vaccinated before the quarantine was posted. There we were, eleven of us in for six weeks. The hired man had a very severe case. Between Mrs. Gibbs and me, we nursed him, as he could not go home. Neither could his mother come to him. Several of us had light cases, but we were grateful that the vaccine had helped so much.
Picture taken during smallpox quarantine at the Gibbs home. L to R: Back row, Juanita (Bolender) Gibbs, Bertha (Fortner) Bolender, Pearl (Bakewell) Gibbs, Unknown, Rose (Gibbs) Robinson, Rachel (Gibbs) Stockman. Front Row: Victor Gibbs, Warren Bolender
When our six weeks were ended and the sign removed from the gate and door, a happy group returned to church. That morning I preached from Psalm 122:1, “I was glad when they said unto me, let us go unto the house of the Lord." We did hot have a church building, but God met with us as we worshipped Him. We got settled in another house. It was the place I had visited the invalid lady whose husband laughingly called himself the old reprobate. The wife died and not long afterward, they rented it and helped us move and get straightened up. It was far from desirable. It was out of the immediate neighborhood and had no phone. I now had to take the children to school and get them each afternoon. A windmill on the hill was our source of water. I would turn the windmill on, catch the water in buckets, then carry it to the house. Many days I would hurry to get breakfast, get the children ready for school, pack lunches, leave them at school, then make calls all day until time for them to go home. There was only one outside door. There was a sliding lock on the inside, but no way to lock it on the outside. Many nights coming home from services after dark with my little ones, I felt very creepy when I opened the door. At first, I would take a flash light, look under the beds and around. The creepiest of all was the scuttle hole with no covering leading to the loft above. Many times I wondered if someone might be hiding up there, but we had no problems of that nature. One day I loaded my 410 shot gun and fired at a coyote. I did not get him, but I never saw him again, nor missed my hen or chicks that I was raising. We experienced another unfounded scare. As a child, I had heard stories of prairie fires that had given me a deep and lasting fear. One night after the children were in bed, I stepped outside and saw a bright red glow over to the north. I watched in silence, but said to myself, “A prairie fire." It seemed to be growing in intensity and coming our way. I called Elta Embrey, a girl from a Kentucky orphanage, who was staying with us at the time. It seemed to both of us that the fire was heading our way, so we packed the car with things I deemed necessary and took the sleepy children to the car. We started in the opposite direction, for I was not about to drive toward that fire. I knew a family lived two or three miles in that direction, and I hoped that they had a phone. When our car light shone in their driveway, someone came out. I tried to conceal my fright asking them about the fire. They said they had received no warnings, but would call to see what they could find out. We waited in suspense when they returned to say the fire was miles away and ranchers with fire fighters were taking care of things. We were in no danger. I felt a bit embarrassed, but relieved as we went back home to bed. This no doubt seems like an inconsequential boring story, but it was very real and threatening that chilly Spring night. The lesson – most worries never happen.
In Nebraska at that time, all eighth grade graduates had to go to the county seat to take examinations for graduation. I was very surprised when the county Superintendent of Schools asked me to give the address for the Eighth Grade Graduation of 1929. I did not feel I was up to the task, but after prayer and consideration, I agreed. I worked and prayed about that address for four weeks or more. That has been over fifty years. I cannot recall my introduction or outline, but I do remember my challenge to those youngsters as I quoted my last words before taking my seat, “Sail on, sail on, sail on.”
In June, we went to Colorado Springs for the Annual Assembly of the Rocky Mountain District Camp meeting. We were filled with high expectations not only for the assembly and camp, but we were looking forward to seeing Father. He had not had an opportunity to be home for about three months. We arrived on the campus late. The children were very tired from the long trip so we did little visiting before they went to sleep; but the next morning, what a happy time they had with Daddy. We had a good camp. Rev. Seth C. Reese, our General Superintendent was one of the evangelists. He also spoke to the assembly. That was the year I, with several others, were ordained. We had several nice scenic drives around Colorado Springs. The most interesting perhaps was the Garden of the Gods. The year before, we had planned to walk to the summit of Pike's Peak. We were going with different groups so one of us could stay with the children. Brother Bolender went first with several others. Only three made it to the summit. They walked all night arriving in time for an unforgettable scene -- sunrise from the summit of Pike's Peak.
The next night, I went with another group. We made it to timberline, but all except myself and one of the pastors on the District, were so tired and really too sick to finish the other three miles to the summit. I always felt a bit cheated; for I believe if the brother’s wife had been able to continue the trip or if I could have gone with my husband, I too could have made it to the top. I was glad a year later to have the opportunity to accompany Brother and Sister Gibbs as we drove up Pike's Peak, probably not as self gratifying, but a lot easier than walking.
How happy we were that Daddy could return home with us. A member of our congregation was running a threshing crew and asked if Brother Bolender would like to help. He gladly accepted for two reasons. One was he had grown up on a farm and liked it; the other was we really needed the pay. He was always home on Sundays so I asked him to take the morning services which I am sure the men of the neighborhood enjoyed. I continued with the night services and prayer meetings were led by different ones of the group. After the short threshing season, he sold Bibles in North Platte for awhile. This also opened doors for personal evangelism. Before many weeks, suitcases and bags were being packed, for the call had come, and we were left alone again as the head of the home. He went back into full time gospel work.
It seemed the children were more lonely than before. One Sunday morning after service, we started home when Juanita pleaded to go to the Gibbs’. I explained that we could not go to the Gibbs’ every Sunday. With tears she replied, “I would not mind if I had a Daddy like other little girls.” You may be sure that struck home.
One afternoon, the children were playing outside when a car drove up and a young man got out. I met him at the door. He asked if Brother Bolender was home. When I replied in the negative, he looked so disappointed. I asked if there was anything I could do when he explained, "I wanted to get married,” and looking so wistful he stammered, “Could you, would you?” I replied that I could legally perform the marriage ceremony. I did not know if it would be acceptable with them. He assured me that was all right and after giving the needed information of when and where, he drove away. Evidently Warren had heard only part of the conversation, for soon he came with the question, “Mama, what did that man want?” On the spur of the moment I said, “Oh, he wants to get married.” Poor Iittle fellow must have thought he was headed for deep trouble, for he asked with deep concern, “Mama! What are you going to do with Daddy?” I was definitely amused, but carefully explained to him the facts of the case relieving his anxiety. The next week at the home of the bride I, with the ritual in our church manual, married the couple. Another “First.”
Brother and Sister Gibbs were hopeful that a Pilgrim Holiness Church could be established in the area. They were instrumental in getting Rev. Paul Thomas to bring a tent to hold a meeting in Stapleton, the most thriving town in the county. Brother Thomas was a splendid preacher. The Gibbs family and I did all we could to support the meeting, but the attendance was small and results meager. Rev. L. D. Sharp came for a revival in the early fall. This was held in the Nesbit School house. The community responded well -- filling the seats from night to night. Several responded to the gospel call and sought the Lord. On the last night, Brother Sharp preached under the special anointing of the Holy Spirit; conviction was felt all over the house. As we stood and an invitation song extended strong appeal, I was especially concerned for a young lady standing by her boyfriend in the rear. As I prayerfully waited, I saw Rachel Gibbs, her teenage cousin, leave her seat and go to her side, earnestly inviting her to yield herself to Christ. Her plans were made. She would graduate from high school the next spring and get married. She only shook her head. Her choice was made. Christians gathered to pray with seekers. Our young friends left and the meeting closed. There were mixed feelings; joy over victories won, but a lingering sadness for those who had failed to yield to the striving of God’s call. Monday our young friend went to school, but did not feel well. Tuesday, she pushed herself, but felt worse. By Wednesday, she was very sick. Her family was not at prayer meeting. We prayed earnestly for her and for her loved ones. I planned to visit her the next day, but I learned she had been taken to the hospital in North Platte and was in a coma. She never regained consciousness and died in about 48 hours. It was a shock to the entire community. She was a beautiful, sweet girl. As far as I knew, she had never been converted. She was faithful to come to Sunday School, but the question still remains, "Did I do my best to personally lead her to a personal relationship with Christ."
We received a letter saying the pastor at Pueblo, Colorado had resigned and the District Superintendent had asked Brother Bolender to take the church. They did not have a parsonage and he would have to board with someone until a house could be found to rent. I informed my folks of the coming change, although it might be some weeks before we could move. Autumn was past and winter was setting in. I received an invitation to a wedding at Oshkosh. I decided to go. The wedding was lovely and the children and I enjoyed seeing many of our friends. We spent the night with our good friends the Campbells and planned to leave for home fairly early the next afternoon. By noon, a storm was brewing. They coaxed me to stay, but I insisted I must get home. As I was determined to go, they asked if I could take a sick lady who was needing to go to North Platte. I agreed. The men put a set of chains on the rear tires and off I drove in a Nebraska blowing storm. As I made slow careful progress, I saw several ditched cars, but somehow the Lord helped me to keep on the road.
We reached North Platte after dark. I took my passenger to her friend’s home, then started the last, and I felt worse part of the trip, 35 miles of gravel road with some steep inclines where I had known of fatal head on accidents. With prayer and pluck, I drove on. Six times on that 35 mile drive, I heard the chains rattling. I would park the car as far to the side of the road as I could for safety, then with pliers wire the broken chain. Sometimes I would have to use the jack to raise the wheel in order to wire together a broken chain. Finally between ten and eleven that night, I pulled up in our yard. The children were both fast asleep. How glad I was, for I found the wind had blown the door open and the floor was covered with snow. I lit a lamp, swept the snow out, started a fire in the old range, and put bricks on top to heat. When they were hot I wrapped them and placed them in the cold bed. Next, I brought the children in and put them in bed. After locking the car, I came in bolted the door and went to bed with the children – a warm brick to my cold feet. I thanked God for bringing us safely home on that blizzardy night.
Warren and Juanita both took mumps. After they missed three days of school Mr. Gibbs came to see about us. He brought in water, cobs and coal for the stove, and said they would check back. I had never had mumps, so I felt sure I would take them. When he came back, he brought his sister, Mrs. Wood, to stay with us. She was a precious Christian lady and such a blessing, especially after I took mumps.
[1] Early map of Nebraska showing Nesbit in McPherson County.
In Nebraska at that time, all eighth grade graduates had to go to the county seat to take examinations for graduation. I was very surprised when the county Superintendent of Schools asked me to give the address for the Eighth Grade Graduation of 1929. I did not feel I was up to the task, but after prayer and consideration, I agreed. I worked and prayed about that address for four weeks or more. That has been over fifty years. I cannot recall my introduction or outline, but I do remember my challenge to those youngsters as I quoted my last words before taking my seat, “Sail on, sail on, sail on.”
In June, we went to Colorado Springs for the Annual Assembly of the Rocky Mountain District Camp meeting. We were filled with high expectations not only for the assembly and camp, but we were looking forward to seeing Father. He had not had an opportunity to be home for about three months. We arrived on the campus late. The children were very tired from the long trip so we did little visiting before they went to sleep; but the next morning, what a happy time they had with Daddy. We had a good camp. Rev. Seth C. Reese, our General Superintendent was one of the evangelists. He also spoke to the assembly. That was the year I, with several others, were ordained. We had several nice scenic drives around Colorado Springs. The most interesting perhaps was the Garden of the Gods. The year before, we had planned to walk to the summit of Pike's Peak. We were going with different groups so one of us could stay with the children. Brother Bolender went first with several others. Only three made it to the summit. They walked all night arriving in time for an unforgettable scene -- sunrise from the summit of Pike's Peak.
The next night, I went with another group. We made it to timberline, but all except myself and one of the pastors on the District, were so tired and really too sick to finish the other three miles to the summit. I always felt a bit cheated; for I believe if the brother’s wife had been able to continue the trip or if I could have gone with my husband, I too could have made it to the top. I was glad a year later to have the opportunity to accompany Brother and Sister Gibbs as we drove up Pike's Peak, probably not as self gratifying, but a lot easier than walking.
How happy we were that Daddy could return home with us. A member of our congregation was running a threshing crew and asked if Brother Bolender would like to help. He gladly accepted for two reasons. One was he had grown up on a farm and liked it; the other was we really needed the pay. He was always home on Sundays so I asked him to take the morning services which I am sure the men of the neighborhood enjoyed. I continued with the night services and prayer meetings were led by different ones of the group. After the short threshing season, he sold Bibles in North Platte for awhile. This also opened doors for personal evangelism. Before many weeks, suitcases and bags were being packed, for the call had come, and we were left alone again as the head of the home. He went back into full time gospel work.
It seemed the children were more lonely than before. One Sunday morning after service, we started home when Juanita pleaded to go to the Gibbs’. I explained that we could not go to the Gibbs’ every Sunday. With tears she replied, “I would not mind if I had a Daddy like other little girls.” You may be sure that struck home.
One afternoon, the children were playing outside when a car drove up and a young man got out. I met him at the door. He asked if Brother Bolender was home. When I replied in the negative, he looked so disappointed. I asked if there was anything I could do when he explained, "I wanted to get married,” and looking so wistful he stammered, “Could you, would you?” I replied that I could legally perform the marriage ceremony. I did not know if it would be acceptable with them. He assured me that was all right and after giving the needed information of when and where, he drove away. Evidently Warren had heard only part of the conversation, for soon he came with the question, “Mama, what did that man want?” On the spur of the moment I said, “Oh, he wants to get married.” Poor Iittle fellow must have thought he was headed for deep trouble, for he asked with deep concern, “Mama! What are you going to do with Daddy?” I was definitely amused, but carefully explained to him the facts of the case relieving his anxiety. The next week at the home of the bride I, with the ritual in our church manual, married the couple. Another “First.”
Brother and Sister Gibbs were hopeful that a Pilgrim Holiness Church could be established in the area. They were instrumental in getting Rev. Paul Thomas to bring a tent to hold a meeting in Stapleton, the most thriving town in the county. Brother Thomas was a splendid preacher. The Gibbs family and I did all we could to support the meeting, but the attendance was small and results meager. Rev. L. D. Sharp came for a revival in the early fall. This was held in the Nesbit School house. The community responded well -- filling the seats from night to night. Several responded to the gospel call and sought the Lord. On the last night, Brother Sharp preached under the special anointing of the Holy Spirit; conviction was felt all over the house. As we stood and an invitation song extended strong appeal, I was especially concerned for a young lady standing by her boyfriend in the rear. As I prayerfully waited, I saw Rachel Gibbs, her teenage cousin, leave her seat and go to her side, earnestly inviting her to yield herself to Christ. Her plans were made. She would graduate from high school the next spring and get married. She only shook her head. Her choice was made. Christians gathered to pray with seekers. Our young friends left and the meeting closed. There were mixed feelings; joy over victories won, but a lingering sadness for those who had failed to yield to the striving of God’s call. Monday our young friend went to school, but did not feel well. Tuesday, she pushed herself, but felt worse. By Wednesday, she was very sick. Her family was not at prayer meeting. We prayed earnestly for her and for her loved ones. I planned to visit her the next day, but I learned she had been taken to the hospital in North Platte and was in a coma. She never regained consciousness and died in about 48 hours. It was a shock to the entire community. She was a beautiful, sweet girl. As far as I knew, she had never been converted. She was faithful to come to Sunday School, but the question still remains, "Did I do my best to personally lead her to a personal relationship with Christ."
We received a letter saying the pastor at Pueblo, Colorado had resigned and the District Superintendent had asked Brother Bolender to take the church. They did not have a parsonage and he would have to board with someone until a house could be found to rent. I informed my folks of the coming change, although it might be some weeks before we could move. Autumn was past and winter was setting in. I received an invitation to a wedding at Oshkosh. I decided to go. The wedding was lovely and the children and I enjoyed seeing many of our friends. We spent the night with our good friends the Campbells and planned to leave for home fairly early the next afternoon. By noon, a storm was brewing. They coaxed me to stay, but I insisted I must get home. As I was determined to go, they asked if I could take a sick lady who was needing to go to North Platte. I agreed. The men put a set of chains on the rear tires and off I drove in a Nebraska blowing storm. As I made slow careful progress, I saw several ditched cars, but somehow the Lord helped me to keep on the road.
We reached North Platte after dark. I took my passenger to her friend’s home, then started the last, and I felt worse part of the trip, 35 miles of gravel road with some steep inclines where I had known of fatal head on accidents. With prayer and pluck, I drove on. Six times on that 35 mile drive, I heard the chains rattling. I would park the car as far to the side of the road as I could for safety, then with pliers wire the broken chain. Sometimes I would have to use the jack to raise the wheel in order to wire together a broken chain. Finally between ten and eleven that night, I pulled up in our yard. The children were both fast asleep. How glad I was, for I found the wind had blown the door open and the floor was covered with snow. I lit a lamp, swept the snow out, started a fire in the old range, and put bricks on top to heat. When they were hot I wrapped them and placed them in the cold bed. Next, I brought the children in and put them in bed. After locking the car, I came in bolted the door and went to bed with the children – a warm brick to my cold feet. I thanked God for bringing us safely home on that blizzardy night.
Warren and Juanita both took mumps. After they missed three days of school Mr. Gibbs came to see about us. He brought in water, cobs and coal for the stove, and said they would check back. I had never had mumps, so I felt sure I would take them. When he came back, he brought his sister, Mrs. Wood, to stay with us. She was a precious Christian lady and such a blessing, especially after I took mumps.
[1] Early map of Nebraska showing Nesbit in McPherson County.
