Their Legacy in Our Hearts

THEIR LEGACY IN OUR HEARTS

The Life and Times of Monroe and Susie Dourte Written in 1991 Esther Dourte Snyder

Brethren in Christ History and Life

Their Legacy in Our Hearts: Reflections on the Lives of Monroe and Susie Dourte

By Esther Dourte Snyder ∗ The long country lane in Manheim County, Pennsylvania, meandered downhill, muddy in the fall and spring, snowy in the winter, and dusty in the summer. The family of Monroe and Susie Dourte at its end lived disciplined, hard-working, focused lives that gave evidence of a set of values that were clearly defined and practiced.

The need for rain for the corn and sunshine for the hayfields gave a decided relevance to the morning prayers of dependence on God. And despite any conflict in schedule, or busyness that ensued, the family knelt around the breakfast table every day. They asked God for wisdom and protection. As well, they praised ""God for food, shelter, clothes and all the basics we now claim arrive from the supermarket or by our own ingenuity.

Insurance policies to cover the loss of property and medical and dental care were out of the question; subscription to them would have given the message that the family lacked trust in God, neighbors, and friends. Faith and religion touched the family's common life daily with redemptive graces, in stark contrast to the abstractions of today when health is the physician' s concern, death the mortician's, education the school's, work the labor union’s, and faith the church's.

The children voiced normal and expected complaints that work was never finished, and secretly prayed for frost to end the tomato harvest.

But they also accepted chores and work assignments as their way of life.

Lessons of profound but simple values emerged from those days of work--bow to live, what to do, and what a person should be. Lessons were learned about organizing and planning work, cleaning up after tasks, persevering to the very end. Monroe and Susie Dourte were masters of organization. Before breakfast ended, the parents rehearsed the schedule; everyone knew the plan for the day. The parents apprenticed their eight *Esther Dourte Snyder is a daughter of Monroe and Susie Dourte. She serves as Director of Christian Education at the Manor Brethren in Christ Church near Columbia, Pennsylvania.

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Their Legacy in Our Hearts children to the task of life, sharing the time-tested secrets of their trade.

They did not simply share information; rather, they showed the way things were to be done. The parents were present and involved in what was being learned.

These lessons applied to simple things like peeling potatoes paper thin. When mother peeled potatoes you were in the presence of a master. Under mother's instruction, one of my sisters retrieved almost a quart of potatoes from her peelings one day. The lesson of competence stood alongside the principle of frugality. Frugality was taught not for the purposes of accumulating wealth, but represented stewardship and necessity.

The sequence of learning moved quickly from theory to application.

The lessons of work included the importance of when and how tasks were to be done. In general, the early morning or cool evening hours were free of distractions so that work could be done efficiently and promptly. Work was also more pleasant and less tiring before and after the beat of the sun. In the potato harvest, a half day's work was completed before classes began at school. While the family did the early morning chores at the barn, Dad plowed a wagon load of potatoes for the children to harvest before they started on the two-mile walk to a oneroom school. We could anticipate picking up potatoes again after school.

To arrive at school on time was important. Therefore, we all rose promptly from sleep at the first call to get up, which assured arrival at school several hours later at exactly 8:00 a.m.

To make work laborious was not the objective of my parents. They quickly embraced methods of farming and living that eased the load as soon as possible. We had the first electricity in the neighborhood; it was produced by a generator and stored in large batteries. Dimming lights signaled that the thirty-two volts were nearly depleted. Dad would then replenish the supply of energy with a fresh generator start to recharge the batteries. Dad also bought the first hay loader in the community and was the first to pick corn directly from the stalks without cutting them and putting them into shocks for later husking. He initiated such innovations without fanfare and show.

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Although Monroe and Susie were not equipped with formal training in psychology, they showed wisdom about motivational techniques, expressed sorrow for error, and acknowledged that life could be hard and difficult. It helped to have them admit that work was sometimes a drag.

That acknowledgement seemed to help to lighten the load.

Four girls and four boys made up this family: Ruth, Mary, Grace, Allon, Eber, Jesse, Esther, Victor, and Donald who died when only several weeks old. Susie entered the birth of her children in her diaries. The entry for Grace's birth reads: ‘Today I cleaned the cellar, baked pies, and had Grace.'

With a family of eight children, work usually was done in a group, rarely alone. This could turn into fun when someone started a lengthy songfest or discussion. Neighbors often reported hearing those songs across the fields in the quiet of the evening. The children quickly memorized words of hymns and children's songs. Mother's favorite, a Fanny Crosby hymn written in 1871, was the usual benediction: Like gentle dew the blessings fall From God whose love inspires our song, our time, our talent and our all From Him received, to Him belong.

Then let us offer to His name the willing sacrifice of praise.

And may our grateful hearts proclaim His goodness in the notes we raise.

This music not only lightened the heavy work load, but became praise that led us to prayer and thanksgiving. The theology of many of the lyrics greatly nourished our faith, and throughout the years has proved an encouragement and affirmation of faith.

Singing together became a tradition and seeps even today into every family gathering.

Another use of 'practical psychology' was to turn work into a competitive pursuit. Mother would call, ‘Who can pick a row of beans first?" (A negative consequence of this competition is a tendency for our family members to be workaholics.)

The family all thought that this family trait would make it impossible for our father to accept the losses of aging without bitterness. He did not succumb passively; the losses took their toll.

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Nonetheless, along with his harmonica, he sang, played, cried, talked, and prayed until he became reconciled to the varying condition of his aging.

After visiting him at Messiah Village (a retirement home) in November 1986, I wrote in my journal: Dad had experienced another loss. This one was m o r e subtle.

He lost his privilege of going to the first dining room because he now needed more care. He needed to have his food cut and someone to assist him as he went to and from the dining area. I could sense his unhappiness, yet he was trying desperately to accept what he had thoroughly emphasized to all his family--respect for the decisions of those in authority. But like most of us, his feelings finally surfaced. In pensive and hesitant voice he began, ‘I had a sting of madness lately--a thought that I was not counted in worthiness of joy-and gladness, as if they had singled me out. I want to be happy and restful in my situation, but the atmosphere and attitude of the Village is chillier. I sense coldness with people. I don’t know whether to inquire If there is something I should know. I think of meal time as a happy time to talk. Now I'm with people who never hold a conversation.'

A bit of anger came to me as I saw how much their decision distressed him, but there also came a degree of helplessness because of the very obvious evidence of his continued loss of physical strength. He broke in again, ' Does my appearance separate me more? Can't I receive acceptance as the person I am? I've heard it said that to him who waits all things will come, but I'm tired of waiting. My vim and vigor are gone.

Why are circumstances the way they are?"

By now I was churning internally and was compelled to inquire about him. Toe nurse simply replied, ' Other residents prefer to dine with those who have no spills and can care for themselves.' I walked away sadly thinking, ' If that is the criterion, then he doesn't belong.' But again I was angered as I struggled to accept that Christian graces did not extend to cutting meat for one another or seeing that plates and glasses are placed within reach.

Shortly afterward, one of my sisters went with him to lunch and recognized immediately his difficulty in adjusting to the new dining

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arrangements. Most of the people sat without comment or spoke irrationally or inappropriately. The environment was not conducive to pleasure at all.

But this situation, too, he learned to accept. In a short time he accommodated to his loss and sadness. He met the challenge in a way that continued to be a model of faithfulness that I myself needed to observe.

Not only had Dad's attitude become right but the longer he lived the more his prayers revealed his awe of God and Jesus' worthy name. His prayers revealed his earnest intensity of faith, a faith now more stripped of non-essentials and fuller of majestic praise. He and mother came to learn what Thomas Merton called contemplative prayer, which consists of making the words of the Bible their own. They memorized and repeated them with deep and simple concentration from the heart. Their hearts longed for God, like the thirsty deer for water (to use a fitting biblical simile). Their prayers gave testimony to Jeremiah 24:7. 'I will give them a heart to understand that I am Yahweh, and they shall be my people. I will be their God when they return to me with all their hearts.'

The process by which they came to this relationship with God began years ago. Much of their dating before marriage was spent in Bible study and hymn memorization. A grandson calling on them at the Pleasant View Rest Home (their first residence in care for the aged) said, 'Tell me everything you did today, Grand pa.' Grand pa replied, "It began early with my devotions, getting dressed, helping Grandma to dress and then having devotions together.' The grandson interrupted, 'But how does Grandma ever have devotions with you? She's lost all her ability to remember and to communicate. I'm not even sure she knows who I am today. She smiles when I talk to her, but there is no verbal response.' 'All I need to do,' was his reply, ‘is to sit next to her and begin a hymn or a scripture verse and she will join me to its very end, word perfect. Her devotion is hidden in her heart.

The family interrupted its work from time to time to take excursions.

Our seven-passenger Nash chugged over the countryside as we drove to the local nature preserve to find the first spring flowers--delicate arbutus and dog-toothed violets. Sometimes the floral arrangements that came from these trips in nature remained long after their freshness was gone.

The thought of enjoying friends at a Christian campgrounds for several days, or of pink and brown coconut strips bought with five-cent allowances at a local auction motivated us through day of strenuous work. Our play was as vigorous as our work. Racing like a streak of

Their Legacy in Our Hearts lightning across the hay and straw mows, or hiding behind some implement to avoid the person who was 'it," went on for hours many Sunday afternoons.

The Fourth of July always brought Dad's cousin's family from Brooklyn, New York. Their son spent the summers with us on the farm.

A touch of the "world out there' seemed to come with them: wonderful fireworks, delicious Loft's chocolates, pictures and home movies of previous visits, and conversations of city life. The mother, who had been in the entertainment world, upon meeting her husband's extended "plain" family for the first time became physically ill thinking that she had married into some international setting. She was sure her husband had concealed something. The love our families came to share, however, bridged our differences quickly and completely. Their visits became a highlight of the summer.

Another exciting event happened each fall in preparation for school--we travelled to the big city of Lancaster to shop. It was extremely important to know that Dad had in his pocket the income from our produce marketing at Mt. Gretna. Especially impressive was his borrowing one hundred dollars one fall so that each of the three sons could get a new suit. His being with us was significant because we liked his taste in clothes. He permitted us to have bright colors, whereas Mother felt compelled to have us choose more conservative neutral colors.

We children did not think to assert our rights. Our parents saw their rights in light of their roles under God. All acknowledged that God had an unquestionable right to be their authority. Our parents faithfully committed themselves to what they perceived God commanded and taught through His Word.

Since the Scriptures said the Sabbath was not a day of work, Saturday was a time of preparation for Sunday. The feed chests were filled, hay was thrown from the mows, shoes were polished, and extra food was prepared at the house. But as a child, the word "rest" for Sunday never seemed very appropriate to me. Sunday in reality usually meant that our dining room table, which seated eighteen, was filled at least once or twice at noon.

After Sunday services, Susie Dourte would ask a number of worshippers, "Will you come along home to our house for dinner

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today?" Her preparation for unexpected arrivals on Sunday or any other day was done with long hours of canning and drying of food. The basement was full of home-canned fruits, vegetables, and most luscious, mouth-watering, cold-packed pork or sausages for just such occasions.

The response to Mother's invitations at church meant that each of us had an assignment the moment we arrived at home. First we changed into 'school' clothes; 'Sunday' clothes were for going to events. Rou tine work days demanded 'work' clothes. 'School' clothes were those that permitted soil in play but were presentable enough for visitors. Mother always had enough food prepared so that only heating, garnishing, and serving were necessary. The last-minute events were cutting bananas on the tapioca or cracker pudding, whipping cream for the chocolate pudding, and filling the glasses with water. In a very limited Lime, Susie was saying, "Monroe, we're ready to serve."

Dad and Mother's involvement and concern about community life brought interesting people into our home. Church constraints on social gatherings did not hinder their entertaining guests in their home. Selling produce at Mt. Gretna at the summer homes of such people as the mayors of Harrisburg and Lancaster brought great friendships; sometimes they came to our home for dinner. On such occasions, homemade ice cream was a favorite dessert. It became a standard accusation that on one such visit, one of my sisters deliberately fell down the stairs so she could be rescued by Governors Hoverter and Ross. When children graduated from high school, our parents entertained the administration and faculty. Our parents assumed people would accept and enjoy their hospitality. Although they never fell into cultural captivity, they retained a healthy social attachment and always found an appropriate time to express the biblical faith by which they lived.

Wash day was on Monday. It was an event accomplished not by automatic washers or dryers and not when enough dirty clothes had accumulated for a washing. Ra ther, wash days meant carrying water from a pump some distance away and heating it in large iron kettles over a wood-burning furnace. A gas engine was the power that agitated the wash loads. A hand-driven wringer meant exerting much effort and energy.

When enough clothes fell from the wringer to fill a huge basket, we carried the clothes to lines stretching for yards across the front porch and posts stationed in our front lawn. The heavily starched and beautifully ironed linens on the long dining table did not happen by accident.

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A more efficient washer was a convenience for which we children yearned long before its arrival. There was a great deal of secret disbelief and even a bit of resentment when we discovered that Dad and Mother had bought a clothes washer for another family they thought worthy, before they purchased one for their own use.

The children also tried to hide their grief that they needed to help fill dozens of home-canning jars with fruits and vegetables for Stowe Mission and other needy places. In fact, into adulthood, some of them wondered how anyone could possibly have been so insensitive as to ask one more thing of our busy, hard-working, easily-persuaded mother. When a church leader asked for such volunteer work, our parents responded willingly.

Their generosity impacted all their children who now, because of such modeling, find it hard to say no to requests for their time and energy.

Susie and Monroe were not given to self-pity, publicity, or recordkeeping of good deeds done. They were too busy and too big to be petty.

In fact, when conversations around the table took on a critical or negative slant, Mother was the first to admonish that the time had come to talk about things that edify.

We knew well the last stanza of ‘The First Settler's Story' written by Will Carleton (in Dean Dutton, ed., Quests and Conquests).

Boys flying kites haul in their white-wing'd birds: You can't do that when you are flying words. ‘Careful with fire," is good advice we know; 'Careful with words,' is ten times doubly so.

Thoughts unexpress'd may sometimes fall back dead, But God Himself can't kill them once they're said!

Mother and Dad were encouragers. They eventually became parishioners in a church their son pastored. One day after his congregation had held its mid-week Bible study at the Pleasant View Retirement Home, Dad wrote to my brother: We enjoyed your meditation on the four little things from Proverbs 30:24-28. I am writing these lines to add some of the characteristics of these small, wise creatures. You can add them to what you already have. You made good applications. The ant eats nothing that she finds. She always takes it to the queen ant for approval. How wise we children of God would

Brethren in Christ History and Life be to first ask God for approval before we

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The conie must be like the prairie dogs Mother says they had on their farm in Kansas. They live in colonies and dig a well together for the colony.

They all go down and drink at this same well. What a truth! We must all come and drink at the well-spring of Life, Jesus Christ.

The locusts fly in a cloud 10-12 miles long at night and descend on the earth. Woe to the farmer on whose land they alight. They will completely eat all crops and vegetables. They teach that cooperation is sure, unrivaled success.

The spider aspires to what is high and lofty. The application is easy to make. In silence it spins a web to catch its food. So we saints in secret get our good nourishment from the Father. We enjoy our spiritual food as we withdraw from the din of the world.

I hope you understand that this is not meant as a descending attitude on that good evening last night. May God bless you.

My days will soon be done. I wish I could pass on to someone the wealth of at least some Scriptures. - Dad Six years later the same son was nearing graduation from the Evangelical School of Theology at Myerstown, Pennsylvania, and was asked to give a chapel address. Instead, he asked the dean if Dad could speak for him. (As the appointed time came, Dad was hesitant because he had not had a formal education for ministry; he needed to be reassured that he did have something to give to students.) For his address, Dad used Proverbs 30 with the theme "The Four Little but Exceedingly Wise Creatures on the Earth.' It became the basis for a practical, earthly instruction to the seminarians and was given in an inspiring and challenging way. The students expressed amazement at this eighty-four-year-old mind relating to contemporary life.

Encouragement and admonition were almost always integral parts of Monroe and Susie's parenting style. Once when Dad was admonishing one of my brothers, he gave a Jong discourse on the ultimate end of rebellious ways. My brother's reaction was, 'You told me that four months ago and I haven't seen any of your predictions happening yet.' That produced a much lengthier discourse on a time of sowing and harvesting. The emphasis this

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time was on the fact that the reaping is a heavy multiplication of the amount of seed sown. We all had a thorough understanding of the Jongterm effect of good and evil.

The Scriptures say, "Love your neighbors as yourself.' In following this injunction, Mother became a midwife welcoming new babies into the community. Dad never walked away from someone's financial Joss without handing the victim a check or giving himself or members of his family in volunteer labor or assistance. Unselfishness was always on the front burner.

On the other hand, their humanity was always before them. They were in touch with it. They made errors and were guilty of poor judgement; but restitution, confession and reconciliation were high priorities with them. Having been reared in stern, German patriarchal authority, Dad sometimes exercised it to his sorrow. Preparation for preaching or assignments to Pennsylvania churches under the Mission Board caused serious scrutiny of his behavior. He wanted to be at peace about his own reconciled life. 'If I've done anything to hurt or offend any of you, I want you to forgive me" was the opening of many family devotions. Although it was said often, it did not become routine. Tears and observable sorrow always accompanied such statements.

Mother had much less need for repentance; her steadfastness in purpose, less haste in comment, and general thoughtful approach spared her. Her even temperament made for less rupture in relationships. She worried and fretted less about the present or the future. One night one of the daughters wakened and heard our parents discussing how they would meet their promissory note due to Grandpa Dourte for the farm. Mother said, 'Monroe, tomorrow we'll plow the back field and plant sweet corn for a cash crop.' The words were no more than out of her mouth until her deep breathing proved she was sound asleep. Dad continued to plead, "O God, help us.'

In his retirement, Dad struggled with his need to be reconciled.

He had paddled too often, he thought. He had been too stern, too harsh. Earlier in life, my oldest sister's strong will sometimes met his in serious conflict. (That same strong will later opened doors for younger members of the family.) Later, as my sister took him on short sightseeing trips away from the retirement home or visited him there, he more than once acknowledged his errors of judgement. Finally, on one

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such occasion she reassured him of her acceptance of his parenting methods. She admitted that she needed his firm approach, that otherwise she might have grown up to be a real brat. "! think I should have taken that chance!' was his retort. Despite all that was wrong and hurtful, there was an easily felt assurance of love and God's grace for us all.

My mother had great reserves of strength. My oldest brother was born during the flu epidemic of 1918. Having had the flu, Mother was extremely weak after delivery. Her condition affected the baby and the doctor believed that there was not much chance for his survival. He said, 'It will not be necessary to dress this baby. He will not survive.'

But Mother pleaded, 'O Doctor, I have his clothes lying right there.'

She took his cold body to her breast, massaged and carefully nurtured him into life. That same vital faith and action rooted in trust in a Divine Healer led her during the same son's teen years to pray for his healing from appendicitis attack. He was spared surgery.

She showed the same strength when my father lost his hand.

January 2, 1922, was a typical day, until evening when a hobo stopped by to ask for shelter for the night. Dad's routine reaction to this rather common event was to ask the tramp for his matches, to show him where he could sleep, and to offer him supper in the house.

The hobo observed that my two older sisters were helping my father shred fodder for the cattle.

My father placed the dried corn stalks on the narrow platform that Jed to the sharp blade that chopped the stalks into small pieces. These small pieces landed on a pile on the other side of the shredder. One of the girl's assignments was to push this shredded fodder into an opening that led to the first floor where it was fed to the cattle by her sister. The tramp believed that he could do this task and offered to help. Dad consented and had the girls work together on the lower floor feeding the cattle. Because of the large baskets used to carry the fodder, it may have appeared a difficult job. In reality the fodder was very light and the girls could feed the cattle quite easily.

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Being totally unfamiliar with farm machinery, the tramp left the chopped fodder to pile up and choke the machine. Dad instinctively thrust his gloved left hand into the machine to loosen the jammed blade. His hand was drawn into the blade and was severed just below the wrist.

My sisters sensed that something was wrong since the fodder was no longer falling to the first floor and the engine was no longer running. They ran outside the stable in time to see the hobo following my father into the house. My sisters were terrified as they assumed the hobo was attacking Dad. It took some time for them to be brave enough to go to the house. On doing so they saw the horrible reality--a trail of blood in the snow.

The cold snowy night and the treachery of driving into the country meant that a doctor was unlikely to come to the house.

Mother's father, Grandpa Brubaker, who lived Manheim, eventually found a doctor who would drive with him to our house. After they arrived, the doctor quickly wrapped the hand in gauze and the three of them headed for Lancaster General Hospital.

Mother's strength and perseverance was great. Five small children clustered around her, the older ones weeping and crying as they asked again and again, "Will Papa die? Will Papa die?" The youngest, just a year old, clutched her with total demand for attention, having sensed the trauma that had shaken the whole family during the previous several hours.

Supper had been pushed to the back of the coal range. No one wanted to eat. With all the bravery she could muster, she said over and over, "We will be all right. We will be all right." Her comfort finally brought some semblance of peace and the family prepared for the night.

The warm corn bags were taken from the oven and placed into the beds into which each child was safely tucked.

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She turned and went downstairs to bring the house to order and to prepare for bed herself. Only then did she break into prayers and cries to God. These cries were indelibly written on the minds of the older children who heard her because they, too, could not sleep. The next morning my sisters and my mother arose early, did all the farm chores, and then the children were off to school, arriving there on time.

Dad's accident was the news of the neighborhood. Farmers delivered his milk to the local creamery. Neighbors assisted in other ways. Mother was in charge; so much so that the very next day the cow that only Dad could milk was shipped off to market. The whole ordeal took its toll, but Mother's maturity and security were evidenced in a way that her children could believe her words from the start, "We will be all right. We will be all right."

By the time of my birth, Dad had become so adept at functioning as a one-handed person that I never thought of him as handicapped until I was an adult. He managed almost all demands of the day's work. What he could not do, Mother covered for him so well that he was not chagrined or humiliated. Describing the people and circumstances that conditioned Susie and Monroe helps in understanding these devoted and dedicated people.

Susie's great-grandfather, Abraham Brubaker, owned a large farm south of Mastersonville, Pennsylvania. The people of the Brethren in Christ Church of that area met in his home for worship--in the house in winter, and in the barn in summer. He eventually gave land on which the church was built, and he himself was one of the ministers. His son Isaac was not at all that impressed with the church and became involved in a political party in Lancaster County.

His wife Anna, a devout Christian, was much concerned about Isaac's friends and political cronies.

She suggested that they move from their lovely, prosperous farm west of Manheim, Pennsylvania, to a colony in Kansas. A son's journal carried this account: In the fall of 1881 father and mother (Isaac and Anna) took a trip west to visit relatives in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Kansas.

In the fall of 1884 father sold the farm, then made a trip to Kansas for the purpose of locating a place. Uncle Christian lived at Galva, Kansas so naturally they stopped there and took a tentative option on a half section of

Their Legacy in Our Hearts land near Galva. During the winter of 1884-85 preparations were made for the move. This was not an easy task for it involved leaving loved ones and moving into a new section of the country where the English language was spoken altogether. (We had been speaking the Pennsylvania German language.) It involved getting ready for sales, deciding what furniture to take and what things to sell. Two sales were held in February 1885. Our furniture was placed in a freight car along with that of the David Breneman family and others moving to Galva.

After the sale, the family stayed in different homes until the trip started. March 10th at ten in the morning, everyone met at Mount Joy Railroad station. A change had to take place at Elizabethtown, since there were enough families going to more than fill one car. Quite a number of young people were in the group. It was a sad, and yet a jolly crowd which embarked that afternoon. Father and Mother knew almost everyone. Just how they managed to provide enough grub for the nine of us was always a puzzle to me. We were on the train from Tuesday through Friday--three days.

Upon arriving in Kansas, apparently the children lived with friends. Father and Allen (Susie's father) began to look for a farm.

They purchased one with 160 acres for $4,000.00 known as the 'Faus Fruit Farm." It had a fine apple orchard, cherry trees, and a peach orchard. The house was a story and a half with a small basement. The kitchen, dining room and living room were all one, with a small bedroom north of this room, a good sized bedroom upstairs, and a bedroom at the head of the stairs. Just how they managed to live there is a puzzle.

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Allen soon came back to Pennsylvania to marry Annie Graybill from Manheim and to take her to Kansas.

Allen and Annie also bought 160 acres of land for $4,000 and built a new house, a stable, and several granaries. Crop failures and Annie's homesickness, however, brought them back to Pennsylvania when Susie was eleven. They lost several hundred dollars on the sale of the property, which was sold five years later for a profit of $7,200. Also later, oil was discovered on the farm. The buyers of that property became people of wealth. When the Dourte children would bemoan all that could have been, Mother would chide them about counting all their blessings and their riches. She always ended by reminding them that money, in itself, never brings complete happiness. There were days when we wished for a try!

The local Galva newspaper carried the following account of the Brubaker Family Reunion that took place honoring the Allen Brubaker Family before they left Galva.

One of the rare occasions of this summer was the family reunion at the home of I. L. Brubaker and wife, one-half mile north and one and one-half mile east of Galva on Saturday, July 28. For once in about twelve years the family was all at home.

Fifteen years ago Mr. Brubaker moved to this state from Manheim, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, his family ranging from eight to twenty-one years old, and seven in number. Since then they have scattered north, east and west in pursuit of homes. Of the number five are married and two single, Urias and Simon, are at home on their vacation.

The oldest of the family, Allen B., was married to Miss Anna Graybill, December 19, 1886, and bought the Chas. Geteka farm one-half mile north and 3 miles east of Galva, where they have proved themselves to be thrifty farmers and good neighbors. The neighborhood deeply regrets that they have sold out, and will move to Pennsylvania about September. He sold his farm for $3,700 and the sale of stock and personal property amount to $1,490. The family consists of five children, four boys

Their Legacy in Our Hearts and one girl....

Thus does time scatter a family. The day was spent in conversation, songs and other exercises. At 5:30 ice cream, cake, lemonade and fruit were served, after which all gathered in the room and Urias, after the reading of Rev. 22 and prayer, addressed the grandchildren and children and at the close presented Mr. and Mrs. Brubaker, in behalf of the children, a purse of money. Tears of joy were shed during this service.

Mother's tremendous ability to accept what could not be changed possibly had its origin in her early disappointments.

When she was thirteen, her teacher reported on her good progress at school. She then took the courage to tell her mother that she wanted to become a teacher, but her mother reminded her that she was the only girl in the family and that her six brothers needed her care. That discussion ended her formal experiences in the classroom, but never closed her mind to a desire to learn. Nor did she waste time to begrudge what might have been, but grasped every opportunity to know more.

She read the English literature assignments of her children and was sometimes chagrined by their lack of enthusiasm for learning. "If I'm using incorrect grammar, please tell me,' she would say to us repeatedly. The devotion in which Susie was held by members of her family is reflected by the tribute given to her by her brother Allen at the time of her death: I am happy to represent the six brothers of our beloved sister. She is worthy of more honors than there are words available for me to express. I am unable to do justice to her love, sympathies, and kindnesses which she so lavishly bestowed to each one of us. When she was 13 years old, her fifth brother was born and her mother felt she must quit school to care for the smaller boys, even though her ambition was to be a school teacher. She reconciled herself to serve as a nurse for her younger brothers. She was nine when I was born and she seemed to use her ambition as a teacher in teaching me to read and to spell before I went to school.

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Brethren in Christ History and Life She saw to it that her brothers were clothed, fed and even [sic] made all the shirts, nightgowns for the whole family. She always cut her little brothers' hair. I carry a small nick in my ear. It's the choicest souvenir I possess. I carry it as a token of the kindness and loyalty which is the cherished memory of my life, to which I believe all her younger brothers would give witness.

Susie's entire family took God very seriously. Her father was chosen a minister, so Susie helped her mother when he was called to church duties and responsibilities. When they still lived in Kansas, her Aunt Malinda Eyster, a missionary for the Brethren in Christ in Africa, had urged her to become a Christian. Susie promised that she would put her faith in Christ when she finished going to school. God knew how true she would be to her word because as soon as she was no longer in school, the Holy Spirit prompted her about that promise and she indeed did commit her life to God. Monroe was the fourth of eight children. His grandfather, Heinrich (Henry) Tourdy, migrated from Germany to the United States in July 1840 at eighteen years of age to escape compulsory military training. He carried in his passport some fatherly advice, which in part reads as follows: FATHERLY WORDS TO A JOURNEYING TRADESCOMPANION Young Man! Without doubt you are leaving your father's and instructor's house with a heavy heart. Both are giving you their admonition to take along on your journey.

Your father may have given you or shared with you his meager savings, and your mother may have given you her last kiss. Painful tears are follov.ing you with a hope for your betterment, and that you may return a better man, not ruined in your venture. This will dry all the tears. So each day think of this and ponder the hopes we have for you.

Let this often come to your mind.

Your trade (shoemaker), says a Proverb, has a golden bottom; and by God's help you will succeed to find this

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Their Legacy in Our Hearts golden bottom by industrious, diligent labor. Be vigilant and progressive, and seek to improve your business.

Success awaits you in a foreign country, and so you must go. Your journey must be a benefit to you; therefore, what you see scrutinize with a keen eye. Find out why it is here and what it is for. Ask many questions, but give short answers. Don't act assuming and smart. Pretend to be more ignorant than you really are. Such a traveler people will be glad to advise and direct Above all, be concerned about your trade of shoemaking. Always be temperate and use good sense. Try to understand other people's culture and customs. Investigate them au, keep the best, and bring the good things back with you to your home country.

With the money you earn be saving; don't spend it uselessly. Pennies make the dollars. Gather the pennies together carefully for he that does not regard the pennies is not worthy of the dollars. Don't let laziness over take you. In your wandering, train yourself not to have everything you may wish to have. It could be that in your traveling you will have to do without. If you take this advise you will not be apt to be in want. Be temperate in your eating and drinking. To drink strong drink-turn from it away. This will help you to keep a healthy body that can endure hard labor and traveling. Love to keep order.

Everything has its place, and all things have their time.

Be clean and neat with your person, with your clothes, and with the place you stay. Make this a daily rule, do what must be done, and do it well, without flaw and complete.

Speak what is profitable to you and others, and be speechless if that is more profitable. Love the truth and shun untruth. Your words must agree with what you think.

Do not seek gain by injustice. Don't miss the opportunity to show people the good by becoming evil for your own benefit. Don't become bitter if you are called Evil examples to suffer. Be a person of foresight. destroy good customs and practices.

Stop your ears when others have fun in

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speaking what is wretched and lewd and immoral. Keep your tongue bridled; then your words will never put you to shame. Above all else, whatever you do keep God before your eyes and in your heart and be careful not to sin against God's Commandments. Consider Sunday as a day of rest from your labors, but do not forget to worship God; and if there is a Sunday School in the town where you are, be sure to go there. You will ftnd blessing there and what you will learn there think over and practice, and grow in them. On the Lord's day have fellowship also with a good friend, or read in the Bible, and the song book, or any other good books. This will be far better for you than to visit the Beer, Wine, Playhouses, dance floors, and carouse all through the night. Then you can begin the new week with strength, and pleasure, and a free conscience which will not give you unrest. Don't go too far with getting familiar with women of ill repute. Keep yourself honorable and respectful so you may return without shame, a better man, so shall you have Praise; and the approval of the God of heaven may rest upon you.

Henry settled near Manheim, Pennsylvania, where he learned the trade of shoemaking. He married Veronica Fretz, daughter of Daniel Fretz, a local Church of the Brethren minister.

Monroe's great-grandfather on his mother's side, Solomon Sharpe, had come to the United States from Yorkshire, England, also as a young single man. He became a fence-maker and builder. One of the major social issues confronting Christians at that time was slavery. Solomon felt compelled to action. He went South during slave trading days and bought a slave for $300. After be had paid for the slave in cash and had executed the legal pa pers for ownership, Solomon handed the papers to the slave and said, 'You are a free man. Go where you please.' After a fit of exuberant joy, the slave turned back and said, 'I want to go with you.' A warm and affectionate bond developed between them. This small piece of oral history about the family gave me considerable pause during the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960's. Repeatedly I was in settings where I was asked to make reparation for the sins of my parents and grandparents in their attitudes toward blacks. I could not do it, not because I held any area of reserve about the sins of discrimination, but because I did not want to discredit what was an already established position on racial non-

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discrimination in my family over these many years.

Monroe's father and mother were diligent, resourceful people, working together as a team. Harriet was a dressmaker and seamstress. John cut shoes from large pieces of leather, using thread of his own making to sew the leather together with an awl and hog-bristle needle. As soon as the last wooden peg was nailed into the sole of a pair of shoes, a child was waiting for its use. Harriet oiled the shoes on Monday for weekday use and polished them with a blackening compound for dress-up on Sunday.

When Monroe was ten, he gained a wonderful apprenticeship in carpentry and masonry when his father built a barn. All the logs were hewn, not sawed. The stones for the front of the barn, cut and chiseled in nearby hills, fit perfectly when placed together in construction.

The family was no poorer than their neighbors, but life was simple, free of excesses. Luxury expressed itself in an orange once a year. Monroe did not own an overcoat until he was thirteen, no rubbers until older still. The cohesive forces of the family were prayer and a serious reverence for God. The family system functioned with the father as the austere and final authority. To question or refute authority was unthinkable.

When Monroe was thirteen, he was sent to work for a demanding, unkind neighbor. He reacted by courageously running home through the fields, oblivious of the consequences.

Fortunately, his parents were understanding. Toe next two years he worked for a more tolerant and understanding farmer.

As a teenager, Monroe often walked to the nearby United Brethren Church at Ruhls and also attended services at the Mastersonville Brethren in Christ Church. His mother had membership at Rubi's Church before her marriage. At that time in church life, the Brethren in Christ did not encourage young people to turn to faith in Christ until after they were married. However, when attending the United Brethren Church, Monroe sensed the need for commitment to Christ. For a period of about four years, from age fifteen to nineteen, he struggled with conflict over

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making this decision. Finally, acting on deep conviction he committed himself to Christ and felt a lasting peace and joy.

Another crucial decision came at the same time. Monroe discovered a lady from the community, Susie Brubaker. He found in her reason for song and poetry. They sang and read together. After four years of dating, on the morning of August 28, 1910, the couple went to the bishop's home, were married, and returned to the Brubaker home near Mt. Gretna for the dinner for the immediate families. In the afternoon the newlyweds went to church at Mastersonville. The couple first took residence on the farm of Monroe's father and mother. Here farming, family, and the church filled their lives.

Growing tobacco was one of Grandpa Dourte's more successful crops, so he wanted Dad to grow it as well. Mother could not be convinced that there was congruity with Christian concern for people and growing and selling a crop that would harm people. When they told Grandpa that they had decided not to grow tobacco, he contended that they would not be successful at fanning in Lancaster County. Their decision created some tension, bu t their determination and hard work made possible a successful farming endeavor.

After four years they moved to Grandpa Brubaker's farm north of Mastersonville. Mother loved that farm and hoped that they would one day own it. One day a neighbor was discussing with Grandpa Brubaker the high prices of farms. He told how another neighbor had turned down a $14,000 offer for his farm. Grandpa Brubaker responded with, 'If anyone offered me $14,000 for mine, I certainly would sell it.' The man retorted, "You've just sold your farm.' With great sadness Grandpa broke the news to Monroe and Susie that the farm was sold and moving would be necessary. Jesus' words in the Sermon on the Mount about one's word having meaning was taken literally. No legal papers became necessary. Discussion or retraction was not an option after one had made a statement. One's word was one's bond. The next year was a relatively unhappy one as the Dourte family lived on a small neighboring farm.

After that year, Monroe and Susie bought his father's farm near Manheim for $12,000. There they could raise what they chose to grow, so potatoes became a major crop. That farm was the home of their four daughters and four sons into adulthood.

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Church accompanied family and work to make full days. The church members in the Rapho District frowned on Christian Education at that time, but Dad felt compelled to promote Sunday school because families concerned about their children's nurture were beginning to attend the United Brethren and Evangelical Congregational Sunday schools. Sunday school at our church finally began on Sunday afternoons. With this schedule, only those who were interested in Christian Education came, and those who objected to Sunday schools were less obvious and embarrassed in their absence. Dad was chosen superintendent; he served twenty-two years in that role. He and Mother both served as Sunday school teachers. He promoted Children's Day with special singing, acrostics, pantomimes, and skits. We children loved hiscreative visual aids--David's sling with five smooth pebbles, Jesus' crown of thorns and his replica of the Ark of the Covenant with the two cherubim kneeling on the top, and inside Aaron's

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Munroe and Susie Dourte (their fiftieth wedding anniversary photo足 graph, 1960

Aerial view of the Dourte farm. In later years Dad and Mother retired to house in the foreground

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Brethren in Christ History and Life

The barn on the ninety-eight-acre farm bought from Dad's father, John

The fourteen-room farmhouse. Its front porch stretched the entire length of the building. To the right is the wash house where the weekly laundry was done. The house sat on a huge lawn. The entire double house was used by the family while the children grew into adulthood. Prior to this, the Dourtes provided rent-free housing for people in unfortunate circumstances.

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The first family photograph, taken in the summer of 1928.

Back row, left to right: Mary, Dad, Mother holding Victor, and Ruth.Front row, left to right: Grace, Esther, Jesse, Eber, and Allon. Because taking photo足 graphs was at one time prohibited in the Brethren in Christ Church and later discouraged, if not prohibited, Dad had no photograph of himself from the beginning of his membership in the church until this photo足 graph. It was taken by visiting relatives from the West over Dad's reticence, which undoubtedly explains the expression on his face.

Harvesting potatoes in 1934. In the photograph, left to right, are Allon, Victor, Dad, Eber, Jesse, and Esther.

At a later time tomatoes were substituted for a more profitable cash crop.

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An early spring Sunday afternoon in nature. Left to right: Dad, Mother, and Mary.

Another nature outing. Left to right: Grace, Victor, Jesse, Ruth, Esther, Eber, and Allon

Their Legacy in Our Hearts

The family in the 1930's. Back row, left to right: Eber, Mary, Ruth, Grace, Allon. Front row, left to right: Esther, Dad, Victor, Mother, and Jesse

Mother ready for church-calm and serene, having already done hours of work in that day, probably including preparing for dinner guests and studying to teach the Sunday school lesson

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Mother and Dad sending one of their children back to college after a weekend at home. The shopping bag is undoubtedly filled with fruit and homemade cookies.

Dad with his three sons (left to right, Allon, Eber, and Jesse) at the 1968 General Conference in Canada. All four were delegates.

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Their Legacy in Our Hearts

The Mastersonville Church where Dad pastored for many years. Mother's great grandfather, Abraham Brubaker, gave the land on which the original structure was built in 1878.

The family at the reunion in 1987. Back row, left to right: Ruth Musser, Grace Wolgemuth, Allon, Victor, Jesse, and Eber. Front row, left to right: Mary Martin, Dad, and Esther Snyder

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Dad at the time of the last family reunion in 1987 when he was ninety足 eight years of age

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rod that budded, the pot of manna, and the tablets of stone.

While superintendent he implemented a program known as Home Department. Its purpose was to visit non-churched people in the community. 11tls later gave him entree to the community when he became a minister.

After having served as superintendent for many years, he brought a recommendation to the district council that a term for Sunday school Superintendent should be only two years. After a year out of office, persons could then be reelected.

He loved to develop programs for growth and development of people. Teacher training classes and conferences for children, youth, and families consumed his time. He seemed always to be wondering what would be the next event that the church should sponsor as be served as chairman of the District Program Committee.

When new hymnals with notes replaced those with only lyrics, he was chosen Music Teacher. He taught the rudiments of music to music classes, including how to read music. He in itiated special singing groups, such as quartets and duets. Our family learned coping skills in conflict as certain church members exited while special music was sung.

We knew our father was perceived as the culprit because of all his new ideas.

On Easter and Christmas he led the young people in carol singing in the community and to the elderly of the church. All members of our family--without exception--took part in this activity. The snow and cold of the Christmas morning in the back of an open truck as we caroled after midnight chilled us all to the bone, despite layers of clothes and blankets. The driver always got his cue to move on to the next home as Dad's voice began: Peace upon earth the angels sang; Good will unto men the chorus rang, Glory to God, the Christ has come His bright star shines in the clear blue dome. Joyously sing, joyously sing, Shout Hallelujah To Christ the King.

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The awesome, impressionable day of Dad's call to ministry remains sharp in my memory, even though I was only eleven years old. The congregation voted for a minister in the morning service. Any man in the congregation considered worthy by members was eligible for election. We children sensed that Dad might be elected and were not exactly overjoyed. In those days high expectations were placed on ministers' families. By late afternoon we saw the bishop's car rounding the last curve as he drove on to our farm. Solemnly the bishop and another minister, together with their wives, took Dad and Mother into the living room, closing the door behind them. This confirmed our expectations. It was true; Dad was the next minister in the row of men lined on the pew behind the pulpit each Sunday.

That meant that I had to sit with my mother at the front of the church on short side pews facing the pulpit in full view of all the women sitting in the congregation. In time, exceeding great joy came as I sat in the main sanctuary because my behavior warranted such trust. In no way would I have ever done anything to meet with my mother's disapproval and thus return to the side pew.

When Dad led services we tried to function to his credit rather than reproach, but we did not always succeed. Once my younger brother almost destroyed my father's equilibrium. Only a child, he rose to speak during an "experience" meeting. An elderly gentleman had just finished his oft-repeated lines about his joy at being "in the army of the Lord."

My brother piggy足 backed on the man's expression, substituting "the Navy of the Lord" as the source of his joy.

By district and bishop decision, my father's election to the ministry also meant that our family had to leave the Manheim Church so that Dad could pastor at Mastersonville. It took all the family solidarity we children could muster to leave our friends in Manheim. By this time my older sisters were gone from home and were at college and work.

Having just bought a car, my oldest brother declared his exemption from the move. Mother tenderly coaxed, pleaded, even cried for his cooperation. The rest of us had no other option. Again we were confronted by our parents' model of obedience and reverence for God and their church. In time we all adjusted to change. Dad served in tha t pastoral role for many years before retiring.

After retiring and at seventy-nine years of age, Dad returned to minister for several years as an interim pastor. Young couples and youth

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rallied around him and Mother, and warm loving relationships followed them into their very elderly years. At their leaving, the Mastersonville congregation gave them a money tree, the money being placed in English walnuts. Dad wrote these lines for the September 8, 1968, church bulletin as a thank you:

THANK YOU 0 who can believe it, Nor human heart conceive it, That money can in walnuts grow!

And what a surprise! Nor can aged folks realize?

It's a fact--yes, we have come to know.

No, no, it's not a mere dream, Most inconceivable it does seem.

Can a man's mind such nursery trees grow?

Sixty-seven greenbacks in value; It's so true let us tell you, We thank you, God bless you, and you, and you.

Susie and Monroe At Dad's death in April 1988 a young woman wrote me saying, 'Your father ministered to my poetic soul as a teenager as no one else could. I shall never forget your parents.'

Becoming a member of the Pennsylvania State Tent Board of three men made new demands on a busy fanner. He served fifteen of the

Brethren in Christ History and Life eighteen years on this Board as chainnan. Providing personnel, scheduling the meetings, maintaining, moving, repairing and storing tents were his tasks. Repeatedly, he spent weekends traveling, at his own expense, throughout the state, overseeing services scheduled at strategic places for evangelism. Mother always accompanied him, taking food and staples for the five people on the team at each site. There was always a husband足 wife team to cook the meals and to prepare the tent for each service, two single women to lead the singing and give children's talks, and the evangelist. Churches throughout the state were established from many of these meetings.

Weatherizing and repairing these tents beeame an ongoing activity for my father. Summer thunder storms took a heavy toll One summer a storm completely ruined a tent. Laborious was the right term for the responsibility. Dad never resented it, but worry about it he did.

Both Mother and Dad were eager that their children become involved in ministry that used their skills. My oldest sister served a number of times as a volunteer in tent meetings, leading singing and helping in the visitation. To the end, Dad's passion was involvement in practical Christian expression for his family. A grand-daughter caught his words near his end as he prayed, "Lord, make my family a blessing to others.'

While on those weekend mission assignments, my parents gave the supervision of family and farm care to my oldest sister. Sibling rivalry and prankish behavior came out'of the woodwork. On one occasion my oldest brother found extreme delight in having my sisters called to the barn where he stood on his head at the peak of the barn. His delayed response to their pleadings that he come down was a manipulation device he rejoiced to use. On another occasion when our parents were absent on church work we discovered a dead cow in the stream that ran through our meadow. The cow's front shoulder had become lodged in the stream bank. We hooked a horse to the cow by a chain. The horse pulled increasingly harder until the neck of the cow became as long as a giraffe's before the horse could be stopped. What relief when that animal was finally at the pasture gate! But onlya short time later, we heard the whole herd of cattle prancing and bellowing around the dead cow they had discovered. The loud, strange noise attracted a neighbor's attention. He came to check on our safety. A young bull by then had pawed up the earth in anger. The neighbor declared he had never seen cattle in such turmoil. He told us that we were fortunate that

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the dead cow had not been discovered by the other cattle until we left the pasture. In our parents' absence and in great potential danger, we had experienced God's care.

Our entire family was introduced to the Lancaster Mission on Caroline Street as a result of my sister's attendance at Millersville State Teacher's College. She worked for and Jived with a family near the mission while at college. In the year she graduated, the minister's wife at the mission asked her to teach vacation Bible school. By the time Bible school began, college was over and she was back home. So each morning, for two full weeks, she drove our seven-passenger Nash, packed with people, to the city. The tremendous time that took out of each day was never begrudged because it was done for God. Every effort was made to have such things happen. We participated in this vacation Bible school for two summers.

Dad served as secretary-treasurer of the General Conference Program Committee of the denomination for seven years. He never could bring himself to ask for any reimbursements for expenses. Both he and Mother were totally committed to giving their energy, time, money and skills to do these assignments. Mother would say, 'That's why we work, so we have something to give.' Dad's unspoken attitude was that God will provide.

Poring over reports to General Conference was not uncommon. He loved to choose his words carefully as he wrote them. Here is one report from the 1941 General Conference Minutes:

REPORT OF GENERAL CONFERENCE PROGRAM COMMITTEE General Monroe Dourte, Sec'y.

I will extol thee, my God, 0, King and I will bless thy name forever and ever. Every day will I bless Thee and Iwill praise thy name forever and ever. Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised and His greatness is unsearchable. One generation shall praise thy

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works to another and shall declare thy mighty acts. I will speak of the glorious honor of thy majesty and of thy wondrous works and men shall speak of the might of thy terrible acts, and I wilt declare thy greatness. Psa. 145:1-6.

What a gracious and animating touch in the soul as we remember that God is great over all. Jesus forever lives, and the blessed Holy Spirit leads and guides, amidst turbulent seas; and the testimony of the saint becomes more and more imbued and fraughted with Divine Grace as we slowly but certainly make for port, then to pull in the oars and forever be in the calm. Blessed he the name of the Lord.

As we go along let us keep calling hack to the storm足 tossed fellow brother, "Come with us and we will do thee good," for the Lord bas promised good concerning Israel. This has again been true in the past tent program which convened in Major Hall on the camp Mack grounds. Truly the Lord has messages of Truth to the hearers that we pray may continue to live.

The Evangelistic endeavor was crowned with seeking souls. We can truthfully say we felt heaven's glory in the services.

The children's meetings were held twice each day In Beckers Lodge, a very commodious and well-equipped room, where object lessons, chalk talks, Bible quizzes, feltograph and missionary talks were given.

The attendance started with fifty and increased to over a hundred. A num ber of children were saved and gave bright testimonies of salvation.

May God continue to attend the seed sown and bless every succeeding effort in this phase of the Conference Program.

Changes in the denomination in the 1950's brought soul searching for us all. As the girls of the family changed their hair styles, Mother often cried and said, 'Are you sure you are right with God?' After a period of several months of passive avoidance behavior on the part of one of the daughters and her parents, the daughter found herself sitting with Dad and Mother at their kitchen table crying, reasoning, and trying to resolve the

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problem. Dad said firmly, 'I can't preach if my children are not obedient to God.' But my sister replied, 'The women of Ruhl's United Brethren do not wear 'coverings' and, Dad, you know they are godly.' As they all wept he cried, 'O forgive me, it is my pride that is getting in my way.'

Another time a grandson returned from the west coast with a bushy beard and rather long hair. On greeting him, Dad jokingly said, 'You look like a monkey.' The grandson said, 'Grandpa, you have a beard, too.' Grandpa said, 'I have mine for a reason.' The grandson retorted, 'I have mine for a reason, too!' The grandson was living out his reactions to materialism. He wanted to be identified with a simple lifestyle. Conversations then turned to other things and the grandson left. But all night Dad tossed and turned over his insensitivity to his greeting and to the judgement he had made based only on appearance. At dawn, Dad drove to my sister's house and waited in the driveway to apologize for his judgmental behavior. Again he said, 'It is my pride.' One day as I visited him, he said to me, "Let me give you a lesson someone should have taught me years ago. Look into the eyes of people, ignore their externals, and pray about all they can become.

Making personal changes in appearance also brought sibling tensions, though never totally ruptured ones. We all learned to be less judgmental, more trusting and accepting of each other.

For six years Dad served the denomination as a member of the Examining Board, as Assistant Chairman for two years and as Assistant Secretary for one. He read with interest and concern the papers submitted by ministerial candidates for examination and credentailing. His retirement from that board came as a result of some frustration, since he saw potential in men who were rejected by the church for the ministry during the church's more legalistic days.

He followed passionately and conscientiously anything he felt the Bible taught. His exposure to the United Brethren Church helped him to believe in Christians who differed from him. Mother worked her way around these differences in doctrine by believing that people who differed 'simply didn't have the light.' Dad was not so sure. For himself, when convicted of a truth in the Bible, he followed that truth with devout adherence and obedience.

Mother sensed her own mental deterioration as she aged. She began

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to realize she was not getting her stories accurate as we visited with family and friends at the retirement home. More and more the visits turned to silent but pleasant presence. She seemed so wise in her pleasant silence.

One day Dad gave expression to his deep respect for her quality of life in a rather philosophical poem he called 'Truth,' the first stanza of which reads as follows: We are what we are When we don't know that we are.

When we've left Our conscious consciousness behind.

And all men then read The character they are seeing.

At the time of her death I was reading Catherine Marshall's book Something More. I had finished the chapter entitled, 'The Law of the Generations." The main concept presented in the chapter was that God, throughout Scripture, sends us a ringing call to understand that we cannot escape the blessing or curse of the generations.

As I stood by her lifeless form, I was overwhelmed with blessings--blessings of unconditional love as in my mind I felt again the warmth of her body as she wrapped my tiny form with her apron when I snuggled to her lap during family devotions; blessings of laughter, when more that once she, too, had to leave the table to control herself after Dad announced that the frivolity had gone far enough; blessings of commitment and acceptance, for she never flinched or recoiled in the face of storm and disappointment; blessings of selflessness, because love mattered more than getting her way.

As the funeral plans were made for her May 8, 1975, service, Dad asked that I present the family tribute and I wrote: Many years ago our mother must have heard words similar to those

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given to Joshua as Moses commissioned him with warm feeling and gentle persuasiveness, thrusting him into the future saying, 'See, I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing. Therefore choose life.' And Mother chose life and the blessings of that choice have accrued to her children, her grandchildren and to her great grandchildren.

She had been a model of stewardship of life from the health of her body to the health of her soul, and has passed to progeny blessings rather than liabilities. Blessings which do not follow from generation to generation incidentally or passively, but are obviously passed by example and precept足 consciously and unconsciously.

As a young wife and mother, her garden, her spring cleaning, her filled larder and her kitchen aromas evidenced joy and happiness that made her believe life to be good. She told her children so as they picked vegeta bles and flowers.

But one day storm clouds gathered and thunder rolled and our father's hand was gone. She gathered her trembling, whimpering child ren around her and covered them with her blanket of courage. And when the sunshine came again, she saw that all was good, for she with her children around her had learned courage.

Again there was the roll of thunder and the crash of lightning, for there was depression, bills to pay, shoes to buy, and mou ths to feed. But she gathered her children around her and covered them with her blanket of faith and trust in God. The storm passed and she smiled saying, "It was good to have this happen, because my children trust in the power of God." And always as she went she was by our father's side, supportive and brave. Quick to say, "I'm sorry," free to give loving affection and praise.

Wise in judgment. And from this mantle came loving, caring relationships.

As she continued in the way, neighbors were to be helped, hearts to be healed and loads to be lifted. And her children around her saw love and the law of kindness at work. And she smiled and said, "How good is God to give this life to me."

But traveling made her weary and her vigorous step grew slow though never without the dignity that characterized her. But her children rose to help her and she smiled and said, "This, too, is good for I see my children

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tall and strong. I know they know the way."

But the end of the hard, long, happy journey came. And there was a glorious entrance through which she passed. And as she did she smiled and turned to those she loved and said, "The end is better still than the lovely beginning because I am at home with God." And her children turned to each other and to their father and affirmed unitedly that she had not left, but somehow was felt in a living presence.

She was now with her Savior enjoying perfect intercession, asking the Holy Spirit to make real in the lives of those who remain the great biblical truths and principles of obedience to God, forgiveness of each other, and the eternal hope of faith in Christ's return.

Mother's death brought such pain to Dad. Repeatedly he told of the new lessons he had learned in her going. They had passed the point of being able to communicate verbally quite some time before her death. He then learned the comfort of her presence in sweet silence. Now that, too, was gone. He found solace in writing about her.

O Mother, Come O Mother, come and talk to me Dead silence causes pain.

Come call me. Oh, it pains me so, Call "Yoo-boo" once again.

Your face, it wore a pleasant smile.

Your eyes they shone so true And every feature of your face Speaks so--I'm drawn to you.

My heart aches longingly And oh, I recall those days of yore, When in the strength of you we toiled.

It's done, no toiling more.

Well God saw that the harvest's ripe.

He sent the reapers in To reap the choicest fruit the first, A swath so wide and clean.

In His great fields of glory there He had a place for you.

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It seems sometimes I feel the bliss I already share with you.

Till then it's hard, it is so silent now.

The stillness is so very deep.

The room's so void all day.

Since you are gone to stay.

I shall not wait, delay too Long.

I'm coming soon to you, This mortal body I'll lay down And dressed all in the new I'll come and we together then Will walk the streets of gold!

View all the splendors heaven holds And Jesus' face behold.

Dad lived a long time, ninety-nine years and four months. His last ten years were lived in residence at Messiah Village. One day he told a son that he feared that God had forgotten he was still around. Many times as I drove away from the Village I'd say, '0 God, take him,' only to realize in the next visit how vital and active his life and mind remained despite his physical deterioration. In response to his question about why he was still living, a granddaughter said, 'You are still here because you are the spiritual center of our family. You are the unifying force of these diverse and far-flung personalities and characters. You are here for me to see the grace and patience by which one grows old and dies.'

The children and staff of the Messiah Village Children's Family Center brought freshness and joy to his later days. The Executive Director wrote these words to our family at Dad's death: Grandpa Dourte--as he will always be to me--has been one to leave his mark on many outside your family. I cannot think of him without a rush of feeling or respect or appreciation. I think of him 'in his prime' at the young age of 93 when I first knew him. To me Grandpa Dourte was synonymous to strength and wisdom and humility. He would chuckle and tell this story: The parents and the teachers say to the children, 'Sit still' and God says 'Wiggle.' And so the children wiggle! We all loved to hear him play his harmonica. One time he was brought to the Center in his

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wheelchair. He willingly played for the two-year-olds. They began to move and bounce around in response to his music. "Well, they must be Methodists!' he said. His unsuspected tolerance for a program as contemporary as day care and the unqualified love he had for the children were inspirational and encouraging to the Children's Family Center.

My last visit gave clear evidence that life was almost gone. I was certain he knew me despite his difficulty in breathing and his closed eyes. Leaning over his weary form, holding him close, I quietly sang the hymn whose chorus is 'Almost home, almost home/How sweet the words to weary hearts/We're almost home!' He gave a gentle shake of his bead and mu ttered, 'Almost!' He bad often said, 'I'm not walking into the sunset. I find it a walk into sunrise!' Shortly after his feeble 'Almost,' he awoke and found the sunrise in heaven. I know his meeting his Savior and his beloved Susie, who proceeded him in death by thirteen years, became his crowning joy.

At the grave site, a son, recalling Dad's sorrow about his inability to now sing, asked us, 'Can you visualize the hosts of heaven looking around to check who the new tenor is?'

Friends and family met at Mastersonville Church on April 9, 1988, for a service of praise to God for his life and resurrection.

My nephew reminded us that the goal of our meeting together was not to idolize Grandpa but to "provoke each other to good works.' Dad always had classic one-liners that we all knew, such as, "If you cannot see any footprints in the way, by faith make some.�

His children and grandchildren told of the footprints they had seen: a faithful, passionate, ambitious pilgrim, a lover of beauty, selftaught preacher, Bible scholar, poet, musician, demonstrator of the meaning of family, calling the flock together yet calling us each by name, a saint who knew he had not "already attained," full of contrition over hard words or attitudes, a man of spontaneous humor and wit, a man of principle and prospect. Rejoicing, he often quoted I Corinthians 2:9: "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him (NIV)."

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The paradox of it all is that his family agreed with a son and a grandson's contention that he was a truly wealthy man although he had no monetary possessions to share. His wealth was not with his name on a company trading on a ticker tape, or on a building which honored him. Dad's gift to us is a faith comprised of principles and God-honored priorities in a world obsessed with position and possession. We know the riches of his life as a legacy to us. We are the bearers of his estate. It is written on our hearts.

APPENDIX I.

Poems by Monroe Dourte

Mastersonville Brethren in Christ Meeting House Upon the quiet sun-kissed slopes, the peaceful, revered meetinghouse still sits.

Long have her doors voiced, "Welcome' to the teeming throngs, and toil worn hearts Amid the terror, storms that mercilessly beat upon it, Or in the quiet days of tranquil calm.

"Come, come, there's room, just come and take a seat."

The voices whispering here bring peace, and to the trembling soul, a balm.

Almost a century ago, as now you see, Upon these hallowed, sacred grounds it first began to be.

And ever since the edifice has stood, inviting in its portals, all, The sad, the bad, the weary and the good.

But many, many, passing by are heeding not the overtures, or loud welcoming cry.

Yet myriads have so wisely chosen to turn in, to abide, Find within this peaceful shrine, a blissful soul, harmony inside.

Here many a parson preached and prayed, tears falling to the floor As tender expositions made, or plaintive words he spoke.

Here many a soul in galling chains of sin, found sweet release,

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And a new lease on life, upon their dark horizon breeze; And hopes immortal in the soul of each was kindled, And embers low were fanned into an unquenching, heated flame, Aspiring faith, a conquering tread, A zeal to now and ever glory in the Savior's name.

Those Wounded Hands ("Written in a pensive mood before a communion service at Mastersonville Church." 1973) For me the wounded hands and cruel crown of thorns He wore, For me the shame and dark despair of sin He bore, For me the scourging stripes of awful pain upon His back, For me with unfair trial, the howling mob did Him attack.

For me forsaken, there by the cross He stood, For me to take on Him my sin, and debt--the innocent and good.

For me to rescue, from eternal death and night and Hell, And now I hear a mighty chorus echo 'All is Well'.

How now can I repay to Him the gratitude I owe?

But humbly fall before Him--yield myself as deeper in His love I go, And follow closely by His wounded side in thankfulness each day Through all my life, till all of sin on earth is done and put away.

0 Loving Lord, so help me now to love Thee more and serve Thee better yet Until the day the trumpet clarion calls the living and the dead.

When then we stand, by Calvary's love, unworthy, without blame, On Heaven's shore, to glory in His great and wondrous name.

For me He paid the awful price, for me He paid the debt.

Help me to worthily partake then of these emblems, wine and bread And so declare and show Thy love for all to know and come to be 'Redeemed,' and saved from sin, to share Thy Jove Eternally.

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My Prayer (Read at his memorial service by one of his grandsons. The poem reveals Dad's desire to say appropriate things. The grandson added that grandfather had also learned when to say them.)

Now Lord Thou knowest I am growing old, Keep me from the idea that I must express Myself on every subject that is told.

Deliver me from the desire to meddle into other folks affairs. Keep me free from reciting antiquated stories everywhere.

Speaking of the Past that's old and faded, And has small profit when it is related.

Keep me from glorifying the "Good Old Times" of yesterday.

'Ecclesiastes' seven ten advises, to put that far away; And adjust to the 'Now' in which we live today.

This then Is my chore, and without murmur take that way, The disadvantages age brings on, the aches and pains.

Lord, teach me to honor Thee with the strength that still remains.

And teach me too, that though I've learned a lot because I lived so long, Still I may not always be in the right, but may sometimes be wrong.

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Musing at 90 When fades the sun and evening shades appear; When all that is so fair now, will vanish here, The twilight fades away in somber night.

And all that one time was so precious cease to abide, Then in a fairer land where never comes a night, Where all the ransomed souls in jubilence reside.

Then all the saints shall share in that coronation long eternal day Where all delight, and Praise, and joy shall never pass away.

Already, seems I hear the joy-bells ringing there on high; Oh haste the day when all shall be conceived in that glad glory place up in the sky.

Their Legacy in Our Hearts The Fall of the Year (One of many poems written for the Messiah Village Echoes) The sun far up in distant sky, The fleecy clouds go sailing by, The trees all dressed in autumn gown; The wind that whips with Jack-frost sound, The flowers on the ledge grown brown, The roses' flowery blush laid down.

The mocking bird high on the pole, Her autumn notes, you hear them roll.

The summer's gone, 'tis autumn now And to this truth we all must bow, The bladed corn stalks in the field Now to the farmer its crops yield.

The husker rattles down the row Soon with another load he'll go To store away for critters' feed.

While howling winter's storms fierce beat, And kitchen cozy warm we need.

Say tell me who does all this--all, The seasons all from fall to fall, The summer's lush green all around Now gold and brown leaves on the ground?

Who causes balmy days to cease And brings the cold that bites like teeth?

The summer's heat, the winter's snow All ordered by our Lord we know.

What lesson then shall all this teach From youth to all its glee and joy So soon to hoary heads on each?

What matters, so did God ordain From earth we come, return again.

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II. Favorite Poems

The following poems, both by unknown authors, were two of Dad's favorite and often quoted poems. The first poem hung on the wall, the art work, printing, and framing done by one of his artistic grand-daughters.

Beside the Plow Beside the plow He walks with me And if my step is slow He pauses, waiting so that He May lead me where I go.

I feel His presence at my side His hand upon my hair His love flows boundless like the tide About me everywhere.

Beside the plow He walks with me And lo the sun shines down.

The same that smiled on Galilee And on the thorny crown.

God grant that when the shadows creep Across the mountain fair Thy love will still be wide and deep About me everywhere.

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Are All the Children In? (This second poem epitomizes Dad and Mother's greatest interests.)

Are all the children in? The night is falling.

The clouds are dark in the threatening west.

The lowing cattle seek a friendly shelter, The birds hike to their nests.

The thunder crashes, wilder grows the tempest, And darkness settles o'er the fearful din.

Come, close the door and gather round the hearth stone.

Are all the children in?

Are all the children in? The night is falling. \When gilded sin doth walk about the street.

Oh! At the last it biteth like an adder, Poisoned are the stolen sweets.

Mothers guard the feet of inexperience Too prone to wander in the path of sin.

Come, close the door against temptation.

Are all the children in?

Are all the children in? The night is falling.

The night of death is coming on.

The Lord is calling, "Enter thou thy chamber And tarry there a space." When He comes, The Lord in all His glory, Who died the shameful death our souls to win.

O, may the gates of heaven close about us With all our children in.

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