Cedar Heights Community Presbyterian Church

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Joy’s Story

When Cal and I moved to Cedar Falls after he graduated from Iowa State University, we did a bit of church shopping among Presbyterian churches in the area. I really wanted to sing in a church choir. When we visited First Presbyterian in Cedar Falls,and the choir stood up to sing their anthem, everyone had to move over a place to accommodate their large numbers. When we visited Cedar Heights Community Presbyterian Church, I noticed right away that the choir seemed very small and could use some extra altos. Of course we chose CHCPC, and have been members for over 50 years..

I just retired from the choir last spring, and I do miss the camaraderie, the singing and the feeling of family very much. To show you how special our choir director is, Sue Feltman insisted on throwing me a retirement party at her lovely country home. Most of the choir attended. She also worked very hard to make me a beautiful retirement photo book with many nice thoughts from our wonderful pastors, Jay and Eric, and other friends in our congregation. I will treasure this book always.

We have stayed active members of CHCPC because the love for one another in the choir is reflected in the wider community. We really try to :”love one another as I have loved you.” This love really resounds not only within the church and for the church, but throughout the Cedar Valley as we give to a great number of local agencies who care for the needy, and then throughout the world as our church and the other Presbyterian churches in Cedar Falls and Waterloo continue to transform the lives of the Bihembe village families.

We have been blessed with amazing pastors from Bob Roof to Cathy Young to Shelly White Wood to Eric Sunderland and Dave Kivett, who have led by example as they have shown us how to love one another.

We are looking forward to celebrating the CHCPC’s 100th anniversary, and are so happy that we have been able to share that wonderful love for half that time!

Faith Stories

Dave’s Story

FINDING YOUR GIFT

            You know how people are always telling you to “use your gifts?”  And you always end up thinking you would, if they would just tell you what those gifts are?  Well, Dave is a man who has found that his unique gifts exactly match the needs of both his church and community.

Dave comes from a family tradition of service and hard work.  His paternal grandfather was a missionary pastor who was responsible for establishing churches in the Midwest.  Dave’s father, James, was pastor of Cedar Heights Community Presbyterian Church from 1924 -1936.

Unfortunately, Dave’s father passed away when Dave was 7.  He says the formative elements of his childhood include his father’s early death and his mother’s struggle to make a living and keep the family together.  Dave is the third of four children.  He says his mother worked hard all her life, not only to support the family, but also to make sure Dave and his siblings grew up in the church and followed the teachings of Christ.

Dave’s mother passed away two weeks before his high school graduation.   He and his younger sister went to live with his brother Jim in Buffalo, and worked there, taking an engineering course at Buffalo Tech.  When there was no longer work available for him, Jim suggested Dave go back to Iowa and “see what Deere’s is doing.”

This proved to be a life-changing choice.  He was hired at Deere’s as a clerk and draftsman in 1949.  Because of his expertise, he moved up to architectural draftsman.

Dave was transferred to Moline, where he stayed for 16 years.  There, he helped to build all the new buildings.

In 1974, he moved back to Waterloo, where he joined a new department, Energy Management. In 1984, Dave retired. He says that  the accountant at Deere’s estimated he and his department saved the company 94 million dollars in energy costs over the years.

Dave says he continued going to CHPC every Sunday “because that’s what you do on Sunday.”

His wife, Jackie, and her family were already members of CHPC. The couple were married there in August, 1957. Their two sons were baptized and grew up in the church.

Dave served on Session, where he chaired the Building and Grounds Committee.  During this time, he helped dismantle the Montessori classroom, built what is currently the Youth Room, and helped build the classrooms in their current form.

He sang in the choir, with Jackie, for 25 years.  After he retired from the choir, he found a spot in the church where he could watch her every Sunday. which  he did until her death in 2003.   He still sits there every week.

His real involvement with the church began, Dave says,  when he joined the Retired Mens’ Group in 1984.  In 1992, he began helping at Sartori Hospital, changing light bulbs and doing other “handyman” type jobs.  This fit perfectly with his long experience as an engineer at Deere’s.  He enjoyed the fellowship of the other men as much as the work, he says.

In December, 2003, Dave began volunteer work at Covenant Hospital.  Now 85, he continues his work there, as well as his weekly church attendance.  He says he especially enjoys participating in “Over the Coffee” each week.  He relishes the lively discussion, and says that this group brings laughter into his life, every Sunday.

At Covenant Hospital, Dave purges old medical records.  His goal, he says, is to volunteer 25,000 hours at the hospital.  Currently, he will reach this goal the first week in June, 2015.

Dave Laurie is a man who continues, daily, to do what many of us only intend to do.  He uses his unique talents and experience to improve the day-to-day functioning of his church and community.

Faith Stories

Avis’ Story

My Story, My Journey

I was raised in a loving family, my parents, Florence and George Alvey, three brothers and two sisters.  We lived in a small village, Braithwaite in North Yorkshire.  Life was simple growing up during the Second World War.  Everyone was in the same economic difficulties at that time.

Looking back on those years I think it gave strength to a lot of families.  Those were the years we learned to share and make do with very little.  Being only three years old in 1939 I didn’t know life could be any different.  I had a happy childhood.

Being in a small village there was only one church, St. Matthews, and life revolved around it both spiritually and socially.  I was christened and confirmed at St. Matthews.  I would have liked to have been married there but it wasn’t sanctioned to do so.  My father was a caretaker (janitor) at both church and Sunday school.  It had a nice big hall and stage where we would have dances, concerts, pantomimes and whist drives all to raise money for the upkeep of the church.  My father being a jack-of-all trades would play piano, write skits and direct both children and adult concerts.  My mother and many of the ladies would knit balaclavas, scarfs, gloves, and socks for our soldiers.  My job was to sit and hold the yarn whilst it was rolled into a ball.  The ladies also id refreshments at all the church events.  My later teen years I drifted away from the church and then started going occasionally to the church in the village Riddlesden where I moved when I was married.

In 1967 my husband, Brian, flew to the USA to work for General Electric.  Our two children, Tracy 4yrs and Timothy 18 months and I followed in the Queen Elisabeth II arriving in New York on April 10th, 1968.  It’s been quite a journey and yet a lot further to go.

Our next six years in Ballston Spa, New York were wonderful years where I found a great community spirit.  I’m still in touch today with our friends there.

In December 1975 we arrived in Waterloo with my husband working for John Deere.  I went to the Episcopalian Church in 4th Street, a beautiful church.  I was sad it was pulled down.  I never quite settled at the new church but Lesley was confirmed there.  I tried a few churches.  I don’t know what I was looking for.

Our youngest daughter, Lesley, got married in the Presbyterian Church downtown Waterloo.  I was so impressed with all the guidance Lesley and Elvin received from Rev. Kathy Young that when she became pastor of CHCPC, I decided to give it a try.

The welcome I received was like coming home.  My decision was made.  What a journey.  God has led me on a long but meaningful path, but I always held to my faith.  Acceptance in all things strengthened my faith.  Me and my family are truly blessed.

Faith Stories

Santha’s Story

MY LIFE AT CEDAR HEIGHTS

    The first time I was in this church was for Dave and Jackie Laurie’s wedding.   I was about 8 years old and my dad worked with Dave at John Deere.    Many years later Dave and Jackie and Jim and I sang in the choir together.

It’s the mid 70s, we have 2 young children, both having gone to St. Luke’s pre school and enjoying it very much.  We decide that finding a church near by would be good for the kids so that they could continue experiencing a Christian life.  I grew up in a Presbyterian church and we knew people going to Cedar Heights so thought we’d give it a try.

We began teaching Sunday school, Bible school, and then youth groups.   I remember what fun we had with the kids making piñatas, the Bible school kids making clay pots, and then the Stiers boys coming to the church, building a kiln, and helping to fire the pots.   We cooked many a dinner for the youth group, always wondering how so much food could disappear so quickly.  We even took them on a ski trip to Dubuque.  I spent the day in the warming house and again, feeding kids.

We belonged to a Topic Group for many years and got involved in lots of interesting projects as this group seemed to volunteer for all sorts of jobs.  One time we painted the downstairs bathrooms.  The cement brick was the hardest paint job I’ve ever had. We put up the Christmas decorations and took them down for several years until we got too old to climb the ladders.

The Ice Cream Socials were a special project for many years.  I’d decorate cakes for the cake walk and serve food.  Two stories about the socials-  We and another couple volunteered to go to Grundy Center to pick up the dunk tank.  As we’re driving back it breaks loose and goes tumbling into a corn field.  Thankfully, there were no cars around us at the time to get hurt.  After the shock wore off we just sat down and laughed.  Another year Jim decided to make ice cream bowls to sell at the social and we would donate the money to the church.  We sold every one and still have people mention their special bowls.

One of my most favorite projects was the renovation of the Brinkerhoff Lounge.  I worked with a great group of people and had good support from the Session so all we had to do was make decisions and Go Shopping!  Our priorities were safety, comfort, style, and durability.  My own addition to the room are four photos that I took and are now hanging on the walls.   Every time I go by the lounge and see people using it, I feel we did a good job.

And lastly, going in the sanctuary and seeing the goblet, plate, baptism bowl and pitcher that Jim made gives me a warm, special feeling knowing that these special items are being used in a holy setting.

Many years and many memories.  Friends have come and gone.  I think I will still be there for many more.

Faith Stories

Miriam’s Story

As a child, from the time I was able to do anything, I was singing.  I sang to my doll and to the dog.  I sang back to the birds in the shaded grove where the burdock grew.  I sang to the cows as I brought them through the willows and past the bubbling springs, up to the barn at milking time.

I sang with my dear father.  My father was a happy man.  My father was an amazing Christian man.  All who knew him came to love him.  He was a new arrival to this country from Germany at the age of 18.  He loved his new homeland and was so proud to be an American.  While we were growing up he did not miss one day of reading from the Bible to us, and singing a hymn along with all of us.  His faith was awe-inspiring and such an inspiration to make it my own.

My journey of faith has had its ups and downs.  I was raised in the Presbyterian church and continued there through a 35-year marriage and raising our children.  When the children were out of the home, through college and married, I felt free to follow my long-held desire to leave a marriage that had not been right for a very long time.  It was necessary but extremely difficult.  The time following the divorce was a dark night for my soul.  So dark that I even questioned my faith and left the church for a time.

Then I found this church.  Cathy Young was pastor here.  I had known Cathy before.  She immediately tapped me for a Deacon.  I loved that because I got to know people in the church quickly.  I found Cathy’s personal warmth and inspired preaching so very healing.  Cathy and the friendly, genuine acceptance of the people here, in time, brought me back to my former happy and close relationship to God.

Back to growing-up time.  My father and I sang the old hymns from memory.  Our first attempts at harmony were pretty funny, but ultimately we caught on.  We often sang at the piano.  We always sang in the car.  Sometimes we would sit out at night, watch the stars and sing until it was my bedtime.

Miss Reed, my first grade teacher, had me wear the construction paper drum major hat with the tall red plume as I led the rhythm band around and around the classroom.  After practicing until we could reasonably sort-of stay in step, we were overjoyed to be invited to perform for the PTA.  I can still smell the coffee with cream and sugar in my daddy’s cup.  He let me take little sips as I sat on his lap after our impassioned if imperfect performance.

We had a vintage upright piano in our home.  I was soon sounding out melodies and finding suitable supporting chords.  I learned to send those chords soaring up and down the keyboard.  There was no thought of lessons.  There was no money for lessons.  But that did not stop me from playing.

Playing the piano was very important to me.  I purchased a new Everett Console when I stopped teaching third grade to raise my family.  I went to the Music Corner and bought books of music to study.  But I still loved and preferred playing by ear.

My neighbor refused to take no for an answer when she asked me to teach her sever-year-old.  “I can’t teach!” I said. “I’m just learning to play!”  Her reply, “We hear you play.”  So I was soon teaching two more little girls from the neighborhood.  When I began teaching I began serious study with a fine teacher.

My firstborn, Michael, serious, sensitive, with a maturity beyond his years, was nine months old when I began teaching those little neighbor girls.  His sister, Barbara, was a bouncy, curly-haired little blond.  Our lives were filled with music.  When I baked I would sit Mike on the counter and sing to him.  He would say, “Sing it again, Mommy.”  He learned the songs and sang them with me.  A few years later when I tried the same with Barbara, she would say, “Don’t sing it again, Mommy!” and her little fist would go into the flour canister and create a white-out in the kitchen.

Together we attended all kinds of concerts from the time they were very young.  We would sit in the front row so they could see the instruments and the faces of the performers.

It was in the spring of ’81 that I finally graduated from UNI, voice major.  (My first two years there were ’48 and ’49. There was a serious teacher shortage at the time and I began teaching Elementary Ed. with a two-year Certificate).  At the time of graduation I first learned of the unique and revolutionary Suzuki way of teaching piano, designed primarily for the very young.  Since I love the very young I could not get to my first teacher training institute at Stevens Point, Wisconsin fast enough.  I found that it would mean major changes in my studio.  I could now teach three and four-year-olds necessitating a parent being heavily involved both at lessons and in daily practice at home.  I began teaching Suzuki Piano immediately, and still find it the way I want to teach.

When Michael was nine or ten, I did many little concerts, he singing the role of Amahl, and I, that of the mother, from “Amahl and the Night Visitors.”  When his voice matured and could no longer reach the higher pitches, Barbara took his place.  For her, we added costuming.  I was wrapped in a pale green sheet and she wore a burlap cape and hat, and used a crooked walking stick.  What fun we had performing for the smiling and appreciative audiences.

Sharing my passion in its many facets with my children was joy beyond description.  When their high school schedules did not allow them to participate in chorus, I insisted they sing in the Metro Chorale with me.  They especially loved singing “The Messiah,” and those memories have stayed with them.  Today, as adults, they have successful, fulfilling lives.  Mike is a computer programmer in Maui and Barbara is a horsewoman  and an equine artist.  She loves singing in her church choir in Cedar Rapids.

Back to earlier years, I was asked to join B Natural Music Club.  The excellent experienced teachers in B Natural provided performance opportunities with a monthly program for their students.  Hearing these children play, I learned repertoire.  I learned that I could encourage and get excellence from young children.  My students were soon playing on thoseSaturday afternoons at the Waterloo Rec. Center.  My children, studying with another teacher, did their share of playing on those programs as well.  They gained confidence in playing for an audience.  They gained poise, as all the children did.  They learned that being prepared was crucial for a successful performance.

My teaching allowed me to pay for voice lessons so that I could feel more confident when asked to sing for a wedding, or a funeral, or a church service.

After years of voice study and gaining experience, I had the scary honor of being chosen by Graeme Cowen, director of the Metropolitan Chorale, to do the soprano solos for Haydn’s “Lord Nelson Mass,” Mozart’s  “Requiem,” and Handel’s “Messiah.”  Those performances were my impossible  dream come true.  A part of my preparation for singing these major works was singing in church choirs.  I was hired as soprano soloist and section leader at First Pres., Westminster Pres., and First Congregational over a period of years.  I loved the challenge of the solos in “The Seven Last Words of Christ” by DuBois.  One Easter season at First Pres., Director Eulaila Young at First Congregational asked me to solo in Honnegar’s “King David” in a combined choir with First Methodist.  Those experiences gave me glorious, unforgettable memories.

Teaching piano was now becoming a major passion.  I sometimes shudder to think of what those early years must have been for the students.  I only know that I always did my best.

For years I have continued to attend Suzuki Institutes and Traditional Workshops all across the country and around the world.  I observed a Suzuki teacher in London one quiet summer afternoon.  International workshops took me to Innsbruck, Austria and to Brisbane, Australia.  I left home for Australia a day early to see the Opera House at Sydney.  I skipped a day of the Workshop to take a long and fast boat ride out to the Great Barrier Reef.  At the koala sanctuary I held a sleepy young koala.

Kingston, Ontario is where I studied Book Three.  A teacher in training is required to have memorized the entire book of twelve to twenty pieces before attending an institute on that book.  A Suzuki teacher teaches the repertoire memorized, a challenge but a tremendous advantage.

Some of the US Institutes and Workshops I have experienced were in Chicago, Columbus, Ohio,  Salt Lake City, Bellington, Vermont, and Bellingham, Washington.  One summer I had not seen mountains for too long so I chose to go to Aspen, Colorado.  There I reviewed Book One.  Dorothy Taubman’s 2-week Conference in Emily Dickenson’s home town in Massachusetts was life- and student-changing.

My work at the piano and singing have gone hand-in-hand with me down through they years.  It is an honor when a student wins a high rating at our District Piano Auditions and finds his/her picture in the Courier.  Little Michelle, age seven, seemed restless and a bit pale as she waited to play in her level A.  But she kept insisting to her mother and me that she was feeling OK.  She went in before the judge, played her four pieces extremely well, and won her level.  Her mother called me later from the hospital.  The child was there with a ruptured appendix.

Kari, who lived in Tripoli, began lessons a few weeks before she turned three.  She won levels A, B and C in consecutive years, something that rarely happens.  Two of my boys, Dino, age nine, and Sam, age 16, were honored with high ratings in February of this year.

One of my greatest joys was singing for church services.  Most of my solos are portions of scripture set to music.  In summers, when church choirs are set free, I was invited to sing for churches in the area.  I was not only my joy, but a way of sharing my faith, and I sang from the depths of my soul.

I am so thankful to God for the gifts of music I have been given, and for the opportunities I have had to share abundantly.  Hopefully, the lives of the hundreds of children I have worked with, and those of their families, have been and continue to be blessed by the time spent together at the keyboard, the disciplines and life lessons they learned, as well as the lifelong skill and joy of playing the king of instruments, the piano.

Faith Stories

Pam’s Story

HAIL MARY
Long, long ago, in another time and place, I lived in a neighborhood with about 150 other kids (it just seemed that way -this was the 1950’s, the height of the baby boom). Sacred Heart School and Convent were the two buildings at the end of our street. They loomed together, side by side. In order to get to my school, one had to pass muster through the nuns who inspected each of the students going to Sacred Heart. I thought they were scary, but I loved their beautiful names, Sister Mary Carmelita, Sister Mary Angelique. All of my dolls were named Mary something. My mother objected, since we were a Lutheran family, but no matter. My best friend, Cathy Gillespie, went to Sacred Heart. Her house had a crucifix in every room. She had to write “JMJ” at the top of every page of her homework, and make the sign of the cross whenever we passed a church.  Every Saturday Cathy’s mother would drive us to Sacred Heart Church, a beautiful little church in the Italian neighborhood. Cathy and I would carry snow white vestments into the church and place them on the altar, to be arranged for Sunday services. Her mother laundered them every week, but was not allowed to enter the church, because she was divorced. Cathy had explained, in a voice full of whispers and shame, that her adoptive father, a physician, had been abusive to her older brother. At one point, the father took her brother and his dog into the woods and shot the dog, because of some imagined misdeed. This was before Vatican II and many changes in Catholicism. In spite of her excommunication, Cathy’s mom loved the church, and remained devoted. Now, Cathy was perhaps no better behaved than she should have been. Many days I met her after school, only to find her dejected and afraid of her mom’s reaction to her misdeeds (mostly talking in class, I believe). Not only would the nuns with the beautiful names call Mrs. Gillespie, Cathy was made to “stick a thorn in the heart of Jesus” by placing a pin in the Sacred Heart crucifix on the wall. It’s my belief that, in this way, she learned to think of herself as “bad” very early, and she went on to act out that belief as soon as she hit puberty. It’s easy to understand why Cathy was pretty much impervious to her mom’s attempts to imbue us with the finer points of Catholicism. She noted, and celebrated, every Saint’s day on a special calendar. Every day seemed to be special in some way. For me, hungry for spiritual answers and concrete guidance even as a child, Mrs. Gillespie’s teachings were like manna for the soul. She gave me rosaries, which I cherished, and taught me to say the prayers. There was something so comforting about touching each of the beads and knowing millions of people had said these ancient prayers, believing in the same God, and finding spiritual comfort and communication with the Almighty who powers Creation. For me, making the sign of the cross has always made me feel grounded, and held in the arms of God, even though Cathy insisted I wasn’t strictly allowed, being a Protestant and all. Every Christmas Eve, Cathy, her brother and I went to their little church for midnight mass. I was enthralled by the incense and the bells, the pageantry of it all. I came to think of my religion and church, so simple, as sort of “religion lite.” It seemed clear to me, as a child, that God must be paying more attention to people who thought of Him so much, every day, and went to such great lengths to please Him. Of course, I memorized Luther’s Small Catechism, was confirmed, and vowed to be a good Christian all my days. I gave up the idea that I wanted to be a missionary nun when I learned that you had to be Catholic to do that. I dated Catholic boys because that was forbidden, thus much more exciting. We were told that our children would be told we were damned to hell if we married a Catholic and didn’t convert. I went to Prom at the Catholic boys’ school, wearing a strapless dress (shocking!) while my Catholic friends were still being inspected by the nuns, who measured the length of their bangs, which had to be two nuns’ fingers length above the eyebrows. We all chortled at the admonitions to be “Mary-like” in all of our decisions and behaviors. I grew up, never lost my faith, but my journey has taken me through Eastern philosophies and the study of mysticism, with many twists and turns. I now consider myself a “Presbyterian Buddhist,” and am accepted and embraced by a loving spiritual community. And yet, and yet. At times of great crisis, or joy, such as at the birth of our son, I find myself making the sign of the cross, and it still grounds me and makes me feel God’s presence. Now, as my family faces the greatest crisis of our lives, my husband and I find ourselves going to our Presbyterian church daily, where we kneel at the foot of the cross (so un-Presbyterian), and I pray for our son’s health. To this day, I find comfort, and I feel God’s calming presence as I say the Lord’s Prayer, and contemplate the beautiful stained glass windows that grace our church. One of them has a panel that says “God is Healing.” I kneel at the foot of the cross, and feel the spirit and love of Elaine Gillespie, Cathy’s mom, from so long ago. Tears stream down my face as I say the ancient prayer, “Hail Mary, Full of Grace, the Lord is with thee – -” I feel then that I, too, am being filled with His grace, and that He is with me. “Holy Mary,” mother of a suffering Son,” I know she cannot pluck this thorn from my bleeding heart, but in invoking her ancient prayer, and grounding myself with the sign of the cross, I am comforted and held in His hands.

Faith Stories

Kailey’s Story

I grew up in this church. My mom worked here when I was young, so I was at the church all the time growing up. I always had a bit of an issue believing in the Bible, but I accepted it because everyone else that I saw did. As I got older, I was kind of “adopted” as a child of the church, which has made a lot of things easier for me, since I have a plethora of smart, wise adults to give me advice and help me out. Lately, though, I have had some serious changes in my stance on Christianity. It has nothing to do with my spiritual leaders or any sort of misdirection from the church; it has really been a personal discovery. I have noticed a lot of hatred and judgement being passed on others under the guise of Christianity. I’ve seen a lot of discrimination and even oppression because people are so strongly loyal to their religion. This really speaks to me, as it is my goal in life to be as loving and accepting of as many people as possible. I realized that people use their religion as a way to defend their personal beliefs, and that’s not okay with me, because I feel that religion is supposed to help you be the best person you can be, which helps everyone around you by default. And there are some people that feel they can do that without religion, which I think is perfectly fine, as long as they are respecting one another, because after all, isn’t the goal of Christianity to love one another? Because I see people forgetting that goal, I had started to lose faith in faith, but then I looked around our church and I realized that we don’t have that problem. Our church is filled with loving and genuinely kind people. And it is a church that, even though I don’t necessarily agree with everyone about everything, I am genuinely glad to be a part of.

Faith Stories

Trudy & Julian’s Story

Our Church

            We joined Cedar Heights Presbyterian Church in 1971 as new residents of the Cedar Valley.  Bob was the minister and his creative style of ministry was appealing to us.  We joined the Mariners group and began meeting our new community of friends.  We joined a study group with Bob reading and discussing I’m Okay You’re Okay by Thomas Harris.

Over our 44 years as members of the church we have found many examples of how a church IS its people.  We have many “families of friends” who have impacted our lives over the years.  Our two children received their Christian upbringing through our family of Christian Educators.  As adults both our kids have continued being active in a church family.

Two years after we were members Bob was organizing small groups of people within the church to form Topic Groups.  These groups would meet once a month in our homes and have a discussion topic for the meetings.  We joined a group of six couples and have been meeting for 42 years.  Four of the original couples are still meeting together: Ed & Julie, Dave & Ann, Dean & Sherrie, and us.  We have had other couples join us and sadly some couples have left.  We try to have six couples, so it has been a manageable group to fit in our homes.  The relationships we have with these people are what has helped keep us worshipping at Cedar Heights Presbyterian Church.  When the church has had its difficult times we knew we would persevere because we could not leave our Cedar Heights Community of friends.

The Community of Music has been fantastic for me (Julian).  I certainly enjoy the professional leadership that we have had through the years and have enjoyed singing with talented and professional singers throughout the years.

This Community of Friends have also kept us active over the years serving as deacons, elders, adult Sunday School leaders and attendees, serving on Pastor Seeking Committees and other committees of the church.  Friends have helped us understand ourselves and our beliefs about religion and life’s social issues through our discussions together.

Faith Stories

Jo’s Story

Note: Jo’s story was written down by another member of the congregation, and therefore is written in the third-person tense.

A SPIRIT OF HARMONY AND COOPERATION

            Church was at the center of the family for both Jo and Jim, when they were growing up in Hutchinson, Kansas.  Jim remembered his mother as “always at the church, doing something.”  Prior to Jo’s birth, her father was a German Methodist minister, who spoke only in German to his congregation.  So, it was natural that when the two met, at junior college, and married two years late, they would make their church an important part of their own family.

Both graduated from Kansas State University.  Jim, an engineer, found work at John Deere, and the couple moved to Cedar Falls.  They raised their three children in their home on Rainbow Drive.  While the children were growing up, the Potters attended a Methodist church in Cedar Falls.  In the late seventies, though, this congregation was split by controversy.  The Potters, who valued harmony and cooperative relationships, reluctantly left this congregation and joined CHPC.   It was to be a long, loving and productive relationship.

Jo was the youngest of four children.  She was trained as a teacher, and enjoyed teaching in rural schools, early in her marriage.  She says music has always been important to her and Jim.  It’s clear, when visiting with her, that her first love is her family.  Stability and a spirit of cooperation are values she and Jim shared from the beginning.  They lived in their home on Rainbow Drive for 48 years.  A scrapbook made by one of her daughters-in-law attests to the love in this home.  This is not just a book of pictures of Jo and Jim and their family through the years.  It also contains cards the Potters sent and received from their children and each other, and messages of devotion and appreciation from their children and grandchildren.

Jim passed away two years ago.  When asked the “secret” of their long, loving relationship, Jo says simply, “we loved each other,” and “we enjoyed doing the same things.”  After retirement, the couple travelled throughout the world.  Jo says she is grateful for these memories.  She is also grateful that they shared the same belief in cooperation and harmony, which is reflected in her daughter-in-law’s commemorative scrapbook.

Both the them were active throughout their years at CHPC.  Jo especially enjoys her memories of participating in the choir.  Jim was an elder, and chaired and participated in many committees, while Jo could always be counted on to help at Ice Cream Socials, funerals, and any number of women’s committees.  Jo says Jim loved organization.  He was a natural leader, who liked to know where a meeting or project was going, and got things done in an efficient, collaborative way.  Jo says she thinks that spirit is what kept the couple at CHPC.  She credits Rev. Bob Roof with setting the tone for the congregation, in that Rev. Roof, like Jim, valued efficiency and cooperation among members.

Many of us, who are a bit younger than them, have said that we aspire to be like them as we grow older.  Their strong, loving relationship, sense of humor and adventure, and willingness to serve others, through their family, church and community, have been an inspiration to all of us who have been privileged to know them.  Jo and Jim joined CHPC seeking a church community that shared their values of harmony and cooperation.

Faith Stories

Karen’s Story

SPIRIT AT A WEDDING

            My husband Larry was born in 1939.  The day after Pearl Harbor, his father and two brothers went with their neighbors, the Sullivan Brothers, to sign up with the Navy.  His mother worked in the Waverly canning factory to support the family.

When his father came back from the war they were very poor and built a small house, as they could pay for it.  That winter they had a tarp as a front door.  There had never been enough money to buy a wedding ring.  After a few years they saved enough to buy a wedding ring with a tiny solitaire diamond.  His mother was so very proud of it, and of her family.

In 1956, Larry was 16 and his family went for a Sunday afternoon drive.  His mother was killed in the car, hit by a drunk driver.  The ring was put away.

We joined the church when I was 4.  I went to kindergarten in the creepy basement of the old church.  I always felt loved here.

I saw my grandmother’s friends pass away, and then my mother’s friends’ funerals at the church.  Now, I am the last generation, and I still feel the love.

When I was married, it was with his mother’s ring.  I wore it 25 years until the shank wore off, and then I took the tiny diamond and had it set to wear on a necklace.

My children were all baptized here, and my daughter was married in 1963 by Bob Roof, by the same baptismal font.  She wore her grandmother’s ring around her neck.

It was a dull, windy summer day when the ceremony started at 5:00.  It was a lovely ceremony, and when the bride and groom turned around to be introduced to the guests, a lone ray of sun shone through our lovely stained glass and fixed on the tiny diamond.  It lit up with a large glow.

I felt the presence of God beside her grandmother’s spirit, blessing the union.

The necklace has been worn by 6 other granddaughters and now their daughters, the last one last summer.  We have all been blessed.

 

Bible verse:  Psalms 63: verses 2 and 3

“To see the power and thy glory, so as I have seen in the in the sanctuary”

Faith Stories

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Contact Us:

2015 Rainbow Drive
Cedar Falls, IA 50613
Phone: 319-268-0153

Worship Times:

10 a.m. Online Worship Service
03/07/2021
10:00 am - 11:00 am


10 a.m. Online Worship Service
03/14/2021
10:00 am - 11:00 am


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