From the Journal of Clara Whitmore — September 4, 1895
Unexpected Spaces.
This morning I find myself writing from the most unexpected of places—the restored vault of the old Exchange State Bank, which Mrs. Harrow has transformed into a most charming sitting room. The autumn chill has begun to creep into the mornings, and the warmth in here is a welcome comfort. Mrs. Harrow insisted I take my tea in this little refuge, saying that every new teacher ought to begin her first full day in town with quiet thoughts and something warm in her hands. She seems to be such a kind woman. I had imagined a bank vault to be cold and severe, but she has made it gentle, inviting, almost homelike.
A rug softens the gray concrete floor, and a small bookcase stands along the far wall, filled with well loved books and curious items that seem intriguing. Perhaps they are memories of special moments in Mrs. Harrow’s life. The lamplight flickers against the high, cathedral type ceiling, and just outside in the lobby a small cast‑iron stove crackles steadily. The great iron door of the vault, glimmers from the lamp light, once a symbol of stern security, it is now propped open, its heavy hinges gleaming in the light. Mrs. Harrow said that the bank owners had decided this room would be a place for customers to rest while their accounts were tended to. Such an unusual touch. Times have been difficult for many families of late, and the proprietors believe that even a bank ought to offer a moment of peace.
It is an odd place, yes, but a redeemed one—proof that even the most unlikely spaces can be transformed with care and imagination. “The Lord shall be thy confidence,” Proverbs says, “and shall keep thy foot from being taken.” I cling to that this morning.
As I sip my tea, I try to steady my thoughts for the day ahead. In just a few short days, I will begin teaching at the one-room schoolhouse in Walnut, Iowa. The superintendent told me it is a modest building—one room, a pot‑bellied stove, a slate for each child, and a bell rope that must be pulled with conviction. He said the children are in need of a firm yet gentle hand. I pray I can be both. My heart trembles at the thought of standing before them, responsible for shaping their young minds. What if I am not equal to the task? What if they sense my uncertainty?
Yet beneath my worries there is a quiet assurance…the same assurance that carried me across miles of rattling train cars, soot‑stained windows, and unfamiliar towns. I know I did not come here by accident. God has led me to Walnut, this bustling little Midwest community with its dirt sidewalks, horse‑drawn drays, and the constant whistle of the morning freight from the flour mill. I cannot yet see His full purpose…but I trust in my heart it is there.
My Great Grandmother Esther Mae always said that God’s plans stretch farther than our eyes can see. I miss her wise words of wisdom. Walnut feels so large compared to Beaty Creek, my sweet southern home where every face was familiar. Here, everything is new…the people, the work, even the air. This morning, I feel the distance keenly, yet I also feel the stirring of something brave within me. Great Grandma Esther would be beaming with pride. She spent years teaching me that with God all things are possible. I must remember her words in my heart today as I begin an adventure in Walnut, Iowa.
A place God has brought me to. I will do as He wills.
For now, I must simply take the next step. Finish my tea. Walk to the schoolhouse. Steady my footing. Trust that the Lord who brought me safely here will not abandon me in the work He has set before me. “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” I whisper it to myself as though it were a lantern for the road.
The vault is warm and the tea soothing, but I cannot linger here much longer. I am grateful for this small sanctuary—this curious little haven carved out of iron and concrete—where I may gather my courage before stepping into whatever awaits me.
God, grant me grace for this day, and eyes to see Your purpose in it, even if only in part.
— Clara Whitmore
(As imagined by Shelly Thompson)
Unexpected Spaces.
This morning I find myself writing from the most unexpected of places—the restored vault of the old Exchange State Bank, which Mrs. Harrow has transformed into a most charming sitting room. The autumn chill has begun to creep into the mornings, and the warmth in here is a welcome comfort. Mrs. Harrow insisted I take my tea in this little refuge, saying that every new teacher ought to begin her first full day in town with quiet thoughts and something warm in her hands. She seems to be such a kind woman. I had imagined a bank vault to be cold and severe, but she has made it gentle, inviting, almost homelike.
A rug softens the gray concrete floor, and a small bookcase stands along the far wall, filled with well loved books and curious items that seem intriguing. Perhaps they are memories of special moments in Mrs. Harrow’s life. The lamplight flickers against the high, cathedral type ceiling, and just outside in the lobby a small cast‑iron stove crackles steadily. The great iron door of the vault, glimmers from the lamp light, once a symbol of stern security, it is now propped open, its heavy hinges gleaming in the light. Mrs. Harrow said that the bank owners had decided this room would be a place for customers to rest while their accounts were tended to. Such an unusual touch. Times have been difficult for many families of late, and the proprietors believe that even a bank ought to offer a moment of peace.
It is an odd place, yes, but a redeemed one—proof that even the most unlikely spaces can be transformed with care and imagination. “The Lord shall be thy confidence,” Proverbs says, “and shall keep thy foot from being taken.” I cling to that this morning.
As I sip my tea, I try to steady my thoughts for the day ahead. In just a few short days, I will begin teaching at the one-room schoolhouse in Walnut, Iowa. The superintendent told me it is a modest building—one room, a pot‑bellied stove, a slate for each child, and a bell rope that must be pulled with conviction. He said the children are in need of a firm yet gentle hand. I pray I can be both. My heart trembles at the thought of standing before them, responsible for shaping their young minds. What if I am not equal to the task? What if they sense my uncertainty?
Yet beneath my worries there is a quiet assurance…the same assurance that carried me across miles of rattling train cars, soot‑stained windows, and unfamiliar towns. I know I did not come here by accident. God has led me to Walnut, this bustling little Midwest community with its dirt sidewalks, horse‑drawn drays, and the constant whistle of the morning freight from the flour mill. I cannot yet see His full purpose…but I trust in my heart it is there.
My Great Grandmother Esther Mae always said that God’s plans stretch farther than our eyes can see. I miss her wise words of wisdom. Walnut feels so large compared to Beaty Creek, my sweet southern home where every face was familiar. Here, everything is new…the people, the work, even the air. This morning, I feel the distance keenly, yet I also feel the stirring of something brave within me. Great Grandma Esther would be beaming with pride. She spent years teaching me that with God all things are possible. I must remember her words in my heart today as I begin an adventure in Walnut, Iowa.
A place God has brought me to. I will do as He wills.
For now, I must simply take the next step. Finish my tea. Walk to the schoolhouse. Steady my footing. Trust that the Lord who brought me safely here will not abandon me in the work He has set before me. “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” I whisper it to myself as though it were a lantern for the road.
The vault is warm and the tea soothing, but I cannot linger here much longer. I am grateful for this small sanctuary—this curious little haven carved out of iron and concrete—where I may gather my courage before stepping into whatever awaits me.
God, grant me grace for this day, and eyes to see Your purpose in it, even if only in part.
— Clara Whitmore
(As imagined by Shelly Thompson)
Shelly Thompson, Owner of an 1875 historic Bank Building in Walnut, Iowa, that housed the Boarding Rooms in the late 1800's.
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Shelly Thompson is the Publisher for The Notebook Cafe -- Inspired Words for the Journey, and owner of Millie McKeever's Vintage & Home Decor and Coffee Bar located in the quaint historic town of Walnut, Iowa. 'The Gathering Room' offers a place where women gather to share a time of fellowship, devotion, and a tour the circa 1875 historical bank building restored by Shelly and her husband. Shelly is the author of two books. Entwined; now in its fourth printing; and Heart of a Warrior - A Legacy of Faith; in its sixth printing. Her current writing project is 'The Boarding Room Journals'. Taking a giant leap of faith Shelly left the corporate world in 2015 to pursue a dream God gave her of developing a monthly inspirational faith based online reading café of words and encouragement. Today, The Notebook Café reaches over one million people each month. Shelly has also developed The Notebook Cafe Annual Woman's Conference and women's retreat. In addition to operating The Notebook Cafe shop, Millie McKeever's Vintage & Home Decor, Shelly and her husband, Dave, spend time with their family and many weekends working on home renovation projects…that thankfully never seem to end.
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