From the Journal of Clara Whitmore September 8th, 1895 – Walnut, Iowa
First Sabbath in Walnut, Iowa
This will be my first Sabbath day in my new home of Walnut, Iowa. I arrived early to the quiet of the morning and stood at the eastern window, watching the first pale glimmer of sunlight stretch itself across the open plains. The dawn light here is different than in Beaty Creek…so wide, so unbroken, as though the Lord Himself brushed His hand across the horizon. The air is crisp, a touch of early autumn…whispering of the harvest soon to come. Before long, these prairies will turn golden, and the farmers…many of whom I have yet to meet…will gather in the fruits of their labor before the winter winds sweep across the land.
No matter the season, the earth under heaven remains beautiful. It is a comfort to me, a reminder that God’s creation is steadfast even when our lives shift beneath our feet. From this soil comes our food, our shelter, and one day it will cradle our earthly bodies. Yet our souls, redeemed and promised, will one day be reunited with loved ones in the presence of Jesus and reside in heaven for eternity. “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.” (Psalm 24:1)
Since today is Sunday, Mrs. Harrow, the proprietress of the Hinckley Boarding Rooms, does not prepare meals. She like many of her generation hold tightly to Sabbath traditions. During the colder months she prepares a grand Sunday dinner for the boarders, but in the warmer seasons the townsfolk often gather for potlucks after church. It is much the same as it was in Beaty Creek. Though people had little, somehow on Sundays there was always an abundance. I remember the women bringing their best dishes—fried chicken, biscuits, berry preserves, and pies that tasted of home and hope. My spirits are lifted as my heart remembers the laughter echoing across the churchyard.
Oh, how I miss my sweet church at Beaty Creek! Yet I am determined to find contentment here in Walnut, trusting that God has led me to this place for a purpose I cannot yet see.
This morning I dress in my finest attire, the best I brought with me. My grandmother, Esther Mae, always taught that we ought wear our best to worship—not out of pride, but out of reverence. Even if our best is mended, patched, or hand-sewn, it is still our offering of respect to the Lord. “Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.” (Psalm 29:2)
My dress is a fitted bodice of deep navy wool, trimmed with modest black braid along the seams. The sleeves are narrow at the shoulder but widen slightly toward the wrist, where delicate mother-of-pearl buttons fasten them. The skirt is full and pleated, falling in graceful folds to the floor, with a small bustle at the back—of course, nothing extravagant, but enough to give a feminine shape as fashion dictates. I have the high collar fastened with a small cameo brooch that once belonged to my mother.
As I look at the soft cream colored leather gloves on my hands, I notice they have been worn smooth with time. They belonged to my great-great-grandmother, Mildred McKeever—dear Millie, whose journals I treasure with my heart. I never met her, yet through her words I feel as though I know her heart. She wrote often of her faith. These journals became an inheritance to me…wisdom passed down through ink and paper. Perhaps that is why I write so faithfully. I wonder who will one day read these pages…what they will learn of my life, my hopes, my fears, and my faith.
But back to today and this small town of Walnut, Iowa. I will attend the Baptist church for the first time, and my voice will mingle with those of strangers who will, I pray, soon become friends, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Much is happening in our country these days, the railroads are expanding, new inventions are rapidly changing the way people live, and there is talk of progress everywhere. Yet in the church, we find a common bond that does not shift with the times. We worship the same Lord, sing the same hymns, and listen for the same still, small voice.
I am eager to hear the minister preach this morning. I pray the scripture will come alive in my heart, giving me courage for this new chapter. God has brought me here, and though I do not yet know why, I trust His leading. “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” (Proverbs 3:6)
Tomorrow I begin teaching in the one-room schoolhouse. I pray for wisdom, that I might guide the children well, not only in their letters and math skills, but in their understanding of this great country and the responsibilities that await them as they grow.
Lord, be with me as I step into this new church. Thank You for bringing me here, even though the road ahead is unseen. Watch over this little town of Walnut, Iowa. May I be a light here, however small, and may Your will be done in my life. Isaiah 41:10 — “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God.”
—Clara Whitmore
(As imagined by Shelly Thompson)
First Sabbath in Walnut, Iowa
This will be my first Sabbath day in my new home of Walnut, Iowa. I arrived early to the quiet of the morning and stood at the eastern window, watching the first pale glimmer of sunlight stretch itself across the open plains. The dawn light here is different than in Beaty Creek…so wide, so unbroken, as though the Lord Himself brushed His hand across the horizon. The air is crisp, a touch of early autumn…whispering of the harvest soon to come. Before long, these prairies will turn golden, and the farmers…many of whom I have yet to meet…will gather in the fruits of their labor before the winter winds sweep across the land.
No matter the season, the earth under heaven remains beautiful. It is a comfort to me, a reminder that God’s creation is steadfast even when our lives shift beneath our feet. From this soil comes our food, our shelter, and one day it will cradle our earthly bodies. Yet our souls, redeemed and promised, will one day be reunited with loved ones in the presence of Jesus and reside in heaven for eternity. “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.” (Psalm 24:1)
Since today is Sunday, Mrs. Harrow, the proprietress of the Hinckley Boarding Rooms, does not prepare meals. She like many of her generation hold tightly to Sabbath traditions. During the colder months she prepares a grand Sunday dinner for the boarders, but in the warmer seasons the townsfolk often gather for potlucks after church. It is much the same as it was in Beaty Creek. Though people had little, somehow on Sundays there was always an abundance. I remember the women bringing their best dishes—fried chicken, biscuits, berry preserves, and pies that tasted of home and hope. My spirits are lifted as my heart remembers the laughter echoing across the churchyard.
Oh, how I miss my sweet church at Beaty Creek! Yet I am determined to find contentment here in Walnut, trusting that God has led me to this place for a purpose I cannot yet see.
This morning I dress in my finest attire, the best I brought with me. My grandmother, Esther Mae, always taught that we ought wear our best to worship—not out of pride, but out of reverence. Even if our best is mended, patched, or hand-sewn, it is still our offering of respect to the Lord. “Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.” (Psalm 29:2)
My dress is a fitted bodice of deep navy wool, trimmed with modest black braid along the seams. The sleeves are narrow at the shoulder but widen slightly toward the wrist, where delicate mother-of-pearl buttons fasten them. The skirt is full and pleated, falling in graceful folds to the floor, with a small bustle at the back—of course, nothing extravagant, but enough to give a feminine shape as fashion dictates. I have the high collar fastened with a small cameo brooch that once belonged to my mother.
As I look at the soft cream colored leather gloves on my hands, I notice they have been worn smooth with time. They belonged to my great-great-grandmother, Mildred McKeever—dear Millie, whose journals I treasure with my heart. I never met her, yet through her words I feel as though I know her heart. She wrote often of her faith. These journals became an inheritance to me…wisdom passed down through ink and paper. Perhaps that is why I write so faithfully. I wonder who will one day read these pages…what they will learn of my life, my hopes, my fears, and my faith.
But back to today and this small town of Walnut, Iowa. I will attend the Baptist church for the first time, and my voice will mingle with those of strangers who will, I pray, soon become friends, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Much is happening in our country these days, the railroads are expanding, new inventions are rapidly changing the way people live, and there is talk of progress everywhere. Yet in the church, we find a common bond that does not shift with the times. We worship the same Lord, sing the same hymns, and listen for the same still, small voice.
I am eager to hear the minister preach this morning. I pray the scripture will come alive in my heart, giving me courage for this new chapter. God has brought me here, and though I do not yet know why, I trust His leading. “In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” (Proverbs 3:6)
Tomorrow I begin teaching in the one-room schoolhouse. I pray for wisdom, that I might guide the children well, not only in their letters and math skills, but in their understanding of this great country and the responsibilities that await them as they grow.
Lord, be with me as I step into this new church. Thank You for bringing me here, even though the road ahead is unseen. Watch over this little town of Walnut, Iowa. May I be a light here, however small, and may Your will be done in my life. Isaiah 41:10 — “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God.”
—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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