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A simple white church out in the country, 30 or 40 miles from the nearest populated area; the first thing that I observe as I approach from the north, rising from the fields is the unassuming steeple; gradually the body of the structure comes into view.
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Nestled in among a farmers meadow, the nearest homes, at least ten miles from one another; Grazing horses, a hawk circling in the distance over a canola field, a few trees here and there, but not a single person, except for me of course as I pass through on my bike.
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I’ve been down this road a number of times, a quiet two lane highway, unknown by a good majority of motorists, that’s why I take it.
I know this building, a familiar waypoint on my travels between two distant cities.
Whitewashed cedar lap, gothic windows, a few corbels and a cross on the steeple; humble but well cared for. Passing by, I begin to wonder, who tends to this place? Who trims the shrubbery and keeps it so well maintained? The parishioners? But where do they come from? They certainly have to travel from distant places to care so much for this small church; to worship beneath its roof.
A modest little parish, standing proud over the years, descending back into the fields as it slowly wanes in my mirrors; another turn and it’s gone from my view, until the next time I pass through here.
I know this building, a familiar waypoint on my travels between two distant cities.
Whitewashed cedar lap, gothic windows, a few corbels and a cross on the steeple; humble but well cared for. Passing by, I begin to wonder, who tends to this place? Who trims the shrubbery and keeps it so well maintained? The parishioners? But where do they come from? They certainly have to travel from distant places to care so much for this small church; to worship beneath its roof.
A modest little parish, standing proud over the years, descending back into the fields as it slowly wanes in my mirrors; another turn and it’s gone from my view, until the next time I pass through here.
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This meek structure,
treasured by those who care for it,
those from far away places.
A simple white church;
tangible evidence that faith still exists.
Ride Well
E.T.
5 comments:
I'm all for thoughts and pictures from Eastern Washington. I spent many hours in places like Connell, Moses Lake, Wenatchee, Moxie City, and Odessa. I'm almost ready to go back. So tired of being elbow to elbow with so many people here. So many places there where I could actually be alone. Great days.
This side of the state holds many beautiful places yet to explore even for a guy like me who has been here for 30 some odd years. I find new places, sights and intersting places all the time. So glad I came back and stayed after all the time away. Never want to be anywhere else. I can visit all I want but will always return to my pacific northwest. 4 seasons are the best.
The more bizzare our world becomes I am certainly glad faith continues to exsists!
All it takes is a few pictures like that to remind all of us up here in the Northwest just how great we have it.
Irondad; One of the special things about Eastern Washington, the alone time, more time is spent watching for game than other motorists.
Charlie; Four seasons are wonderful, I am certainly hoping for a little more Autumn and a milder Winter this time around.
Rick; Me too.
R.G.; I don't think that many folks outside of our little neck of the woods understand how incredibly diverse this part of the country is, I've covered practically every square mile of the lower 48 and can't think of any place quite like it.
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