Shepherds and their Sheep, Part 2 of 2

This second post in our pastoral series comes from another of Atchison County's beloved Shepherds: Pastor Rusty Smith. Rusty is the kind of person and leader we like to celebrate around here. His demeanor (and his commentary, as you'll see below) demonstrates the fact that he always looks for the Good. We are thankful for him, his family, and all others in our county who share their unique, challenging, and critical calling. Thank you for all you do!!!

Serving God in Atchison County is a blessing I have fun friendships, a dear church family, awesome colleagues in ministry, kind neighbors and schools filled with community servants who provide my children with a quality education. I am grateful that my family and I are able to love and be loved here. Since coming to pastor in Tarkio and Westboro nearly five years ago, I have said a statement time and again: “for such a small community, there sure are a lot of people.” What I mean by saying that is it seems I am always meeting people I have not met before. I also recognize there are those in my midst whom I find myself knowing by sight but not by name. I have noticed when local people wave at me, greet me, smile at me, or even simply acknowledge me, it does not necessarily indicate they know me. It is simply a manner and grace interwoven in the fabric of our community. I am always humored by the reaction Carla and I get when we share this relational hospitality in some other communities. Most people love and welcome it. Some are surprised by it…and, well, a few times I feared we had triggered some gang violence…it is still worth sharing.

Too often I hear our community defined by what it is not, or by what it used to be. The greatness of our past is honored best when it leads to the greatness of our today and to the hope of our tomorrows. It is the heart of my hope that the character and strengths of our community can be recognized more and more. If we look around and grab hold of the greatness of our midst, we will be the better for it. I know that such forward-thinking is envisioned by the two founders of this blog, and many others all around us. Being a pastor in our community gives me the opportunity to encourage others to learn from and cherish one’s past. For our past made us who we are today, to make the most of today as a gift from God, and to hope for the best that is yet to come! That is my hope for our community as well.

Striving to make the most of it,
Pastor Rusty Smith
Tarkio AND Westboro United Methodist Church

Shepherds and their Sheep: Part 1 of 2

October is pastoral appreciation month. At my church, its a month long celebration. As we have expressed gratitude for our special pastor this month, I've thought often about the unique role a pastor plays in a small town.  Counselor, social worker, spiritual guide, friend, adopted parent or grandparent, advocate, sports fan, volunteer chaplain, coffee drinker.....the list goes on and on. We have pastors in our community that have served their congregation for generations, attending births, deaths and marriages over the span of their parishoners' lives. And we have had those that have spent just a few years in service to our churches and yet they have left a lasting impression on the church and community.


Over the next few weeks, we thank the pastors that have served in the most specialized of fields, the small town. Whether you are a believer or not a believer, I think we can all agree that pastors of small towns serve in what I suspect is a pretty challenging role and SUCCEED in modeling a true heart of service. Thank you!


Thank you to Rachel Lancey, Pastor of Tarkio's Presbyterian Church for her special contribution this month to the blog and her greater contribution to our community.


          My friends warned me.  “Small towns don’t do women pastors,” they told me.  “They will not welcome you,” they said.  They were scared for my life.  Of course, I found this ironic since many of them lived in places that showed up on the list of the most violent places to live.  But, still, they warned me.  I have to say, they got to me just a little bit.

            “Don’t go to a small town,” they warned.  “It will be too hard there.”  They were worried.  They had heard the horror stories.  Of course, I have heard them, too.  The young pastor moves to the small town and suddenly the fishbowl is brought out.  There were stories where people just wandered in and out of the pastor’s home without knocking or caring, even, if the pastor was dressed.  These, in case you do not get to hear the stories I hear, are tame compared to some of the others.  On top of all that, throw into the mix the idea that I was going to this small rural town as a single, young, female pastor. 

            I truly expected the worst.  I grew up in a small town.  I expected the snide remarks and the sideways glances.  I expected that people would watch my every move and things like social boundaries would be hard to instill and maintain.  But, when a pastor is called (as we say) to a ministry, they go.  There is no questioning (okay... well... there are some questions, but God always wins in the end), you just go. 

            What I did not expect... was the love.  Even from those who are open about the fact that they do not approve of a woman minister, there is something there.  I truly believe that I can call up any of the people I have met since moving to this small community and ask for just about anything and I would get it.  I believe that the hearts of this community are larger than life.  Sure, there are still a few small-town stereotypes that are very much a part of living in Tarkio.  But, nothing compares to the experience of walking through the grocery store and being able to talk to people in every aisle.  Nothing beats walking down Main Street and waving at the passers-by.

            Not everyone in Tarkio likes the fact that I am a pastor.  Most of those who do not like this woman pastor being in town think they are hiding it fairly well.  Some are not trying to hide it at all.  But, generally, people are respectful anyway.  This, I believe, is the difference between life in the city and life in the small town. 

In the city, people do not care who you are if you do something with which they do not agree.  In the city, people get into your face and sometimes things can get ugly.  In Tarkio, people look first at the person.  In Tarkio, I have found that even those who believe and think completely different than I do are still able to see me for who I am.  In Tarkio, we find commonalities first and learn to disagree politely. 

            I am not naive.  I know that the sideways glances and some of the remarks are still out there.  I have heard a few and I have seen the looks.  But, this town supported me during a very rough first year when I faced a challenge much deeper than whether or not someone agreed with my theology.  People reached out to me and hugged me in a way that I never expected. 

            I may always be the “new girl”.  I may always be the “woman pastor”.  Even with all of that, I have found a home here.  I have found a family here.  The best part of serving a wonderful congregation in the middle of rural America is that I can love these people for everything they are and for everything God created each of us to be.  And I know that this community really cares about each other.  It is the greatest blessing we have.  

Customer Service, Summa Pharmacy Style

My favorite magazine has an annual essay contest, and this year’s question is, “When did you first understand the meaning of love?” I haven’t arrived at the precise answer to that question yet – too many examples. But if you were to ask me a simpler question, like when I first understood the meaning of customer service, that I could answer: Summa Pharmacy, Tarkio, Missouri.

Customer service is almost a buzzword these days, and the companies who most frequently banter it about are often those who practice it the least. Most small businesses – especially most small TOWN businesses – survive chiefly because of their superior customer service. But nobody calls it that around here. I don’t recall anyone at Summa Pharmacy reading a book or attending a seminar on “Improving Your Customer Service.” And yet, by the ripe old age of 15, by spending my teenage Saturdays and available after school hours at Summa’s, these are the tacit rules I knew to be important:

• Call everyone by name. (Yes, in small towns, this is a relatively simple task. But it’s a big deal.)
• Smile, be nice, say hi, look people in the eye. (So simple, and yet, so uncommon, especially in big box stores.)
• Ask how the customer is doing. (Then listen to the answer.)
• Underpromise and overdeliver. (Might be one of those silly clichéd sayings created by a guy in a suit in 1973, but as far as I’m concerned, Doug created it and it’s brilliant. )
• Treat everyone the same. (Cranky, kind, fancy, unkempt - doesn’t matter.)
• When a mistake is made, fix it. (Customers might not always be right, but if it’s within your power to make things better for them, do it.)
• Order and stock what your people want and need. (Special order what you don’t.)
• Let your neighbors up the block come watch your TV, and play quarters with them when you have time. (This has nothing to do with customer service, just something I remember as being highly entertaining and neighborly.)

Every time a bright-eyed, friendly high school kid helps me out with my groceries or looks me in the eye and makes conversation in the check-out line, I remember everything Summa’s taught me, and I’m so glad to see that those lessons are still being passed on in local businesses today.

In a business sense, Summa’s taught me that in small towns, every single customer matters. If there aren’t alternatives in your town or county, there are certainly alternatives in bigger communities nearby. In Atchison County, your store matters simply because you exist, but it is successful when you treat customers with kindness and respect, offer them what they need, and let high school classes paint your windows during Homecoming.

I was a painfully shy kid; truly, if it wasn’t for Summa’s, I might never have learned to talk to people. And despite the kindness and love I was shown in my home, many of the lessons I learned at Summa’s were the ones that taught me how to treat people in my life as an adult. My genetics and general awesomeness (and humility) are from my folks – but without the influence of Doug Summa and the lovely ladies who worked there, I wouldn’t be who or where I am today.

So thank you, Douglas, first of all, your willingness to hire a shy teenager in the first place. But, more importantly, thank you for training her (and others) to treat the public with kindess, respect, friendliness, humor and professionalism. You taught me more in the first 30 minutes in your store than any silly seminar ever could.

~MMB

Harvest in Atchison County

For those of you who aren't fortunate enough to live where you get to see this every day, or for those of you (like me) who can't gawk enough at combines, Megan McAdams let us share her pictures for this little tour of harvest in Atchison County...


All kinds of lovely. Who doesn't want to bear witness to this every fall?









These guys spend serious amounts of time taking care of business. And the combine fellas don't do it alone. Somebody drives the grain truck. Somebody helps move the operation from field to field. Somebody (who really loves them) delivers food.



Early in the season, in years like this one, it's only a little dusty.









Emptying so they can hit the road, er, the field again.








Remember that dust at the beginning? Soon, it's a lovely memory.

Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Methodically reaping what was sown last spring.

Oh, the dust. Excellent for sunsets. Unfortunate for keeping your vehicle clean. Oh well. It's harvest. Dust on your ride is how you know you're even a tiny part of the event.


I haven't been in a combine since I was small enough to press my little self up against the glass and watch the corn be eaten up below me, but even for me, [forgive me, exhausted farm families, for waxing poetic for a moment] there's something almost spiritual about this time of year. Something about living among these fields where farmers toil, sun up to sundown, and oftentimes beyond. Where hours, days, weeks of tending and planting and praying and fixing and sweating all culminate in this beautiful pattern of accomplishment.

Plus, there are there big beefy awesome machines everywhere you look that should have their own Transformers movie!

HAPPY HARVEST everyone. Farm families - God Bless You and keep you safe this season!

~MMB

The Woman Before Me

This post was supposed to have a picture of my sweet little girl and her corn shuck doll. Apparently the corn shuck doll went to pre-school and stayed there..stay tuned for pictures should she be found..the corn shuck doll that is...not the 4 year old.

Yesterday was one of those days. The baby learned to climb the stairs and fall back down them (twice.) My four year old decided to practice her scissor skills creating the blizzard of September 2011 in my dining room. My 2^nd Grader is practicing the piano, practicing his spelling words, practicing his vocabulary words while practicing his outside voice…inside.

Just another day at the Schlueter household, except that there was 9 pounds of hamburger to be browned for the school dinner the next day, material to be ordered for Sunday’s youth group, dinner due to the field and a landscaper to be contacted to finish the latest project on Main Street. While cleaning the dog’s contribution to the evening off the carpet, I had a thought….wouldn’t it be nice to live in a community that didn’t need me so much? A community where someone else could brown hamburger, teach youth or attend city council meetings?

Entertaining these thoughts, I headed to the field with supper.  As I arrived at the bin site, I could feel my brow unfurrow and my shoulders relax. I followed the kids out to the field where the stocks were newly shorn. Searching for the perfect shuck, I began to show Lizzie and Aaron the art of corn shuck doll making…..a skill I had learned some 20 years before from my Grandmother.

On the drive back into town, I began to remember the reason why youth group lessons and city council meetings are so important to me. I do them because just like that corn shuck doll there are some things worth passing to the next generation.  So forgive me this post as it is a little about keeping me motivated and a lot about those women before me.

Church Ladies: You said it was ok when I forgot a change of clothes on Baptism day (we dunk). You taught me about gossip when you wore a brown wig to GAs and asked me the following week who I told that you dyed your hair. You gave me handmade Christmas ornaments as a child and wedding showers and casseroles as an adult. You showed me I mattered.

School Moms:  You organized a haunted house to raise money when our school was failing and sold napkin after napkin. You organized pep rallies and helped with chemistry. You were proud when we won and even prouder when we accepted defeat graciously. You knew just when to be our advocate and when to back off and let us made our own decisions.

4-H Leader: Mud boots and craft projects, personal appearance day and demonstrations, a jack of all trades-that is what a 4-H Leader is all about. When I think about the patience it took to “teach”, I am in awe.  It was never glamorous work, but the practical skills you taught are priceless.

Civic Leaders: Halloween parades, reading groups, swimming lessons and rodeos, you put the “quality” in life in small towns. If there is a need, you fill it often without recognition and always without pay. Your motivation is your cause and your passion abounds.

Some communities are hinged together by threads thin and delicate, easily torn by a disregard for duty, a sense of anonymity and “freedom” from being needed.  In my town, the ties that bind are strong. Just as I am bound by the generation before me, I bind the generation after me.

 Just as I received from the women before me so shall I give.

Photography in Atchison County

Introducing Megan McAdams, one of our county's most talented photographers. You can find her pictures on ACDC's website, on this blog, and in the Tarkio Avalanche, where she spends her days as Reporter & Photographer. On any given weekend or evening, you can find Megan tromping around our county, capturing life and beauty as only she can.

Most know me as Megan at the Avalanche, but I didn’t always have a camera glued to my hand. Like most of us growing up in Atchison County, our first image-capturing device was our View Master (the children's toy that with a click of the button, would provide images from a Disney movie, etc.) and our first real cameras were disposable. In today’s technologically advanced society, cameras have not only become readily available, but also affordable. We’ve upgraded from cameras you throw away (along with most of your pictures when you get back dark, fuzzy images whose compositions are unrecognizable) to cameras as sleek and shiny as a new penny that slide just as easily into your pocket when not in use, or big, powerful, fast action beauties with detachable flashes and zoom lenses.

My trigger finger fills up the memory card five times faster than most and my wrist aches from constantly being tilted to hold onto the camera, but man is the pain worth it! Atchison County’s beauty and ever-changing sights (yes, I said “changing”) keep my camera constantly at the ready. Our rolling hills, luscious fields, crazy wildlife, and adventurous town folk attract my eyes to their sights so that I may capture the view. I (and others like me) not only take in these spectacular visions with our own eyes, but capture the image for the eyes of others. The priority isn’t just seeing, but stopping time and absorbing the view to be able to share it with others through pictures. I am “Photographer” – Hear me click!

Most people just see things for what they are: a smile, a sunset, a nursing calf in the field, a man playing his fiddle, a car traveling down the road. What I see is: a chubby faced cherub with chipmunk cheeks and a toothless grin exploring the wonders of life with the excitement of new discovery radiating off his or her face; streaks of blue, purple, and orange splashed across the sky with a burning orb of gold laying itself beneath the cover of the horizon while illuminating the fields and enhancing the color tones of everything in sight; a baby growing fat with the gift of life from its mother, content to suckle all day and without thought of the dirt and dung caked on its hide; hands so refined that the sounds of angels pour through their fingertips and enter the ears of the listeners, while the musician’s face shows immense devotion to releasing his soul through the bow and strings; and a step back in time as the rare classic, whether dulled with rust or shiny with sunlit polished paint, relives its glory days daring eyes to take another look.

Atchison County provides some of the best scenic views in Missouri. Tarkio Prairie, located east of Westboro, is one beautiful place that most people don’t realize exists. The prairie grasses, trees, ponds, wildflowers, wildlife, and walking trails provide miles of scenic views from dawn to dusk. The trails are always maintained so that hikers may take in the beauty that surrounds them, while not having to cut through weeds to do it. Another gorgeous spot is Charity Lake, located in the northwestern part of Atchison County. Wildlife is quite abundant in this area and almost every time I visit the lake, I see a deer or two, as well as the occasional turkey. I’ve even seen bucks fighting, hitting their antlers together to win a doe. One time, I took a picture of what I thought were beautiful trees and a clearing along Charity Lake’s southern border. Once I downloaded the photo and took a closer look, I realized that I caught a bow hunter standing on his tree stand waiting for a deer to wander past. The bluffs along Rock Port’s western edge also provide some breathtaking views, while looking towards Nebraska, and chances to see wildlife. A person doesn’t even have to travel two miles out of any Atchison County town before they have the chance to see beautiful, tall crops being harvested by gigantic machines occupied by local farmers. Nor does one have to travel far to see old barns that are many, many years old, but have withstood the test of time. Even grain bins, when set in front of the setting sun for example, provide gorgeous shots.

Within the last few years, the landscapes surrounding Tarkio and Rock Port have changed and are now dotted with wind turbines or what most of us call windmills. Though sometimes man-made machines in scenic views create an ugly landscape, these gigantic towers always seems to result in a magnificent portrait of the past and present, especially when a farmer’s old windmill is incorporated in the same photograph with a new wind turbine.

Even fence lines along fields provide great photo opportunities when sunflowers and other wildflowers grow up along their posts or Atchison County birds such as hawks, buzzards, and smaller birds perch on their posts and wires. The MANY creeks, streams, and ponds that weave through the countryside and dot the land provide opportunities for good-eye cameramen/women who spot a blue heron wading for a fish, or a muskrat swimming to its den, or a turtle sunbathing on a branch sticking out of the water. These are also places that provide a chance to see a deer or coyote that has stopped for a drink. And, let’s not forget our farm animals. Some city folk go their entire lives without ever seeing a cow grazing in a field or a rider sitting atop a horse trotting down a country road. We rural residents tend to forget that we are blessed with these sights of farm life and these animals never cease to provide beautiful and sometimes hilarious photographs.

Tarkio, Westboro, Fairfax, and Rock Port are filled with great shots, such as historical buildings and spectacular homes that have played a major role in our county and have housed over a century of family generations. In Tarkio, the Tarkio College campus, the Manse, the Walnut Inn, the North Polk one room schoolhouse, and many houses that are nearing or are over 100 years old and yet still look good as new. The churches have been around a long time and are some of the most beautiful, rural churches I have ever seen. And one doesn’t have to find a building or house in pristine condition to create a great photo. Dilapidated homes and buildings can capture the change of time (such as Tarkio’s old train depot). The golf course in Tarkio provides great scenic views (as long as you stay clear of golf balls flying through the air) with its many ponds, rolling green hills, white picket fences and beautiful trees. And as crazy as this may sound to some, our cemeteries are some of the most beautiful I’ve seen and also provide some spectacular shots, especially when you capture a photo of one of the oldest tombstones lit by the sun, standing as tall as it did in the beginning. During Memorial Day weekend, the cemetery roads are dotted with the Stars and Stripes and also provide some great views.

Last, but certainly not least, we can’t forget our townsfolk, the peanut butter that holds our county (the bread) together. We create some of the most hilarious and spectacular photos of all, with our daily happenings and our numerous community events. Our townspeople are strong-willed, strong of heart, entertaining individuals who provide the spices of life to our rural environment. We have raised extremely caring individuals, many of whom have made their mark not only in local society, but around the world. Our businesses hold Customer Appreciation Day events and open houses; the Tarkio Chamber of Commerce holds ribbon cuttings for new businesses; and local organizations donate food, clothing, shelter, and support to those in need. Even when a resident is suffering and in need of money to pay medical expenses, our communities come together to raise funds for that person, as well as to raise hope. In this last year, our county residents have shown their immense strong will and determination when fighting floodwaters and having to deal with flood ravaged homes, businesses, and crops, and many volunteered hours and hours to fill sandbags and help flood victims relocate.

I’m so blessed to have grown up in Tarkio and am so proud to say I’m a Tarkio, Atchison County, MO, resident. There are not words to describe how much I enjoy photographically capturing our rural way of life and I look forward to discovering more of Atchison County’s hidden treasures.

Neighbors

It’s funny how differently you define concepts throughout your life.

neigh•bor [ney-ber] noun

1. a person who lives near another.
2. a person who shows kindliness or helpfulness toward his or her fellow humans: to be a neighbor to someone in distress.

From 5th grade on, I lived ‘in town’ on Main Street in Tarkio. It’s hard to decide what comprised my neighborhood then. Obviously, it included Bob & Maurice, whose backyard bordered ours, who were neighbors in every sense of the word. Bob was retired and wouldn’t let us ladies touch the lawnmower; literally, he almost pushed us out of the way every time we tried. I don’t know what we did for them in return, aside from giving them hugs regularly, but they were one of my earliest examples of neighborly kindness. Surely our neighborhood included the family who shared a driveway with us. One of our greatest forms of entertainment was watching the dad as he would fly into the driveway each night after work, only to stop abruptly right before he hit the garage door. Because Mom had a daycare, our home hosted a revolving door of traffic – it often seemed that everyone in Tarkio was our neighbor.

In college I lived in Lathrop Hall for 3 years. It was definitely a community, and my neighbors were my friends, my extended family. We leaned on each other, entertained each other and literally lived in each others’ one-room “homes.” But once I left the dorms, neighbors became those people who happened to live around me, who were loud from time to time or parked near my vehicle, and were friendly enough in passing, but ultimately just occupied a shared space.

When Keith and I got married, we bought a house several miles north of Columbia. Although it was sparsely populated all the way to our road, our home sat in a random subdivision of 9 houses. We moved in during the winter/early spring, and for months we thought we were surrounded by aliens because we never, ever saw any humans outside the houses. Technically we had neighbors then, but even though there were people living a yard away, I never felt like I was connected to anyone.

The year we lived in Maine was the first time since leaving Tarkio that I felt it again – a connection with others who lived in my general vicinity. We had neighbors on our dead-end street in town, but unlike Columbia, but we shared a driveway with an elderly couple who were friendly and caring, in a classic New England way. They rarely initiated contact – in fact, I don’t recall them ever coming to our door – but they were thrilled when we visited them, invited us in with open arms, plowed our half of the driveway when it snowed, and gave us a place to check in when there was an emergency. I will always be grateful to them for their kindness…but it just wasn’t the same as home.

Today, we get to live in a big old farmhouse in northern Atchison County – on a Century Farm, how cool is that. We get to be a part of this house’s history, and in that history are a host of families who have called this Farmers City neighborhood home for decades. Our two closest neighbors are a mile away in opposite directions. I grew up with one of those families, and the other has shown kindness that only comes with sharing a road in the country. Out here, my neighborhood is not contained by a road or a couple of blocks. I’ve never mapped the exact parameters, but I’d estimate that it goes at least 4 miles in any direction.

I’ve spent some time analyzing the difference between life here and life on our little road north of Columbia. Are the people in rural Atchison County innately more kind than those who lived on Tracy Court with us? [My totally unbiased opinion is, um-OBVIOUSLY! ;)] Not necessarily. But, they were different. We did have cows in our backyard there, but I’d venture to guess that our Tracy Court folks weren’t there because they loved the land. More likely, they were there because (like us) they didn’t want to have neighbors quite so close. And that translated to a kind of indifference – we didn’t need each other, we weren’t friends, we had our own lives and this is where our house happened to sit.

This is the thing unique to rural neighborhoods – we are few, we are far between, and we need each other. Sometimes it’s for little things like a cup of sugar (because driving 10 miles back to town when you forget something is ANNOYING). In the winter months, we keep each other company (even over the phone), dig each other out after storms and discuss road conditions. Our remoteness makes it that much more enjoyable to drop off a plate of cookies and sit for a spell, or be a part of the Christmas cantata at the church up the road. I suppose community happens in all kinds of neighborhoods, but out here, it seems to be more of a sustainer than a byproduct. Out here, we really do need each other – and I love it!

~MMB