Old Postcard Memories

I’ve shared on Facebook old postcards that were left to me by my mother-in-law, Retha Morrison and by my parents, Carl and Sybil Beck. The collection of postcards total well over five hundred,. Some cards have been postmarked while others remain unsent. The earliest card that I’ve found was 1910, but I haven’t shared all of them yet. Some that I’ve posted on Facebook are those gathered on a camping trip our church had for the teenage kids. It was an experience that I look back on fondly.

There were places and things that I saw and shared with them that I will never experience again even if I should live for another hundred years. Two of the most lasting memories centered about two Sundays and the two different church services we had.

The first was at King’s Creek Campground in Utah. We had the service on a Saturday evening because it was necessary to get up early to cover the miles for the Sunday’s journey. We gathered for an an open air service in a rustic amphitheater. Tall evergreen walls and a starry sky roof arched high overhead made our chapel. It was a feeling of closeness to God that I haven’t quite felt since.

The other memorable Sunday was after our tour of Yellowstone Park, Wyoming. Our overnight stay was in a small church in Wapiti Valley, Wyoming. The church was built from timber and boulders, recovered from the site where it was built. Tall mountains surrounded it enhancing its beauty. Inside, the antlered heads of several elk hung on the walls over each door. It was as if the church members were paying special attention to one of God’s creations that the valley and church were named after. The word wapiti means white rump according to one definition used to describe elk. We were allowed to sleep in the basement and cook inside instead of having to set up camp for the night.

We knew we’d run late if we stayed for Sunday morning service, but how could we refuse to such gracious hosts and I am glad that we did. The most memorable incident was the sharing of music and the collection of the offering. Unusual memories? Not really. Our group was the special music and the “passing of the hat” was literal. When the ushers collected the offering, they used white Stetsons as collection plates. It isn’t a memory that will quickly fade, for me and the rest of our troupe.