Museum Project - Pennsylvania Historical Society of Nebraska

The Sunday morning memorial service on picnic weekends, now held in the Christian Church in Humboldt, is special, but sitting there in the still unfamiliar sanctuary last summer, my mind drifted back to the church at Dawson, now closed, and the services I attended there.

It could rightly be called “the family church.” Seven of the eleven charter members were ancestors of ours, and when I was young, most of the members, Sunday school teachers, trustees, and choir members were “family.” It was a “spiritual cocoon” which nurtured us during childhood and refreshed us during our visits “back home.”

The service last summer was indeed a memorial service for me, and in my mind I could see the beloved sanctuary of my youth— the massive pulpit and communion rail, my grandparents sitting down front on the north aisle (grandpa nodding off during the sermon), the far right front corner filled with elderly women (most wearing hats made of black straw), the choir loft filled with cousins (with Reuben Ulmer directing and True at the piano), my parents in a back pew (Dad, a chip off the old block, nodding off and my mother poking him in the ribs now and then), Charlie and Edna Heim sitting by the south windows, the morning sun streaming in. I heard the sound of the church bell, rung faithfully by the aged Sarah Ulmer, and the old hymns, “Faith of Our Fathers,” “We’ve a Story to Tell to the Nations,” “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder,” “Be Still My Soul”—they all came back to me fresh in my memory Sunday morning, but as the service in the strange church ended, I was faced with the reality that these people are gone, and the church is no more.

A poet once wrote that “Things have a terrible permanence when people die,” but I disagree. I think they can be a blessing, reminding of things, people, and events we held dear. We were fortunate to save a number of things from the old church when it closed—stained glass windows, the pulpit and its Bible, pews, the cross that adorned the front wall, a silver tea set, the cornerstone— among other things. They capture memories for us, and are preserved at the Penn Colony Museum along with artifacts donated by our families which help reconstruct the past.

The museum belongs to all of us, and it is off to a remarkable beginning with the restoration of the Henry Heim house now filling with the treasures of bygone years. It is a promising beginning, but if we are to continue collecting and preserving our heritage, we must now move forward with the construction of a building which will provide display areas, storage, meeting facilities, and security. Plans include the use of the items brought from the church to provide a chapel. Most recently we acquired the church bell. Here, some of the church’s cherished past will live on for us.

As the church was part of most of us, the museum and the things saved from it can continue to be a vital part of us and of our descendants. The new building, a memorial to those who have gone before us, deserves the active support of all of us.

Links to the Beginning