Could not keep driving. Had to stop and behold this church that shares my fathers name and so much more. Similar to my dad, this little roadside chapel sat quite unassuming. Settled behind pines and down a little rock path there wasn’t any pomp or circumstance about this church. It felt more like the simply stated Presbyterian Church in my dads hometown of Miller, South Dakota. You could almost smell the dirt blowing across the great plains between rows of golden corn as we entered the church.
We opened the door and allowed our eyes to adjust from the sun to the darkness of the interior. Our eyes popped and jaws dropped as every inch of this church surprised us with the combination of rustic and elegance. Beautifully carved pews, stone work and the hand painted sanctuary made you feel right at home. Just like my dad, always smiling, eager to provide a laugh and welcome you home.