Not long ago, an author from Kansas heard of a retired pastor who she thought had a story worth telling. She featured him on her blog site as the first of many people whose lives she has chronicled.

Eileen Umbehr lives in Alma, Kan., with her husband of 30 years, Keen. She is a homemaker, bookkeeper for the family business, mother of four sons, grandmother of five and a breast cancer survivor. Eileen writes a weekly column for *The Prairie Post in White City, Kan., and has authored a nonfiction book titled* Small Town Showdown. Her columns are posted online at www.reflections-eileen.blogspot.com, and the web site for her book can be found at www.smalltownshowdown.com. —Editor

Early Life

Thomas Richard Hutcheson, who most often goes by his middle name but is sometimes called T. R. or Dick, was born on Aug. 21, 1916, in a farmhouse four miles from Morning Sun, Iowa. Richard’s parents were Walter Edwin and Jessie (Turnbull) Hutcheson. His siblings included one brother, Matthew Maurice, and one sister, Mary Alice Elizabeth. Another sister, Laura, died in infancy.

Richard’s mother, Jessie, was born in Oklahoma when it was still Indian territory. Sadly, Jessie’s mother passed away just a few days after her birth. Since there was no legal record of her birth, Jessie had chosen Feb. 14 as her birthday. When Jessie was a young girl, her father worked as a teamster for the railroad. After hearing there was work available at a mission being built by the Reformed Presbyterian Church, he decided to move Jessie and her older sister Dora to Apache, Okla., where Jessie attended an Indian boarding school for two years. Her father eventually remarried and had more children.

When Jessie was eight, it was determined that she and Dora should attend school in Morning Sun, Iowa, the hometown of some of the missionaries. Jessie lived with three different families before graduating from Morning Sun High School. Seventy-five years later, she was honored to be the featured speaker at the school’s alumni banquet. Jessie lived to be 96.

Richard’s grandfather, Matt Hutch­eson, grew up near Olathe, Kan., but left to find work in Iowa at age 16 because of the grasshopper plague in 1873. The story is that the grasshoppers not only ate all the crops, but they ate the curtains off the windows and the handles off the pitchforks because of the salt from the farmers’ hands. Matt would meet Richard’s grandmother, Annie, in Iowa, and they eventually settled on the 80 acres of land that Annie inherited near Morning Sun. This would be the farm home where Richard’s father, Walter, was born, and where Richard was born a generation later.

Richard’s mother and father met while they were attending Sharon RPC in Morning Sun. There was an entire colony of Reformed Presbyterians who moved to that area from Pennsylvania. The church continues to have a thriving congregation to this day.

One year after Richard’s parents were married, they moved to Sterling, Kan., to farm there. Since there were no crops that year, they became destitute and returned to Morning Sun, where they rented a house. Richard’s siblings attended a country school, but by the time he reached school age the country schools had been consolidated in Mediapolis, Iowa.

Midway through the second grade, Richard’s family moved to the unincorporated town of Garland, Iowa, where his father began working as the manager of the Garland Elevator. There were only about six or seven houses in Garland, but they had a general store located right in the railroad depot because the railroad ran through the town. Richard said you could buy overalls and lemons at the store, but nothing that required refrigeration since they didn’t have electricity. The family lived in Garland for approximately three years before moving back to Morning Sun, where Richard’s father took work as a hired man. He worked ten months out of the year helping another family on their farm. His pay was $50 per month.

“Some people say that they were poor, but they never knew it,” Richard commented. “Well, we were poor and we knew we were poor. But we never went hungry.”

“What did poor look like for your family?” I asked.

“Well, you had to think real hard before you bought something. And you didn’t buy much,” he replied. “We had a garden, one pig and a cow for milk. Mother canned. We had fruit trees; every farm had a good orchard. We had to watch out for the worms, though, but it was worse to find half a worm. And we wore our clothes for a very long time. We wore the same pants to school for half of the year.”

Richard remembered when he was about 10 and his father went shopping for the family’s first car.

“How much are you asking for this one?” his father asked the salesman, pointing to a coupe, single-seat automobile.

“Fifty dollars,” the salesman replied. “You can pay me so much a month until it’s paid off.”

After doing the math, Richard’s father asked why the total amount came to more than the price of the car.

“That’s interest on the money,” the salesman explained. “If you went to the bank, you’d have to pay interest. We’re really lending you the money.”

“That was my first lesson in finance,” Richard remarked.

“I’m just curious. How was it that your family could afford to buy a car for $50 when that was all the money your father made in a month?” I inquired.

“That’s why we were poor,” Richard said with a smile.

After completing his sophomore year of high school in Morning Sun, Richard’s family moved back to his grandfather’s farm near Mediapolis. Out of the twenty-three students who graduated from Mediapolis High School in 1934, only one girl found work at a grocery story (due to the Depression). As for Richard, he spent the next year helping his father on the farm and doing odd jobs for neighbors.

In the fall of 1935, Richard enrolled in junior college in Burlington, Iowa. He was able to live with his sister whose husband worked for Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad. The following year Richard decided to transfer to Kansas State Teachers College of Pittsburg, Kansas, now Pittsburg State University, to pursue his interest in journalism. The cost of tuition was $37.50 per semester. While in Pittsburg, Richard lived at the YMCA and worked there for his room. He also worked as a porter at the Rexford Café for his meals, and he held a job at the Family Shoe Store on Saturdays for $2 per day.

Richard returned to Pittsburg in the spring of 1938 after deciding he wasn’t “mechanically adept” enough to be a printer. His new area of study was history and social studies.

In the fall of 1938 one of Richard’s friends named Ralph Kilpatrick contacted him about a job opportunity in Pennsylvania. Ralph was a student at Geneva College and had a good job at a funeral home. So Richard transferred to Geneva College with the understanding that when his friend returned the following spring, he would relinquish his position at the funeral home. He also worked in the maintenance department at the college in exchange for reduced tuition.

When Ralph came back to reclaim his job, Richard returned to Pittsburg once again for the spring semester. That fall he stayed home to help his father harvest five acres of tomatoes he had contracted to grow for the Heinz Ketchup Company. In the spring of 1940, Richard returned to Kansas State Teachers College where he graduated with a B.S. in education. Since he was awarded a lifetime teaching certificate, Richard is actually still certified to teach English, history, social studies and printing.

“I’m certified,” he added wryly, “but I’m not qualified.”

A Dramatic Turn

The summer after graduation, Richard headed for “grain-raising territory” in Northern Minnesota where he worked harvesting wheat and flax. His life took a dramatic turn that fall when he was accepted into the Reformed Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

I asked Richard when he first considered going to seminary.

“Oh, it occurred to me off-and-on over the years,” he replied.

Richard’s family was very devout in their faith, and many of their activities centered around the church. In the town of Morning Sun (pop. 800), there were five churches. Every year each church would hold revival services, and every year young Richard would attend each one. In addition, Richard’s father led his family in a brief worship service every morning, which included reading a chapter from the Bible with each family member taking turns reading verses, and kneeling in prayer.

Richard told me about an incident in the sixth grade that might have hinted of things to come. He said his teacher was giving the class a spelling test, and without giving the definition she asked them to write the word profit. Richard was the only student who spelled the word p-r-o-p-h-e-t. Later on when he was in college, several of his friends from church commented that they thought he should become a minister.

During his second year of seminary, Richard met his future wife, Eleanor McLam, a music student at Geneva College. Eleanor was also a member of a gospel singing group, and she would eventually become a music teacher, traveling to different schools in the area. During this same time, a friend of Richard’s arranged for him to travel to Barnet, Vt., to preach a sermon at a church there.

After graduating from seminary in 1943, Richard received and accepted a call from the church he had visited in Barnet. His future in-laws were from Barnet and attended the same church. On June 27, 1944, Richard and Eleanor were married in the Barnet RPC. Since most people were married in their homes at that time, Richard and Eleanor were the first couple to be married in the church, which was built in 1833.

Eleanor taught piano in their home. The couple had two sons, Martin and Harvey. In 1947 the family moved to Almonte, Ontario, after Richard accepted the call from a congregation there. A third son, Dean, joined the family in 1949. They stayed in Almonte until 1952 when Richard received another call from Rose Point RPC in New Castle, Pa.

After deciding that “seven years was long enough,” Richard and his family moved from Rose Point to Superior, Neb., to serve as pastor of Superior RPC. There he would also serve as pastor of Beulah Country Church, approximately 20 miles from Superior.

Richard said the majority of his time as pastor was spent preparing sermons, visiting the sick, and acting as the shepherd of the congregation in various capacities. In Superior, he and four other pastors also took turns serving as chaplain for the local hospital, writing a devotional column for the newspaper, and providing a 15-minute weekly radio devotional.

In 1962, Richard developed a mysterious problem with his vocal chords, making it difficult to continue in his profession. The doctors were never able to determine what caused the problem with his voice. That year Richard began working in Holton, Kan., for the state Department of Social Welfare. His job responsibilities included providing aid to dependent children, placing children in foster homes or up for adoption, and finding nursing homes for the aged. In 1976, Richard and his wife moved to Topeka, where he concentrated more on medical assistance to the aged, blind and disabled.

Reflections

Richard retired on Aug.1, 1981. Sadly, Eleanor passed away in 1990 from cancer. Richard sold their home three years later and moved into an apartment in Topeka. In 1997 he moved into the independent living area of the Presbyterian Manor, where he continues to live today.

In addition to their three sons—Martin and Dean, who live in Kansas, and Harvey who lives in Virginia—the Hutchesons have been blessed with seven grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. Richard said that Samuel, one of his five-year-old great-grandsons, recently surprised his parents by telling them, “You know, Jesus loves us no matter what!”

I asked Richard if there was anything he would have changed about his life if he had it to do over again.

After taking a moment to consider the question, Richard replied:

“I would have brought my wife more flowers. I would have paid more attention to my family during my life. I neglected my children more than I should have. God took care of them, but I would have done more hugging. I went to some meetings when I could have been home with the family. I really didn’t need to go to those meetings.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking you this. Do you fear death?” I inquired cautiously.

“No, I don’t fear death. Of course, I’d like it to be easy without suffering, but I guess we can’t control that. But death is a promotion to heaven; our time on Earth is preparation. The Book of Psalms says: ‘Whom have I in heaven but thee? And there is none upon earth that I desire beside Thee.’

“I’m ready for death whenever it comes, and it won’t be long; I’m 91 years old. When I look at the obituaries in the paper, most people are younger than I am now.

“We’re told a few things about heaven. Heaven will be the absence of tears and pain; eternal bliss. I suppose the greatest joy would be the absence of sin … it’s a delight to think upon that. We can’t imagine it, really.”

“Do you ponder who you’ll be reunited with when you get to heaven?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied, “but being with Jesus and spending eternity in His presence will be the greatest delight.”

I asked Richard what he tells people who question the teaching of Christianity that Jesus is the only way to heaven.

“Jesus said I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, and no man comes to the Father except by Me.”

“But what about people who have never heard about Jesus?” I asked.

“In the first chapter of Romans [v. 20] it says: ‘For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse.’

“We have our consciences also,” Richard answered. “We don’t need the ten commandments to know that murder is wrong. God writes His law upon our hearts.”

Finally, I asked Richard how he hopes his sons and family will remember him.

He pondered the question for a moment, searching for just the right words to summarize his hopes for a personal legacy.

“Ideally, I hope that I reflected faith in Christ,” he replied. “And that they saw that I had joy because I am a believer. That’s the way I’d like them to remember me.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“No … I think that’s all,” he quietly responded.

—Eileen Umbehr