Stanbrooke Today
May my epitaph read:  "He loved kids"




Deep in a valley among swaying trees
                It was only a tiny white church,
Not much to look at for those passing by,
                Nor a place for which one might search.
No one would think from what could be seen,
                Anything special within.
No one could know that in that small house
                 Souls were rescued from sin.
Lives were left changed by that little church
                That served as a haven from strife.
And many there were who heard from on high
                The call to surrender their life.
To go to the world to spread God’s Good News,
                To joyfully do what they do,
To let others share what they learned long ago
                As they sat on a knotty pine pew.
Many came in through those two old white doors
                Coming to find God and His peace,
And some carried out by six solemn men
                To experience life’s final release.
But whoever they were and why ever they came
                The little church opened its doors.
And showed them the love coming  only from God
                And a haven from life’s many wars.
The spirits of many still sit in the pews
                As they have for one hundred years.
In our mind we still see them as we did long ago,
                Though obscured by a veil of our tears



From the old wooden pulpit, Pete still preaches as ever
                And Truman still sings his sweet songs.
And Lonnie and Al, Bob, Dorcus and Pearl
                Still sit where they have for so long.
Oh, we know they’re not there for us to embrace,
                But all still play their same parts,
For deep inside of all of us here,
                They forever will live in our hearts.
And, wherever we go as life marches on,
                Whatever our future may  be,
We’ll be led by their faith through life’s many trials,
                 ‘Till their faces again we will see.
And maybe some time in eons to come
                We’ll all be able to choose
To sit once again with those who’ve gone on -
                 Beside them on the knotty pine pews.
Shed a tear if you must for those who’ve gone on,
                But not for the church we all love.
May it always stand strong - as it always has --
                Blessed by a hand from above.
And may we sometime in glory be given a chance
              To return to a time we may choose.
I think many might join me as again we return,
              To our seat on those knotty pine pews.
And as we go on we’ll know as we go
                 Until this life we depart,
A little white church in a little green valley
                Will forever live in our heart.
                                                           Dr. Stan Brooke - '13







Initial Comments at UBC/KBC Reunion 

            Uncas/Kildare Baptist Church – what role does a church play in the life of those who enter its doors?  Is it only a building in which to gather?  Is it only a meeting place?  Only for social activities?  Only a place to be baptized; only a place to be joined in marriage; only a place to be carried on that final journey down its aisle and out its doors?
          No, it is all those things but so much more.  Throughout frontier life and extending well into the twentieth century, the church was the heartbeat of the community, the center of area life.  Smiling faces would file in to celebrate your birth; praise the Lord at your salvation; rejoice as you discover and unite with your mate for life; celebrate the birth of your children – beginning the circular journey all over again.
All that was true of any frontier church, but we are here to remember Uncas and Kildare Baptist Church. If you are here you were likely impacted by this little church with a record attendance of 125. 
        As for me there are so many memories:
                The old picture of Jesus in Gethsemane that hung back of the pulpit I spent so much time puzzling over when I should have been listening to the messages.
                The hard wooden pine pews that I slept on while very young; fidgeted on as I grew; and nervously sat on the Sunday Truman Fisher had come into my Sunday School class, took me out and led me to the Lord.  Now I was expected to go forward at the invitation – something that seemed so intimidating.
                Sunday school classes in basement separated by only thin brown curtains that probably used to be white.
                Church socials in basement:  Mrs. Myers angel food cake, freezers of homemade ice cream
                Falling in love with my first SS teacher as a 6 year old – (believe she is here today.)                                                                                       b              Playing out behind the church with Bubby Fisher while adults worked inside.
                Singing the old, old hymns that, sadly, seem to have gone out of fashion today.
                Attending every time the church doors were open – including spring and fall revivals – 2 weeks each – not much of that anymore either newer generations too busy, wouldn’t put up with it.  Revivals today:  3 days if have one at all and most of this generation has never heard of one.
                Vacation bible school and going home with paste on my fingers and in my hair.
                Being baptized in an old farm pond.
                Measuring my maturity by how far I advanced in the annual Christmas pageant – from shepherd to wise man to Joseph.
                Learning to drive by driving the old stick shift Ford home from church.
                After left how long it took for any other church to seem like church or home.  Even today difference between my church home and my home church.  My home church will always be the one we remember today.
Thanks to all who made the UBC/KBC reunion such a success.  Over 70 attended and brought an abundance of food!  And found an abundance of familiar faces from times long ago.