DAYS 103 & 104 - Crossing the Mississippi & Carthage, IL - 2011 miles from home
- Esther Lisa Tishman
- Oct 16
- 6 min read
3.4 miles per hour. That's pretty much my pace. Sometimes it dips down to 3.3 or 3.2 (there are snacks to be eaten, photos to take)... Sometimes it revs up to 3.5 (the temperature is perfect, the road itself is thrilling and lovely). But basically, this pilgrimage is incremental and steady. One footstep. One footstep. Yet all the same: there are days where everything accelerates. Days when so much happens, when there are so many experiences, so many encounters: it's like a whole other pilgrimage within the pilgrimage. On days like this, my head is reeling. My heart is full.
This is how Days 103 & 104 have been. I have to think that crossing the Mississippi - the Great River - is the reason why.
Bob first crossed the Mississippi on Day 103, walking through Keokuk, IA over the bridge. (We would all return to cross it together the next day.) We rendezvous'd on the river's other side in Hamilton, IL - where suddenly I realized it was truly autumn. Crinkly oak leaves and acorns everywhere.
On the other side, in Iowa, Keokuk is all bluffs and grand old Victorians, mostly in disrepair. Thick with history. You can feel Missouri just south, and Mark Twain's river at your feet. A massive lock and dam and the power house it supports: reminder that Keokuk, Iowa was at one time the gateway to the west. A large train depot - now abandoned - by the river's edge. And apparently, the huge parking lot by the Dollar General by the bridge was where all the old brothels stood.
In contrast, Hamilton on the Illinois side of the river is mostly flat and lowkey. Illinois is a different world - a different climate even. Immediately I felt the change. It felt like home - although at least one Illinoisian scoffed when I told him I was raised in Chicago. "We call that Chiraq around here!"
After the momentary joy and charm of walking into my home state, I started walking on what is almost certainly one of my three least favorite stretches of roadway so far. No shoulder. Expansive, flat, cornfields - machinery busy with harvest. Combines and semis rumbling by, kicking stinging gravel into my face. Gray skies. But after about 10 miles, I walked into Carthage.
As I walked down Carthage's Main Street, welcomed by the canopy of old oaks, maples, hickories - passing one grand old wooden house after another - my heart eased again. Something expansive here in old Hancock County. Carthage has been the county seat since 1837, although the impressive courthouse at the center of the town square with its rich vermillion cupola and its Beaux-Arts limestone facade is much younger (1908). The first courthouse was constructed from logs.
There's no shortage of churches in Carthage - and since we didn't yet have a community host for the night, for the first time in this journey I began to literally knock on doors. Our trek is supported by the amazing Rawlings sisters: volunteers Joan Rawlings-Boyd and Jane Cottrell. They have been indefatigable supporters, calling and emailing communities in advance of our visits. Jane and Joan literally put roofs over our heads. But this stretch of Illinois has proved difficult. (By the way: Joan and Jane could use help in this task - they've been at it for months. If you're looking for a volunteer opportunity and a chance to make some warm and lovely connections, please contact us here...)
In Carthage I knocked on a lot of church doors to no avail - locked doors and darkened windows. It is the very rare house of worship that has resources for full-time staffing. And so, I also left a lot of voicemails. A few hours later, Pastor Diane Ludington of the First United Presbyterian Church - spirited, warm, generous - called me back with the offer of lodging. Diane is also pastor at Keokuk's Church by the River. And indeed, she offered to join us the next morning during our ceremonial crossing of the Mississippi. We couldn’t have asked for a wiser or more loving companion and host.
On Day 104 we met Pastor Diane in Keokuk. As it turns out in this interwoven world of western illinois, where Iowa, Missouri and the Land of Lincoln all meet - Diane had shared news of our arrival not only with elders from church, but with neighbors, including Goldie Franklin: a photographer and reporter for the Hancock County Pilot-Journal. Our crossing was also joined by Madison Colquette: the Unitarian Universalist divinity student who drove from Iowa City to meet us in Des Moines. And so the warp and the weft of this tapestry get woven ever more intricately, ever more richly.
Diane and I talked about the challenges facing historic communities like Keokuk - and historic churches like the two she serves. Her Keokuk church is extraordinarily beautiful, with a massive presence on the riverbank - its sanctuary gleaming with maple pews and paneling, its interior warm and inviting, breathtaking views of the river from a wrought iron balcony inset with with strawberry and raspberry patches. And yet, Sunday attendance is in the single digits. Diane is determined to save this house of worship; the building now houses a successful daycare and hosts the community choir, warming centers during cold snaps, and other activities. The outreach continues.
What does America need - what does America want - from its faith communities? And are "need" and "want" the same thing?
Later that day, Bob and I visited the Carthage Jail Visitor's Center - the site of Joseph and Hyrom Smith's murder in 1844. We joined a reverent tour led by two young missionaries from the Church of Latter Day Saints. The tour was packed, mostly with families. And as we filed into the small upstairs bedroom where that 1844 mob overtook Joseph and Hyrum, another packed tour group was climbing the stairs with another set of guides.
That afternoon we also met with Pastor Jerome Lee of Carthage's First Christian Church. Just by happenstance, First Christian is one church I did not visit during my afternoon of cold calls.... Had I done so, Pastor Jerome might have well been there and opened the door. But Bob and I got a chance to meet him and be inspired by his story. Seven years ago, Pastor Jerome was released from prison having served his time for selling meth - and having found his way to Christ. He would become a substance abuse counselor and would by invited to the pulpit at First Christian Church - ultimately receiving congregational ordination.
With Jerome as its pastor, the Church has in a few short years quadrupled in size. They have also disaffiliated from the Disciples of Christ, now serving as a “nondenominational Church that stands on the Bible as the God inspired word." Jerome radiates confidence and strength; he spoke with us clearly and kindly, welcoming us and ready to take care of us in any way we needed. His ministry is clearly resonating. "Everyone is welcome here," he tells us simply. The three of us nod in affirmation together. We agree that today’s world is drowning in human judgement and arrogance. "Only God is the Judge," Jerome tells us. And because of that, he says, he will stand firmly by God's Word. Jerome doesn't hold the answers; he embraces his ignorance and utter reliance on the Lord. And for this reason he stands on God's Word. As he explains to us, the Disciples of Christ denomination postively affirms stances that deviate from that Word. Disaffiliation was necessary.
Again I find myself wondering: what do we need, what do we want from our faith communities? And where does my own faith in America fit into this tapestry?
Crossing the Mississippi also meant saying goodbye to Chris. She's off to another slew of adventures, making good use of her "Go Wild" pass on Frontier Airlines. What a badass she is! Chris will be returning at some point in November - but Bob and I both felt a little chunk taken out of us. We'll miss you, good friend. Be well, be safe, adventure on!
