Faithbook: Our Story, Our Song

My earliest childhood memory is that I was already attending church when I was in kindergarten. When I was little, my kindergarten and the church were in the same place, so church life was not separate from my everyday life—it was part of who I was. In my family, community, and church, those early memories are deeply rooted and filled with warmth. I remember when I was very small, my father was a deacon in the church. So I often saw my father working hard for the church, helping with services, supporting others, and being a strong presence of faith. That’s the main reason I came to know the Lord Jesus from such a young age. My earliest experiences of faith were not just taught, they were shown through my father’s actions. My faith has deep roots that go back many generations. My maternal grandfather was a pastor. He became a Christian and later a pastor because of the influence of American missionaries during the Qing Dynasty. Their witness changed his life, and that faith became a fou...

I was born on February 9, 1979, in South Korea, into a Methodist pastor’s family. My story really begins even before I was born. My mother, like Hannah in the Bible, made a vow to God. She prayed that if God gave her a son, she would dedicate him to the Lord’s service. But she never pressured me. My parents never forced me to become a pastor, even though my grandfather, father, and uncle were all in ministry. Instead, they simply showed me what a life devoted to God looked like. That left a lasting impression. Growing up, I experienced God’s presence in personal ways. I was often sick as a child—with tympanitis and arthritis—but I also experienced healing. Those moments drew me closer to God. But it wasn’t until a youth retreat in 1991, when I was 12, that I responded to the gospel in a personal way. My grandfather preached at that retreat, calling us to repentance and to follow Jesus. Something stirred in me. For the first time, I desired to devote my life to Christ. Fast forward to t...

I was born the youngest of eight siblings in a devout Christian family. My grandfather, a man of deep faith and commitment, was always actively involved in the life and service of the church. When a new sanctuary was being constructed in our community, he joyfully donated a bell tower, seeing it as a gift to God and the congregation. However, tragedy struck during the installation process. Determined to contribute with his own hands, he tried to install the bell himself. In a heartbreaking accident, he fell and died inside the church building. His death, though painful, was a testimony to a life poured out for Christ. I often reflect on that moment as an act of mayordom—a sacrificial offering of devotion and legacy in faith. Since childhood, music captured my heart. I particularly loved to sing. It brought me joy, solace, and a sense of closeness to God. My older brothers were also musically gifted, even more so than I. Music seemed to run in our blood. It played a major role in shapin...

I was born into a pastor's home, surrounded by faith yet longing for something deeper. My earliest memories are of church pews and daily devotions, yet I felt distanced from the God my parents loved. As a child, I wrestled with deep anger and painful questions. My relationship with my father was strained, and there were moments I questioned whether even God could change him—or me. That changed when I was eight years old. I heard the testimony of a North Korean girl imprisoned for her faith. Her story of unwavering love for Jesus stirred something in me. That night, I cried out to the God I only knew from a distance. What followed was nothing short of a divine encounter. I saw a panorama of my sins—selfishness, bitterness, hatred—and I wept for three days in repentance and joy. I knew Jesus had died for me. From that moment, faith became personal. Astonishingly, around that same time, my authoritarian father began to change. He became more open, more gentle. I saw firsthand that...

I was born in 1933 and grew up in Dyer Brook, Maine, surrounded by the kind of close-knit, multigenerational family that shaped every part of who I became. We lived under one roof—my parents, my grandparents, and often extended family who came to visit for days or even weeks at a time, especially in the summer. People didn’t think twice about dropping in from across the mountain, and those visits were always welcome. That sense of community and kinship has stayed with me all my life. I had two sisters who were close in age and a brother ten years younger. While we didn’t have elaborate family traditions, our bond was strong. Mealtimes were spent together, and we always looked out for each other. We lived near Smyrna on the main road where the Southern Aroostook school now stands. My earliest church memories come from the little Baptist church on the hill, which is now the Dyer Brook Community Church. I went to Sunday school there. I never had a favorite hymn myself, but I remember my f...

I was born in Mars Hill, Maine, and spent my childhood nearby. Back then, people didn’t travel much. We lived out in the country, where my father worked for a farmer. Our home was modest, and my earliest memories include the anxiety of starting school. I had to take the bus, and when that door shut behind me, I felt overwhelmed and alone. I cried a lot, and my teachers had their hands full. Thankfully, my older sister, five years ahead of me in school, was allowed to sit with me for a while until I got used to it. Eventually, the principal had a firm word with me, and that helped turn things around. Like most kids in those days, I helped out at home. In the fall, I joined my mother in the potato fields. I enjoyed school, especially the social parts—being in exhibitions, acting in the senior play, and dancing at Friday night socials. After graduation in 1953, I completed a business course that taught shorthand and typing. Just as I finished school, Loring Air Force Base was opening....

I was born into a big family—one of eleven children, though my mother lost two before I was born. We grew up in Danforth, Maine. The girls were mostly older, and the four youngest were boys. Life back then was simple but full. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. We were sheltered in a good way, surrounded by people who cared. Church was the heart of our life. We always went to Sunday School. There were five or six churches in Danforth when I was growing up. It was much busier back then. The church was our connection to others. Even though my father didn’t attend, and my mother only occasionally went, she always made sure we kids went.  I remember the warmth of that church community and how people always helped one another. My childhood was shaped by that village—neighbors who gave us little jobs, like errands or light housekeeping. My sisters and I all had someone we worked for. That kind of upbringing stays with you. I had many good friends over the years. Some I’ve lost t...

 I was born and raised on Ben Hill, though the old house isn’t standing anymore. Back then, we lived on a big farm—with cows, chickens (nearly a thousand of them!), and more chores than I could count. I was the only girl with four brothers—David, Gerald, Jimmy, and Richard. Gerald and Jimmy have passed on, but Richard still lives in Hodgdon, and David’s turning 80 this June. David didn’t like the barn work, so I often ended up doing dishes, but I still found myself out with the animals more than not. Life was busy but simple. We didn’t have neighbors close by, and most of our time was spent working on the farm. Sundays were special. After church, we’d go visit relatives—sometimes even stay for supper. It was a rhythm that taught me hard work, family, and faith. This interview was done on my 84th birthday—what a meaningful way to celebrate and look back over a full and blessed life. Church has always been a big part of my journey. I was baptized, taught Sunday School, and spen...

 My name is Nina, and looking back, I can truly say I’ve had a good life—full of love, laughter, challenges, and the grace of God woven all the way through. I grew up in a farming family. My father was a potato farmer, and we always had cattle, pigs, and plenty of food on the table. Not everyone had that, especially during hard times, but we were blessed. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of visiting my mother’s family out in Masardis. They had sheep and a dog named Strongheart, who was always so excited when we arrived. Those were carefree days—running across crusted snow in the winter with our sleds, hauling water from the well, and picking potatoes with my siblings. There were five of us—three brothers, my sister, and me—and we worked hard, but we had a good time. We walked to school when we could, and I remember the little schoolhouse with a stove in the middle. We’d bring soup in jars and warm it on the stove for lunch. The school had all eight grades in one room, ...

I was born in Fort Fairfield, Maine, and some of my earliest memories go back to when my family moved to Easton. I was just a first grader then, and I found myself in a one-room schoolhouse. All eight grades were taught in that one space, and by the time I was in seventh and eighth grade, I was the only student in my class. It was a unique experience, but I didn’t know any different—it was just life in rural Maine. Later on, I transferred to Easton High School and quickly realized I was behind the other students academically. But with time and effort, I caught up. The transition from a one-room school to a larger system wasn’t easy, but it taught me persistence early on. More than anything, though, I remember how small and close our world was back then. You knew everyone, and you didn’t need much to be content. High school was where I met the love of my life—Nina. She and I saw each other every day, and our bond only grew stronger. After I went on to attend college in Presque Isle ...

I grew up on a farm, and when I think back to my childhood, I remember the simple, beautiful rhythm of life. The early mornings, the smell of the earth, and the sense of accomplishment that came from a hard day’s work—it all shaped who I am. Life on the farm taught me responsibility, perseverance, and gratitude for the little things. I learned that growth, whether in crops or in life, takes time, patience, and trust in things beyond our control. Some of my earliest memories are of my family working together, each of us playing our part. We depended on one another, just as we depended on the changing seasons. That foundation of hard work and family connection stayed with me, guiding me through the years. Even as the world around me changed in ways I never could have imagined, those core values remained constant. As I grew older, I witnessed events that had a lasting impact on me—moments in history that shaped not only the world but also my perspective. But nothing has influenced me more...

I was born into a hardworking family where values of integrity, diligence, and perseverance were instilled in me from an early age. Growing up, I believed that success in life came from working hard and accumulating things. That was my pre-Christ mindset: work hard, make a living, and everything will be fine. But I later learned that this wasn’t true. Life is more than just working hard and gaining possessions. It is about relationships, faith, and purpose. In 1966, my life took another turn when I met Cynthia. Her father had been transferred to the Presque Isle Electric Office, and she started attending school in Presque Isle. At that time, we had a great basketball team, and I was one of the few people who had a car—a hard-earned $150 vehicle. When we decided to go to a game, I was the driver. My friend Andy Moores introduced me to Cynthia’s sister, Marjorie, which led me to Cynthia. One thing led to another, and by 1968, we were married. I still remember the date: September 5, 1968...

I was born and raised in Houlton on a farm, where family and faith were the foundation of life. My earliest childhood memories are filled with the warmth of home, the laughter of my siblings, and the simple joys of growing up in a close-knit community. I had three siblings—Betty, Larry, and Jean. Jean was the youngest, and I was two years older. One of my earliest memories was when Betty, Larry, and I would go to our cousins, Kay and Marion’s, to stay. When my sister Jean was being born, Larry saw the doctor coming to the farm with his black bag. Not knowing what was happening, Larry believed the doctor had brought Jean in his black bag. As one of several children, I quickly learned the importance of hard work and responsibility. Our family didn’t have much, but we had each other, and that was enough. My parents instilled in us the values of honesty, perseverance, and kindness. We helped with household chores and supported one another through thick and thin. Looking back, I realize tha...