Great Northern exodus

The other day I learned that the folks who established America's Promise Church, just north of where we lived for 30 years on Great Northern Road, are planning to sell out. At first, I reported the rumor as coming from an anonymous source. The next day I learned that the information had already gone public in the form of a real estate ad in The River Journal.

Having given my mother one copy of the paper and knowing my hubby had the other, I had to wait a day or so to see the ad. Bill brought his paper home from Cottonwood Sunday and read the ad aloud. I had thought the church sat on just five acres but learned that it sits on 6-plus.

If anyone's interested in buying the hallowed grounds of America's Promise, just shell over $2.8 million, and it's yours. That's interesting since 24 acres of our original family farm--with airport access---is listed at $3 million. I don't know what they paid for it back in 1991, but I'm willing to bet that these church folks are hoping to make a profit on their tax exempt land set-up.

I remember the day when they moved in. It was March. It was raining, and it was ugly. We saw the caravan of semis drive by that morning before it was time for us to leave for school. Seeing a caravan of semis on Great Northern Road back then was a big event, so we rushed to the kids' bedroom windows to see where they were headed.

The semis pulled into the property with the round building that Barney Teller had first constructed as a restaurant for his golf driving range. Later, a couple who shopped the world for merchandise to send out to customers occupied the premises. And, then there was the era of those piles of white plastic pipe in the fields around the building. I think that guy went bankrupt while trying to install mini-water systems in rural areas. The Tellers kept getting the property back to re-sell. Along came some folks from Arizona who've been there ever since.

Once the big trucks and their accompanying cars pulled in through the muck that morning, lots of people got out and started walking around in the rain. The kids and I peered through the windows, watching and wondering just like Butch and Sundance, "Who are those guys?" Then, we had to leave for school.

That afternoon, the rain had stopped and the sun was shining so, as Great Northern Road's self-appointed welcome wagon hostess, I went over and did my thing. During that short visit, I learned that they didn't believe in public schools and only believed in the Old Testament. I came home and called my mother, who said she thought they were probably snake worshippers and to stay clear of them.

Two weeks later, I learned from a Spokesman reporter that they weren't snake worshippers, but that their brand of religion held some strong prejudices against certain groups of people. So, I stayed away. When our dog stole one of the minister's kid's Bible workbooks, brought it to our yard and ate several pages, I had the Schwan's man deposit the book remains in the church mailbox.

We Love's generally co-existed on the same country road with America's Promise Church. We also spent a lot of time at those bedroom windows continuing to wonder what was going on over there. We even hosted a couple of Spokesman reporters one Sunday morning who came to watch what went on at their church services---from afar, of course.

The church showed up on the news a lot because of its perceived and proven association with some of the notorious names connected with North Idaho hate groups. The night Peter Jennings reported on some bank robbers/bombers who had worshipped at the church made me nervous. I stood at my kitchen counter, and there on "ABC World News Tonight" flashed a shot of the church right next door to my horses. Over the years, we saw our share of TV satellite trucks lining up next to the grounds, just as we saw a few skinheads.

We kept an eye out across the field each summer in July as motorhomes, tents and pick-up trucks rolled in for a gathering of music, games and preaching. It was always fun to have the backyard barbecue and keep an ear tipped to the north in hopes of hearing what they were up to over there.

So now, the church folks are headed for greener pastures. Some cutie pie reader put a comment on my blog last week that they're headed for Center Valley Road. That will be okay, since I live on South Center Valley Road, and I heard there's a moratorium on church construction out here. Those folks would do well to stay away from the Center Valley Road complex because even the UPS drivers can't figure out where they're going with three roads going by three different names. Church attendance might dwindle, and satellite trucks would suffer.

I don't know who's going to come along and buy that land and that church for $2.8 million, but maybe the sellers are banking on the hopes that the people who love to hate the haters will put up the bucks just to get them to move on.

This morning I read another story in the Bee regarding the future of Great Northern Road. The Panhandle Animal Shelter, which is located about half a mile south of our old place is getting a new home over on Kootenai Cut-off Road. Dennis Pence and his Wild Rose Foundation are forking over some funds to help jump start the new facility which will hold up to 200 dogs. So, eventually the dogs and cats will leave our old road and find a bigger, better facility for their temporary housing.

Times change. Eras end. Long ago, Great Northern Road used to be home to a school, to Dick Senft's rodeo grounds and to several farms. Now, the past gives way to the future---eventual headquarters to Litehouse Dressings and expansion possibilities for Quest Aircraft Co., lots of industrial venues. One less church and a lot less snooping out bedroom windows.