Rest in Your church

The United Women in Faith... Almost 50 years ago, we came to Patten. The first person I met was Irene Bradford . It was because of Irene that I started coming to this church—not every Sunday, but whenever I could. I was pregnant and was busy running a sporting camp. As time moved on, we became more involved in the church. I didn't officially belong to the UMW (United Methodist Women, now UWF) then, but I did try to bring my little ones to church. It was a time of peace for me, as the kids went downstairs to the nursery. I'm telling you this for the mothers out there who think their kids' behavior is bad. I'm sure you could ask many of us about our own kids! I remember my son was sitting on the front row with the young children. I was two rows behind him because I didn't know how he would behave. Well, he picked up a red hymnal from under the pew, found me, and threw it at me! I know God was watching, and I managed to catch it. Later in the service, when I w...

10/26/25 Stetson Memorial UMC   From Closet to Community Mission Many of us may not be aware that a food cupboard has existed for several years at the Stetson Memorial United Methodist Church. One day, I was walking down the hall by the Pastor’s Office, and the closet door was open. There on the floor against the wall were stacks of canned food. I asked the Pastor about them and found that it was there for those who came to the church for help. Christy Trembley had asked the Administrative Board to have a cupboard. It was called "Heaven’s Blessing." At that time, Bob and I were involved with the local Cub Scout Pack, and we saw an opportunity to have the boys make a shelving unit to hold that food as part of their service project. The closet eventually gave way to the Sunday School room near the Pastor’s office. A table, shelf, and refrigerator were added, and food was donated by members of the church, while bread was donated by Ellis Family Market . Some of the Youth G...

 Faith Story of our Church for the Past 2 1/2 Years October 19, 2025 God will make a way – where there seems to be no way. He works in ways we cannot see – He will make a way for me. He will be my guide – hold me closely to His side. With love and strength for each new day – He will make a way. We know that song – we know God’s promises are real. Two and a half years ago, our beloved pastor, Dan Blevins, had to resign from his duties here due to illness. Shortly after that, the United Methodist Church faced uncertainty as thousands of conservative congregations decided to leave the UMC. Thankfully, retired Pastor Mary Miller stepped in to help our church deal with these circumstances. We had meetings to explain these changes. We lost several members of Stetson Memorial because of this division. BUT – God made a way! We had no appointed pastor, but we had people willing to let God lead us. We struggled to fill the pulpit: we had guest speakers, testimonies, Pastor Dan...

                       I came from the bottom, battle within ,  But God gave me strength when the devil stepped in.   Tried to drag me down, had me lost in the fog,  But He broke those chains when I called on God. Every breath I breathe ain’t by chance,  He’s the reason I rise, that I fight, that I stand.  Don’t boast in me, I boast His name,  ’Cause the King of all kings took away my shame. I’m lovin’ God, yeah, I’m singin’ it loud,  Stand tall in the storm, I’m liftin’ my crown.  A soldier of light , I’ll never back down,  With the Lord in my heart, I’m forever found. I’m not chasin’ money, I’m not chasin’ fame,  I’m chasin’ His truth, yeah, I praise His name.  He carried my pain, nailed it up on the cross,  Turned my sorrow to strength, turned my grief into loss. When my granddad got murdered, it cut me deep,  But God gave me comfort and His peace so sweet...

I was born in 1938 in Danforth, Maine. My faith story begins when I was a little girl, about six or seven years old. It started with my grandmother. She was the one who planted the seed of faith in me. She took me to services for children, sometimes at the YMCA or wherever they were held. She was also the one who taught me to knit, and I often think about how the threads of yarn she placed in my hands were like the threads of faith she wove into my heart. A Young Faith Takes Root When I was young, I attended the Nazarene Church. I joined the choir and sang with joy, and I also taught Sunday School. That was in the 1950s, and those early experiences helped me grow strong in my walk with God. A Faith That Expands As a teenager, I made some changes in my life. I left high school just before graduation and moved to Florida to live with my aunt. At first, I didn’t go to church often. But the second time I went back to Florida, I became more involved. My aunt had moved to a different...

My name is Sharon Batchelder, and I was born in Danforth, Maine. When I look back over my life, I see pain and hardship, but I also see the faithfulness of God. My story is not always easy to tell, but it is a testimony of how God has carried me, healed me, and given me hope.   Childhood and Early Struggles When I was only eight months old, my stepfather threw me down a flight of stairs. That fall left me with lasting damage. My whole right side was affected, almost as if I had a stroke. It took me sixteen years just to learn how to tie my own shoes. My stepfather was an alcoholic. He drank constantly, and with the drinking came anger, cruelty, and abuse. My mother had twelve children, though one died at birth. That left eleven of us growing up together, and life was not easy. My mother was afraid of my stepfather. I don’t know why she married him, but she did, and the fear never left her. He was a hard, cruel man. He abused us, and worse, he even harmed my older sister i...

Bertrand Laurence played guitar for her testimony All church members came to her and to pray for her 9/7/25 A new day, a new beginning, a new blessing, a new hope. That is what my testimony will be—sharing what my life was like, what happened before God’s intervention, and how my life is today.   Growing Up I was born and raised in a city in Massachusetts, in a French neighborhood and schooling. Everything looked good on the outside, but behind closed doors it was another world. At home, my father was very strict. At the dinner table, we weren’t allowed to laugh or even speak. Punishments could be harsh. I remember being hit with a Navy belt or forced to kneel in a closet for an hour. My two older siblings left home as soon as they could, leaving me and my younger sister behind. By six years old, I had my first drink. By twelve, I was drinking and using drugs. By fourteen, I was hanging out with a gang. Anything to numb the pain. Much of my childhood is missing from...

Nursing home service every third Sunday  at the Gardiner Stetson Memorial UMC 8.24.25 My name is Roberta Adams Moore—though some know me as Roberta Finnemore. I was born in 1940 in Patten, Maine, and I’ve lived a long life by God’s grace. Even now, at 85, I see that God still has work for me to do. These days, I live in a nursing home. Some might think that’s the end of ministry, but for me, it’s just a new beginning. God has opened doors here for His work. It started with small things—devotionals every morning with Wendy and Sharon. We prayed, sang, and studied God’s Word together. When Wendy moved on, I wanted to keep learning, so we asked Pastor Joyce and Houlton UMC to lead a Bible study every Friday. And now, every third week, we have a Sunday service right here in the nursing home. Through all of this, I feel part of Houlton UMC, even though I am far from my home church. Pastor Joyce once told me that I was like Moses in the nursing home. That touched my heart deepl...

My name is Roberta Adams Moore—though some know me as Roberta Finnemore—and I was born in 1940 in Patten, Maine. I'm 85 years old now, and I’ve lived a full and colorful life, by God’s grace. I was the eldest of four children, born to Robert and Minnie Adams. My mother made sure we went to Sunday school starting at age five. Every Sunday, we were there at the United Methodist Church in Patten—a beautiful old church where faith felt alive. Pastor Herman Grant, a graduate of Patten Academy like I was, led us for a time. A quiet man, but wise. He once told me, when I was just sixteen and teaching a third-grade Sunday school class, “Maybe there’s something more they need than just the books of the Bible.” I took his words to heart, but I never forgot those books—and I still know them by heart to this day. That tiny classroom, just an old entryway no one used anymore, was packed with twelve boys and one girl. If you could’ve seen it, you wouldn’t have believed it. I started teaching whe...