Almost Like Home

By Diana Hooley

I’ve lived in Idaho a long time, but my mother moved here late in life. She’d been living in the place she was born and raised in West Virginia, and the move to Idaho was not an easy transition for her. All her best memories were in West Virginia, roaming its hills and attending the little country church in the holler with her friends.

She would have stayed in West Virginia the remainder of her days, but when she turned eighty, she developed significant health problems. She needed to move closer to her children, three of whom lived in Idaho.

I tried to ease my mother’s relocation here. My husband and I purchased a small house for her in Mountain Home with a rose bed and a nice backyard. I kept pointing out the ways Idaho and West Virginia were alike.

“We have mining here, too,” I told Mom, referring to West Virginia’s coal mining industry. “Idaho was founded on mining. And we have lots and lots of mountains! Much higher than West Virginia’s hills.”

She sighed. “I know, honey, and thank you so much for my house, but all I see is desert and sagebrush.”

I realized my mother needed more exposure to Idaho’s many different landscapes and climates. Idaho is the gem state because we have so many hidden gems, both naturally and culturally.

“Spring is a great time of the year here,” I mentioned to her one late February day. “Why don’t we take a trip somewhere?”

“Do dogwood trees bloom in Idaho?” she asked wistfully.

I told Mom there weren’t any wild dogwood trees in southern Idaho, but emphasized the abundance of other natural beauty. I had to find some unique destination for our trip, something peculiar to Idaho which wouldn’t elicit any comparisons.

Then I struck upon an idea. Why not take her to St. Gertrude’s Monastery on the Camas Prairie? St. Gertrude’s, near Cottonwood, is home to a convent of Benedictine nuns and has a wonderful inn for guests. The grounds of the monastery are lovely and rolling with a large hill covered in pine and a pond.

On the way to Camas Prairie, Mom seemed to enjoy the mountain scenery, but when we approached St. Gertrude’s, I watched as her eyes widened. The sight of its huge basilica-like chapel rising up from farm fields was truly awe-inspiring to her.

The chapel with its red-tiled roof and bell towers looks European and was indeed founded by three nuns from Switzerland. According to one of the sisters, the building was completed in 1924 and is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

When we took a tour of the chapel, Mom was also enchanted by its interior. As a Protestant and Baptist, she was not accustomed to the ornate interiors of cathedral-like churches. She marveled at the hand-carved pieces of art and intricate shrines.

“Oh, it’s magnificent, isn’t it?” she asked, gaping up at the chapel’s towering ceiling where a colorful mural was painted.

But best of all, she enjoyed visiting with the sisters. We spent the night in the Bluebird Suite at the inn, and the next morning ate a cafeteria-style breakfast. The nuns seated us in a separate room, telling us that their order began each day in silence and meditation.

 “We may have different religious beliefs,” Mom whispered to me over her breakfast tray, “but I like to begin my day with prayer, too.”

I watched as she ate her eggs and toast and realized how happy and contented she looked. It was the first time my mother seemed to feel at home in Idaho.