As a child, I saw the old man, a bowl of gruel, a thick book, a knife, glasses I'd never want to wear, and a loaf of bread.
The framed painting was a fixture over my aunt Mollie’s desk. The gray-haired and bearded man sat with hands folded, eyes closed. I sure wouldn’t want to have to live like that man with an unappetizing loaf on the tabletop were my thoughts at the time. What was he praying? Had he asked for his daily needs and opened the pantry to find the bread? Was he pausing to thank God for it? He seemed to have little and his demeanor was as bland as his surroundings as though his favorite color was drab brown. Later in life, as a teen, I’d view the picture as a symbol that signified only the old and destitute spent time praying at a lifeless table.
I thought about prayer often after my four-year-old son Daniel died. In church services and at women’s Bible studies, people talked about the power of prayer and we all joined hands and prayed together. I had felt close to God whenever I'd prayed, but after Daniel's death, I felt betrayed and removed. Getting back to prayer took time and trust.
I came across the familiar photo again, a smaller reproduction of it, on my friend Allyson’s fridge. Allyson told me it was one of her favorites. When I went home I did some research to learn more about the picture. And that's where the write about what you want to know came in handy.
Apparently the artist, Eric Endstrom, took this photo of a man named Charles Wilden during the era of the Spanish Flu, somewhere between 1918 and 1920. Charles came to his studio and posed, even signing a waiver of some sort that the book on the table was a Bible. The book is certainly thick enough, but the truth is, it's not a Bible. It’s a Swedish-English dictionary. According to a man named Harris Burkhalter, Charles came to Eric’s studio in Bovey, Minnesota, and “. . . by highlighting Wilden’s devout posture and humble surroundings, he aimed to evoke the spirit of religious faith, thankfulness, and humility he associated with many of the newly-arrived European immigrants to Minnesota.”
“There was something about the old gentleman’s face that immediately impressed me," said Eric Enstrom. "I saw that he had a kind face . . . there weren’t any harsh lines in it."
The townsfolk testified that Charles Widlen was a man who drank more than he prayed. But Eric didn’t seem to mind. He must have been a smart businessman, knowing people would like this photo and buy reprints of it. Eric’s daughter added some oil paints to the original black and white photograph and that’s why some of the reprints show additional colors. In 2002, this photo known as Grace, became the state photograph of Minnesota.
The picture speaks as it hangs in homes and churches. To some, it coveys thankfulness, deep gratitude, reverence. Wanting to make others think the dictionary is a Bible, and that Charles was not a man of growing faith, doesn’t take away any of the sentiments the photo has for me. In fact, it tells me about human nature----we often want to appear more pious or holy than we really are.
I grew up with this image of prayer and have come to love the simplicity of it. Now, because of curiosity, I know more about it. Thanks to the wealth of knowledge on the Internet, I have the story of how this famous piece came to life, and for that, I'm both amused and grateful.
