Finding Precious Moments, An Accidental Pilgrimage to the Precious Moments Chapel in Carthage Missouri
Finding Precious Moments: An Accidental Pilgrimage to the Precious Moments Chapel in Carthage, Missouri
by a.d. elliott | Take the Back Roads – Art & Other Odd Adventures
Dear Henry,
Have you ever heard of the little porcelain figurines called Precious Moments?
The other day, while scanning the map for a road trip that still made sense under lingering COVID restrictions, I noticed that the Precious Moments Chapel was only about an hour away. I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it sounded interesting enough to investigate.
I had vague memories of the doe-eyed figurines, ubiquitous in the 1980s, often associated (at least in my mind) with frothy décor, big hair, and overdone weddings. I expected a nostalgic detour into kitsch. For the drive there, I even queued up The Wedding Singer soundtrack, assuming it would be the appropriate tone.
I was wrong. Completely.
The Precious Moments figurines are the work of Samuel J. Butcher, and while they certainly enjoyed widespread popularity during the 1980s, they are not trivial. They are angels. And the chapel he built is not a novelty; it is a prayer. What I stumbled into was an accidental pilgrimage.
Butcher drew inspiration from Michelangelo’s religious work, and the chapel loosely mirrors the structure of the Sistine Chapel. A long, formal walkway leads toward the building, flanked by fountains and child-sized figurines, gentle rather than cloying, reverent rather than cute.
Inside, the walls are covered with Butcher’s hand-painted biblical scenes: Creation, the prophets, the miracles of Christ. The chapel also features his hand-carved wooden doors, stained glass windows depicting the Beatitudes on one side and the Psalms on the other, and a ceiling filled with angelic faces, including one deliberately left unfinished.
The emotional center of the chapel is a three-panel work called Hallelujah Square. Here, angels represent people Butcher loved, those who asked for his prayers, and, most powerfully, those now believed to be saints in heaven.
Because my own creative work is deeply spiritual, and because so much of my art emerges from grief and pain, the effect of that space was staggering.
I wish I weren’t such a sap. I always feel a little ridiculous crying in public, but it was unavoidable.
As with most sacred spaces, the chapel extends beyond the main room. There are smaller prayer areas, one of which holds letters and sketches. Another is a memorial space dedicated to Butcher’s eldest son, Philip, who died in a car accident in 1991. The painted prayer he created for his son took my breath away—raw, restrained, and devastatingly beautiful.
I was saddened to learn that Timmy’s Tower, the bell tower built in honor of his third son, who died suddenly in 2012, was closed during my visit.
The cumulative effect of the place was profound. It struck me that this chapel should be a site of pilgrimage for artists—especially those who feel spiritually called to create, and who understand that art is sometimes the only language left when words fail.
The drive home required an entirely different playlist. The Wedding Singer no longer felt right.
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About the Author
a.d. elliott is a wanderer, photographer, and storyteller traveling through life
She shares her journeys at Take the Back Roads, explores new reads at Rite of Fancy, and highlights U.S. military biographies at Everyday Patriot.
You can also browse her online photography gallery at shop.takethebackroads.com.
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