Helmut Arthur Duttchen |
| Posted 2009-10-18 by Judy Wight Branson |
| The Kingman Daily Miner, Kingman, Arizona Friday, August 21, 2009 I'd like to spend a few moments and tell you about my dad. Whether you called him Helmut, Art or Pastor, or never knew him at all, my dad is the type of person you could relate to. Dad was born Helmut Arthur Duttchen on March 29, 1947, in Neuen, Germany. As the iron curtain was being raised after the Second World War, his father Art, mother Gertrude and sister Irma escaped East Germany, eventually landing in Canada at Montreal, Quebec. The family moved west and settled in Quibell, Ontario, where dad attended school and worked on the family dairy farm. That boyhood farm had the dubious distinction of being Canada's northern-most dairy farm. When Dad confirmed he knew that God had called him to the ministry, like any willing, obedient servant of God, Dad exercised his free will instead. At 16 years of age, some reports say to avoid jail, Dad joined the Canadian Armed Forces in 1963 as a soldiers apprentice. As a young soldier in the Royal Canadian Ordinance Corps, Dad was stationed in Montreal, Gagetown, and eventually was posted back to his native Germany with NATO forces there. Like so much of what Dad did, there was an inherent inefficiency to it. You see, it was in Germany where dad met and married his wife Carolee from Toronto, Ontario. The two were married Dec. 11 - or was it 12? - in 1970. A posting back to Canada soon followed and Mom and Dad began their family in earnest, having four children in five-and-a-half years. Of course, simply having that many children wasn't challenging enough for Dad, so he also managed to get posted three times during the five-and-a-half-year period, landing in Edmonton, Alberta. During those years, the pace of life sometimes required Mom to take an occasional retreat. This left Dad at home to care for the four of us and made for some of the most unforgettable moments. Dad knew how to cook, he just wasn't good at it and only truly liked certain things. Menus included liver, boiled potatoes and canned peas; frikedills, boiled potatoes and canned peas; or bacon and eggs. Of course, when our, or maybe his, suffering became too much, he defaulted to his favorite take-out food, KFC. We knew we would never die of starvation as long as there was one close. The other highlight of Mom's retreat weekends with Dad was bath time. Some children grew up with warm bubble baths that were filled with toys and went on for hours. To Dad, bath time was a military exercise. Hard scrub top to bottom, followed by an over-generous helping of shampoo and repeated dunking under the water at a high rate of speed for the purpose of rinsing. It's not that he didn't mean well, he just wanted to get it done. To this day, I'm a shower guy. During Dad's military career, his faith and God's call on his life was evident. Whether he was leading a Bible study, working in the church, leading our boy's brigade, or praying with and for anyone he came across, God's hand was on Dad and he lived out his faith. Each of us kids can remember Dad, who knew nothing about organized sports, deciding he was going to coach. Now when I say he knew nothing about coaching, Dad's approach to challenges was simple: buy a book about it, read the book about it, do what the book says. Using this method, Dad coached soccer, tee-ball and baseball. A family of six on a military income never had a ton of spare money, but Dad always managed some sort of vacation for us. Usually a trip to visit Grammy and Grandpa or his mom and dad, "Omi and Opa." This often involved long days driving across the country in the blue station wagon. The other vacation favorite was camping. We did this initially in a tent trailer. I say initially because on one such vacation in Jasper National Park, Dad was awoken by the rocking of the tent trailer. Dad grabbed his Puma knife and an axe and went out to see, pardon my language, what the hell was going on. He returned rather quickly, sporting a pale pallor, and went on to explain that a black bear was simply scratching his back and Dad thought it best to leave him alone to do that! Here endeth the tent trailer! After service in Edmonton, Dad was posted to London, Ontario, where he was honorably discharged from the Canadian Armed Forces in 1984 due to his bad back. The irony of Dad's discharge was his back was bad enough to require his discharge but not bad enough to pay him a medical pension. Dad would now be supporting a family of six on roughly half of his previous salary. For Dad, however, this prospect was not daunting. You see, Dad never viewed his job or paycheck as his provider. For Dad, all things worked together for good because he loved the Lord, and God was going to provide. I can honestly say my whole life we never went without living that way. Some might think after 21 years of military service Dad might be inclined to take a break; not our Dad. Retired from the military on Thursday, full-time university student on the following Monday. My Dad went on to earn a BA in two years doing a full course load every session, fall, spring, summer, and intersession; Dad pounded it out. Not bad for a 37-year-old man with a high school equivalency and a family at home. After his BA, Dad was accepted to Seminary at Concordia Lutheran Seminary in St. Catharines, Ontario. Once again, we packed up and moved. Seminary was harder for Dad than his BA. He would spend countless hours studying Greek and Hebrew, never once giving up. Now, Dad passing in a motor vehicle accident was something we thought might actually happen while he was at seminary. You see, one study ritual Mom and Dad devised was freeway flash cards. Hurtling down the highway at 60 miles an hour, Mom would flash Greek and Hebrew memory cards at Dad and make Dad tell her all of the associated words and their root. Now, we didn't mind Dad studying, but perhaps on the freeway wasn't the best plan. It did work, we lived, and dad passed seminary. After seminary, Dad was ordained in Dryden, Ontario, in 1990. He went on to serve congregations in Lacombe, Alberta; New Westminster and Cloverdale, British Columbia; and here in Kingman. Dad also served in hospital chaplaincy in each of the places as well as legion chaplain in Alberta and British Columbia. There were several hallmarks of dad's ministry. Dad believed you pray first and ask questions later. He knew that any words he would say would pale in comparison to the grace of God ministered in prayer. Dad also practiced an open-armed ministry. Dad was willing to marry, baptize or bury any and all who would come. To Dad's mind, there were only two options - the church rejects or the church welcomes; Dad believed in doing what he thought Jesus would do. All welcome, warts, wrinkles, faults, blemishes and sins - restoration was left to the Holy Spirit; Dad erred on the side of Grace. Another cornerstone of Dad's ministry was fellowship and prayer with other pastors. Dad believed that the church was bigger than any one denomination. He and Mom loved to pray with pastors and receive the support from their prayers. Dad knew that although there may be a Lutheran section in heaven, they weren't going to be the only ones there. No recap of Dad's ministry would be complete without mentioning some comedic moments. Like his coined phrase, "It's always never easy." His grunting or yelping loudly while praying for people. His realization after baptizing several children from one family in the same "glass" bowl that the bowl was in fact a priceless crystal basin that every child from that family had been baptized in for years. Mom recalls Dad telling her that he had been lugging it around haphazardly cause "he didn't know." Dad's preaching, which on a good day was anointed and inspired, and on a bad day might well have been titled "Art Duttchen's Random Thoughts on Christianity." Dad's ministry was marked with generosity. Mom and each of us children have seen him give clothes from his closet, or his last 100 bucks to someone in need. For Dad this was easy because he believed the money was God's to begin with and he relied on God, not his paycheck, as his provider. Art was taken home to heaven Saturday, Aug. 15, 2009, as a result of a tragic accident. A celebration of the life of Pastor Helmut Arthur Duttchen will be held at 1 p.m. on Friday, Aug. 21, at Praise Chapel at 419 Harrison St., Kingman. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in memory of Art to the Good Shepherd Lutheran Kingman Church Deacon's Education Fund. |
Note: These obituaries are transcribed as published and are submitted by volunteers who have no connection to the families. They do not write the obituaries and have no further information other than what is posted within the obituaries. We do not do personal research. For this you would have to find a volunteer who does this or hire a professional researcher.
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