The “Miracle at Dazey” that spared a historic church from a devastating windstorm

It was one of the busiest and most celebrated weekends of the year for the devout members of St. Mary’s Church. The parish east of Dazey in rural Barnes County has a tradition more than a century old of observing the Feast of Corpus Christi, which celebrates the Eucharist as being composed of the body and blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus Christ. German immigrant families brought the tradition of celebrating the feast with them when they started homesteading the land in the rolling hills rising from the Sheyenne River in the 1880s. 

Many preparations go before the celebration, which includes an elaborate procession through the wooded churchyard. The priest, walking underneath a canopy held by altar servers, lifts up the monstrance, a vessel that holds the consecrated Host for the adoration of the faithful. Parishioners follow, with most saying the rosary while the choir sings hymns. This was to be St. Mary’s 120th annual celebration of Corpus Christi, an occasion so important that Bishop John Folda was invited to lead the procession, followed by altar servers and the faithful. 

On June 20, the men went to work with their chainsaws and pruning shears to trim tree limbs in the path of the procession. Church members also cleaned and decorated two small chapels that hold candles and religious images used in the outdoor ceremony. Women prepared food for the feast and acquired peonies, whose white, pink, red, and yellow petals would be strewn by girls in front of the processioners. Men stocked the concession stand with beer and soft drinks, refreshments for the meal and softball game to follow. 

The day was hot and muggy, and there were warnings a storm was possible that night. So as a precaution, Murriel Wieland moved the peonies, which had been refrigerated to preserve their blossoms, to the church basement for safekeeping for the Saturday feast and procession. Still, nobody among the 30 families of the parish could have predicted that the highly anticipated anniversary observance of Corpus Christi would be disrupted in such a catastrophic way. Unseen and many miles away, trouble brewed in the darkening sky. That Friday evening, conditions would come together to spread volatile, destructive weather over much of North Dakota. 

In the southeast, supercell thunderstorms developed ahead of an approaching bow-shaped weather complex, spawning multiple tornadoes, including one that would kill three people near Enderlin. The tornadoes were followed by a powerful line of severe thunderstorms known as a derecho—followed in turn by widespread, long-lasting winds that raked the prairie in portions of central and east-central North Dakota and portions of Minnesota. St. Mary’s, with its landmark steeple jutting into the sky, stood right in the path of the oncoming storm. 

“The center of the community”

The Corpus Christi tradition at St. Mary’s is so ingrained that extended family members who have moved far away return for the feast and celebration. Some families even hold reunions that coincide with the observance. The sense of community fostered by the Corpus Christi gatherings helps to explain why they have become so essential to the life of the St. Mary’s parish, a social bond that started during the early 1900s, when the church was young. 

“For the people back then, the church really was the center, not just for spiritual life, but social life,” said Lloyd Wieland. “It was really the center of the community, so they took a lot of pride in it. And everyone went to church.” 

Many years ago, when Lloyd Wieland was young, the Corpus Christi celebration compared favorably with Christmas. “They had all kinds of pop and ice cream for it,” he said. “It’s stuff we never had at home.” Also, “There was always a big softball game that day,” and the church choir and band performed during the summer feast celebration. In the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s—before television—the celebration included staging a play. “It was kind of a big deal,” Lloyd Wieland said. “It’s probably not as big now.” 

Nowadays, the Corpus Christi procession routinely draws more than 100, but often considerably more come, as many as 250 during a milestone anniversary or when a large family has a reunion. A good turnout, but nothing like the 500 or 600 from years gone by. This year, with the bishop coming to preside, promised to bring a big crowd. 

Storms roll in

Bob Wieland, Lloyd’s second cousin, found himself hosting 30 relatives and friends during Corpus Christi weekend. His farmstead, which has two houses, is next door to St. Mary’s. That’s because his pioneer grandfather, John Wieland, donated some of his land to the parish after establishing his homestead in 1889. The Friday afternoon before Corpus Christi was to take place, Bob Wieland was among those who were cleaning up in preparation. He takes care of the church grounds year-round. 

The preparations were done around 5:30 p.m., June 20. Around 7 p.m., after storm warnings were issued, Bob Wieland and others moved a dozen vehicles into buildings on the farmstead as a precaution. “I remember thinking, ‘Why am I doing this?’” he said. Then, at about 9 p.m., the storm hit. When a tornado warning was issued, his family and guests huddled in the church basement, located 300 yards away. Tornadoes struck nearby, including locations near Sanborn and Litchfield, around 10 p.m. 

After the wind and rain stopped, Bob Wieland and his guests returned to the houses. “I felt like it was over,” he said. But it was only a lull. Worse was to come. Around 10:30 p.m., “relentless” high winds and lightning started. “We all tried to go to bed,” Bob Wieland said. But the weather remained ferociously restless, and another tornado warning was issued. “We just listened to the wind blow,” he said. When lightning flashed, he could look out and see tree limbs being blown away. “It was crazy.” 

Bob Wieland’s youngest grown daughter kept asking, “Are we going to be OK? I kept saying it was going to be fine.” Not long after those reassuring words were spoken, half of an evergreen tree flew by. The winds sheared off the tops of many of the evergreens in the shelterbelts surrounding Bob Wieland’s farmstead and nearby St. Mary’s. “It was raining sideways,” he said. For more than two hours, wind gusts in the area were clocked at 80 to 120 mph. Atop a 270-foot tower, the peak gale howled at 144 mph. “I can’t even explain it,” Bob Wieland said. “It was so loud.” 

Help from above

Finally, after 2 a.m. the exhausted Bob Wieland family and their guests dozed off to sleep. At 4:15 a.m., Bob Wieland was awake and ready to assess the damage. Fallen trees and tree limbs were strewn everywhere. “You couldn’t get through the yard, period,” he said. “You couldn’t walk to the church. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Parish members in surrounding farms woke up to similar damage, with fallen trees and limbs blocking their exit. It would require work just to get out of the driveway. It quickly became apparent the Feast of Corpus Christi would have to wait. Gradually, after clearing their way free, parishioners showed up at St. Mary’s. “Everybody was in tears,” said Murriel Wieland. “You couldn’t believe the damage and the trees were laying down in homage.” 

All of the trees closest to the church were blown down, including a pair of 80-foot evergreens—which had previously stood like sentries by the entrance—fell along either side of the church without hitting it. “The trees laid down to surround and protect the church,” said Teresa Fewell, president of the St. Mary’s Altar Society. A large tree toppled on top of the concession stand used for the Corpus Christi celebration, crushing it. Amazingly, however, the stucco church and its ornate stained windows were unscathed. “You’re just aghast,” Murriel Wieland said, “and also you’re thankful.” 

Many St. Mary’s parishioners believe a providential hand saved the church. “It was a miracle,” said the Rev. Sean Mulligan, the parish priest. “It looked like somebody went out with a mower and trimmed all the trees,” he said. The two wooden chapels and statues in the churchyard also escaped damage. “All the holy sites were completely spared,” Mulligan said. 

The unscathed church and chapels in the midst of the wreckage inspired Fewell to call it a Eucharistic miracle, an extraordinary, unexplainable event involving the consecrated bread and wine of the Eucharist. Murriel Wieland calls it the “Miracle at Dazey.” In the lengthy cleanup that followed, tons of trees and limbs were cleared, many deposited in a heaping pile near the devastated shelterbelt by Wieland’s farmstead. Nearby stood the squat, crumpled remains of a grain bin, one of three empty bins that the wind tossed in the air. 

Except for some torn metal trim, the houses on Bob Wieland’s farmstead were undamaged. “Yet we no longer have a shelterbelt,” he said. Now the church and farmstead, once well protected by the shelterbelt, will be more vulnerable until new trees that will be planted next spring grow to maturity years from now. 

To maintain tradition, St. Mary’s held its 120th Corpus Christi procession on Aug. 24, a more subdued observance than usual with the procession through the open churchyard instead of the path through the toppled trees. For some future Corpus Christi feast, the parish will invite the bishop back. But without those beautiful trees, the ceremony won’t be the same. 

“It’ll be different now,” Bob Wieland said.