Ministry Update
Although I did not hold protracted meetings, it was a blessing to be able to minister beside Jimmy Watson and his family here in Guasave, Sinaloa, Mexico. By this evening, I will have preached four times in two different churches. I have been a silent partner as others more fluent in Spanish have preached the Gospel during church visitation. I have accompanied the men of the church as they joined their pastor to paint the room that is the church auditorium. Most of all, I have accompanied Jimmy as he has worked, doing the mundane tasks of life as well as the more exciting tasks of ministry. We could never say enough about the Watson’s hospitality and kindness to us while we have been here. It has been a very rewarding trip, but we look forward to our next revival meeting beginning Sunday in English-speaking California. Please pray for God’s hand upon us as we travel, but especially as we minister in Fundamental Baptist Church in Escondido, CA. Please pray for the Watson family as well, as they recover from spending nearly two weeks with us.
Family Update
Greetings from frigid Mexico. Obviously, the little black cloud that follows us travels internationally, as well! Temperatures have dropped into the low 40’s each night. Big deal, you may think, but they do not have indoor heating down here. Concrete and tile houses are not very warm under the circumstances. However, the fellowship has been warm, and the memories numerous. I will share just a few of them with you.
The Slide Race
Jimmy took our family, along with Walker and Callie, to a nearby park. They had a small menagerie that he thought the children would enjoy. There were javelinas, raccoons, monkeys, bobcats, peacocks, rabbits and alligators. It was so cold, though, that the alligators would not even eat the food that was given to them by the keeper. On the other side of the park, there was some playground equipment. The kids played on the swings, a mini ferris wheel, monkey bars, and slides. In the far corner was a giant slide – the kind that you might see at the amusement parks. It was about three stories tall and two "lanes" wide. Jimmy dared Paul to ride down the slide, so they both ran up the stairs to the top. On the way up, the two men talked about how there was no handrail to aid a person up the stairs. Had the stairs been in the United States, there would have been two handrails, a handicapped ramp, trampoline to catch you if you fell, and a sign claiming no responsibility for anyone who fell. All of that would have been mandated by some government agency (OSHA or HUD, for instance). Jimmy remarked, "That’s the way it here in Mexico. There are no government agencies to look out for you. It is the land of common sense." This was going to be good. I suggested that they race, and they agreed.
With that, they were off! Jimmy took the lead, and on the first hump in the slide went airborne. I was taking a video of the race, and the levitation was clearly visible. The momentum gained from gravity and speed combined served to accelerate him toward the next hump. Paul, seeing the impending disaster, slowed down and allowed Jimmy to get ahead even more. When Jimmy reached the second hump, he flew into the air, and remained there for a while, while about eight feet of slide went totally untouched. The look on his face was classic! With a resounding "WHUMP" he hit the slide again, and stopped at the bottom! The race was over. Paul came in second place, but Jimmy was definitely the loser! It was about five minutes before he attempted to stop groaning and get up. In the meantime, I was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh at his calamity. I suppose the irony of the moment was the "common sense" comment made split seconds before! The next missionary package might include a large heating pad, an ice pack, and several bottles of aspirin for future common sense moments.
The next few days passed uneventfully, since Jimmy had to be carried about on a stretcher. Just kidding… Paul and Jimmy painted the church building, and we look forward to seeing the finished product tonight. It rained for several days when we first arrived – this is highly unusual. The locals could not remember the last time it rained in January. Because it rained, the city turned off the water, thinking that we had enough. It only affected the guest quarters, so other than a slight inconvenience, everything went smoothly.
Saturday, Sharon had her first ladies Bible study. I was there, but just listened. There were several ladies present, but none unsaved. During the Bible study, the man from the water dept came to inspect their sewer line. It was backing up, and they thought that because of all the recent rain, the dirt from the street was clogging the line. After inspecting it, the man said that they were not connected to the sewer line – they have a septic tank (a big hole in the ground under their garage). Apparently, the landlady never had the house hooked up when the sewer line came through a few years ago. The tank was full, and had to be pumped immediately. They pumped it out Monday – the smell was overpowering, so we were glad to go see some sights.
Sunday morning, Paul preached again, with Jimmy translating. It is very interesting to participate in a foreign language service. I can understand quite a bit, but it just takes a while to place things in their proper grammatical context. I don’t attempt to say much of anything, except "Hola" and "Adios" with an occasional "Gracias" thrown in.
Over the River…
Sunday evening, we were to go to another church about 45 minutes south of Guasave to be with missionary Tap Hornor. Jimmy packed all ten of us into their Dodge Caravan and we headed out around 4:00 pm. It had finally stopped raining, but everything was very muddy. Jimmy knew of a short cut to avoid the toll of nearly $5. He drove off the road onto a dirt (or should I say, mud) path, and through several fields. It is apparently a much-used road by the local residents. As we came around the corner, there were some men standing by their truck. They said something to Jimmy about the water being high. I wondered what they meant, but my question was never voiced. As we crested the hill, I knew exactly what they were talking about. Apparently, part of the short cut was crossing a small stream. It was quite swollen with the recent rains, and very muddy. I thought Jimmy was going to turn back, but he didn’t. Paul thought that he would not have attempted it had it been his vehicle, but he said nothing. When with missionaries, do as the missionaries do. Nothing worse than a backseat driver in the front passenger seat. Jimmy drove without hesitation into the swirling waters, and I had almost released my breath when the van stalled. In the middle of the stream. It wouldn’t start again. It was after Jimmy’s frantic voice called Tap for help that Sharon and I succumbed to hysterical laughter. This was truly a Kodak moment, and we took advantage of it. Some water was seeping into the van, but not a lot, so we weren’t worried, although it was getting awfully hot with the sun shining down on us. Jimmy rolled down the window and climbed out to survey the situation. He was wearing sweatpants under his dress pants because of the cold, which happened to be one of his most common sense ideas yet, so his dress clothes were unscathed. The children were all agog at being in the "river" in the van. Walker said, "We need a boat to cross this river!" While Tap came with Cesar to pull us out, Jimmy endured lots of laughter, jokes, and comments. There were even some Mexicans who saw us in the water, and decided against going across in their vehicles. Tap pulled us out with no difficulty, and towed us to his house. Add pontoons, life jackets, and an outboard motor to the list for the next missionary package.
The service went well, and we drove a borrowed vehicle back to Guasave since the van was out of commission for a while. This time, Jimmy didn’t go the short cut. We took the long way around to avoid the toll. On the way home, we were pulled over by the military for a drug check. After seeing all the gringo children, they let us go pretty quickly, since there was no room for any drugs in the van. We were so glad to finally get home!
The van is fully operational now after a little bit of work on the starter. We were thankful that it wasn’t a big expense. That would have made it less funny…
Yesterday, we drove to El Fuerte about two hours away, and met "El Zorro." The hotel was a beautiful place, and we had a nice walking tour. It was where the original Zorro was actually born! The boys were enthralled with his sword, and he even let them hold it. Esther tried to remove his mask, unsuccessfully, I might add. Abigail and Callie cowered in the background. We also toured a replica of the fort for which the town was named. It was really neat. We have really enjoyed our time here, and hope that Jimmy’s common sense will not prevent him from inviting us to come again. Pray for us as we drive back on Friday. Callie has already thanked the Lord that Josiah is leaving. We need your prayers, and so do the Watsons. Pray that the Lord would bless them as they labor for Him in Guasave, Sinaloa, Mexico.
Paul and Sarah
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
South of the Border
Family Update
Greetings from Mexico! After and interminable drive, we made it in to Guasave, Sinaloa around 9:30 pm on Monday. The children were all wearing matching shirts upon which were the very appropriate words, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" I thought about writing it on my shirt about eight hours into the drive. We only got lost twice. Here is a brief breakdown of the trip.
5:30 am – start loading all the luggage and missionary gifts into the truck; frequent stops needed to thaw hands and remove frostbitten skin; temperature 16 degrees F
6:30 am – eat breakfast
7:15 am – dress children and herd them into the truck; head out, all the while thinking, "I hope I didn’t forget anything!"
8:00 am – enter Nogales, border town of Arizona and Mexico
We thought at this point that we were in Mexico, but were still in the USA. We were trying to find the place where we were to get our tourist visas, driving permits, etc. We were flagged into a parking lot which we thought was the place to go. It was not. The man told us that he could not give us papers because our truck was too new. This was a very suspect piece of information, so we began to think that perhaps we were not in the right place. After sitting in the parking lot for five minutes, he told us that we owed him the fee for a full twelve hours parking. I was outraged at the gall of the man to flag us in, as if we were supposed to be there, when in fact, it was a shuttle bus agency, and then charge us for the whole day. We left in a hurry.
8:15 am – finally cross the border after driving through frighteningly narrow streets and twisting roads littered with worn-out vehicles and foolish tourists who walked into oncoming traffic with the brazenness of a Sherman tank
8:45 am – decide to turn around because we can’t find the "paper place"
It was at this point that we turned into a narrow curbed road, only to find that is was the wrong place. We had no recourse but to back up into oncoming traffic. This development greatly affected our prayer lives, as you can imagine. When we finally pulled into the right side of the lane, the truck skidded and slipped on a large patch of black ice. We clutched our respective "designated handholds" (aka steering wheel and dashboard) and hung on for dear life. Paul’s first comment was, "I told you they were sweeping up ice!"
9:15 - 9:45 am – sitting in line to get back into the USA
We figured we would go back in and find out where we were supposed to go to get our papers. It was at this point that we want to interject that no one we talked to knew where we were supposed to go. "Experts" in the States provided information that ranged from gross exaggeration to outright falsehood. The border official looked at us with disbelief, and then with a mixture of amusement and pity when we told him our story. He told us that we had to drive 21 kilometers to get to the permit station. We turned around and headed back into Mexico for the second time that morning, this time with great relief at finally knowing where we were to go, and anxiety at all the time and energy wasted already.
10: 15 – arrive at permit/visa place
Paul went in with all of our birth certificates, and truck title to secure a permit to stay in the country for two weeks. He came back out in a while with a frustrated look on his face. "They won’t accept my birth certificate." Once again, I was outraged, not only at the Mexican government, but also at the South Carolina government that issued the crummy, computer-generated birth certificate. Now what were we going to do? "You have to go in and fill out the paperwork," he said. As I stomped toward the building, papers in hand, I was thankful that he was the only one born in SC, where they resort to such idiotic ideas. I filled out the paperwork, jumping ahead of the retired couple in line in front of me. This was because they had been sent to the back of the line for not bringing their own pen. Really, the only things in the office were an employee, and TV, and a telephone. I loaned the couple one of my pens, and hurriedly filled in the information. I was then sent to another building to get the vehicle permit. When I handed them the truck title, things began to go bad. Paul’s name is on the title, not mine. My name is on the permit, not Paul’s. "Do you have a marriage license?" they asked. Of course, I do! It’s back in the green file at the trailer… " What about his birth certificate?" No – that won’t work either… I was getting upset. "Do you have one of your children’s birth certificates?" Yes, but what does that have to do with the price of rice in China? Whatever the reason, they accepted Josiah’s birth certificate in lieu of Paul’s. As I walked away from the counter, I resolved that our next big expenditure would be passports for the family. This idea was heartily seconded by Paul, who was already making plans as he sat in the truck with the wild and happy children.
10:45 am – finally, really, truly on our way
10;45 am – 1:00 pm – drive, drive, drive et. al. ad nauseum
1:00 pm – prepare lunch on the road (figuratively speaking); preparations momentarily delayed by carsick child in the back seat, vomiting up a glass of water
1:10 pm – devour lunch
1:20 pm – 7:15 pm – drive, drive drive et. al. ad nauseum; children figure out what their shirts say, and begin reading them
7:15 pm – stop at Pemex to get food and use "el bano"
Paul was rather nervous because of the loitering hoods in the gas station and wanted me to hurry – he told me when I got back to the truck that the hoods were probably afraid to cross me just because of the way I walked up to the store. Believe me, they would have been messing with the wrong tourist! With only two hours to go, now in the dark, we headed for Guasave like a barn sour horse!
9:00 pm – we are now in Los Mochis, having passed several check points, with armed guards
Some confusion over the map resulted in getting off the main highway and heading into the downtown area. Not good… the resulting terrors still haunt our dreams at night. "Turn this way – yes! That is the direction we need to go! Agh! This is not right!" This followed by more rabid driving (not ours alone). One lane streets turned into two by hurrying nationals who use their horns more than their turn signals. At one point, we were driving in a two lane street, and looked up to see a transit bus (going the opposite direction) pull into our lane to pass a slow moving police truck. As there was nowhere to go, we slowed down (I hid behind the map) and the bus careened around the police truck, who had no intention of slowing down or speeding up, missing us by too little for comfort. Whew! After a few more turnarounds, we pulled across an intersection only to find that the two-lane, bi-directional street had changed to a three-lane, one-way street! "Agh! Turn left! Turn left!" I screeched (nicely, of course). Paul had no other option but to follow my directions, since we had progressed too far into the intersection to turn right, and unlike earlier in the day, we could not back up, since there were several honking cars behind us. Finally, we found our way back to the highway, and made it to Guasave with no further incidents.
9:30 pm – pulled into the Watson’s, jumped out of the truck, and kissed the ground
They were glad to see us, of course, and the further adventures of our two families will be chronicled at a later date. Believe me, they are accumulating already. Jimmy is threatening to "pull the plug" on the computer if I tell about the slide race. Of course, I may not say anything about it, but just put a link to the video footage of the event! Tune in next time for "Adventures with Paul and Sarah!"
Greetings from Mexico! After and interminable drive, we made it in to Guasave, Sinaloa around 9:30 pm on Monday. The children were all wearing matching shirts upon which were the very appropriate words, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" I thought about writing it on my shirt about eight hours into the drive. We only got lost twice. Here is a brief breakdown of the trip.
5:30 am – start loading all the luggage and missionary gifts into the truck; frequent stops needed to thaw hands and remove frostbitten skin; temperature 16 degrees F
6:30 am – eat breakfast
7:15 am – dress children and herd them into the truck; head out, all the while thinking, "I hope I didn’t forget anything!"
8:00 am – enter Nogales, border town of Arizona and Mexico
We thought at this point that we were in Mexico, but were still in the USA. We were trying to find the place where we were to get our tourist visas, driving permits, etc. We were flagged into a parking lot which we thought was the place to go. It was not. The man told us that he could not give us papers because our truck was too new. This was a very suspect piece of information, so we began to think that perhaps we were not in the right place. After sitting in the parking lot for five minutes, he told us that we owed him the fee for a full twelve hours parking. I was outraged at the gall of the man to flag us in, as if we were supposed to be there, when in fact, it was a shuttle bus agency, and then charge us for the whole day. We left in a hurry.
8:15 am – finally cross the border after driving through frighteningly narrow streets and twisting roads littered with worn-out vehicles and foolish tourists who walked into oncoming traffic with the brazenness of a Sherman tank
8:45 am – decide to turn around because we can’t find the "paper place"
It was at this point that we turned into a narrow curbed road, only to find that is was the wrong place. We had no recourse but to back up into oncoming traffic. This development greatly affected our prayer lives, as you can imagine. When we finally pulled into the right side of the lane, the truck skidded and slipped on a large patch of black ice. We clutched our respective "designated handholds" (aka steering wheel and dashboard) and hung on for dear life. Paul’s first comment was, "I told you they were sweeping up ice!"
9:15 - 9:45 am – sitting in line to get back into the USA
We figured we would go back in and find out where we were supposed to go to get our papers. It was at this point that we want to interject that no one we talked to knew where we were supposed to go. "Experts" in the States provided information that ranged from gross exaggeration to outright falsehood. The border official looked at us with disbelief, and then with a mixture of amusement and pity when we told him our story. He told us that we had to drive 21 kilometers to get to the permit station. We turned around and headed back into Mexico for the second time that morning, this time with great relief at finally knowing where we were to go, and anxiety at all the time and energy wasted already.
10: 15 – arrive at permit/visa place
Paul went in with all of our birth certificates, and truck title to secure a permit to stay in the country for two weeks. He came back out in a while with a frustrated look on his face. "They won’t accept my birth certificate." Once again, I was outraged, not only at the Mexican government, but also at the South Carolina government that issued the crummy, computer-generated birth certificate. Now what were we going to do? "You have to go in and fill out the paperwork," he said. As I stomped toward the building, papers in hand, I was thankful that he was the only one born in SC, where they resort to such idiotic ideas. I filled out the paperwork, jumping ahead of the retired couple in line in front of me. This was because they had been sent to the back of the line for not bringing their own pen. Really, the only things in the office were an employee, and TV, and a telephone. I loaned the couple one of my pens, and hurriedly filled in the information. I was then sent to another building to get the vehicle permit. When I handed them the truck title, things began to go bad. Paul’s name is on the title, not mine. My name is on the permit, not Paul’s. "Do you have a marriage license?" they asked. Of course, I do! It’s back in the green file at the trailer… " What about his birth certificate?" No – that won’t work either… I was getting upset. "Do you have one of your children’s birth certificates?" Yes, but what does that have to do with the price of rice in China? Whatever the reason, they accepted Josiah’s birth certificate in lieu of Paul’s. As I walked away from the counter, I resolved that our next big expenditure would be passports for the family. This idea was heartily seconded by Paul, who was already making plans as he sat in the truck with the wild and happy children.
10:45 am – finally, really, truly on our way
10;45 am – 1:00 pm – drive, drive, drive et. al. ad nauseum
1:00 pm – prepare lunch on the road (figuratively speaking); preparations momentarily delayed by carsick child in the back seat, vomiting up a glass of water
1:10 pm – devour lunch
1:20 pm – 7:15 pm – drive, drive drive et. al. ad nauseum; children figure out what their shirts say, and begin reading them
7:15 pm – stop at Pemex to get food and use "el bano"
Paul was rather nervous because of the loitering hoods in the gas station and wanted me to hurry – he told me when I got back to the truck that the hoods were probably afraid to cross me just because of the way I walked up to the store. Believe me, they would have been messing with the wrong tourist! With only two hours to go, now in the dark, we headed for Guasave like a barn sour horse!
9:00 pm – we are now in Los Mochis, having passed several check points, with armed guards
Some confusion over the map resulted in getting off the main highway and heading into the downtown area. Not good… the resulting terrors still haunt our dreams at night. "Turn this way – yes! That is the direction we need to go! Agh! This is not right!" This followed by more rabid driving (not ours alone). One lane streets turned into two by hurrying nationals who use their horns more than their turn signals. At one point, we were driving in a two lane street, and looked up to see a transit bus (going the opposite direction) pull into our lane to pass a slow moving police truck. As there was nowhere to go, we slowed down (I hid behind the map) and the bus careened around the police truck, who had no intention of slowing down or speeding up, missing us by too little for comfort. Whew! After a few more turnarounds, we pulled across an intersection only to find that the two-lane, bi-directional street had changed to a three-lane, one-way street! "Agh! Turn left! Turn left!" I screeched (nicely, of course). Paul had no other option but to follow my directions, since we had progressed too far into the intersection to turn right, and unlike earlier in the day, we could not back up, since there were several honking cars behind us. Finally, we found our way back to the highway, and made it to Guasave with no further incidents.
9:30 pm – pulled into the Watson’s, jumped out of the truck, and kissed the ground
They were glad to see us, of course, and the further adventures of our two families will be chronicled at a later date. Believe me, they are accumulating already. Jimmy is threatening to "pull the plug" on the computer if I tell about the slide race. Of course, I may not say anything about it, but just put a link to the video footage of the event! Tune in next time for "Adventures with Paul and Sarah!"
Prayer Request
Greetins from frigid Mexico. We are suffering right now in unusually cold weather that leaves us around 50 for an overnight low and only around 70 for a high. It is really difficult because every time we go out in the morning, we have to carry a light jacket, only to take if off again later in the day. We are managing, though. Last night, I preached through an interrupter at Iglesia Bautista Betania in Guasave. It was a good service and very educational. More on that at a later date.
A serious prayer request for you. We have a need for a new trailer. The one we have is a wonderful trailer with a lot of use left in it, but we do not have enough beds for our children. We have three children and two beds. Our youngest right now is in a pack-n-play, but there will come a day when she will no longer fit. We really need to sell our trailer and get another one. Other than this e-mail, I do not plan to work much to sell it. My plan is to pray that God will lead me to a person who needs to buy it. I trust that God will give us the perfect solution in His timing.
Thank you all for your prayers. There will come an update later on this week detailing our border crossing saga. May God bless you all as you serve Him.
Paul Crow
A serious prayer request for you. We have a need for a new trailer. The one we have is a wonderful trailer with a lot of use left in it, but we do not have enough beds for our children. We have three children and two beds. Our youngest right now is in a pack-n-play, but there will come a day when she will no longer fit. We really need to sell our trailer and get another one. Other than this e-mail, I do not plan to work much to sell it. My plan is to pray that God will lead me to a person who needs to buy it. I trust that God will give us the perfect solution in His timing.
Thank you all for your prayers. There will come an update later on this week detailing our border crossing saga. May God bless you all as you serve Him.
Paul Crow
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Best of Times, Worst of Times
The sun bathed the cloudless sky in the pastel hues of morning. Crisp and clean, the breeze gently caressed his cheek. Despite struggling with a virus that greatly constricted his airways, he inhaled deeply the cool air of the morning around him. The newness and freshness of it all foreshadowed a good day to come. It was a good day that would be much welcomed. The previous day’s events had brought more than their share of hardships. The difficulty of a cross country drive had been compounded by a soaking, steady rain that made parking the trailer in north central Louisiana more difficult that it might have otherwise been. In fact, while parking the trailer in the dark, he had turned to miss a small tree. He thought that he had been entirely successful until the next morning, when, after packing up in the rain, he discovered that his front hubcap was missing. After a search over the places that they had been the night before, his wife finally found the AWOL hubcap and he replaced it on the vehicle. It was only then that they started across the country and more specifically through the endless state of Texas. The sun had long set and all the family was more than ready to stop as they passed through Abilene, TX, still heading west. Fatigue had now allied itself with some virus that concentrated its attack on his head and set up military operations in his sinus cavity. As the hours passed by, he filled and emptied trash bag after trash bag with facial tissues, each drenched by the predictable drip that came from his nose. After hours of nose wiping, driving, sign reading, driving, searching for places to eat, driving, searching for a place to stop for the night, and more driving, the combined forces of fatigue and sickness seemed to have weighted his every bone and muscle. After passing through the verdant jungles of Louisiana and east Texas, the family had entered the semi-arid plains of west Texas, spotting an occasional prickly pear from time to time. Rain was a novelty in these parts and the countryside all too readily told the tale. Yet as he set up his trailer that night in the only available campground for miles, a cold rain assayed to saturate his outer layer of clothing and reminded him of his eastern roots.
Thus far had been the events of the trip. Now, the rain in west Texas a memory, the night past and the sun shining, the new day seemed to promise wonderful things. Never had nature’s foreshadowing been so wrong.
His time of solitude ended, he retreated back to his trailer for breakfast and preparation for departure. In genuine altruistic spirit, he offered to help his wife with the breakfast meal preparation. It was then that the ruse of nature’s prophecy began to surface. The grits resided on the bottom shelf of the pantry. To barricade the pantry door, a metric ton of missionary gifts had been strategically planted so as to delay if not deny access to the nourishment contained inside. But on this good day, moving the gifts would be no difficult task. In fact, he need not touch the gifts at all, using the pantry door to displace them and reveal the pantry’s contents within. Blithely bending at knee and waist, he extended his right arm and grasped the cardboard canister of grits firmly. With the dexterity of youth, he pivoted his body on one foot, bringing the grits to where he could vouchsafe them to his wife.
It was at this moment that the prophecy of a good day was dealt the first of many blows. Seemingly in defiance of the laws of physics, the firmly held canister took advantage of the momentum of the spin and used energy to break the bonds of friction and release itself from his grip. With its newfound freedom, the canister hurled itself with deadly accuracy toward the open trash can, performing a perfect flip in the process. All the grits in the canister pressed with full force on the lid, displacing it as if by explosion. Before a full second had elapsed, the grits were free of their canister and almost entirely ensconced in a dirty diaper. The optimism of the morning seemed slightly misplaced at this particular moment, being further injured by a spousal interrogation that bordered on accusatory. “What are you doing?!” To her, it seemed as if he had taken their only available sustenance and used it to practice his slam dunk skills. Deciding that chef’s helper was not his occupation, he fled the scene.
He then decided to help his wife with the ongoing task of toilet training their daughter. He placed her on the seat and told her to remain there until he came to get her. Being a man of efficiency, he reasoned that he could shower quickly and retrieve his daughter after she had finished her business. Before his shower complete, however, he discerned that his daughter had abandoned her post, just before doing her business. Her business had now irrigated the bathroom floor, being slight contained by her two socks and her pajamas. As quickly as possible, he came into the room upon the scene of the most recent accident and began cleaning up the mess. Once again, the myth of the good day had been dealt a serious blow.
As with any road trip, it was necessary to stop from time to time to refuel. As if the good day theory had not been weakened enough, every diesel pump from Alabama to New Mexico refused to read his credit card, causing every fueling to become a major ordeal involving at least three trips to the cashier’s desk. By the end of the day, he was wondering if he had been triple charged for each fuel purchase.
In addition to the fueling episodes, the good day theory was further debunked by an attempt to check e-mail at a wireless-equipped rest area in west Texas. He had passed other rest areas that were similarly equipped, but chose to stop at this particular one. After failing to pick up a signal, he discovered through inquiry that the towers had blown down in a windstorm, and evidently were still not functional.
Throughout the day, other events served to strengthen the nagging feeling that all was not well. Upon finally reaching the desert, he discovered that he had lost his chapstick. His parched lips notwithstanding, he refused the cinnamon peppermint lipslicks kissing potion that his wife offered him.
After yet another relay at the gas station, he looked at his receipt, only to discover that it was not his receipt but someone else’s. It was at this point that the misfortune of before began to pass to another traveler who would now have to pay a higher fuel bill than what he had pumped into his vehicle.
In reality, though, this type of misfortune has followed me this entire trip. I will not bore you with the details of the commode breaking, necessitating that we be without water for a day. Nor will I disclose how our pipes froze Sunday morning. I will also withhold most of the story of how our grey water drain hose froze and nearly flooded the inside of the trailer before we discovered it.
Two things I will say, however. First of all, pray for us because we have to take so much time just to live that I am finding little time to work. Second of all, we are joyful, if weary, remembering that God is in control and no circumstance, no matter how difficult or frustrating, is ever out of His control.
Paul & Sarah
We do hereby certify that all of the above events are true, no matter how outlandish and far-fetched they may seem. “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” is our motto for this update. Questions or comments? Call 1-800-This-Cud-B-U!
Thus far had been the events of the trip. Now, the rain in west Texas a memory, the night past and the sun shining, the new day seemed to promise wonderful things. Never had nature’s foreshadowing been so wrong.
His time of solitude ended, he retreated back to his trailer for breakfast and preparation for departure. In genuine altruistic spirit, he offered to help his wife with the breakfast meal preparation. It was then that the ruse of nature’s prophecy began to surface. The grits resided on the bottom shelf of the pantry. To barricade the pantry door, a metric ton of missionary gifts had been strategically planted so as to delay if not deny access to the nourishment contained inside. But on this good day, moving the gifts would be no difficult task. In fact, he need not touch the gifts at all, using the pantry door to displace them and reveal the pantry’s contents within. Blithely bending at knee and waist, he extended his right arm and grasped the cardboard canister of grits firmly. With the dexterity of youth, he pivoted his body on one foot, bringing the grits to where he could vouchsafe them to his wife.
It was at this moment that the prophecy of a good day was dealt the first of many blows. Seemingly in defiance of the laws of physics, the firmly held canister took advantage of the momentum of the spin and used energy to break the bonds of friction and release itself from his grip. With its newfound freedom, the canister hurled itself with deadly accuracy toward the open trash can, performing a perfect flip in the process. All the grits in the canister pressed with full force on the lid, displacing it as if by explosion. Before a full second had elapsed, the grits were free of their canister and almost entirely ensconced in a dirty diaper. The optimism of the morning seemed slightly misplaced at this particular moment, being further injured by a spousal interrogation that bordered on accusatory. “What are you doing?!” To her, it seemed as if he had taken their only available sustenance and used it to practice his slam dunk skills. Deciding that chef’s helper was not his occupation, he fled the scene.
He then decided to help his wife with the ongoing task of toilet training their daughter. He placed her on the seat and told her to remain there until he came to get her. Being a man of efficiency, he reasoned that he could shower quickly and retrieve his daughter after she had finished her business. Before his shower complete, however, he discerned that his daughter had abandoned her post, just before doing her business. Her business had now irrigated the bathroom floor, being slight contained by her two socks and her pajamas. As quickly as possible, he came into the room upon the scene of the most recent accident and began cleaning up the mess. Once again, the myth of the good day had been dealt a serious blow.
As with any road trip, it was necessary to stop from time to time to refuel. As if the good day theory had not been weakened enough, every diesel pump from Alabama to New Mexico refused to read his credit card, causing every fueling to become a major ordeal involving at least three trips to the cashier’s desk. By the end of the day, he was wondering if he had been triple charged for each fuel purchase.
In addition to the fueling episodes, the good day theory was further debunked by an attempt to check e-mail at a wireless-equipped rest area in west Texas. He had passed other rest areas that were similarly equipped, but chose to stop at this particular one. After failing to pick up a signal, he discovered through inquiry that the towers had blown down in a windstorm, and evidently were still not functional.
Throughout the day, other events served to strengthen the nagging feeling that all was not well. Upon finally reaching the desert, he discovered that he had lost his chapstick. His parched lips notwithstanding, he refused the cinnamon peppermint lipslicks kissing potion that his wife offered him.
After yet another relay at the gas station, he looked at his receipt, only to discover that it was not his receipt but someone else’s. It was at this point that the misfortune of before began to pass to another traveler who would now have to pay a higher fuel bill than what he had pumped into his vehicle.
In reality, though, this type of misfortune has followed me this entire trip. I will not bore you with the details of the commode breaking, necessitating that we be without water for a day. Nor will I disclose how our pipes froze Sunday morning. I will also withhold most of the story of how our grey water drain hose froze and nearly flooded the inside of the trailer before we discovered it.
Two things I will say, however. First of all, pray for us because we have to take so much time just to live that I am finding little time to work. Second of all, we are joyful, if weary, remembering that God is in control and no circumstance, no matter how difficult or frustrating, is ever out of His control.
Paul & Sarah
We do hereby certify that all of the above events are true, no matter how outlandish and far-fetched they may seem. “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” is our motto for this update. Questions or comments? Call 1-800-This-Cud-B-U!
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Off Again
Ministry Update
After a long time of being at home and not in regular meetings, we are on the road once more, heading west toward our first meeting in AZ. Thank you all for your prayers and concern for us. Some of you have written and expressed concern since you had heard nothing from us in quite a while. Be disappointed no longer. Here is the first of many (probably) updates as we resume our normal abnormal schedule.
I will advise you to be careful in your fan mail to my wife. Having heard so many suggestions of publishing our updates, my wife has decided to charge a subscription fee of $10 a month.
Family Update
“Boing! Boing! Boing! Woo-woo! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ring-ring!” These are the sounds of our first full day back on the road. While you might be mentally assigning each of the above sounds to a particular member of our family, you would be forgetting the “X-factor.”
Our family has seen enormous growth over the Christmas season. Not in our personal size, although that is definitely possible due to the exorbitant amount of meals and parties in which we participated. I am speaking in reference to the “stuff” we now own. The children, in addition to new wardrobes provided by admiring relatives, received about twenty volumes for their library, toy dishes, six baby dolls, a bow and arrows, approximately 1500 new Legos for the collection (seriously), several battery operated toys, a ukulele, and a kazoo. These last two items were thoughtfully provided by the same person – a childless uncle. He had better hope that he stays that way, because retribution lurks in the misty future. The most unusual gift award went to another uncle. These gifts were stuffed toys in the form of viruses – E. coli and Rhinovirus, to be exact. While these gifts in themselves are nothing remarkable, the questions that they engender are very much so. Have you ever tried to explain to a two-year-old that their stuffed toy is not an animal, but something that makes you sick? Talk about having nightmares! “Mommy, I dreamed that my stuffed rhinovirus turned me into a giant runny nose, and then I blew up!” Well, maybe not!
I was surprised anew at the bad driving of the other people on the road today. I strongly suspect that some of them were still suffering the effects of their New Years’ celebration. Their driving would certainly witness to that. Anyway, we are parked for the night in
Josiah and Abigail surprised me by getting along very well most of the day. They pretended for quite some time that they were a rooster and a chicken. The resulting “cock-a-doodle-doos” and “bock-bocks” amidst shrieks of laughter was enough to try the patience of any saint, including me. Paul doggedly drove, as if trying to escape the cacophony in the backseat, while I closed my eyes and wished for a rest stop. All said and done, it was a pretty typical day on the road.
Other family news to note – Paul will be turning 30 this Thursday. Please flood his inbox with your congratulations and tacky birthday forwards, complete with the phrase, “If you love God, please forward this to everyone on your mailing list.” Of course, you will all receive a message in return, since we would hate to break the chain. A plague of battery operated toys might befall us if we don’t send it on, you know…
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