Visitors

Tuesday morning, a farmer from this part of South Dakota went to the operating room for surgery.  It was to be a six hour procedure to remove a malicious tumor from his liver.  Once the doctors had opened him up and looked at his liver, they aborted the rest of the operation and sewed him back up: there was nothing they could surgically due to the tumor’s proximity to his bile duct.  The farmer’s son contacted a church member and wept, thinking that his Dad would not have much longer to live.

At the service that night, the church member spoke with the pastor and me, expressing his desire to go and see his friend who, as far as he knew, was not saved.  Reasoning that three would be a crowd in the hospital room, we elected to go with just two of us from the church.

So it was that yesterday morning, the church member and I headed to the hospital in Sioux Falls, SD.  The patient we found was sore from having been cut open the day before, but in good spirits, having retained his sense of humor through the ordeal. 

As is generally the custom, we engaged in small talk for a while, during which Tom, the patient, wept occasionally.  He had never dreamed that such a thing would happen to him; he was only 63 years old.  Of course, the main goal of our visit was not small talk, but the Gospel.  At one point in the conversation, God, in answer to our prayers, opened the door to talk about the most important thing.  I asked pointedly, “Tom, are you ready to go?”  He responded that he was.

After being interrupted by a phone call that I had to take, I reentered the room, wanting more information about Tom’s readiness.  We talked about being born again, that just as there is a definite point in time when a person is born physically, so there is a definite point in time when a person is born again spiritually.  Then came the most important question that I could ask: “Tom, was there ever a time when you trusted Jesus Christ as Savior?”

Tom’s answer came without hesitation.  “Yes.”  After another question about when that happened, he related to us how that he had begun attending a Bible study.  What could it hurt?  It was only one night a week, and he needed to read the Bible anyway.  Each person in the study group was supposed to read a certain portion of the Bible.  As he was reading his portion, God spoke to him in a definite way.  It was then that he trusted Christ as Savior.

Tom is still apprehensive about the future in this life.  Although he was saved about six years ago, he has never really grown in the Lord, his woman pastor notwithstanding.  Still, it was a joy to hear how God is still reaching out to man, offering His saving grace to all who will believe.

Duct Tape Diary

“If you weren’t born with a wrench in your hand, trailer life is not for you.”  Such forthrightness from a trailer salesman was interesting to hear.  Yet the truth of what he was trying to convey was very well put.  He who would live in a trailer must grow accustomed to constant maintenance.  For the Crow family, we are running out of innovations to keep the mechanism together.  “Extremely flexible” caulk won’t stretch enough to compensate for the flex in the front of the trailer to keep the water from pouring in, while “extremely durable” plastic latches are unable to withstand the onslaught of a junior high boy.  Not only are parts for RV’s expensive; they are are also hard to get once one quits the big cities.

Enter the Crow family in Millbank, South Dakota.  The town boasts a population of just over 3,000 people, but no RV dealer.  In fact, I think it would be easier to purchase a tractor here than anything to do with a home on wheels.  Parts availability will obviously be a problem here until Case International ventures into the trailer business.

Enter the roll of duct tape.  Strong.  Versatile.  Ubiquitous.  And, as of a couple of months ago, the weapon of choice against trailer entropy.  The high dollar tubes of caulk all proved feckless in stemming the flow of water into the front of my trailer.  In the course of owning this trailer, I have had to see a lot of money go out the tubes, as it were, only to have the flexible sealant break open because the front flex was too much.  After trying everything I knew to do, including spending $6,000 to have a shop do it professionally, I decided to bite the bullet and don the duct tape.  Sadly, the hillbilly fix has been the best yet.  The duct seals and forms a sort of roof under which the trailer can flex all it wants without the water entering in and rotting the trailer from within.  Duct tape saves the day again.  Cue hero music.

No one in my family broke the door handle.  Just ask them and they will be glad to assure you of their innocence.  Nevertheless, the latch that holds the screen door closed was mysteriously broken apart in the night, no doubt by a thief who, upon breaking and entering our trailer, was dissuaded from further crime by the lack of viable goods to steal.  Evidently, A Beka school books don’t bring much on the black market.  Regardless of how it actually broke, the latch had to be fixed.  Though we did not know it, there is a housefly convention going on right now in Millbank.  After we kill one in the trailer, there are at least four who break into the trailer to attend its funeral.  We needed a means to keep the door latched.

Once again, duct tape provided the perfect solution.  After taping the plastic back together and reinstalling the latch, we are finally beginning to turn the tide in the war against the flies.

By the time the year ends, there is no telling what all in our trailer will be held together with duct tape.  Stayed tuned for more of the duct tape diary.  Who knows what it will be next?