Our hearts are full tonight.  Before the service, a young man named Robert asked to speak with the pastor after the service was done.  The pastor asked that I meet with them also.  After listening to him talk for a while, we were able to steer him to Christ.  After explaining the gospel to him, he bowed and trusted Christ as Savior.  In retrospect, maybe his salvation was what Satan was trying to prevent by even more trailer troubles.

Up to this point, our current trailer has enjoyed the soft, cushy life of a southern RV—lots of sunshine, with the temperatures dipping into the 30’s occasionally, but not any serious cold weather.  The past two and a half years of our schedule have been pretty easy on this bad beast.  While our schedule has been kind to the trailer, it has not reciprocated in like manner.  Apparently, it prefers the cozy warmth of the repair shop to our grueling road trips, replete with potholes, dirt roads, traffic jams, and angry motorists.  In retrospect, I think it has fought us every mile of the way for the past two and a half years.  We have had five tires blow out—one tire just flew the coop while we were driving through construction—leaking toilets, falling closets, broken dresser drawers, blown fuses, a power cord that will not stay plugged in while driving, and the list goes on and on.  Really, when one thinks back, it seems like a great deal of trouble.  One problem at a time doesn’t seem overwhelming, though, so the evil thoughts of the trailer toward its beneficent owners were overlooked. 

We arrived in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia  on a beautiful sunny day, with temperatures in the high 60’s.  Spring was in the air!  The children laughed and played in the church parking lot, and we quickly set the trailer up with a lovely view of the not-too-distant mountains.  Then, out of nowhere, bad weather blew in.  The temperature dropped, then dropped some more.  Instead of playing outside, the children began asking for blankets, gloves, and hot chocolate.  It snowed.  The trailer sulked.  She decided that this weather was not for her.  Unbeknownst to our family, revenge was being plotted.  After borrowing a kerosene heater in addition to our normal electric heater, we went to bed that night, leaving the water running, so the pipes wouldn’t freeze (this is a trick every evangelist needs to learn).  When we woke in the morning, we found that the pipes had frozen in spite of our precautionary methods, and we had no water.  The trailer snickered with evil glee.  Now life would be extremely inconvenient for this bunch of trailer trash. 

As you can imagine, living in an RV with no water is  difficult, to say the least.  We had the means to make a waterless breakfast, but could not wash the dishes. There were no morning showers, and one of the kids had a midnight accident that could not be laundered, unless we chose to take it outside and scrub it in the falling snow.  Things were beginning to stink in more ways than one.  All bathroom trips had to be made across the freezing parking lot into the church.  All the while, the heaters were keeping things at a tropical temperature, albeit the fumes from the kerosene were a little strong.  No wonder we were all still smiling!  Around two in the afternoon, the pipes finally thawed out, and we were able to resume normal activities.  We weren’t going to let that happen again. 

After the service that night, Paul disconnected the hose, and we thought everything would be fine.  Without water running to the trailer, the pipes would not freeze again.  We also had turned on the propane furnace that day, having exhausted the supply of kerosene in the borrowed heater, and discarding it.  In the period of time that we have owned the trailer, not once had we ever turned on the furnace.  We weren’t even sure that it worked.  Thankfully, it did, but the result of at least three years of dust(not to mention untold amounts of food particles, toys, erasers, and hairbows) burning off was far from pleasant, but we went to bed that night secure in the knowledge that we were snug and warm.  In the middle of the night, though, there was some concern that we would all be roasted alive.  While the furnace was working great, the thermostat was not.  The furnace didn’t shut off the entire night.  The resulting sweat bath was at least purging the kerosene fumes from our bodies.  Parched with thirst, we headed to the the sink to get a drink, but alas, the hose was disconnected, thus no water came out of the faucet.  No problem.  Just throw on some shoes, gloves, scarf, long johns, earmuffs, ski mask, and a parka, and head out to turn on the water.  The trailer cackled with fiendish delight when, after all the hoses were connected, the water still wasn’t working.  It seems that the water that was still inside the pipes froze, and we were once again without water.  Most of the day was spent trying to thaw the pipes inside the trailer walls, a difficult proposition seeing that we could get to none of them without dismantling the trailer.

With two waterless days behind us, we vowed that today would be different.  Indeed, it was.  This time, we had cold water in abundance, but no hot water.  The pipes leading from the hot water tank had frozen going to the faucets.  While we were half-heartedly trying to work on those, one of the kids ran in to tell us that the toilet was overflowing.  A quick inspection  revealed that the hose going to the toilet had developed a leaky valve, and was dripping water all over the floor at a steady rate.  I was puzzled  at the discrepancy of this dilemma.  How could the pipes be frozen and yet the toilet leaking?  The irony was amazing.   How could the water be disconnected, and yet the pipes still freeze?  How could the trailer be as warm as Death Valley in July, and yet the water freeze?  We decided that it must be a miracle of the same type that Gideon had when he put his fleece before the Lord.  One morning, the fleece was wet and the ground dry, the next, the ground was wet and the fleece dry.

One thing is sure, though.  If you visit us before two in the afternoon this week, don’t sniff too closely, because you might get more than you bargained for.  As for us, we are just taking it one day at a time.  And don’t be surprised if you see our trailer smirking…

It was a great victory when each of my children bowed their hearts to the claims of the Gospel and trusted Jesus Christ as Savior.  The next great spiritual goal in my mind for my children is for them to totally surrender their lives to the Lord.  Each needs to realize that after salvation, he or she needs to present his or her life as a living sacrifice to God.

As I look at Josiah, it often seems too soon for him to be involved in youth activities with other seventh through twelfth graders.  Yet, he is in the seventh grade and is perfectly eligible to go to youth meetings, my nostalgia notwithstanding.  Because of the broken down trailer and our being detained in Mobile, Alabama, we were asked to join the church youth group in a trip to Acworth, Georgia, to a youth rally in which several churches were involved.  Josiah came with us while a family from the church watched our younger children in Mobile.

The music and the preaching at the youth rally were Christ-honoring and Scriptural, and Josiah sat on the front row taking it all in.  After hearing a message on Abraham offering up Isaac to God, Josiah decided to give to God his most prized possession, his life.  After hearing how God wants what matters most to us, the decision was very plain in his mind.  He would surrender his life to do whatever God wanted him to do.

As different young people were responding in the invitation, one of the rally workers approached me and asked me to deal with Josiah, not realizing he was my son.  So it was that father and son got a chance to speak freely about this monumental decision.  It was a time of real tenderness on Josiah’s part and great victory for me as his father.

My dealing with Josiah was not unlike my dealing with anyone who makes public a decision of total surrender.  I stressed to him that the decision of full surrender is one that must be revisited daily.  He must remind himself of this promise often, lest he be tempted to take back what he has given to God.  Only God knows what Josiah will ultimately do, but as long as recalls this decision made at this rally today, God will gently lead him every step of the way.

I invite all of you who pray for us to rejoice with me over the broken down trailer.  I invite you to praise the God Whose ways are higher than our ways, and His thoughts than our thoughts.  The seeming difficulties we have faced with the trailer are more than worthwhile when we consider all that God has done in the lives of many in our extended stay in lower AL.  Praise the Lord!

Although few can call his name, most know the most famous statement to come from the mouth of Abraham’s servant in Genesis 24.  He said, “I being in the way, the Lord led me.”  So it was with our ministry.

On Wednesday of last week, we closed a meeting in Semmes, Alabama, or so we thought.  During the course of the meeting, a man came to me and told me that I was having some real problems with my trailer.  He said that they were the kinds of things that I really needed to get fixed or else I should trade my current unit in for another one.  The timeframe?  Sooner rather than later.

Having made some decisions in haste in days gone by regarding these matters, I resolved to pray about this one and seek the Lord’s wisdom.  Not surprisingly, the Lord answered and directed us to repair the trailer we currently have.  He even led us to the proper facility.  The repair, however, will cost us time and we are detained in Mobile for the time being. 

The pastor of the church in which we just closed a meeting asked me to preach on Sunday as well, a Sunday through Sunday meeting of sorts.  It was the Lord’s will and the Lord’s timing in every respect.

All throughout the week, God worked in the hearts of people in the church and they got things right.  By the following Sunday, the Lord was prepared to move on to working in the hearts of lost people.  One man had been praying for his lost wife and mother for many months.  Both ladies came on Sunday morning and were born again.

At the invitation Sunday morning, I specifically told the unsaved people to come forward and get my attention and I would direct them to the personal worker.  In addition to the two ladies who responded, a teenage boy responded immediately.  I had instructed the people who were unsure of their salvation to not merely kneel at the front as others (Christians) would be doing.  They were to look me in the eyes and get my attention.

Kyle didn’t wait.  He didn’t hesitate to follow my instructions perfectly.  I had been paying attention to the ladies, who I knew had been the objects of prayer for some time, and failed to realize that here was another precious soul very serious about salvation.  It was powerful service and one that did a lot to encourage the pastor and his people.

Now, we are involved in a waiting game.  We have no idea how much time will be involved in our trailer repair, nor do we know for certain how much it will cost.  What we do know is that God is in control, and He is in heaven waiting to show Himself strong in response to our faith.

Please pray about the timing and finances of the trailer repair.  As you pray, know that God is hearing and showing Himself mighty in our lives.  For those of you who pray for us, the victories we see are as much yours as they are ours.  Mostly though, the victory belongs to our God, Who has left us His Word and His Spirit with which to minister.  It is our joy to be a part of His plan.

Both the months of January and February have been blessed months for us.  We had a great meeting in Beaufort, South Carolina, and from there we went back to our home church to preach a special Sunday in north Mississippi.  From there, I went alone out west to southern California and Arizona.  We saw three trust Christ in CA.  The church in AZ was a brand new church plant, and we had a high attendance on Wednesday night of the meeting with 44.  Though we saw no one saved in that meeting, the outreach into the community that came about as a result was a tremendous help to the church.  Now, we are in lower Alabama and God is working here as well.  In every church, we were privileged to see the power of God at work as the Holy Spirit works in concert with the Word of God to bring people to a point of change in their lives.

After the financial strains of last year, the Lord laid it on the heart of a church to take up a special love offering for us.  That meant that this past January was the first January in nearly 12 years of full time evangelism where we got a paycheck every week of the month.  That generosity of God’s people, combined with the normal meetings that we had, served to make up for the financial deficit of the last year.  We are rejoicing in the goodness of God.

The Preacher reminds us in Ecclesiastes 10:18, “By much slothfulness, the building decayeth; and through idleness of the hands the house droppeth through.”  After being out of my trailer for a couple of weeks—since last month about this time—I began preparing everything to go to lower AL.  The problem was that while I was in the Southwest, a tremendous cold front hit the area of MS where we live.  Although I had drained the water heater and the water lines of the trailer, the unit still sustained damage of which I was unaware.  As I was getting ready to go, I noticed that there was a major rupture in the water system of the trailer, a part of the system that had not drained properly when I had tried to winterize it earlier.

I knew that if the problem were not fixed, I would hook the water up in AL, only to see it cascading out the wall of the unit.  The alternative was living in the trailer without water, always inconvenient to say the least.  It would also have to be fixed before we left, since the nature of RV parts stores is that they close early on the weekend when everyone is traveling (and breaking down).  It is probably a giant conspiracy that involves hotel chains, wrecker services, and RV campgrounds as well, and they all get part of the kickback.  For example, you break down on the side of the road, can’t drop your unit there, so you must call a tow service.  Because your home on wheels is now incapacitated, you have to find a place to stay.  If it is a small repair, you can stay in a campground  over the weekend until the parts store is open on Monday.  If it is a large repair, you can stay in a hotel and pay for your unit to be fixed at the unbelievable rate of $130 an hour labor(average), plus parts.

Fixing a trailer is always a difficult proposition.  Not that the work itself is difficult, but the parts are notoriously hard to find.  So it was that I began my epic parts hunt.  The whole thing works like a teenage scavenger hunt in some ways, except that I end up spending a lot of time and money before everything gets done.  Lowe’s did not have what I needed.  Wasted trip number 1.  From there, it was off to a little hardware store that specializes in parts that Lowe’s doesn’t carry.  Two men look at what I need and proceed to try to rig something from their limited inventory.  (Just wrap this up with duct tape and it’ll git ‘r done!)  After purchasing their rig and taking it back to find that it did not work, I realized that I had just made wasted trip number 2.  From there, it was driving across the county to the RV store, cringing all the way at their inflated prices and hoping against hope that this would not be another worthless trek.  When I got to the store, they assured me that they had the part and actually gave it to me.  Success at last—or so it seemed.

When I got the part home and installed it, I was unnerved by the fact that it fit very loosely.  Sure enough, when we turned the water on, the awful sound of water greeted me and I knew that the new part failed to hold.  Disappointed, I went through the neighbor’s yard to pick up the various faucet parts that had been strewn all over it by the escaping water pressure.  Wasted trip number 3. 

By this time it was after 1:00 in the afternoon and we still had about six hours of driving ahead of us.  It was now time for a change of strategy.  I called ahead to the pastor and asked him to get the entire assembly that had gone bad.  After going to the RV parts store and taking a picture, he purchased exactly what I needed to get the problem solved.  We finally got in to Mobile around 9:30 p.m.  (There were other setbacks which would only take more time to tell.)  As for the part?  It took less than five minutes to get it installed and to get water to the trailer.  So we are in our home on wheels again and everything is going well.

Moral of the story?  You must be constantly working on your house to fight the inevitable onslaught of decay.  If you have a house on wheels, the work load at least doubles.  Some time ago, a woman noticed our rig and commented to her friend, “My, that must be the life!”  Oh, if she only knew!

The first revival of our ministry in 2014 is now history.  For the third year in a row, we were in the First Baptist Church of North Port, Florida, where Jared Gritton is the pastor.  Pastor Gritton and I first met when he was an assistant in Urbana, Illinois, in 2003.  We have been friends ever since then.

Because of the presence of seasonal residents of Florida, usually known as “snowbirds,” we had better crowds this year than we did in days gone by.  The Lord worked mightily in the services each night, and many responded to the preaching.

On Thursday, Pastor Gritton and I ventured out in the afternoon to make some visits and talk to some that would be home at that time of day.  We were able to find a woman named Ciria at home.  Ciria had visited the church a few times but had not yet trusted Christ as Savior.

Her story is an interesting one.  She was born into atheistic Communism in Cuba, coming to this country a few years ago.  Her family was a moral one, but one that did not really believe in God.  Upon coming to Florida, she had dabbled in Roman Catholicism because her mother had been a Catholic prior to Castro’s takeover of Cuba.  Her experience in the Catholic Church convinced her that the people there were just going through empty ritual.  Indeed, after coming to First Baptist Church only a couple of times, she had more friends there than she had at the Catholic church in two years of attending.

When we showed up to talk to her, she was very eager to hear what we had to say.  It took no convincing to persuade her that she was a sinner, and she was glad to learn that Christ’s death on the cross was all that was necessary to pay for sin.  After explaining the Gospel to her, she prayed in her living room to ask Christ to save her.  It was a glorious time in the ministry!

Ciria’s husband Paul—of all names—is not saved, and the two are in divorce proceedings right now.  Ciria wants to see her marriage put back together, and we know that God can do it.  If the Lord brings the matter to your mind, would you pray for Paul’s salvation?

We are off now to Beaufort, South Carolina, to preach in the Victory Baptist Church.  Thank you so much for your prayers.

What parent hasn’t heard these words from his or her child from as they grow up?  And yet those words very aptly describe the last few days of 2013 for our family.  And the work that had to be done to get ready was far from child’s play. 

After a wonderful Christmas season spent at home in Mississippi, we headed out to Ripley, Tennessee, on December 28 to prepare for a Sunday of services there all day December 29.  After preaching three times on Sunday and driving 81 miles back home, we pillowed out heads knowing that the next few days would be intense. 

Monday, we set to work getting ready; that is, preparing the trailer for a long period of time on the road.  Then there was the “get set” part of preparation: checking the air in the tires, changing the truck’s engine oil, replacing the water heater anode, and other technical projects relating to our equipment.

By 1:00 Monday afternoon, we were ready to go.  Eight hundred sixty-four miles of go, in fact.  A day and half later, we arrived in North Port, Florida about an hour before our service was supposed to start.  On Sunday, we begin our first meeting of the year here in North Port, after which he head north to South Carolina.

This year promises to bring some very important decisions for us, particularly regarding the trailer.  Last year, pulling the trailer cost us a little more than $1.64 a mile.  Admittedly, it was a rougher year than usual, mainly due to a transmission that needed to be replaced in the truck.  Still, this kind of expense forces us to make some hard decisions regarding the way we have always traveled as a family.  Would you pray for God’s wisdom as we seek His will in these matters?  What a privilege it is to serve Him, and we know that He will reveal His plan to us in His time.

May God give all of you a prosperous and fruitful New Year.

For those of you who hate sequels, please accept my apologies.  For the Crow family, the story of our trip from the upper Midwest to the Southeast concluded in with a flurry of activity.

Our last update ended with a mechanic staying open late on a Saturday to help us get back on the road.  We did get on the road at 12:45 Sunday morning, driving until 4:45 to get to our intended parking spot.  Fearing lest we would not be able to awaken if we lay down to sleep, we simply stayed up all night long and were on time to Sunday school at 9:00.

The Lord gave us very good services and really knit our hearts with the people.  For a brief summary of our travels, I have included the following graphic for reference.  Each letter represents a stop in our journey from SD to SC.  These stopping points do not include the TN breakdown point, but they do give a general idea.

The sequel to the story involves a breakdown in SC.  While on our way to see my brother and sister-in-law last night, the drive shaft broke again.  Currently, we are without transportation until we can get this issue resolved.  Some of our acquaintance have expressed a desire that we no longer contact them at all, since all we seem to have to report lately is bad news.  If you would like to join those of that persuasion, I understand.  My ministry is not responsible for possible fits of depression brought on by reading our updates.

Please know that we live from day to day in confidence that our Sovereign God is in control and at work.  He knows what is going on and we, by the grace of God, continue to trust in Him.

Upon returning to Madison, where the trailer was parked, we made a very unwelcome discovery.  Although we had left the trailer plugged in with the express intent of keeping our food cool, there was a failure in the system somewhere.  Apparently, during the nearly two weeks we had been gone, the ground fault breaker had tripped, leaving the refrigerator and freezer without power.  It must not be forgotten that temperatures were in the 80’s and 90’s during that time.  So as I opened the refrigerator door, I was assaulted by a combination of spoiled milk, lunchmeat, and several leftovers, not to mention half a dozen condiments, along with the distinct aroma of mildew.  The freezer was worse, with spoiled chicken, sausage, fruit, and vegetables, most of which had combined their juices and run out the front of the door, down the wall and onto the floor in a rather disgusting puddle that was by this time mostly congealed.  It was horrific.  It wasn’t just the smell, but the fact that all hope of having a decent meal was gone.  All that food was really gone.

I found myself at midnight Thursday, washing down the walls, floor, and cleaning out the refrigerator with a strong cleaner.  All of the drawers had to be washed, and all the food thrown into the garbage.  Anyone who has ever had to throw out an entire freezer and refrigerator’s worth of food knows the sick feeling that I experienced that night. 

We unpacked all of our borrowed luggage, thankful to be back in our own abode once more, and hopeful that the next day would bring us closer to our destination.  Friday morning, we picked up the truck, which had a brand new transmission, and dropped off the rental car we had been using.  Excited, and in somewhat of a hurry, we hooked up the trailer and proceeded to “get outta Dodge” as quickly as possible, knowing that we had to make it to South Carolina by Saturday evening.  We parked in Indianapolis that evening, and were hopeful that we would make the nine hour drive to our final destination with no problems. 

All was going along swimmingly as we tooled down the highway, our new transmission shifting effortlessly as we navigated the hills of Kentucky and Tennessee.  About thirty miles from Knoxville, there was a terrible clunk, followed by a tremendous scraping, banging, and other assorted and sundry noises that you never want to hear emanating from any vehicle, let alone the one you are driving.  We lost all momentum as we climbed the hill, and Paul quickly pulled over to the side of the road.  The drill was all too familiar.  Being on the off-road side, I jumped out of the truck and looked under the truck, where I saw the drive shaft hanging down.  This really did not look like an easy-to fix problem.  To make a long story short, our universal joint had broken, allowing the rear drive shaft to fall, alternately scraping the pavement and banging the underside of the truck as the rear wheels continued to turn during our ascent up the hill.

We found ourselves for the second time in about three weeks calling a huge tow truck to pull our truck and trailer to the nearest service station.  In the providence of God, the mechanic’s shop was actually open on Saturday afternoon, and he began working to find the needed parts before we even arrived at the shop. 

Do we know why God has allowed this string of events to take place in our lives?  No.  Do we always look at these things with the eye of faith? No – to be honest, sometimes the sense of sight wants to take over, and tries to muffle that still, small voice that promises, “My God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”  Sometimes the fact that all things are not good overshadows the truth that “all things work together for good to them that love God, to them that are the called according to His purpose.”  But we know that ultimately, God is still in control of everything that comes into our lives, and we must allow Him to display His glory through our lives, no matter how difficult the circumstances.  Brethren, pray for us!  We know that the thousands of miles we drive each year are cushioned by the fervent prayers of God’s people, and we have seen his protection in each of these very dangerous situations.  We thank each one of you for your unfailing remembrance of our family before the throne of grace.

Because of our unplanned vacation from our truck and trailer, we were thrown upon the hospitality of the pastor and his family in Minnesota.  They were exceedingly gracious, though, and gave us a room and several spaces on the floor for the kids, and we crashed at their house for the interim.  The men left almost immediately for the scheduled sportsman’s retreat, which is just a way of saying they will escape all civilization and live, if only for a few days, the unrestrained life of which they all dream – fishing, eating, hunting, eating, playing games, eating, and well, you get the picture.  Josiah is proud to be included in these masculine forays into the remote wilderness of the lake country, and it is he who became the star of the next adventure.

During one of the eating episodes of this trip, the men and boys, about forty in number, went to a fish fry and buffet about twenty miles distant from the retreat site.  Josiah, having blown out his tennis shoes during the week, had bound them with voluminous swaths of duct tape, giving himself the appearance of something between an astronaut and the Tin Man of Oz.  In the melee that followed an all-you-can-eat meal, the men began to depart in their caravan of vehicles.  In a quintessential act of bad timing, Josiah decided to answer the call of nature at this point.  Since he had not ridden to the restaurant with Paul, his absence was not noted by that observant person, and in the food-induced coma state of the others, they neglected to see that one of their passengers was missing.  Hence, our son unwittingly became the poster child for the political agenda, “No Child Left Behind.” 

Due to the nature of the activity schedule and the relative chaos of a large group, his absence continued to go unnoticed.  Meanwhile, back at the restaurant, Josiah, having witnessed to the wait staff, waited in vain for his ride to return.  After some time, he asked if his all-you-can-eat buffet was still in effect, and upon being told that it was, went back inside and happily helped himself to another plate.  Upon further reflection, the thought crossed our minds that perhaps this was his goal all along, but it cannot be unequivocally proven.  Apparently, after watching him consume more food, the restaurant staff became worried about losing their day’s profit, and after the space of about two hours, decided to call the local authorities to report this poor foundling that had been left, quite literally, on their doorstep. 

I would be remiss if I did not add that Josiah had tried to call his dad, but because of the remote locale, the cell phone signal was not adequate.  He did not know the land line number to the cabin, and the ensuing confusion was epic.  In a typical junior-high style, he never even thought about calling his mother, who DID know the cabin number, but all in all, he acted with surprising  clarity of mind. 

By this time, Paul was beginning to wonder why he had not seen Josiah in the teeming mass of campers, but assumed that he was asleep in the cabin.  When the call rang out through the camp that the sheriff was looking for Paul, he assumed it was just another practical joke, the kind that men enjoy playing on one another.  However, it became readily apparent that the sheriff was indeed looking for the shiftless lout who had left his son sitting at the restaurant for two hours without noticing he was even gone.  Doubtless, the duct tape shoes only added to the suspicious train of thought that was already speeding through this man’s head.  After a severe lecture on the evils of bad parenting skills, the arm of the law told Paul that he could expect a visit from Social Services, known for their especially aggressive tactics in that part of the country.

Suffice it to say, we went to great lengths to ensure that this undesired and unnecessary encounter never took place.  The following Sunday, our son was showered with shoes of all kinds, and made out like the proverbial bandit with six (some new, some new-to-him) pair of shoes. I’ve been thinking of how to utilize duct tape to my advantage when my shoe choices become somewhat limited, but haven’t quite figured it out yet.

Meanwhile, back in Madison, Wisconsin, the truck was still not ready.  The delay gave us time to visit a church in South Dakota where some of our dearest friends hold their membership.  After that mid-week service, we reasoned that we would head back to Madison, get our truck and continue on with life.  Little did we know what was in store for us in Madison.

It was a dark and stormy night.  Not literally but figuratively.  A lone candle flickered at the end of the proverbial tunnel. 

It all began benignly enough with a routine 1,500 mile drive to Minnesota.  Things were going along quite nicely when the engine began to race a little more than usual.  Then, on an upgrade, we lost all power.  The first episode of the waiting game began.  Note to self: people in Madison, Wisconsin are not in any hurry to help stranded motorists along the road.  They are in a hurry, though—so much so that they don’t have time to change lanes to give a stranded guy a little space.  After what seemed an eternity of screeching at the children to stay out of the oncoming Interstate traffic, infinite Indian circle trips, and numerous denied requests for water, we finally greeted the tow truck driver.  Then proceeded a wild goose chase on the Information Superhighway.  Phones smoked, batteries panted, Internet connections strained, and voicemails clogged as we endeavored to find places, not only for a broken-down truck, but also for a 36-foot trailer.  Apparently it is a matter of set doctrine in Wisconsin for pastors to ignore their phones on Friday afternoon.  Fortunately, we were able to contact one pastor who had strayed from this tenet of church policy, and regaled him with our dilemma.  He was quick to respond that we could not park at his church because they had just finished paving the parking lot and it was not cured yet because of the recent rains.  When asked for other possible locations, he gave us the name of another area pastor that might allow us to park.  We called this pastor, but he did not come to the phone.  His wife answered, and told us that he was on sabbatical (no joke), and could we please call one of the deacons.  Three deacons later, we ran out of phone numbers and still had no answers.  So, we called the pastor back.  His wife continued to field his calls, and after several more calls, we finally got in touch with someone willing to help.  We discovered that when one is on sabbatical, it is a breach of ethics to drive two blocks to the church to deliver an extension cord.  Who knew? 

A deacon and his wife brought us some luggage, and we began packing to be gone for about two weeks.  Let me hasten to add that packing on the spur of the moment is never my favorite thing to do.  It is only worse when all the clothes that need to be packed are in the dirty clothes hamper.  It has been said that haste makes waste, but, whether or not this is true, we can empirically state that haste makes forgetfulness.  For instance, Paul remembered his cuff links, but forgot to bring his shirt.  This was a considerable oversight considering the lower temperatures of Minnesota.  In addition, the wild gesticulations during his preaching made the use of paper towels inside his suit jacket somewhat impractical.  We considered asking the pastor for an extra shirt, but decided that his 19-inch collar would lend an cowl-like effect to the outfit and would probably distract church members with the sight of overmuch chest hair.  We opted instead for a fitted neck and three-quarter length sleeves from another church member.  It was quite the fashion statement.

Despite the faux pas in apparel, the services went surprisingly well.  However, this chain of unfortunate events was only a harbinger of things to come.