I am a musician. The only problem is that I cannot play a musical instrument, I cannot sing, and I cannot even read music. Nonetheless, I am a musician. If only in my head.
A bass player to be exact.
Not the wild type of bass player, bouncing around and head banging. No, I am more like the jazz and blues kind, who stands at the side of the stage in his sunglasses, blue jeans, and maybe a hat, just plunking away with a periodic head nod to the other members of the band. Yeah. That’s me. If only in my head.
But even if I can’t play, even if I can’t sing, I still know music. And I still know the music I like. Desperate, melancholy, dark (not evil, but slumping in the corner kind of dark), gut wrenching, and sad. It has got to grab you and toss you around and wring out all your emotion. It’s got to be sad, lonely, scared, loving, or even contentment and relaxing. It has to move me somehow and take me places that cause me to do something. Or be something.
I like several groups and bands. From Rich Mullins to Shawn Mullins..From James Blunt to James Taylor. From Boston to Bon Jovi. From Heart to Hootie. From Sting to the Stones. From Bob Seger to Bob Dylan. From Doobie Brothers to the Bacon Brothers(yes, Kevin Bacon’s band). Oh yeah, there is Landon Pigg, Newsboys, Creedence, Pink Floyd, Dashboard Confessional, Johnny Cash, Hollies, Train, A.J. Croce, Bob Seger, Goo Goo Dolls, U 2, etc.
At times I will like all of their albums (or CD’s or whatever you call them now). With some groups or artists, I will buy their “Best of” or their “Greatest hits” Sometimes, I will only like one or two songs from the artist.
But the album I like the most will be the first one they release or the first one that gets their name out. The first ones are the songs that the artists have been working on for a long time. They are the ones with the most heart and head investment because all of them and their experiences have culminated into these ten to twelve songs. They will tell you a lot about the person. This is not to say that their later works aren’t as good, but I enjoy the early stuff as I empathize with the struggle, the pathos, and their drive as they shout to the world “Listen. I have something to share”.
I don’t know how many “concerts” I have had with their songs in the privacy of my own home or car.
And every time I now listen to them, I am right there with them. Joining in with the chorus, the harmony, and, of course, the bass. Because, you see, I am a musician. If only in my head.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Still Kicking
I had just written a piece describing our financial situation and how long it would last before we would run out of money. But it was too long and too involved, so I have condensed it to this.
Eight months ago I quit my job. There were, as you remember, four factors for this decision. One, and the most significant, was to trust God for our needs. If you need more information on that, read the autobiography of George Muller.
I had originally projected that our finances could hold until this month. Well, I am here to tell you that He did provide and eight months have past and we are still doing fine. There has been a series of unexpected events happen that, I believe, will help extend the projection of provision until March of 2012. That is a full year longer than anticipated. This does not take into account for emergencies, but I also am assuming that God is aware of any emergencies pending and the provision is there or will be there.
Part of the end result of our attempting to trust God for our basic needs is to, a Muller puts it, is to share with you the trustworthiness of God and His words. So there you go. We are still here.
Eight months ago I quit my job. There were, as you remember, four factors for this decision. One, and the most significant, was to trust God for our needs. If you need more information on that, read the autobiography of George Muller.
I had originally projected that our finances could hold until this month. Well, I am here to tell you that He did provide and eight months have past and we are still doing fine. There has been a series of unexpected events happen that, I believe, will help extend the projection of provision until March of 2012. That is a full year longer than anticipated. This does not take into account for emergencies, but I also am assuming that God is aware of any emergencies pending and the provision is there or will be there.
Part of the end result of our attempting to trust God for our basic needs is to, a Muller puts it, is to share with you the trustworthiness of God and His words. So there you go. We are still here.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Cat's in the Cradle
So, my son turned three a couple of weeks ago. It has been a sheer honor to watch him grow from an eight-week premature three-pound baby to a three-year-old thirty-four pound ball of running energy. And it is neat that I am noticing change in his communication and play as he has moved from a toddler to a little boy.
He was born at thirty-two weeks in an emergency surgery that lasted about twenty minutes. As my wife was having seizures and the toxins were poisoning her body, little I. was born. A 17-inch, 3 pound not so healthy boy.
When I first got to see him that night, the nurses said as I was going into the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) that there were a lot of tubes and needles in him. They say this, apparently, so people won’t be shocked or get a little traumatized at the sight of their child. I can certainly see why. But as I stared, for the first time at my son, I was grateful for every tube, for every needle, and for every monitor that was attached to him. Each one represented, to me, life. He had a fight on his hands, but he was alive.
Twice in the first three days, the doctors had to make a puncture and release trapped air that had escaped from his lungs, as they were not developed yet. They ran a blood test as he became very lethargic and they thought he had some kind of infection. They administered two blood transfusions hoping that would boost his resistance. And forty-two days later, he was released to go home from the NICU.
Since that time, we have watched him roll, crawl, stand, walk, run, run, and run. Our front room is connected on both sides to the hallway. This makes a perfect track for I.. He circles the track many times during the day playing train. He plays slow train, fast train, long train and short train. He likes trains.
Since that time, in the NICU, we have listened to him gurgle, coo, mumble, making one syllable sounds, to laughing, talking, singing, and yelling. He is very loud. Kind of nice, since the lungs were an issue at birth. He likes to yell. It is an “I’m having fun” yell. Yes, yelling is his inside voice.
He is now inventing games on the spot to entertain himself and us. He is learning to play interactively with others. At first, toddlers seem to play together, but it can be more accurately described as playing alongside one another. Now, at three, he positions us in order to play chase or to throw the ball around. Instead of just watching his TV shows, he now responds to them with laughter or shock when something happens. He finds cats incredibly amusing to the chagrin of my wife who is not so much a cat person.
Since I was older when he was born to me, I hope and pray I will see him do other things. I want to continue to watch him grow. I want to cheer him playing baseball. I want to, with pride, attend his graduation. I want to celebrate at his wedding and see the woman who will make him the happiest man on earth.
Thanks son, for letting me be a part of your young life.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The hill
The older I get, I believe, the more decisive I get. I know the foods I like and don’t like. I know what type of TV shows I like and don’t like. I know what kind of music I like and don’t like. And I am okay with that. It is not like I won’t try something new or different. I like new things. I am just at a point in my life that I know what I like.
I am also not as brash or as rash as I used to be. I have learned that not everything has to be challenged or questioned. Sometimes, it is wise to pick battles. Perhaps you have heard the phrase “Is this the hill you want to die on?” Wars of old were fought one battle at a time. The soldiers would take a hill and sometimes retreat from a hill depending upon the cost of casualties. But there will eventually be a hill that must not be lost and will be at all cost defended to the death.
I have one of those hills. The older I get, the more conclusive and decisive I become on this point, this cause, this hill. There is a hill that I will die on.
Upon this hill, there is truth that is. Notice, that I did not say a truth. There is not, cannot be many truths if they indeed contradict one another. We have confused opinions, desires and beliefs with truths. What is true for me is also true for you. The only thing is that we will accept or not accept that truth. It does not mean that it is untrue just because I choose not to accept it. Truth, by its nature cannot be subjective. Truth: the state of being the case. Fact.
Yes, there is a hill. I will die upon this hill. It is the hill that someone, so long ago, died upon. That someone died for me upon that hill. It only stands to reason that, if need be, I should die upon it as well. For Him. The hill, Calvary.
I am also not as brash or as rash as I used to be. I have learned that not everything has to be challenged or questioned. Sometimes, it is wise to pick battles. Perhaps you have heard the phrase “Is this the hill you want to die on?” Wars of old were fought one battle at a time. The soldiers would take a hill and sometimes retreat from a hill depending upon the cost of casualties. But there will eventually be a hill that must not be lost and will be at all cost defended to the death.
I have one of those hills. The older I get, the more conclusive and decisive I become on this point, this cause, this hill. There is a hill that I will die on.
Upon this hill, there is truth that is. Notice, that I did not say a truth. There is not, cannot be many truths if they indeed contradict one another. We have confused opinions, desires and beliefs with truths. What is true for me is also true for you. The only thing is that we will accept or not accept that truth. It does not mean that it is untrue just because I choose not to accept it. Truth, by its nature cannot be subjective. Truth: the state of being the case. Fact.
Yes, there is a hill. I will die upon this hill. It is the hill that someone, so long ago, died upon. That someone died for me upon that hill. It only stands to reason that, if need be, I should die upon it as well. For Him. The hill, Calvary.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Geiger Counter
I was at an antique store the other day. As I was walking around, I noticed, in a display case, a Geiger counter. And I had to laugh. It brought back a great memory. Thanks to my mom.
She died this past June and I miss her. About six years ago, mom called me. She was 75 at the time and her voice had a kind of giddiness about it. “I bought me a Geiger counter!”, she exclaimed.
ME: “Mom, “No you didn’t”
MOM: “Yes I did, I bought a Geiger counter.’
ME: “Mom, you couldn’t have. “
MOM: “I did so. I bought it at an auto parts store. It was on sale for ten dollars.”
At this point, I had come to some solid conclusions. A) She did not buy a Geiger counter. B) If she did, why would an auto parts store be selling them? C) If she did buy one, how good could it be for ten dollars? D) Why would they sell her one, anyway?
ME: “Mom, it couldn’t have been a Geiger counter. Those are used for checking radiation.”
MOM: “No, I bought the one that you can find coins in the ground.”
ME: “Mom, that is a metal detector.”
MOM: “Oh. Well I bought one anyway.”
Now the conversation had to shift.
ME: “Why do you need a metal detector?”
MOM: “I thought I would go to the river bank and look for some money”
ME: “Do you think that is a wise idea?”
After all, she is 75 and not in the greatest of health. But I was planning on a trip to Idaho to see her, so I told her I would take a look at it when I visited.
MOM: “I also bought me a BBQ.”
ME: “Mom, why?”
MOM: “So I could cook hamburgers”
ME: “Mom, you can’t use it inside the apartment.”
MOM: “It’s propane, not charcoal.”
ME: “Still can’t use it inside.”
So upon my visit to see my mom, I had the privilege of assembling the metal detector. Yes, it was bought at Schuck’s Auto Parts store. Yes, it was only ten dollars. I put the battery in and threw a nickel on the carpet. As I waved the detector over the nickel, sure enough, it beeped. I put a piece of paper over the nickel and repeated the process. No beep. Second attempt, still no beep.
MOM: “Oh well, I’ll just use in the house.”
ME: “You don’t need to, because it only works if you can see the coin anyway.”
I saw a Geiger counter at an antique store. And I had to laugh. And thought of mom. Thanks for the memory. Love you and miss you.
She died this past June and I miss her. About six years ago, mom called me. She was 75 at the time and her voice had a kind of giddiness about it. “I bought me a Geiger counter!”, she exclaimed.
ME: “Mom, “No you didn’t”
MOM: “Yes I did, I bought a Geiger counter.’
ME: “Mom, you couldn’t have. “
MOM: “I did so. I bought it at an auto parts store. It was on sale for ten dollars.”
At this point, I had come to some solid conclusions. A) She did not buy a Geiger counter. B) If she did, why would an auto parts store be selling them? C) If she did buy one, how good could it be for ten dollars? D) Why would they sell her one, anyway?
ME: “Mom, it couldn’t have been a Geiger counter. Those are used for checking radiation.”
MOM: “No, I bought the one that you can find coins in the ground.”
ME: “Mom, that is a metal detector.”
MOM: “Oh. Well I bought one anyway.”
Now the conversation had to shift.
ME: “Why do you need a metal detector?”
MOM: “I thought I would go to the river bank and look for some money”
ME: “Do you think that is a wise idea?”
After all, she is 75 and not in the greatest of health. But I was planning on a trip to Idaho to see her, so I told her I would take a look at it when I visited.
MOM: “I also bought me a BBQ.”
ME: “Mom, why?”
MOM: “So I could cook hamburgers”
ME: “Mom, you can’t use it inside the apartment.”
MOM: “It’s propane, not charcoal.”
ME: “Still can’t use it inside.”
So upon my visit to see my mom, I had the privilege of assembling the metal detector. Yes, it was bought at Schuck’s Auto Parts store. Yes, it was only ten dollars. I put the battery in and threw a nickel on the carpet. As I waved the detector over the nickel, sure enough, it beeped. I put a piece of paper over the nickel and repeated the process. No beep. Second attempt, still no beep.
MOM: “Oh well, I’ll just use in the house.”
ME: “You don’t need to, because it only works if you can see the coin anyway.”
I saw a Geiger counter at an antique store. And I had to laugh. And thought of mom. Thanks for the memory. Love you and miss you.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Restroom Emergency
So, this past weekend, I took a solo trip to the coast. I wanted to take some pictures of places we have stayed at and places we have eaten at for a new blog site called “T_____(insert my name here) and T_____(insert her name here) Travels”. It will be a review of hotels and restaurants and attractions in the area. I know the name is similar to a famous interactive play about T. and T.’s Wedding, but those are our names as well, so it fits.
Now back to the story. I left Florence and was driving up the coast on North 101, when the coffee and bottled water I drank was beginning to take its toll on me. I knew that I would soon need to make a rest stop. As I was driving, I began to look for parks on the coast with a restroom. This is easier sounding to do than the actual accomplishing of said event. The road is kind of winding and there always seemed to be cars very close to the rear of mine making a sudden pull over more difficult. When you are driving north up the highway, most of the turn offs for a park or wayside with a bathroom are on the left. So timing becomes the issue. I will have to notice a restroom quickly enough that I can signal and slow and pull off without the driver in the car behind having to slow suddenly and then give me their one fingered salute.
Every time I see a spot, my eyes veer left in search for a building. By the time I notice one, alas, I have driven past. Why do they put the turn offs right by a curve in the road? And I have a stupid “don’t turn around rule”. After several misses with a restroom sighting, I am now at an uncomfortable point of my journey. I need to stop now. So with more determination than ever before, and now willing to risk getting the “finger” from vehicles behind me, I spot a park with a restroom. Sadly though, I have just past it.
I decide to break turn around rule and backtrack to the coveted restroom. As I pull in, I notice a Lane County Sheriff’s truck in the parking lot. Along with an ATV. Along with a trailer that says Sheriff Mobile Command Unit. Along with a Mounted Posse trailer. Along with what looks like and armored covered Hummer. And along with me, and my Honda CRV.
I soon realize that this is near the area where during the past month, there has been a manhunt for a fugitive that shot a police officer up north and was thought to be hiding in this area, either in houses or out in the wilderness. I am now quite disturbed by this revelation, but I really need to use the restroom. Do I make a run for the bathroom and hope that I won’t have my car stolen or get killed by this wanted criminal? But I really need to use the restroom. So I bravely risk my life for a higher calling. The call of nature.
In hindsight, I was probably in the safest area since I was in the middle of a command center. But a full bladder and fear in the heart aren’t much help in the rational thought process. After a successful visit, I rush to my car and decide I will take some pictures of the vehicles to remember my encounter. But being uninvited to a command center and rolling down a window of a black SUV in order to snap some telephoto pictures, just doesn’t sound like a wise choice. So I quickly take one picture and pull out of the parking lot and to an uneventful trip up the coast.
A friend of mine sent me an article about the sheriff’s department looking for a missing woman over the weekend in that area. That is probably what I stumbled upon. There goes my only action adventure story I had. Except for watching “Super Why” with my son.
Now back to the story. I left Florence and was driving up the coast on North 101, when the coffee and bottled water I drank was beginning to take its toll on me. I knew that I would soon need to make a rest stop. As I was driving, I began to look for parks on the coast with a restroom. This is easier sounding to do than the actual accomplishing of said event. The road is kind of winding and there always seemed to be cars very close to the rear of mine making a sudden pull over more difficult. When you are driving north up the highway, most of the turn offs for a park or wayside with a bathroom are on the left. So timing becomes the issue. I will have to notice a restroom quickly enough that I can signal and slow and pull off without the driver in the car behind having to slow suddenly and then give me their one fingered salute.
Every time I see a spot, my eyes veer left in search for a building. By the time I notice one, alas, I have driven past. Why do they put the turn offs right by a curve in the road? And I have a stupid “don’t turn around rule”. After several misses with a restroom sighting, I am now at an uncomfortable point of my journey. I need to stop now. So with more determination than ever before, and now willing to risk getting the “finger” from vehicles behind me, I spot a park with a restroom. Sadly though, I have just past it.
I decide to break turn around rule and backtrack to the coveted restroom. As I pull in, I notice a Lane County Sheriff’s truck in the parking lot. Along with an ATV. Along with a trailer that says Sheriff Mobile Command Unit. Along with a Mounted Posse trailer. Along with what looks like and armored covered Hummer. And along with me, and my Honda CRV.
I soon realize that this is near the area where during the past month, there has been a manhunt for a fugitive that shot a police officer up north and was thought to be hiding in this area, either in houses or out in the wilderness. I am now quite disturbed by this revelation, but I really need to use the restroom. Do I make a run for the bathroom and hope that I won’t have my car stolen or get killed by this wanted criminal? But I really need to use the restroom. So I bravely risk my life for a higher calling. The call of nature.
In hindsight, I was probably in the safest area since I was in the middle of a command center. But a full bladder and fear in the heart aren’t much help in the rational thought process. After a successful visit, I rush to my car and decide I will take some pictures of the vehicles to remember my encounter. But being uninvited to a command center and rolling down a window of a black SUV in order to snap some telephoto pictures, just doesn’t sound like a wise choice. So I quickly take one picture and pull out of the parking lot and to an uneventful trip up the coast.
A friend of mine sent me an article about the sheriff’s department looking for a missing woman over the weekend in that area. That is probably what I stumbled upon. There goes my only action adventure story I had. Except for watching “Super Why” with my son.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
A Pencil
A pencil lies abandoned on the ground.
Forgotten and frightened it looks all around,
To see if it can findA new writer.
And a new mind.Because it has plenty more it would like to say.
More convincing words and crosswords to play.
More stories to write and more love songs to bring.
More, so readers will cry and musicians will sing
A pencil lies abandoned on the ground.
Forgotten and frightened it looks all around,
To see if it can find
A new writer.
And a new mind.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Seek
The other night I had a dream. My dreams lately have been very realistic. In the past, they had enough of oddity in them that I could distinguish the difference from being awake and actually being asleep. You know the type, everything is somewhat normal and then there is a person with antlers or I am flying. Not really flying but hovering over the ground as I move from here to there. But as I said lately they have been so realistic that the only reason I know that I was dreaming is the fact that I woke up.
In this particular dream, I was leading a young adult Bible study and I posed the question, “What are we to be about?” After looking at a silent group for a while, I quoted what Jesus said. “For the son of Man has come to seek and save that which was lost.” The group then agreed to that point and I awoke from my dream with that verse planted deep in my mind.
The three words in this statement that are very poignant for me are Seek, Save, and Lost. Granted, I have heard, quoted, and even preached on this verse and the preceding story of Zaccheus. This time I was again reminded of what the purpose of that verse is. And now, some definitions.
Seek- to search for, strive after, to desire
Save- to deliver from danger, suffering, etc.
Lost- being destroyed, to lose utterly
So if seeking is a part of saving the lost, then that becomes an active, purposeful event. It is the going out to find in order to save from lostness. Now, I know that there are “lost” people everywhere, but this seems to imply, at least to me, that there is an intentional movement into the places that the “lost” are. It is not waiting for them to come to us. It is not a noticing of them as we go through our day. It is going into their world and discovering the predicament that leads to this lostness. It is by no means passing judgment. It is understanding through observation.
I am not sure how to deal with the word “lost” as it pertains to people. In a physical sense, I know that we can be lost without realizing we are lost, thinking all the while we know either where we are at or where we are heading. It is when I recognize that I am indeed lost I can begin to make changes to undo being lost. I will discuss the theory of lostness at a different date.
For now, I will attempt to “seek” those that are lost. Try to go to them. To see how they see. The next couple of weeks, I will go out and strive after those whom the Son of And came for. For after all, I was there once. And that is what “we are to be about.”
In this particular dream, I was leading a young adult Bible study and I posed the question, “What are we to be about?” After looking at a silent group for a while, I quoted what Jesus said. “For the son of Man has come to seek and save that which was lost.” The group then agreed to that point and I awoke from my dream with that verse planted deep in my mind.
The three words in this statement that are very poignant for me are Seek, Save, and Lost. Granted, I have heard, quoted, and even preached on this verse and the preceding story of Zaccheus. This time I was again reminded of what the purpose of that verse is. And now, some definitions.
Seek- to search for, strive after, to desire
Save- to deliver from danger, suffering, etc.
Lost- being destroyed, to lose utterly
So if seeking is a part of saving the lost, then that becomes an active, purposeful event. It is the going out to find in order to save from lostness. Now, I know that there are “lost” people everywhere, but this seems to imply, at least to me, that there is an intentional movement into the places that the “lost” are. It is not waiting for them to come to us. It is not a noticing of them as we go through our day. It is going into their world and discovering the predicament that leads to this lostness. It is by no means passing judgment. It is understanding through observation.
I am not sure how to deal with the word “lost” as it pertains to people. In a physical sense, I know that we can be lost without realizing we are lost, thinking all the while we know either where we are at or where we are heading. It is when I recognize that I am indeed lost I can begin to make changes to undo being lost. I will discuss the theory of lostness at a different date.
For now, I will attempt to “seek” those that are lost. Try to go to them. To see how they see. The next couple of weeks, I will go out and strive after those whom the Son of And came for. For after all, I was there once. And that is what “we are to be about.”
Monday, February 21, 2011
Saint Lottie Hornbeck part two
Once upon a time, there was a piece of land whose span was five acres. In the back of this property full of weeds and blackberry bushes and on top of a little hill was a building. This building was a church. It was a small building. It was a small church. People came and went from this small church for years. After a while, this little church became smaller and smaller as fewer and fewer people came to worship on Sundays.
But one person, named Lottie Hornbeck, still came. She brought with her every Sunday, four residents from a special needs adult foster home to this small church building. She also brought with her every Sunday, a cassette recorder and a taped message from Chuck Swindoll.
Every Sunday, Lottie and four friends had a church service listening to a recorded sermon in a building on a hill that everybody else had seemed to have forgotent. But not Lottie. And certainly not God.
Lottie kept coming to the small building to have worship services every Sunday for a long, long time. She did not know what else to do. She went to a place that helped churches. She said, “ I have been meeting in a small building up on a hill for a while and nobody else is coming, other than myself and four special needs friends. I do not what to do. Can you help me?”
The person at the place that helped churches thought and then said, “Yes, I may be able to help." The person helped Lottie get in touch with a group of six people who were meeting together to study the Bible. Then, they got in touch with a man who said that he would come and share a worship service with them every Sunday. And that is what they did.
So Lottie, her four friends, six people from a Bible Study, and a pastor begin to meet every Sunday in the small church building up on top of the hill on a piece of land whose span was five acres. They all had a good time and enjoyed one another.
Over time, something wonderful began to happen. The little church with twelve people began to grow. Soon there were twenty people. Then forty. Then a hundred. More and more people began coming to the small church building that they realized that a bigger building needed to be built.
So they cleared the weeds and blackberry bushes and built a bigger building. And people still kept coming. The church grew and grew. More people were happy to come every Sunday to listen to a message. Lottie was happy as well.
Some years later, Lottie went to heaven to be with Jesus. But the church and people kept meeting every Sunday. And they still do, to this very day. All because of Lottie who didn’t want the building to be empty. All because of Lottie, And God. And Chuck Swindoll tapes.
But one person, named Lottie Hornbeck, still came. She brought with her every Sunday, four residents from a special needs adult foster home to this small church building. She also brought with her every Sunday, a cassette recorder and a taped message from Chuck Swindoll.
Every Sunday, Lottie and four friends had a church service listening to a recorded sermon in a building on a hill that everybody else had seemed to have forgotent. But not Lottie. And certainly not God.
Lottie kept coming to the small building to have worship services every Sunday for a long, long time. She did not know what else to do. She went to a place that helped churches. She said, “ I have been meeting in a small building up on a hill for a while and nobody else is coming, other than myself and four special needs friends. I do not what to do. Can you help me?”
The person at the place that helped churches thought and then said, “Yes, I may be able to help." The person helped Lottie get in touch with a group of six people who were meeting together to study the Bible. Then, they got in touch with a man who said that he would come and share a worship service with them every Sunday. And that is what they did.
So Lottie, her four friends, six people from a Bible Study, and a pastor begin to meet every Sunday in the small church building up on top of the hill on a piece of land whose span was five acres. They all had a good time and enjoyed one another.
Over time, something wonderful began to happen. The little church with twelve people began to grow. Soon there were twenty people. Then forty. Then a hundred. More and more people began coming to the small church building that they realized that a bigger building needed to be built.
So they cleared the weeds and blackberry bushes and built a bigger building. And people still kept coming. The church grew and grew. More people were happy to come every Sunday to listen to a message. Lottie was happy as well.
Some years later, Lottie went to heaven to be with Jesus. But the church and people kept meeting every Sunday. And they still do, to this very day. All because of Lottie who didn’t want the building to be empty. All because of Lottie, And God. And Chuck Swindoll tapes.
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