As promised it is time for the Grand Finale. The Photo Essay of Seven the Sabbatical. Time to let you know all about our secret travels. Sure I kept you informed of the places we went to church, Cleveland, Grand Rapids, Indianapolis, Lafayette (that was the seventh Sunday), etc. But now in Photo Essay form you can see about our travels to Bible lands -- without ever leaving Indiana!

Of course we went to Nineveh!

Now be honest, did you know there was a Nineveh in Indiana?

***

 On that same ride we went to Samaria. All we found there

 was a church building. Still used? We don't know.

***

And then we went to Joppa and found a rock. It is on the map, and we found a rock to prove it. Nothing else. A Joppa rock.

***

 It was a nice day for a drive through Lebanon. 

Do you think that is a cedar tree behind me?

***

You would think I never held a camera before. That sign really does say Egypt Road. The map says Egypt. We couldn't find much there, and it is not that far south of us. Does anyone know anything about this place? We are officially curious.

***

A bonus -- not on the map but just east of the Egypt Road sign we found Jordan School.

***

 And here we are in Macedonia -- OHIO -- we broke with the Indiana theme there just a little.

***

But there is a Macedonia, Indiana. And a Jordan. And so many more. We went to at least two where there was absolutely nothing to take a picture of.  One of these might have been Antioch. Or Gilead. I don't remember. Sorry about omitting Hebron, we drive through there a lot but don't stop to take a picture. I really wanted to get to Bethlehem, Smyrna, Cypress, Canaan, Mars Hill, oh and of course Paradise...so many more, just look on your Indiana map...maybe on our next road trip...

***

As you can see we enjoyed our travels. We enjoyed our destinations. We enjoyed our Sabbatical.

***

the end

This is part two of my final serious* blog entry about our Sabbatical. We were officially back home and back to normal just over two weeks ago, but those weeks were really anything but normal. A tiny baby – as tiny babies do – rearranged our lives as family made plans to gather for her baptism. Seven weeks of coming and going and packing and unpacking made the task of getting ready for guests look impossible. But with Labor Day weekend freeing up a Monday for travel for Emily and her family it was worth the effort to have so many special days together with 4 generations.

The photos I am including show some of the together times we were able to share. It made for busy precious hours with 3 year old Finley and her brother Reid who turns one tomorrow, children of Lance and our daughter Emily, with Josh, who I have now finally mentioned, and our daughter Jessica and their 20 month old son Levi and new baby Beverly, briefly with Sam and Dorinda in Japan thanks to Face Time, and Megan briefly in Georgia via Skype, and Oma Wetselaar. (Rev. is just safely home from returning his mother to Hamilton, Ontario. He went to get her one Monday/Tuesday trip and brought her back the following Monday/Tuesday. Nine hours. Each way. Two weeks in a row! )

Those hours did not include time for me to finish this blog although the thoughts have been in my mind since the latest entry, where I wrote my thoughts on church. Go back and read those if you did not see them or what follows will not make sense.

On ministers – we heard at least a dozen different ministers while on our Sabbatical. One is so famous he has a huge church and a well known website. Another is so new he was serving his very first communion the Sunday we were there. Not all of them were able to meet us and exchange greetings, and of those that did some felt like instant friends. 

All of this got me to thinking about ministers, not just the churches. And as I said earlier, “It has been interesting for me to hear from so many people that have been reading this, and a lot of you are not from my home church of Immanuel URC in DeMotte. So I am going to take advantage of this to share some weightier thoughts that are the result of my time of contemplation and of looking back over our own ministry milestones. A sort of blog farewell, if you will, with a deeper message than most.” (previous post)

But now two days have passed since the previous paragraph was written. Oh I have been writing. And deleting. And writing. And deleting. I had planned to use what writing skills I have to cover some generalities on the ministry and on my particular area of expertise, the minister’s wife. But the generalities failed, and I wrote too much. And then I deleted. And then I wrote some more. And deleted it all. I discovered it to all be too much of a personal exercise as I could not remove myself from any of the general comments I thought I could make. One brief parking lot conversation with someone reminded me how quickly wounds that I thought had healed could open again. But that sounds too negative. There is so much on the positive side of my part in our ministry, but my mind could not form it into words to write. It is all just out of reach. So much that I want to say. So much that might be of benefit to another minister’s wife. So much that could be useful to anyone who has a church that has a minister who has a wife. But I will keep reaching, and I will keep writing, and above all I will keep standing. The Ephesians 6:13 kind of standing: "Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand."

*I will conclude with the promise of one more blog. The Grand Finale of Seven the Sabbatical will be a photo essay with a surprising twist!

It has been interesting for me to hear from so many people that have been reading this, and a lot of you are not from my home church of Immanuel URC in DeMotte. So I am going to take advantage of this to share some weightier thoughts that are the result of my time of contemplation and of looking back over our own ministry milestones. A sort of blog farewell, if you will, with a deeper message than most.

On church—some of you that have been reading this have given up on church. Evidence of people giving up on church is seen all over in the decreasing size of congregations at solid Bible preaching churches. I think back to our Sunday evening in Birmingham, Alabama. All but 29 people in that city missed out on the best spiritual food around. We saw more evidence of people having given up on church as we traveled on Sundays and noticed the huge crowds not only refraining from a Sabbath’s day rest, but jumping instead into a frenzied rat race of restaurant lines and shopping malls. Many of these people, I am guessing, were raised to know better than this. Or their parents were. Some of you reading this fall into this category.

I was raised on the severe side of strict in the matter of Sunday observance, and have tried to smooth out the sharp edges of this without losing the main emphasis. I will go into a store or restaurant on Sunday if I am travelling to buy food I need just for that day. On some recent weeks we found it easier to go into a Wal-Mart to buy something picnic-y instead of waiting in the crazy long lines at restaurants. I don’t like doing it because it makes me feel like I am contributing to the problem of the weakening of Sunday observance. Not one to make decisions based on feelings, I will admit however that it just feels wrong. And I am glad it feels wrong. No matter how old I get I remember like it was last week the terrible dilemma once facing my mom. I was 13. The three of us, my parents and I, vacationed in a small pickup camper, never staying more than one night in the same place. We arrived at the campground late Saturday after the camp store was closed, and along with the usual paperwork of receipt and site location were given a coupon for a free bag of marshmallows. Free? Being Dutch Christians we had to use the coupon. But there only for part of Sunday? Being Dutch Christians we could not shop on Sunday. To this day I cannot look at a bag of marshmallows without remembering the solution arrived upon by my parents. Without either adult, I was to go into the store and get the free food, but I was not – under any circumstances – to look at anything else while I was in there! And I am glad I still have that memory.

So much for a rambling turn of the topic to marshmallows. Let me get back on track and speak to those of you that may have given up on church. Some of this is because churches have given up on you. By this I mean that they have lost their God ordained purpose to preach the Word and sold out to the entertainment mindset. You need to find a church that focuses on biblical preaching. If you are planning a move, you first need to see if the city where you are going has a church whose focus is on biblical preaching. If you are headed to college you need to go to a college where you can become part of a church that has its focus set on biblical preaching. (And as I already wrote about this really ought to be a Calvinist college.) Are you buying a cottage somewhere? Or even going on a two week vacation? You wouldn’t go somewhere where you cannot buy food, why do without that which feeds your soul?  Find a church. Go to it. Ever wonder why little kids are taught the song The Wise Man Built His House upon the Rock? Now you are an adult. Build on the Rock.

On visiting churches – We have visited several and it was a good reminder to us that this is not easy to do. It is hard to walk into a room full of strangers, but you do this when you go to other awkward places. Women occasionally have to take the car to the mechanic. This is my personal Don’t Make Me Go There place. Men, what is your awkward place – oh, the elevators in department stores. Why do they always put them there? Maybe just reading here in one humble paragraph that other people, ministers and wives on Sabbatical included, find it hard will make it a little bit easier for you to do it next time.

It is also hard to know what to say to a visitor in your church. Recognize the awkwardness and move beyond it into conversation. God will guide the rest. At the church where we heard the best preaching – by Alistair Begg – we had the least human interaction. It is such a large church that it is a wonder anyone knows each other. We did see little knots of conversation here and there, but most sat in silence as the hundreds came in. The only sentence spoken to us was by a khaki shorts, leather flip flop, neon yellow vest clad parking attendant that held the outer door for us: “Did you have a good breakfast?” That was a new one. Maybe it is an Ohio thing… (Actually the Dutch blood in me surfaced immediately and made me wonder if it was being served somewhere for free in a part of the church campus that we had not seen.)

I will stop here and keep today’s blog only about church. Today is Sunday. Did you go to church? I hope so. If not, go next week. Be prepared to tell an awkward usher that you had a nice breakfast, and realize that we all come into God’s house as broken sinners needing to hear His voice.

A nine hour drive.That is almost always the answer when we are asked how far away a destination is. Rev. is going to Hamilton to bring his mother here so she can meet some great-grandchildren. A nine hour drive. Lance and Emily will be bringing two of those great-grandchildren from Birmingham. A nine hour drive. Megan just completed her first drive alone here and back from Covenant College to meet niece Beverly. Nine hours each way. Dordt College? A nine hour drive.

I have joked that we should drive north sometime for nine hours just to see where we end up. We are very familiar with that distance on the other three points of the compass.

While rereading the blog I posted previous to this one I suddenly had a funny memory of the trip to Dordt that Sam and I made when he was a senior in high school still deciding on colleges. We chose a non-interstate route through Iowa that resulted in many long straight flat stretches. On one of these stretches of highway the horizon was broken by a one story motel at a crossroads proudly displaying a sign just like this one:

Sam broke the companionable silence we had been enjoying with the incredulous question, "Mom, are there any other kinds?"

While on the topic of travels I need to give an update on where we were for the sixth Sunday of our Sabbatical Weekends of Travel. Seventh Reformed Church in Grand Rapids was one of the ones we wanted to attend, and it was reachable without an overnight. We missed hearing Joel Beeke, the professor that taught Rev.'s class, by one week and heard a colleague of his instead. I felt like an Iowan in a Michigan church. Which, in fact, I am and it was. The sermon was laced with nautical illustrations that used words not in my vocabulary. I nearly got lost in the part about the bit and the bitter end of the rope. Isn't "bitter end" a movie with a sad ending? I caught back up in the talk about the anchor. I understand anchor.

We drove around Grand Rapids to look for the three houses we had once lived in. We also got the urge to see Calvin College and the other places we had worked. Rev. worked on the grounds crew at Calvin in the summer. The florist I worked at on 28th street looks exactly the same. The rest of that area does not. We used to take a back way from where we lived to the Seminary that we could not find this time. And yes we drove around the seminary. I suddenly remembered the spot where we met the Smiths (name change), a young couple with a 6 month old baby that were essentially living out of their car. I remember the moment we saw them and realized they needed friends. As we got to know them we found out that they had driven all the way from California to attend Calvin Seminary because "God had told them to." They did not have a place to live, much to live on, or a church back home helping them so they were off to a shaky start. We helped as much as we could, mostly in the way of encouragement as they learned that they had apparently not heard God mention that a pre-seminary program of study at college was needed before classes could be taken at a master's level in seminary. They left after a year with their guitars and their carrot juicer and their daughter wearing mostly Emily hand-me-downs to go back to California.

All those memories along with the relief that swept over me upon hearing that Megan had arrived safely back in Lookout Mountain brought a great weariness upon me. Rev. was already back in his boot for his heel pain, and my blood clot medicine numbers had been bobbing around a little too much. The resting part of the Sabbatical was not happening. I was so tired that I finally said, "Can we just go home?" I needed a good meal and then my bed. I don't like skipping evening church, and I don't like eating in restaurants on Sundays unless travel makes it necessary. And here we were doing both of these at exactly the same time. Yet God had a surprise for us there! A waiter outside on his break at Cracker Barrel struck up a conversation with Rev. while I was still inside. He is a Christian and wants to go into the ministry! Encouragement was given (none of this God Told Me To Do This stuff) in the form of practical advice, a friendship was formed, future contacts will be made (already have been), and a prayer was shared right there by the military versions of the Cracker Barrel Rocking chairs.

I am glad our Sabbatical has ended at the same time the new school year and church year are starting. I always like this time of year of new beginnings. I have to walk through the aisles of school supplies in stores. It is an irresistible tug. I want to buy a box of markers. Or crayons. Did you know you can now get them in color families? I want one of each. I don't even know why! Do any of you still need to go school shopping, and if so, may I go along? I will pick out your notebook colors.

My mind turns with such fondness to Megan and her start of another year of college. Today was the day Covenant College welcomed a new class of freshmen, and Megan is part of the team of upper classmen that is welcoming them and helping them with orientation. It was amazing to be able to see her two different times during our Sabbatical, and now it is such a joy to think of her there on that campus for her senior year. At the same time it is hard to believe that this is the last of twelve years that we will have a daughter there. (Emily and Jessica actually doubled up one year due to being 3 years apart in age, and we had no one there for one of those 12 years due to Jessica and Megan being 5 years apart in age -- but enough math!) The school year there will hopefully start again with the traditional message from the president about a Christian's "Big C" Calling and "little c" calling. I hope Megan blogs about it and shares that great message with others.

Whenever our daughters brought home friends, we felt like we knew so much about them before even meeting them. Megan outdid her sisters globally by bringing home girls from Germany first and then Mozambique. I remember saying to one of them that I feel like I know so much about you already, because if your families were willing to send you so far from home to go to school both you and they really love the reformed faith.

Or call it Calvinism. We are so grateful for a school rooted in the reformation and claiming as much as possible a close adherence to the five solas of the reformation. There are many colleges in this country with the word Christian in their name – even Harvard, Yale and Princeton started out as a Christian colleges! But to find one that upholds Calvinism and its emphasis on Biblical Christianity is a treasure. Dordt College is another one with roots in this reformed heritage, and that is where our son went, feeling the tug of the basketball program and of a certain Sioux Center girl named Dorinda.

I would like to encourage more people to consider going to Covenant College. I always hear one of two reasons why people do not go there. The first is that it is too far away. This is true only if you measure geographically. Measure theologically! Like the medical missionary parents of Sara from Mozambique or the parents of Hannah, who are members of what sounds very much like a German version of the URCNA, it is of so much value to find a school right next door theologically. Almost no distance at all!  My view on this was reinforced a few years ago during a sermon I heard in Lance and Emily’s church. Their minister talked about how he would rather have a child of his own or of the congregation be living on the other side of the world and walking with the Lord than in the same city on the wrong path to eternity. I am sure this even then was preparing us for such a long separation from Sam.

The other reason people often do not consider Covenant is the cost. I looked through the world almanac recently for a very unbiased opinion and found the figures for Covenant to be right in there in the same range as other Christian colleges, both Calvinist and Arminian. People unwilling to go into college debt are willing to go into debt for a house or a car. A house is a shelter, a truck is transportation, but a mind is a renewable resource! A solidly reformed college education -- even if only for one year -- is of eternal value to each person that chooses it and continues to place life's building blocks on it. Those building blocks will include marriage, parenting, committee work, church office, town councils, school boards, etc. It makes sense to me that something of the greatest value economically is that which is a smooth follow through of that which our reformed schools, parents and especially churches are equipping young people with. 

And hurray for a new year of that starting up right now. 

I am so excited! And thankful! My computer is fixed! I will have it tomorrow! One of my children told me that my blog previous to this one was boring. Hmmph. So I kept this one short and to the point.

Now it is my turn for a First Day of School picture. This was taken a week ago on Aug 13th, the first day of school here in DeMotte. I only insisted on posing like this because Rev. got to have a first day of school during this Sabbatical so I decided I needed one also. I would love to take a class in something again like he did (not at a doctorate level), but working at a school for me right now is the next best thing. 

Another thing I did similar to Rev. was reading. Not 2,000 pages. Not John Owen. Today I will tell you about the books I read. Before that -- yes, to those of you with boy brains still stuck in junior high, that is our cat in the background of my photo doing something unpleasant. Enjoy. I miss my computer and its editing/cropping capabilities!

The Girls of Atomic City: The Untold Story of the Women Who Helped Win World War II (by Denise Kiernan). I bought this in a great little bookstore in downtown Charleston, West Virginia while on our way to Charlotte. You probably know the date the first atomic bomb was dropped, the city it was dropped on and maybe even the name of the plane from which it was dropped, but did you ever think about what went into the making of the actual bomb? This book tells how the entire city of Oak Ridge near Lexington, Kentucky was created nearly overnight during World War II in an effort to beat anyone else in the world in the manufacture of such a bomb. Even more surprising is that this was a complete secret. Officially, Oak Ridge did not even exist, even though it was using more electricity than New York City and had a population of 75,000 -- many of them young women. As I was reading this I was wondering about the possibility of going through Lexington on the way home to look for this place and see what it is like today, but our plans took us farther west and this adventure will keep for another time.

The Witness Wore Red: The 19th Wife Who Brought Polygamous Cult Leaders to Justice (by Rebecca Musser). Just like the one person wearing red on the front cover stands out, this book jumped out at me on a shelf in, of all places, Wal-Mart. Several years ago I read Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith (by Jon Krakauer, who has written a lot of good non-fiction books about topics other than Mormons). I learned most of my recent knowledge from that and have since forgotten much of it. I thought Mormons were all basically, well, Mormons. But there are Mormons (not supporting them in any way, mind you, even though I recently voted for one for US president) and then there are Fundamentalist Mormons. Warren Jeffs Mormons. A very sick and sinful man only recently put behind bars for the rest of life. Jim Jones cult leader sick and sinful. The book is as much about the psychological damage done in the name of religion to his followers as it is about him.

These two will soon be placed in the CCHS library.

To Fetch a Thief (by Spencer Quinn). A second hand store find for 50 cents. A fun fast read about a crime fighting duo of man and dog told from the dog’s point of view. A fun premise but disappointing in that the author decided that this dog and everyone he knows uses bad language and takes God’s name in vain. Will be going back to a second hand store or get recycled.

INSERT COMMENT HERE: This seems like an appropriate place to remind people that it is wrong to take God’s name in vain and that this includes shortening it to the initials OMG on Facebook or elsewhere.

The Minor Adjustment Beauty Salon (by Alexander McCall Smith). I really like this series of books that begins with the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency. I have read them all, placed them all in the CCHS library where they don’t get read, and was surprised to learn that this was number 14 in the series. Fourteen of anything is usually way too many. They are fiction, easy to read, not great literature but still good and the best part is how they take the reader right around the globe and plop into Botswana so that it feels more like a few days spent there than a book read about it. I have tried to read other books that he writes and cannot appreciate them the same way. The only ones that came close were the ones in the shorter series that begins with Portuguese Irregular Verbs. This series can be devoured with enjoyment by anyone who likes word play and a good turn of phrase without a riveting plot. Best enjoyed, as we did several years ago, in the car on CD’s on a trip to Covenant College.

The Mockingbird Next Door (by Marja Mills). This one is still in progress and I am tempted to put it down and first reread To Kill A Mockingbird. The book is about Harper Lee, the famous book’s author. She wrote only one book and then became very private about her sudden fame. It describes life in small town Alabama which of course interests me, but so far I cannot figure out if it is a biography of Lee or of the Chicago reporter that finally got permission to write about the Lee family members that have successfully stayed out of the limelight for decades. When I finish, unless it really disappoints, it will be in the CCHS library.

How you have managed to get on with your lives without knowing where the Wetselaar’s ate dessert on their anniversary is a mystery to me. To get bloggy things on the right track again I will tell you that our favorite dessert is a soft serve ice cream cone from Dunes mart, a slightly dumpy looking Marathon gas station in Beverly Shores. (No relation to Beverly Hubers.) We always went there when we camped as a family at the dunes, and with ice cream in hand would ride down a beautiful back road that we nick-named The Raccoon Road. There was rarely any other traffic on this road and we drove slowly along or came to a complete stop so we could watch the deer, the birds and the raccoons. The little masked bandits would come right up and leave their child-like paw prints on the car doors while hoping for handouts. Some great family memories were made with all 6 of us in the van, thinking about nothing more important than how many deer we saw or how to get a good picture of that cute raccoon with the funny ear. No church worries. No school worries. Just a van full of laughter and love and ice cream cones. We haven’t camped in years – although I would still like to sometime – and our family demographic has changed so much, but a soft serve ice cream cone from The Dunes Mart still becomes a little celebration. Lance, Josh, Dorinda – make sure your Wetselaar spouses take you there sometime. The road we liked to drive down is no longer passable and has become a very swampy area filled with bird life. We didn’t see any deer or raccoons, but the memories were all still there, right where we left them! 

Computer news – Rev.’s is back at church where I am writing, not my favorite spot because I need windows so that when I cannot be outside I can at least see outside. Mine has been delivered to an expert in whom I have placed high hopes for its speedy (and hopefully not too expensive) recovery.

I have topics and photos yet to share this week, so even though our Sabbatical has ended I will be writing more about our final weeks of this special time we had together this summer Sabbaticalling.

You have to try really hard to get your own holiday in our family in the first week and a half of August, but Beverly Patricia Hubers did it by arriving on August 5. To illustrate how difficult this was for her: August 1 -- Rev.'s mother Corrie Wetselaar and his brother Mark; August 3 -- my (late) father John Van Wyk; August 4 -- Nick De Vries, one of my borrowed sons; August 6 -- Sam, my real son; August 8 (today!) -- our anniversary; August 9 -- Finley Miller, the oldest of my 4 grandchildren.

Beverly was originally due a little closer to the middle of August, closer to the end of our 7 week Sabbatical. This week, our 6th week has been bit of a blur of some very non-Sabbatical like activities. We had her big brother Levi here for parts of 3 days, including the overnights. Steve and Debbie did their fair share with him in the afternoons and evenings, so if all 4 of us look a little worn down you know why. There is no logical explanation for how a 19 month old person can move so fast or reach so high.

There has been something extra to the beauty of seeing Jessica now with a daughter, because right now I am spending time with my youngest daughter. A daughter is such a treasure, and these few days we still have with Megan before she heads back to Covenant College are such a treat. She was in church with us this past Sunday, the 5th Sunday of our Sabbatical. We were too travel weary to go far, so Rev. only went to Trinity PCA here in DeMotte in the morning and joined Megan and me at home in Immanuel where we were both services. Where we proceeded to lie to everyone. Now I can unburden myself and admit that YES we knew the baby was coming the 4th or 5th, and YES that was why Megan came home when she did. Josh and Jess asked us not to tell anyone so we avoided, evaded or babbled on about something else. Secret keeping is hard work!

My computer continues to suffer from a mysterious illness. I am writing on Rev.'s computer after he modified it to short chair, straight keyboard, normal mouse. Mine looks like it is on life support with all the extra wires leading to it. It has had a separate monitor, an external hard drive and a different keyboard attached to it, and if a laptop had a nose I am sure there would be oxygen tubes running to it. Current project is just making sure that everything on it is backed up. So much for the book cataloging project I had hoped to do over in church!

And now we are off to celebrate our anniversary. Always feeling that magnetic tug to Lake Michigan when we want to do something special, we will get a bite to eat, find a place to walk around and wish that more than just one of our children could be with us. Our evening will include a special stop for dessert at a special place. You may try to guess where that is, but I think only our kids have a chance at getting it right. (Megan excepted since she will be the one with us, of course.) I will let you know where we went and if anyone guessed it right in my next blog. That will keep me blogging on here in these last days of trying to keep things as Sabbaticalish as possible.

The first church we attended this past Sunday was easy to find. Briarwood Presbyterian was plainly visible from the interstate before we even got off the exit we needed. Around a few curves, going uphill all the way, and there we were at a large and neatly landscaped parking lot with a special section clearly labeled for first time visitors. The walk toward the front door took us past this historical society marker which celebrates the beginnings of the PCA in this very church (a previous location, not the present one). We were looking forward to hearing Dr. Harry Reeder, whom we have heard in short radio segments on a Birmingham radio station. 

                     

     

Once inside we discovered that Dr. Reeder and Rev. Wetselaar had something in common: both were on a Sabbatical. Our hopes for having found a solid Reformed place of worship faded with so many parts of the morning service, but the biggest disappointment was the evening worship. The bulletin stated that it was being replaced by a ballet. The evening service was actually going to be the ballet. Please come! etc. No, I don't think we will. Driving away from our spot in the visitors' lot after the service, we were still hungry, as if we had been to a grand restaurant that attended to all the fussy details necessary to make our meal wonderful -- but were never served any actual food.

We have heard much good about Dr. Reeder, and would like to hear him someday. We do not know how the Lord is using this church in Birmingham, but we can certainly hope that it will remember its roots and retain or regain that which makes it as straight and true as that little white steeple on top of that large beautiful building.

We did not think a Google search would be needed after seeing on their website that Briarwood has evening services, but we were pleasantly surprised when we looked to find an entry for an OPC in Birmingham. This one was not easy to find. Two human plus two GPS opinions -- none the same, mind you -- on where this address might be resulted in one of our more unusual Sunday drives. We circled in and around and back out of three or four church buildings that all could have been contenders for the You Have Reached Your Destination announcement.

Striking out in an unlikely direction through a parking lot of a strip mall, we noticed the sign. "Redeemer Presbyterian Church Back of Building." But that didn't mean we had found the church. Back of Building really meant way back, through an alley, past dumpsters, and then around to another side of the building. With joy we gathered in a humble location that smelled faintly of too much moisture in the carpeting, and along with 27 other sheep, we were fed. What a joy to find so much in common with a little church like this! One man asked us if we know Nelson Kloosterman, and was pleasantly surprised at the coincidence (not really!) of him preaching in Immanuel that very evening in Rev.'s place. 

And that is the story of the fourth Sunday of our Sabbatical that I have been wanting to share.

I finally figured out how to get at this blog site by using another computer. I should be happier about that than I am, but I am rather discouraged right now about my own laptop. How can one little tap of a two year old finger render the thing completely useless? I am guessing that the 4 sets of much older fingers that tried to fix the problem might just have made it worse. Now the keyboard doesn't even write. It has taken me the year and half I have owned it to get accustomed to it, it cannot be ready for the junk pile. I mean, come on, it's a computer. Augustine Brummel looked at. The Geek Squad guy looked at it. No optimism from either of them. Does anyone have a suggestion for me? 

We are safely back at home after spending two wonderful days with Lance, Emily, Finley and Reid. We made the trip home in one day (Tuesday) and are ready to get back into the 3rd part of our Sabbatical. Rev. is still set up here at home ready to complete the assigned course work. I feel like Goldilocks using his computer. His chair is too big, the keyboard is ergonomic, and his mouse -- for pete's sake -- is set to left-handed. I know, I know, I can hear all of my kids telling me that it "builds character."

I will get back into the blogging habit tomorrow. I am eager to write about the two churches we went to on Sunday. I might even write about the two games of Cornhole we played on Monday! Oh why wait on that one. It was my first ever time playing and was partnered with Emily against the men. Sparing the dirty details, I will just say that Lance and Rev. got the opportunity to work on their gracious loser skills. 

I did not realize two little bears would get so much attention yesterday. I forgot Rev. was holding them when I took the picture and did not even notice them when I posted the picture. There is a very simple explanation. Two reasons, in fact. First of all they were giving things away free to Panther Fans. Lifelong fans as well as spur of the moment fans like us. Good thing none of were wearing anything promoting Bears or Colts! Second reason was that we had fallen victim to the strong magnetic tug of grandchildren in Birmingham. The older of which is able to say into the phone, "Are you coming here, Grandma?" So here is another picture of what were actually two bears in yesterday's photos with their new owners Finley and Reid Miller.

I apologize for my blog becoming little more than photos with captions, but when I am with one of my 3 daughters, especially the two that live far away, my time is spent in different ways! Mom ways. Grandma ways. Oh and right now Mother-in-law ways. I am currently watching boxing with one of my two sons-in-law, Emily's husband Lance. Two people in shiny shorts hitting each other. The people on TV, not me and Lance. Wow, my blogs are getting so full of sports news! Maybe ESPN will start following me.

Here are some pictures to show you where we were today. Actually I am not quite sure where we were. Somewhere east of Atlanta, Georgia. But it looked more like Mexico. Almost everyone was speaking Spanish, and it was quite a change of pace for a place to walk around and stretch our legs.

 

I was able to order a snack. There were enough key words in the description that I was confident in what I was getting.

Last one:

So we enjoyed another day where we were reminded once again that it is sometimes the unplanned things that bring the most refreshment and renewal. "Dear Lord, lead us and guide us and protect us..."  We look forward to spending our fourth Sunday in Briarwood PCA here in Birmingham.

And one of these days I will mention Josh. Really -- I will.

Follow this link to get to Megan's perspective on our time in Charlotte. She blogs as well, and I encouraged her to write a bit about our time there.

We have enjoyed getting to know Charlotte, even though I got to make one last wrong turn tonight. The landmark Shell gas station that told me where to turn left today -- today! -- became a Citgo station.Thankfully U-turns are an acceptable option here. We have made our share.

But school ended at noon today, and we were ready to enjoy the rest of day being tourists in downtown. Wait, I think they call it Uptown here. We found a place to park close enough to walk a good share of the downtown. Uptown. We saw the Bank of America Stadium (Panthers), the Time Warner Cable Arena (Hornets), BB&T Ballpark (Knights). We saw a lot of parks with fountain, found one geocache and followed up on a tip for a nice place to get a good cup of coffee or a Dirty Chai.

We discovered a crowd heading into the Bank of America stadium for free for Fan Fest 2014. Instantly Panther fans ourselves, we decided to join them. What a delightful and surprising way to end our time here. I never thought I would see the inside of an NFL stadium. It was a lot of fun! And I don't even like hockey! Wait what? 

On to our next weekend spot tomorrow. Megan will head back to Covenant College, a five hour drive.Our day will also involve a five hour drive, and tomorrow night I will let you know where we are! 

The words of the song that I quoted yesterday about wanting Jesus more than silver or gold became a cause for me to laugh at myself today. For part of the morning I have to admit that I really really wanted gold. Not more than Jesus, of course, but if there was a piece of gold of any size in that pan I was going to find it!'

As you can see Megan has joined us here for a few days, and she and I drove out to the Reed Gold Mine, where gold was first discovered in the United States. An underground tour and a look at the exhibits greatly increased our knowledge of gold mining. The mine along with its visitor center was a much smaller tourist destination than I expected it to be based on the reading I had done, but it was great to be outside in a rural spot about 20 miles east of Charlotte.

One part of the park had a place to do some panning. It was a bit of an artificial set-up, but there was actual gold to be found. The opportunity to play in the water with a bowl of rocks was the best part of the day. One of us found gold. It wasn't me. How big? Just about the right size to cover the period at the end of this sentence. I got a rock.

There is one more day of class for Rev. tomorrow. How quickly a routine sets in -- we stop here on the way to RTS each morning. I understand that a certain amount of caffeination is required for a full day of Puritan theology.

And with Megan along we were able to get a photo together by RTS before class started. Please notice -- no umbrellas!

1. I’d rather have Jesus than silver or gold; I’d rather be His than have riches untold; I’d rather have Jesus than houses or lands; I’d rather be led by His nail-pierced hand...Than to be the king of a vast domain Or be held in sin’s dread sway; I’d rather have Jesus than anything This world affords today.
2. 
   
3. Now you have the same song in your head that I do! I went to the Billy Graham Library today, which turned out to be a fairly easy drive under 4 miles from the hotel. Anyone with Fair Oaks or other dairy affiliation will be glad to know the tour started with a talking cow, and what followed was well organized and informative. My favorite exhibits were the hand written notes to Dr. Graham from Richard Nixon, George W. Bush and Louis Zamperini.
4. 
   

At this location I visited the final resting place of Ruth Bell Graham and George Beverly Shea. Makes me want to go through my Mom's old records. Some of the music the "older folks" played in my youth -- Sunday afternoons KBOE Oskaloosa if my memory serves me right -- was not much to my liking at the time, but even then I could appreciate the songs by George Beverly Shea. I never thought I would stand at his grave site!

We took another drive after school hours that was also less than 4 miles in another direction -- we went into South Carolina. We knew it was not far but that was a short trip. We celebrated this entry into a new southern state by stopping for supper at Wisconsin based Culver's. Don't look for anything too profound in there because it is not there. You would be better off humming How Great Thou Art.

I admit that I can get a little bristly when people condescend me, talk to me like I am of lower intelligence. But today I had a situation happen that caused me to laugh loudly and not feel bad at all.

Let me set the scene. Arriving back to the hotel from a little morning shopping, I noticed the maids were not finished with the room. Yes, roughing it, I know. So I grabbed some snacks and my book and headed down to sit at the poolside. To illustrate how infrequently the word "poolside" enters my vocabulary I have to admit to a struggle that waited for me there.

I found a chair near an umbrella, a polite distance away from the only other pool users. A young mom with 3 children was having lunch at the only table. Her umbrella (needed in this rare case for sun, not rain!) was open and shading her little family. The umbrella I sat by was not open. With everything else settled where I put it, opening the umbrella to shade my reading time was the only thing left to do.

That umbrella was not going to open for me, and how quickly I used up all my knowledge of outdoor umbrellas. I was by now sticking myself inside it, invisible to others from the shoulders up. It was while in this awkward position that I heard the oldest of the three children -- a boy of 7 or 8 -- say, "Mommy, could that lady just come and sit here by us?"

Later that day, the center umbrella was folded up again, and it was raining again.

Rev. had his first full day of lectures today and took 10 pages of notes to add to the the six taken during yesterday's half day. There are 10 students in this class, and Rev. was happy to discover that he is not the oldest. We continue to be relaxed, refreshed and grateful for this time here in Charlotte.

Here's a fun idea -- take a person that hasn't driven since Jasper County, Indiana; put this person in a parking lot -- alone; and then see if this person can find her way through a very confusing city back to her hotel room. Oh! Don't forget to add torrential rain to this little recipe for disaster. I did make it back to the hotel, made only three wrong turns, and heard only one honking horn behind me, but I am sure that was just an enthusiastic toot of a greeting from one driver to another.

But of course before all this took place I took a picture of Rev.'s first day of school:

and then another that he didn't know I was taking:

Try to realize that these pictures were being taken by me under the other umbrella! I forgot a few things I wish I had here, but it is a good thing I remembered two umbrellas because it looks like they will be needed every day this week. Tomorrow I am going to try to find something touristy to do while Rev. sits in class. Has anyone reading this ever been to Charlotte? I am open to suggestions! (I will pass on the NASCAR Hall of Fame, thanks anyway...) If nothing else there is a Starbucks within walking distance of the hotel. That and a good book will do just fine. I will try to get better pictures of the seminary sometime when it is not raining.