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. 

The day ends -- the third Sunday of our Sabbatical. We are in Charlotte, our home for one week. Last night I wrote a one paragraph blog about a Fed Ex truck that turned over and caused so much delay on the highway ahead that it took us two and a half hours to go 20 miles. The paragraph was so boring that I deleted it, shut the computer and went to sleep. We were eager to rest up and have a nice Sunday. Here are a few pictures I took during that stretch.

This morning we went to Sovereign Grace PCA here in Charlotte. It has been fun comparing churches as to building, friendliness, singing, etc. Tonight we worshiped at Redeemer OPC, which meets in the chapel of Reformed Theological Seminary (RTS), where I would have to say we felt the most at home so far. This in spite of the fact that we got up and moved halfway through the service to a new spot because the fluorescent light in the drop ceiling just above us started attempting a strobe light show in the middle of the reading of scripture. I could almost hear a headache forming. We managed a rather inconspicuous relocation. Our children would have been mortified. This empty nest thing can be liberating.

Sunday nap? Oh, yes. Sunday drive? Definitely. I had started knitting during the long wait on the highway to pass the time, and kept doing it as we drove. This is my excuse for not being more in tune with the map as we approached Charlotte. I am the type of person that needs to know where I am on the map, I need to have my directions correct, and I need to know where the next curve in the road will take us. I had it in my head that we were approaching Charlotte from the west but it was really from the north. I got so turned around just getting from the interstate to our hotel I could barely find my way out my own car door. So driving around today was a necessity.

We have already concluded that there are exactly zero straight roads anywhere in the city, and a wrong turn cannot be corrected by turning at the next street and reconnecting with the same road. It reminds me of the area where Lance and Emily live. Sometimes when I first drove around there, entire stores seemed to move to other side of the street, and side roads Emily showed me completely disappeared when I tried to drive them. Today I had to reset my internal compass, not just for my own comfort but so that I can find my way around tomorrow after I drop Rev. off at school.

He is all settled in here in our room.

Which reminds me, I cannot keep the lights on too long. It is a school night!

Charleston, WV. It was one of those pesky capitals to memorize, and I never thought I would be spending a night downtown here. It is a little over halfway to Charlotte, we are settled down for the night, and I am wondering what to blog about. Now I look back on the fact that we did a lot of wondering today. Curiosity can be a good thing, sometimes I wish I had more of it. It often leads to interesting things. When we were young we were all told that it killed the cat, right? Now I am wondering if I have ever told anyone that myself. Curiosity killed the cat. Apparently I was quite sensitive to cat analogies when I was little. I was told that I once burst into tears upon hearing the phrase, "There is more than one way to skin a cat." I suppose that would be the cat whose untimely death was the direct result of curiosity.

But today as we headed south from the Dayton area (after a stop at Tim Horton's, of course!) we were on roads we had not seen before. We wondered what this part of Ohio will look like...Will it become hilly like Kentucky? After a failed phone conversation attempt with Megan we wondered when we would get a better signal. We wondered why the Wal-mart line we chose went so much slower than any of the others. I wondered why none of the drivers in the parking lot would let me cross in the rain to the cart return.

We wondered why an interstate would suddenly become a 2 lane highway, and then suddenly an interstate again. Why did they spell Five Mile Road and Nine Mile Road as if they were one word: Fivemile and Ninemile. Why is this little town here, what were the buildings originally built to be. Are any of them still conducting the same business as the day the first coat of paint dried. Just curious.

A big curiosity plagued us for miles in Ohio. There are so many signs for Washington CH. Surely as we got closer to this place a sign would tell us what the initials are for. Just because Washington DC has initials, does this Washington need them too? Desperate, we resorted to making guesses. One of my guesses turned out to be right, and it was not Cat Hospital. Oh, no. I am not telling. I had to wait all afternoon to look it up, you can look it up right now.

Now we wonder what tomorrow will bring as we arrive at Charlotte. So much preparation has gone into this trip (reading, for example), and we are eager to start the next part of the Sabbatical. After a night of rest here in Charleston.

Now I wonder how many different ways I just used the word "wonder." Our language often gets muddied as we change the meanings of words, or use words incorrectly. It makes me want to look in the Psalms to be reminded of the use of this word as one that points us to God. That is always wonderful.

It is time to mention John Owen in this blog. It sounds like his is the heaviest influence on the long reading list Rev. has been assigned for this course. Total pages he needs to read is 2000. How far he is right now -- around 1500. One more day of reading at home, and it looks like I will be doing a lot of the driving.

Near the beginning of the large reading task, I heard Rev. saying, "Ok, Johnny." No Dyke vehicles were on our yard, so I realized this was more of team huddle cheer -- ok, Johnny. Here we go, Johnny. This made me become aware of some of the finer details of his reading that developed over the weeks.

Favorite highlighter color: yellow. Although I have seen him using orange, and blue is being used right now to clip a group of pages together. Best time of day to read: mornings. Beverage to read with: coffee -- black and strong. Best place to read: as pictured on day one of this blog. Most unusual place to read so far: Parking lot of thrift store in Indy where I found some great items. Music or quiet? Mostly quiet, occasionally music, never talk radio or RefNet. 

I heard him reading out loud once, which I know is a good way to tackle difficult passages. I could hear him from where I was weeding just under the windows and at first thought he was talking to the dogs, then it dawned on me that their doggy vocabulary is no where near what I was hearing. Common phrases such as Go away, Stop licking that, Lay down somewhere else, were not being used. 

When the dogs know I am at home but cannot be near me, they make little woof noises. Especially if they can see me, say, sweeping the porch or watering the plants. Repeatedly. Woof...woof.... While I take this as one of the highest forms of praise, it has been pointed out to me that these sounds are not conducive to the reading of Puritan theology. I have to stay inside, go completely away, or refrain from outdoor tasks visible from the windows.

Now I will accommodate those of you hoping for a little more substance than highlighter colors and dog woofs. "What is the most interesting thing you have read so far," I asked him just a few days ago. This quote. This is what really says it:

John Owen (1616 – 1683) “The Forgiveness of Sins; a Practical Exposition of Psalm 130”(Page 394):

He that hath slight thoughts of sin had never great thoughts of God. Indeed, men’s undervaluing of sin ariseth merely from their contempt of God. All sin’s concernments flow from its relation unto God; and as men’s apprehensions are of God, so will they be of sin, which is an opposition to him. This is the frame of the most of men, they know little of God, and are little troubled about anything that relates unto him. God is not reverenced, sin is but a trifle, forgiveness a matter of nothing; whose will may have it for asking. . . . He who is not acquainted with God’s holiness and purity, who knows not sin’s desert and sinfulness, knows nothing of forgiveness.”

 

And from William Gurnall (1616 – 1679)  “The Christian in Complete Armor”

He that will be Christ’s soldier, must persevere to the end of his life in this war with Satan. Not he that takes the field, but he that keeps the field; not he that sets out, but he that holds out in this holy war, deserves the name of a saint.

In a few days we will be in Charlotte, North Carolina. Neither of us have been to this state before, and we both enjoy road trips that take us to new places. Tomorrow I will officially be in pre-travel stress, and am planning to skip a blog until we are one day on our way.

Megan made two noteworthy comments on yesterday's blog that I will share in this one. Megan visited Lance and Emily this past Saturday and Sunday, or more precisely I should say she got in some great Auntie Megan time visiting Finley and Reid. Megan's first comment about my blog was that Finley calls her brother "Weid." So in light of that information Megan and I agreed that it would be funny to hear Finley talk about her grandpa -- had he helped me in the flower beds -- spending the day "weading" and weeding.

Megan's other comment was that I have rarely mentioned her in my blog. I talk about Sam, to use her exact words, "all the time." So paragraph one has remedied the problem for now. Does this little keeping of accounts happen in other families? Did I ever do that with my siblings?

But on to topics much more relevant to the Sabbatical. Like the walnut tree. Raise your hand if you are tired of reading about the walnut tree. Everyone? Ok, I thought so. A few final comments and then I will not mention walnuts in here again unless it is in a recipe I feel the need to share. Those of you who know me well know the very low likelihood of me discussing anything recipe related, so this should be it. I decided to clear away the last of the awkward branch stuff that was keeping me from being able to mow the grass by asking my neighbor if I could borrow her electric chain saw. I am still on a little bit of a power rush from that, it was fun.

The picture I am including is of a very perplexed squirrel that I watched while I was drinking coffee on the porch this morning. It is rather amusing to think of all the things that could be going through his little squirrel brain about the current condition of what used to be a very squirrel friendly tree. And now the last -- I promise -- piece of information on the tree. From the stump to the edge of alley as far as it reached when it fell:  69 feet.

No more on the tree or on walnuts. Not even for a brownie recipe. And don't bother to tell me about a great recipe for brownies with walnuts. I will never use it. Just bring me the brownies, and I will just take your word for it that it was a great recipe.

My brother got all the cooking, baking, kitcheny skills in our family. Now that I ponder it a little, if my Mom had ever had the opportunity to write a blog for seven weeks I betcha she would have mentioned him more than me!

I really am going to get around to talking about Rev. Wetselaar and his Puritan friends. Not today. That little chain saw power rush is rapidly fading into a real need to put my tired body to bed.

This was a pretty night to be driving home from a short errand, heading east, just before sunset, on a road with little to block the sky. The first picture is of the amazing cloud formation that we saw, and we both commented on how much it reminded us of Mt. Baker, the mountain we could see from our house in Washington. (second picture) This seemed fitting on a day of travel in which we got talking about our years in the ministry in general. An unexpected bonus of the time free from normal obligations!

Arrangements are falling nicely into place for our travels later this week. This will be the big trip, the one to Charlotte, North Carolina, for a one week course on Puritan Theology at the Reformed Theological Seminary. For me it will be a one week exploration of a new area. I also have a project ready to take along to make use of my days in the hotel.

In the next day or two I will give an update on Rev.'s reading. Today I tried to convince him to help me with a little bit of weeding, just because it would sound funny to say he spent the day weeding and reading. Ok, clearly I spent too much time weeding in a bent over position and all the blood ran to my head and blurred my brain from thinking of anything interesting to write today.

We are at the end of a great Sunday on which we visited the Reformed Presbyterian Church in Indianapolis for both services. It is a good experiences being a visitor, and this was a very friendly church. By the end of two after service visits we felt like friends. It helped that we scored a lot of "Dutch Bingo" points -- should that be Scottish Bingo? -- by finding a lot of common ground through people we know and colleges attended or visited (Geneva, Covenant, Dordt) There were even other visitors there from Demotte (and Crown Point), Michael and Lindsey Standarski! And to point out what I found funny -- we parked in the exact same spot both times and sat in the exact same chairs both times. Hey, I didn't promise profound thoughts all the time, did I?

So today we really mixed it up and took our Sunday drive before our Sunday nap. Part of that drive included a move to a different motel.We did upgrade to a better motel. The one last night didn't score so well on my 3 requirements, the worst being Weird Smell. If Bad View had been one of them that would have been worse. It was clean, and we lived through the night so it was safe, right? Rev.'s suit did not fall off the rack even though the screws were out of the wall completely on one side and it clung to the wall at a jaunty angle. Our motel was still keeping up its lawn care and shrubbery trimming, and its sign had all the letters in its name, which is more that I can say for the one across the street, the only other motel in this area that we saw. Ours also still had glass in most of the windows.

Just kidding. 

I promised an update on Sam and Dorinda. I know they are fine because they commented on a photo Russ and Mary put on Facebook of the dorm room they (Vander Molen's, not Sam and Dorinda) are staying in at Dordt. A mom will take whatever information she can get, right?  Especially after Sam's comment about our tornado. He was so thankful his dog and his car were ok. Dog. Car. Nice, Sam.

We are headed home first thing in the morning to get ready for the big trip to Charlotte. I will try to keep my days normal but I know that dreaded thing called Pre Travel Stress will sneak up on me soon.

The new motel has pretty flowers, and I thought of Margo while I got some photos of them in the afternoon sun. Part of me wishes we could have just zoomed home tonight for a fresh start tomorrow, but I know that Rev's back and my blood clots would not have been in favor of that so we will rest and be refreshed. We will Sabbatical.

You would think that my biggest regret about being tired yesterday would be that I did not write much of a blog. But the regret that looms so much larger than that is that I missed Chick Fil A's Cow Appreciation Day. But at least I can claim a family member that celebrated it three times. And she can claim a friend that celebrated it eight times! I spent the morning icing muscles that did a little too much on Thursday, Yard Work Day. Instead of getting some things done that needed doing on Friday -- Paper Work and Errand Day --  I watched grandson Levi for a few hours. We were outside most of the time, a favorite location for both of us, and I sent him home covered in dirt, a little moist from the hose and with mud stains on his clothes. A good afternoon for both of us. Fels naptha, Jess.

Now tonight we are settled into our hotel for our Second Sabbatical Weekend of Travel in an undisclosed location. We are in a large city in a state that begins with "I." On our way home from dinner we drove past an Iowa 80 Truck Wash and a Waffle House, so now I am not really sure where we are. But I will say that we ate at Joe's Crab Shack for supper. It was our first time tackling certain sea-foods. I enjoyed taking pictures of the lobster more than I did eating it, but I am guessing that is not normal. I at least wore my plastic bib, which is more than I can say for my dining companion. We both breathed a little sigh of relief when Bruce the Balloon Man passed our table by. That is an art form I prefer to admire from a distance of at least several tables.

Our hotel is in an area that has brought us a little bit out of our comfort zone. For me, staying in a hotel always causes such internal friction between wanting a nice place (safe, clean, does not smell weird) and not wanting to drop triple digits for a place just to sleep and shower. So it can be an adventure. But we are very near the church we plan to visit tomorrow. We had planned to stay home and worship somewhere close-by, but as the day dawned we both felt the tug to do otherwise. We are so appreciative of the ability to just make some plans on Saturday and just drive off and go. Special yet anonymous thanks to the motorcyclist who cancelled his trip due to rain and therefore his dog's spot at the kennel, making it possible for last minute accommodation for our two dogs. This is not a habit we intend to cultivate, nor do we recommend it for anyone to do on a regular basis if it brings him or her away from regularly gathering with God's people at a home church. But these seven weeks are intended to be a change of pace for us. And we are enjoying them!

Wasn't it a good idea that I learned how to post pictures? Now when I have nothing to say I can just look for more pictures of the tree, or at least use that as my excuse to post some fun Immanuel photos. Enjoy.

One day a little tiny girl came over to my house carrying a flower pot with a maple tree that had just started to grow. "This is for you, Mrs. Wetsewow."  I planted that little tree a nice distance north of another small maple that had sprouted on its own in a place that could use more shade. The new addition became known as the Josie Tree, and since the other was the right amount of years older it I thought of it as the Mason tree. A few years later I planted a third tree. Several times. The Tessa Tree(s) never got more than a foot high and tragedy would strike. I suspect one of my own children might have been the culprit for these repeated tree crimes. This child had often resisted my efforts to forest the lawn and interfere with his lawn mowing design. Oops. Gave that one away with the pronoun, didn't I, Sam!

Today I took a picture of what is left of these trees. Tessa, in the front, is sitting near the spot where her tree would have been. Josie's hands are on the stump of the smaller of the two trees the walnut took down when it fell, and Mason -- who did not know until I posed him for this picture that this tree was named for him -- is standing by what is left of what had just become a decent sized tree.

Of course you are wondering why I would do this for the neighbor kids and not for my own four children. The truth is that I did plant trees for them, and tonight as I worked in the yard I thought back to early days in the ministry when our homes were the parsonages of the churches we served. The first summer after moving in to our first parsonage I planted a tree with the help of a little 3 year old. We called it the Emily tree. Several years after we had moved away we heard out that it was potentially in the way of a shed and got moved. I just now looked on Google Earth and I think it is still there in its new spot. The shed, by the way, is gone. But I am jumping ahead in my tree story.

The parsonage lawn and the church there are just one continuous patch of green with no visible dividing line. That line did become visible in the summer because we would mow on Mondays starting wherever the church janitor drew the line on Saturdays. We talked about how nice it would be if there were a couple of trees along that line to create a pleasant boundary between our yard and the church yard. When Jessica and Sam were babies we carefully chose two spots in a nice straight line along this imaginary border. Two little maples saplings were found, planted, and encouraged to grow into mighty trees that would shade the church lawn to the east and the parsonage lawn to the west and perhaps even become a bit of a visible barricade between the two buildings.

Sometime later that summer we went on a two week vacation. Upon our return, a member of the building and grounds committee stopped in to say hello. Before he left he suddenly remembered some good news he had to tell us. "I found two little trees sprouting up on the lawn," he said cheerfully. "But I got rid of them for you. You don't want trees to grow there -- it would divide the lawn!"

Things didn't go much better in the parsonage we lived in when Megan was born. We moved to a house that was meticulously landscaped around all four sides, around the garage, and out into a large part of the back yard. Perfect for a family with a bunch of little kids, right? Wrong. Although the very expensive Japanese maple by the front door made a great fort. The only thing we ever planted there was a live Christmas tree we bought during a very short lived burst of environmentalist fervor. We said Never Again to something that heavy and awkward and needy. It thanked us for our back breaking efforts by dying within the year. Hmm, maybe that was when Rev.'s back troubles started.

Oh, yeah, I should mention him now and then. He's been reading. I'll try to work him in here a little more often.

Those of you opening this today hoping to hear stories of my old horse with the initials H. H. are going to bitterly disappointed. He is a mythical creature that lives on only in Sam's childish imagination. I mean seriously, Sam, you've got everyone worried about you and praying for you in the path of not just a Typhoon but a Super Typhoon.and the first we hear from you is this?

Today was the start of cataloging a room full of books. I noticed two things worth sharing here about that project. One is that theological books certainly have long titles. Rev. has mentioned in sermons that he has a large book titled simply Sin. I look forward to cataloging that one and any others with one word titles. My second item of interest that I noticed today is that our cat does not lie at the end of the sidewalk in eager anticipation of my return as she does when Rev. is the one over at church.

Yard clean-up is progressing nicely. These two pictures are taken exactly one week apart:

My first blog mentioned my intention to have regular things planned for each day, and after a week of very un-planned activity today was a normal day. A Work Day. Off to the high school library. to pick up where I left off two weeks ago. I enjoy my little corner of the world there as high school librarian, where I am always learning more, yet always wishing I knew more about how to do my job well. I recently had a conversation about teenagers and whether or not they would ever read certain things I have purchased unless a teacher requires it or at least refers to it in class. I have adapted a saying for just such a conversation. We all know the phrase "you can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make him drink." I see myself as the one who makes sure the water is there, ready for thirsty horses, stubborn horses, or no horses at all.

That last sentence also contained the sum total of my knowledge of horses. Now my curiosity is poking at me and making me wonder if you really can lead a horse to water but not make him drink. Why not? What if it is a female horse? Are they more appreciative of the efforts made to keep them well hydrated? I have never heard anyone say "you can lead a horse to water but you cannot make her drink." It is something to think about.

Tomorrow is Take Over Church Day. I need to give that a kinder, gentler name. Catalog Books Day. In a window-less study while my walnut tree project is begging me to come out and play! Yes, I am still really enjoying the clean-up of our fallen friend. I am almost finished with the brushy stuff and the smaller pieces, and I have considered it quite a privilege to play among the upper branches of such a large tree. Soon I will have that part of my yard back and will put out a call for help to some big boys with big toys to move the heavy chunks of wood.

I added photos to earlier blogs, since I know how to do this now! Next I will figure how to post this in the bulletin as promised with a direct link for those without Facebook. Early reports are coming in from Okinawa that Sam and Dorinda are OK in their little bunker of a house. Check his Facebook for updates, and I will include what I know about their typhoon experience on here tomorrow. So many of our photos show the walnut tree in the background. I found a good one to share today.

When was the last time your jaw dropped? I mean a serious mouth open, glued to the spot, brain paralyzing jaw drop. Mine was today, mid afternoon. We zoomed through Ohio so we could enjoy some different roads in Indiana, one that eventually brought us to Shipshewana. To Yoder's Hardware Store. Where I was a normal browsing shopper one moment and then BAM! the next minute I became a stunned human being staring like a simpleton at a special display of something called the Nut Wizard. It picks up walnuts with a simple roll of a long handled, wire, sphere shaped basket.

A shallow box on the floor had enough loose golf balls to let customers try it to see how easy it is to use. I did and it was. I have spent 18 Octobers in my driveway and front yard raking, shoveling and hand gathering walnuts. Lots and lots and lots of walnuts. Ask any of our kids, and if you don't believe them ask Mason. I have been on the verge of ordering a slightly different pecan version of the above that son-in-law Lance uses in Alabama. And then exactly one week after our walnut tree fell I see these in a store. Close mouth, take pictures, regain composure, continue browsing.

Earlier in the day we were in Milan. Don't you agree that this was fitting after hearing a letter from the pastor of the URC in Milan? That Milan was the "real" one in Italy. We were in Milan, Ohio, the birthplace of Thomas Edison. If you can read, thank a teacher. If you can read after dark, thank Thomas Edison. I saw that slogan in an antique store that we stepped into as we were walking off some travel stiffness. It was a true "stumble upon" store full of intriguing surprises. There were dozens of working phonographs and all types of other Edison related items. We heard and saw one being played for a customer finalizing his purchase. This was quite a treat, and yes we took pictures (which, you may have noticed, I now know how to post on here!). This trip back in time seemed a fitting follow up to yesterday's high tech ipad, face time, lap top, digital camera mixture.

It was almost  more museum than store, which was nice because in true Wetselaar fashion we were in town the only day the actual Edison museum was closed. (Ask the kids.) In fact the only place open to get food was a coffee shop with a very limited menu for someone who still needed breakfast. But now I feel like such a world traveler to be able to close this blog by saying, "This morning I had quiche in Milan...."