Early autumn morning on the road to Nortonville, KS (above left). And later, nearing town and looking for a place to camp; I saw a Jeep pull into the empty parking lot of a church, so I drove my wagon in there, tied Reba to a light pole, and spoke with Bob the church pastor. In no time at all, I was given a place to camp on church grounds. Then, as our conversation continued, I mentioned the couple who put me up the night before, and low-and-behold, Bob was their pastor! What is the “chance” of that with dozens of churches around? I believe both very slim, and very good! Later in my journey, I e-mailed Bob and asked him to send a photo of the church. Above right is photo. Thank you Bob, for all your kindness!
I was both exhausted and needing to get lots of work done; so Bob (and God) put me in a semi-secluded spot behind the church on the edge of town. I set up camp and took care of my horse. I cooked, cleaned, and made repairs. My new water cooler leaked (last year my food cooler seeped and rotted my wagon floor, which I had to replace before setting out this year), so I emptied the wagon and dried it. The water cooler leaked because of the bumping and jostling (so it seems meant-to-be that I gave it to the church). Also, I discovered a short-circuit in my wagon’s electrical system, which I repaired. And I had to repair my tent zipper which had derailed that morning. As I worked, I felt exhaustion-sickness in my gut, but I got everything done, was in bed in good time, and my exhaustion sickness went away. Everything worked out like it had been perfectly planned except I had no plan, and this isn’t about me anyway, I’m just the story teller. I figured that, in the morning, I could roll into town and speak with folks like the Lord wanted me to. Reba would draw them in (she was the star), and the wagon would draw them also because, along with Reba, it made a symbol of shared heritage, an automatic connection to our past, a part of who we are, where we come from, and what we are made of.