I can remember back to a beautiful woman in my youth.

  Her name was Doris Mardosa and she was my Grammy!

  She was a delight to all who knew her, not just me.

  I now have the perfect example on how to live my life but way back then, it was her.

  Us three boys cherished her!  We never witnessed her doing anything wrong.  She must have, of course but we could never catch her!  We tried.

  She was my Fathers Mother.  She was the glue that held the family together.  The one you could always depend on and she expected nothing, in return.

  One day, things changed.

  This wonderful nurse and lady, who had done so much for everyone else, found out that she had cancer.

  First it took her breast.

  She did better for some time but it started on the rest.

  She grew weaker by the month.

  Towards the end, she was in a nursing home permanently.  It seemed like we were there everyday.  We wanted to enjoy every moment with her.  I can even remember sleeping there, although it was against the rules.  Her caretakers loved her and they allowed my Father and I to.

  Christmas came and it was being planned on that she couldn't leave the hospital to enjoy it at her home, with us.

  We were all dismayed but determined to have it at her place, anyway.

  Then, she got a little better.  Not much and not enough but enough so the doctors thought she would be strong enough to spend a couple of hours at home, to have Christmas with all of us!

  The day arrived and we couldn't wait.

  The ambulance arrived at her house and two nice men brought her in.  They set her up comfortably and left for a couple of hours.

  I don't remember much that went on with the gifts and such.  I remember just being happy she was home and that it would be our last Christmas with her.

  Too soon, the ambulance men came back.  Grammy was very tired by then.  She needed to go.

  They prepped her to move and set her into the ambulance.  When she was ready to go, one of them returned and handed someone the bill for the ambulance ride and services.

  The bill totaled $0.00 and in handwriting, said: Have A Merry Christmas, Thank You!

  Life went back to visits at the nursing home, to see her.

  It wasn't very much longer, at all.  Maybe she used the last of her strength for Christmas and for us.

  The doctors told us she didn't have long.  Somehow all the machines they had her attached to, told them.

  I think they said a few days.

  "A few days!  How could this be?"

  We were there around the clock and the clock ticked away.

  There was a lot of hidden crying and a lot of crying that couldn't be hidden.

  The day came that the machines told the doctors "A few hours."

  A little while later, it was thought best that I go to "The Waiting Room."

  I went there and sat down.  I couldn't read, I was crying.  Some patients visitors went walking buy and they were very noisy, it seemed.  Maybe they weren't noisy and I just hated their joy.

  I walked into the hallway and saw another room, marked "Recreation Room."  Through the glass of the closed doors I could see a couch and I thought I would have some privacy, on it.

  I slipped in and sat down.  A piano was just in front of me.

  It was quiet.  Too quiet with my thoughts.

  A solid door at the other end opened and a man wheeled himself through, in his wheelchair.

  He didn't even look at me and rolled to the piano.

  Without a warm-up, he began playing the most beautiful song.

  I had never heard it before and haven't since.

  It touched me so!

  I wished it wouldn't stop but after about five minutes it wound down to the finish and ended.

  The man closed the cover on the keys and wheeled himself out, the way he had come in.

  It was over and I was then crying pools.

  Something else happened, then.

  Like a small voice inside, I heard "She's gone, Jeff.  She's in Heaven, now."

  I must have had a tear reserve, because they were flowing like rivers.  I couldn't stop.

  I thought about God.  I wished God was like this.  I felt a personal comfort in what just happened.  It went against everything I had learned about Him, in church or from anyone.  I shrugged it off then but thought about it often, after.

  I suddenly thought about my parents and that I should go find them!

  I stood up and turned to leave.  They were in the hallway, looking into the waiting room, for me.  I could see they were crying.  It looked like my mom asked "Where is he?"

  They paused and tearfully hugged.  I walked out through the doors and they looked up at me.

  One of them said "Grammy passed away, Jeff."

  "I know." I said.

  We all hugged and cried.

-------------------

   

   I believe with all sincerity that God is with us, all our lives.  That he is there to comfort us and help us through the difficult challenges that we all go through.

  I also believe that our ears and eyes become closed to him, in part because of all the evil we see, hear, think, do and witness in other ways.

  Sometimes God taps us on the shoulder and we shrug it off.

  The day finally came for me when my eyes and ears were opened and I stopped with all the shrugging.

   I listened.  I saw.  I witnessed Him and I finally believed.

   I originally planned to save this little story to include in my "bigger story."  God moved me to do it now.  For a lot of reasons I know and for many, I don't.  It is shorter than I planned.

   Some of you are sending me personal messages and I LOVE THEM!

   I really felt the need to get this out before Christmas.  I really want people to know what Christmas is about and what it so dearly means to me.

   It is a symbol of the birth of what comforts me.  Nothing else can take His place.

   Christmas is a time to forgive each other, even the unforgivable things.  It is a time for healing and togetherness.  It is time to enjoy LOVE.  Love freely given.

   I pray that you all seek God this Christmas.  He is a free gift!

   I hope if you hear Him whisper in your heart, feel Him tapping on the door or moving you in some way, that you don't brush Him away.

   He is the one true gift that you seek.

   All you have to do is ask Him.  All the Angels will rejoice and you will start to see your true path.

I love you all,

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

  Soon I will take some time to write about the wonderful people I work with but right now I'm just going to focus on the last few days.  The people I work with deserve much more attention and praise than I can give them, this evening.
  On Sunday I slept in, did some morning stuff and got ready for church.  I made it there a little early and snapped some photo's before entering, whereupon I found one less person than the week before.  One lady was not present, making a total of five, including the preacher and myself.

  The "bent over man" I previously wrote about, seemed straightened now and less troubled.
  There seemed to be a hastiness about the service.  The pastor kept cutting himself short, saying "I'd like to get into this further but we are short on time."
  We had only sung two songs.  That was okay with me, I had a hard time reading the tiny text in the Hymnal.
  The man in front of me found a spare Bible when it came time for the reading and handed it to me.  I had left mine at home, because I was having trouble reading it's small text, also.  Also it was a translation I disregard and I thought "I will find the right one, along my journey."  I have been offered and declined many Bibles, along the way.  I have even looked for a REAL King James Version, in the stores, to no avail.
  The man handed me the Bible and the pastor said "Now you keep that Bible!"
  It is a KJV.  Not quite the version I wanted but the closest I have found.  I opened it and the text was very tiny, however I was just gifted several pairs of reading glasses, so it worked out!
  The old pastor seemed tearfully preachful, at moments this week, but it was mostly the yelling that seems to predominate here.  I secretly named him 'Old Yeller.'
  Lot's of yelling about the sins of the world and not a lot of telling of the answer.  
  The sermon suddenly drew to a quick close, after only forty minutes.  The pastor mentioned that "they" needed to catch a plane to Chicago.  He asked if anyone would like to add anything.
  The "previously bent over man," walked to the podium and began his lamentation, all the while staring at me, like he was trying to pierce through me with his unblinking eyes.
  "Unless a man be 'born again' he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God.  You must trust in the Lord and give up your old ways." and on and on.  He looked at nobody else but me.
  I thought of the man he was, last week.  Bent over with his troubles and unable to give them to God.  Perhaps I should have stood up and preached to him!
  As we were all rushed out, I talked with the man who had handed me the Bible.  He was on his way to the hospital to see his very sick wife, Bertha.  I could see the pain in his eyes.  The conversation was too brief.  I told him I would be praying for her and him, also.  He thanked me and I thought to myself "This man is closer to God than anyone else, in here.  Please bless him and his dear wife, Lord!
  I hate to admit it but I was happy to be out of that place.
  I was almost home and the 'previously bent over man' stopped his beat up car in the road and asked me if I needed a ride.
  "No thank you, I just live right there." I pointed to the house.
  "Okay, have a great day."  he said.
  He went off down the road, the car sputtering and shaking along, on the back was a blazing red bumper sticker with white letters, 'JESUS!'

--------------------------------

  At home, I ate and made some coffee.  I prayed and thought of what I would do for the rest of the day but those thought were interrupted, when my phone rang.  It was Mary Lou.

  "Hi Jeff!  Dan is coming to get you, so you guys can start on the roof, is that okay?"

  "I am ready, dear!  I'll watch for him."

  I met Dan, the day before and we had gone over various projects to work on, together.  I didn't expect him, his plans were to attend a BINGO orgy, that lasted until three in the morning.

  He was teased by the others, who called him "The Grateful Dead" and "Jerry Garcia."  I did see the resemblance.

  I thanked the owners for finding help that looked a little bit more "far out man" than I do.

  Dan had long grey hair that may have seen a comb, a week or so ago.  He topped 300 pounds and proudly admitted it.  His chest was like a keg(of nails).

  Dan, I soon learned had never drank or even tried a drug, in his life.

  "I don't know why they call me 'The Grateful Dead', I never really cared for them."

  He said he had just gone to a Paul McCartney concert, though.

  We got to the house, set up a ladder and were soon shredding the old shingles.  I usually use a roof shovel but he insisted the only proper way, is with a "flat bar."

  It was fine with me, I'd done that, also.

  He soon ran off to Home Depot for some plywood and other material.  I worked by myself until he returned and then we ripped off the remaining shingles, replaced some plywood and covered the exposed area with tar paper.  His methods were very slow but I didn't mind, too much, it was Sunday, after all.  One-half of one side was all we had accomplished in four hours.

  He dropped me back at home and I kept his 16' extension ladder so I could start early in the morning.  He said "You'll have to get someone to bring you over, with the ladder."

  I said I though I may be able to carry it.

  "I doubt it but do as you like!" he laughed.

---------------------------------

  The next morning, I didn't wake until 7:30.  I had slept wonderfully!

  I was running later than I had hoped.  I wanted to finish the two house roofs we agreed on, as soon as possible.  I didn't want to accomplish this by cutting corners, I wanted to work longer, uninterrupted days, with hopes of seeing my son Jeffrey, before Christmas.

  I had two quick coffees and a peanut butter and honey sandwich.

  I skipped the shower as I would quickly be filthy, anyway.

  The quickest way to the house, was to walk a quarter mile down the shoulder-less road, across lawns and then beside a long ditch that ran through a field.

  The ladder didn't seem all that heavy, really.

  While walking with it on my shoulder, over lawns and such, it occurred to me how suspicious I probably looked.  People slowed and seemed to look at me, as they passed.....

  I started walking faster, finally arriving at the ditch.  Then I remembered this was the same ditch that thieves had carried the few thousand dollars worth of tools that they had stolen from my workplace.  Including.....a ladder!

  I made it to within a hundred feet of the house to be roofed and realized I had forgotten that there was another ditch, making a T with the one I walked beside.

  "Oh, boy!"

  I wasn't turning back, now.

  Down the ditch and across, I went.  My feet got quite wet and I slipped up the muddy side of the opposing bank.  I made it!

  "Cops won't cross that!" I thought.

  On the ground, dead, I found what I thought was a weasel and I moved him off the trail, to bring home later.

  I was soon on the roof and doing my strip-show, for none to see.

  I had those shingles all ripped off in three hours, even without a shovel.

  I returned home with the weasel, to use the bathroom.  I left the weasel outside, beside the dumpster and returned to the job.

  Robert showed up, towards the end and helped me, greatly.

  We worked on laying out the tar paper and he took the old shingles back to my place and put them in the dumpster, with the loader.

  Dan showed up around three........

  We stripped the shingles off the porch.  He said the new shingles wouldn't arrive until the morning.

  We finished up, covered some material, loaded the van and he was going to drop me off at home, on his way out of town for another job.

  As he pulled into the driveway, we noticed a small pickup, parked in front of the dumpster.  It looked like someone was looking for scrap metal in it.

  "STOP!" I yelled.  "He's stealing a ladder!"

  "What....." started Dan.

  I was out of the van in a flash and Dan moved the van to block the driveway, better.

  We had an 8' fiberglass stepladder on the back deck, to inspect the roof on Saturday.  One of the men was tying it, into the back of the truck!

  You can insert all kinds of swear words in the rest of this story, because they were all there but I'll keep it clean here.

  "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?!!!"

  The second man appeared out of nowhere.

  They knew they were busted and both tried to lie at once.

  "We thought it was junk!"

  "It was in the dumpster!" said the other.

  "WHAT?  You're a LIAR!  I'm so sick of you crack smoking THIEVES!"

  The one man just started apologizing profusely, knowing the gig was up.

  The other man was still trying the innocent routine as I stopped swearing and giving them the "Death Look", long enough to untie the ladder and place it on the lawn.

  Dan stayed in the van and enjoyed the show, though I'm sure he was at the ready.

  "WHAT ELSE IS IN YOUR TRUCK?!!!!"

  "Nothing, I swear!"  I searched the truck, in a rage as they stayed clear of me.  They both looked petrified!

  The truck was loaded with various metals and a dishwasher.  Nothing was ours.

  "IF I SEE YOU IN THAT DUMPSTER AGAIN, I WILL WRECK YOU!"

  "You won't, I promise!" they said, not even able to look at me now.

  "I take that back, DON'T EVEN LET ME CATCH YOU IN THIS YARD!  DON'T EVEN SLOW DOWN, DRIVING BY!"

  "We won't.  Sorry."

  "GO! NOW!"

  They fumbled their way into the truck.  and started it.  I gave Dan the "thumbs up" and he moved his van, out of the way.

  They left quickly.

  I noticed the weasel on the ground, a few feet from where I had put it by the dumpster.  The deer head I had laying near the back of the dumpster was still there, on the ground.  I briefly thought that with my attire and look not to mention the dead animals, those poor boys probably thought they would never make it out of the driveway!

  Dan hung around for a bit and we had a great laugh about it all.  It was a cold day and I mentioned how warm and good I felt.

  That wasn't the truth, though.  I hated how I felt!  I felt very wrong.  I felt like the "old Jeff" that I had "given up."

  I went inside, after Dan left.  I was still shaking.  I hated how good it 'seemed' to feel.  I walked by the mirror and saw myself.

  I looked insane.

  I prayed and I laughed about it all.  I felt better.

  They were joking about it all day, at work today.

  It was okay, though.  I felt better.  I was 'new' again.

  I've mostly been working and though I may write about that soon, it has been somewhat of a break in the action and allowed me to catch up on some other writings for the near future.
  Today was a little different and I felt I should write about it, while it is fresh on my mind.
  In my walks about town here, I often find myself along Minor Lane.  Most of the land and homes here have been sold to the airport and/or UPS.  The main hub for UPS, is right here in Kentucky and apparently not big enough, yet!
  A few of the more resistant folk have kept their homes and businesses, despite the offers.  The house I am staying in and fixing up is one of them.  So is the Baptist Church, just down the road.
  I've walked by it, several times.  I always wonder about it each time I pass.  It always looks empty, though not dilapidated.  Just unused, perhaps.
  I saw it again on Friday while passing by and I took note of the hours, displayed on the paint chipped sign:

New Hope

Baptist Church

Sunday

Bible Study  10:00 a.m.

Morning Service  11:00 a.m.

Evening Service  5:00 p.m.

Wednesday

Evening Service  7:00 p.m.

  On Saturday, while finishing up work for the day and making small talk with Mike, I mentioned that maybe I would go there on Sunday and asked him if he knew anything about it.

  "Well, no.  I'm not even sure if they are still open."

  "Maybe I'll go find out."  I said.

  Sunday rolled around today and I sanded some of the drywall spots, ate a couple bananas, took a shower and put on my cleanest clothes.  At 10:45 I left and arrived at the nearby church at 10:55.

  I wasn't sure if they were open, or not.  I saw one car leave as I started down the driveway and suspected the two remaining cars to just be parked there for other reasons.  A sign on the small building out front declared "No Trespassing."  I hoped they would forgive my "Trespasses."

  I walked to the front of the fair sized church and the door was ajar.  I opened it and stepped into a small vestibule and could see into the larger sanctuary, where there were enough pews to seat perhaps about a hundred sinners.  The Pastor was speaking, finishing up the Bible study and upon seeing the door open, with me now inside, he said "My goodness....."

  There were four other people inside, seated in the pews and they all turned to look at me.  Me with my beaming face, although I didn't know what to think of the situation.  "Well maybe a bunch of others are about to show up."  I hoped.

  Two ladies sat in the middle on the right side and two men sat in the very front rows, one on each side.  I found my place in the second row, directly behind the man on the left.

  The Bible study ended shortly and all three men rose and now stood in the front, beginning to sing from the very old Hymnals.  I followed in the book, the melodies I vaguely still remembered, though I didn't sing.  The words were a comfort, though.

  Other than the lack of people in attendance, there seemed to be something missing.  I didn't know what but it was inescapably noticeable.

  The pastor started his sermon.  The man on the right, in the front seemed like he was almost folded in half.  I thought maybe he was looking down into his Bible but he seemed almost troubled, like he was bent in grief or some other inner pain.

  The bent over man preached over the pastor.  It was rather irritating.  The pastor had to remind him several times "I'm The Preacher!"

  Prayer requests were asked for and given up.  I noticed as I have in most churches that people didn't really pay attention to what they were saying.  Amens were flung out like beads at Mardi-Gras.

  The pastor asked for a multitude of Amens.  Often inappropriately.

  "Sister so-and-so just found out that she has cancer!  Amen?"

  All the people said "Amen."

   "Think about what you are saying!"  I prayed.

   "Amen" as closely as it can be translated, means "Let it be so!"
  It seemed to me, they were wishing cancer upon a lady who just found out she has cancer!

  Some people chose their church on the basis of comfort.  They never get shaken by anything.  Never learn or grow.  Never question anything said by the pastor, or whatever his "Holy title" may be.

  They follow the leader.

  The Bible quite clearly teaches us otherwise.  The Bible teaches us to question everything!

1 John 4:1King James Version (KJV)

4 Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world.

  Now please don't get me wrong.  I'm not saying this man is a false teacher.  Quite the contrary!

  I think that the situation of the church has made him rather mechanical, in his preaching.

  I also think his message changed, from the moment he saw me.  It became rather obvious, as in most churches, that he didn't think of me as a redeemed sinner but as a sinner in dire need of salvation.  He seemed to adapt his message towards his belief that my soul was balanced on the brink of hell.  

  Well this was part of my plan, from the beginning of my journey.  This is why I grew my hair longer than ever and cast away my razor.  I told several friends of this muse.  I knew it would be easy to spot those who judge the outside, instead of taking a moment to look inside.  So many pastors try to teach on this and fail miserably.  "Don't judge a book by it's cover." they say.  I'm sure it fills the coffers.  Well I throw this right back at you; "The proof is in the pudding!" and "Practice what you preach!"

  Okay.  Enough of my preaching.

  The hellfire directed toward me finally wound to a close and the alter call for my redemption, went unheeded but I stood at the end and thanked everyone for allowing me to fellowship with them and that I enjoyed hearing the sermon.

  After the service I "mingled" with the other five and some ideas came into my head.  I asked the pastor if they had any AA Meetings at the church.  He said "No, nothing like that."

  I asked other questions and had other "ideas."

  I was ready to go outside, for some sun and I said as I was leaving "I'll see you tonight, at the evening service!"

  "No," started the pastor "we don't have that, anymore.  We don't have enough attendance."

  The bent over man talked to me for a bit.  He asked where I was going.

  "I think I'll go to Wal-Mart.  As much as I don't like it, I think it's my best bet for some decent food."

  "Yes, it probably is." he agreed.  "I'll give you a ride!"

  He still seemed troubled by something and very distracted by it.
  We walked outside and I followed him to a very beat up red car.  The car didn't seem to fit him, with the nice suit he was wearing.  The car could have used some duct tape.
  We both got in and he said:  "This is my baby, I won't get rid of her.  She has 292,000 miles on her and she's still going!"
  "She's faithful!" I quipped.
  He opened the glove compartment and the look of dismay returned.
  "That daughter of mine!  She borrowed my bank card because she needed $20.00 for medicine and hasn't returned it!"  He had a very loud voice.  It sounded great while he was singing but not so great, in his anger.
  He yelled a lot.  There was no swearing involved but it wasn't needed.
  He got the car going and despite the shaking and rattling, we rolled out of the parking lot.
  He said several times: "That's a long walk back; are you sure you want to go?"
  "Oh, yes.  It's not that bad; I walked to Thornton's, the other day."
  I shouldn't have said that!  He turned in a direction I didn't expect.  "Oh, no!"  I thought.  "Well, maybe he just knows a better route."
  At the suspicious turn, we noticed a bad accident.  A white car with the front very smashed in and totaled, had one person standing next to it.  A red car closer to us, had two people still in it.  Two police cars were on the scene.
  He started in about how people don't pay attention, anymore.  He seemed to link it to their sinful nature and haste, all the time in his yelling voice.  I felt very uncomfortable.  I just wished I had walked.
  Within a half a mile, we passed another accident, this time a white truck and a white suburban were on the grassy median.
  He started in on them.  He went back to the grief about his daughter. " She's going to wreck everything with my fiancee, I just know it!"
  The man appeared in his seventies.  I just had to ask:  "You have a fiancee?"
  "Yes."  Is all he said.
  He drove far in the wrong direction.  Miles, in fact.
  We soon came to a Thornton's convenience store and he said again: "Are you sure you really want to walk this far?"
  I was at a loss for words.  There was no way I was going to correct him.  I just wanted out!
  "Yes, this is fine.  I appreciate it, thank you!"
  He finally pulled over to let me out.
  He said more madness about his daughter, who's name I now knew to be Vicky.
  I realized I didn't know his name.  I had to try to help, though.
  "Sir, could you call her?  Would you like to use my phone?"
  "That would be great!"
  He had trouble with the gadget and I helped him, as much as I could.  He had three different numbers for his daughter and tried them all.  He yelled into the phone at her, each time.  At least one of the times he was yelling at a recorded message, from the phone company.
  He seemed sweaty and shaky.  I waited for his marbles to start falling.  I was shaking myself, I think.
  "I may as well take you to Wal-Mart." he said out of the blue.
  I was very confused!  I just said, "Oh, that would be great."
  Off we went and I thought desperately about a different subject.
  "Have you folks at the church ever thought about allowing an A.A. meeting at the church?"
  "No.  We just have the Wednesday service."
  "Oh, sure.  It just occurred to me earlier that you need more members in your church and that right across the road is a huge trailer park, that I hear has a lot of problems of it's own, with addiction troubles and such."
  I saw a light go on, in his eyes.  He actually looked at me for the first time.
  It was fleeting but God was moving.
  He went back to the daughter dilemma.
  "Maybe you'd like to use my phone again, when we get to Wal-Mart."
  We soon arrived.  "Thank you, Lord."  I thought.
  We did the phone thing, again.
  Upon calling the third number, Vicky answered!
  It was a cacophony of "WHO? WHERE? WHEN? WHAT? WHY?"
  I could hear Vicky answering in a trembling, seemingly young voice.
  I heard several times "I DIDN'T SEE YOU IN THAT CAR!"
  I never heard a soft, fatherly word.
  The call ended and he handed me back the phone.
  He buried his face in his large hand.
  "That was my daughter in that red car." he said.
  I didn't get what he was talking about.  All I was thinking about now, was my own self.  "It was?"
  "Yes.  She was in the red car."  It was the softest I had heard him speak.
  "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean."  I apologized.
  "That accident."  he said.  "She was in the red car."
  "Oh, Lord!  Is she okay?"
  "Maybe broken ribs."  is all he could say.
  He looked at me with tears in his eyes, now.
  "Would you like to pray, together?" I hoped he would.
  "Yes."  He cried.
  We prayed.  Mostly him but I got a little in sideways.
  He seemed better.
  I reminded him about what the Lord said:

Matthew 18:20King James Version (KJV)

20 For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.

  We said hurried good byes, yet he had to ask, one more time, "Are you sure you want to walk back, that far?"

   "No problem, Sir.  Go take care of your daughter."

   "I will, and don't forget about Wednesday evening!"

   He zoomed away. The car seemed to rattle a little less and I seemed to finally be accepted by him.

  I won't write much about yesterday.  I think most of you know that I was at McDonald's most of the day, working on the blog contraption.
  I returned to camp just before six and very hungry.  I just drank coffee all day and secretly ate from a bag of trail-mix, concealed in my backpack.  I wasn't feeling all too Big Macky, this day, or "up to par," mentally or spiritually.  It happens.
  I started to make a sandwich with the rest of the summer sausage and received a text from Vera that the package I mailed to lighten my load, had arrived.  It sounded as though it must have been opened, as I had hoped, because Jeffrey was having a field day with some of the items!
  I texted back that I now had minutes on my Obama phone and would call soon, after I ate and warmed my hands, so as to be able to dial.
  Vera and I talked first and for quite a while, her updating me on Jeffrey new skills on his bicycle!  Dad's love to hear that sort of thing, especially when they feel kinda down.  It was a great conversation and an encouraging one.
  Then I got Jeffrey.  The entire call was 50 minutes and not a bit of it was wasted!
  He seemed most interested in the package that had arrived.  He said he saw it and thought it was something from Amazon and opened it!  He scattered the items out and true to Jeffrey style, was most interested in the books and the machete.
  We ended the conversation, shorter than either of us wanted.
  "Well, I hate to but I better let you go, so I'll have minutes to call you again.  I love you!"
  "More, dad.  I love you more!"
  "Impossible!  I love you most!"
  "No dad.  I love you more!"
  "Okay, bye.  I love you."
  "More, dad!  Bye!"
  I finally heard the click, dad's hate, after several more "Mores!"
  I felt good, then.  I felt GREAT.  I felt wonderful.
  Everything felt warm, now.  Inside and out.
  I wasn't sure what to do, then.  It was dark but early, still.  I thought maybe I would just pray and try to sleep and if I couldn't, I thought maybe I would go back for wifi.
  Some of you may remember, when I first camped in this spot, about three weeks ago, a couple of men showed up the first morning and checked me out, as their business "next door" had been broken into and several thousand dollars worth of tools taken.  I often wondered what had become of that mess and while walking around the woods, I always had a mind to look for clues or evidence.  I was always careful not to walk too close to the business "next door" while walking and be suspect, or have my picture taken by their security cameras.
  Just to stall sleeping too early,  I walked about thirty feet behind my camp and into the field, where the big ditch is, to look for deer.  I didn't see any but thought I heard that cute little laugh that raccoon's make.  I walked along the ditch for a couple hundred feet and returned to camp, crawling into the sleeping bag.
  I said my prayers and then had a long conversation with The Lord, which are also prayers.
  I didn't understand my situation and that's okay, that's what prayer is all about, sometimes.
  It's not that my faith was lacking or any of that.  I just felt like I was being blocked by something.  I couldn't help but wonder if I had missed something.  Something I had failed to do, or failed to see, perhaps.  I just didn't know.
  I had been told of work, here and there.  It would be hard to get those regular jobs, living as I was and leaving my gear alone in the woods, was undesirable.
  I made a plan as much as I could.  I kept it simple, as I should.  If God wanted to change it, I knew He would.
  I planned to get up early and while it was rainy, I would walk the three miles to the store for water and food that were getting low.  I thought I would apply to the t-shirt company I had heard about and stop at a mulching place I had walked by a few times.  I know my mulch, after all.  If none of this produced fruit,  I would hitch-hike while it cleared up, then on Wednesday also and if that failed I would seek refuge under the nearby bridge while it rained and hop on a freight train, as it passed under.
  I was completely willing for God to change any, or all of this.  It was all okay to me but I prayed hard that He would lead me in some sort of direction, any direction.  The waiting was getting difficult, as important as it is.
  AMEN!
  I slept well, only waking a couple of times, as the airport jets passed over.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

  I awoke around eight and had the usual two cups of, you guessed it, cold coffee.  After the first, I already felt mysteriously good.  In fact I felt suspiciously good....

  I did some other morning things and donning my sweet, new rain-jacket, I headed off for the mulching place.  It was two places past where the tools had been stolen.

  I walked into the yard, the sign read "Ken-Mulch."  I saw many of my favorite toys.  Loader, backhoe and dump trucks, among others.  There were different bins of landscaping stones and an intriguing  pole barn with various plants, hanging around and others just sitting there.

  At the glass door, I could see two ladies inside, suddenly aware of my entrance, as I pushed it open.

  They greeted me sweetly and with seeming curiosity, or maybe that was just my perception.

  I didn't really know how to start the conversation but I didn't need to.

  They smilingly said "Hello, may we help you?"

  The woman seated behind the desk was a beautiful lady, perhaps around 70, with that "twinkle" that only comes from having seen everything and still loving life.

  The woman standing behind the other desk was also lovely, perhaps a little older than me and possessing the same "twinkle."

  "Well this may seem like an odd question.  I'm travelling from Maine, down to Florida and I was hoping to find a day, or two, or even more of work to help me out.  I can run equipment, if you need but really you can give me any sort of work that you'd rather not do and I'll be grateful to do it."

  They introduced themselves and the younger of the two, Tama, asked "What part of Maine, are you from?"

  "A little south of Augusta, in a town named Gardiner"

  "Oh, I don't know that one but I've been to Lewiston."

  A short side conversation ensued about Lewiston and not a bad one, as you may suspect.

  "Well, where you going in Florida?" she asked.

  "A little east of Jacksonville, is a place called Amelia Island and my son lives there, with his mother."

  "Oh, yes.  We know it."

  "Really?  You know of it?"  I didn't think it was very well known.

  "Oh, yes.  We live down there, sometimes."

  A short side conversation started about "The Island" and it was a good one, as you would suspect.

  They shortly turned the conversation back to the question at hand, work.

  "I really wasn't sure about work around here, I've heard there is a lot but I'm actually camped in the woods, down the road.  I'm on my way to Wal-Mart for some food and I just left it all up to God this morning in my prayer,s that I may find something."  I shyly confessed.

  "Did you say that your camped in the woods?"

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "Well, we looked for you one day and you were gone." the older lady, Mary Lou, stunned me with.

  "You looked for me?  I don't understand."

  "Yes, we wanted to take you to lunch.  My boys met you camped there, after their tools were stolen."  The twinkle seemed much brighter!

  The younger lady came close to me  "We are Christians too, and we believe The Lord brought you here for a reason."

  "Do you think we could use this man to rip out all that carpet at the house?"  she asked Mary Lou.

  "Oh,that's a great idea!" said twinkle eyes.

  "That's just the sort of work, I was hoping for!"

  "Well, the boys are out now, running some errands and then getting some lunch.  Would you rather have Wendy's, instead of going to Wal-Mart?"

  "Oh, yes.  Any day!"

  "We have some pie for dessert, too" she motioned to three pies, on the counter.

  The "boys" showed up with bags of food and we all dug in.

  I became re-acquainted with "the boys," Mike and Ross, or as Ross would have me say, Ross and Mike.

  Soon, Ross and Tama, brought me to the job and gave me a razor knife and instructed me how to do the job, cutting strips of carpet and putting it into trash bags, informing me that they would have a dumpster arrive the next morning and that they would be back, soon.  I got to work and they left, saying they would return, soon.

  I was determined to have it done before they returned.  I wanted them to know I am a hard worker and they could trust me, alone.

  I shredded that floor up!  I was a whirlwind of joy and I had remind myself to be mindful of the windmilling new razor!

  After a couple of hours, the younger lady returned and I wasn't done but I thought they would be happy with all the progress.  Ross was elsewhere but another man was with her and she introduced him as a landlord.  He gave me a book to read, by Robert Schuller, called "Tough Times Never Last, but Tough People Do."

  She called Ross and told him that I am a great worker and that I had done far more than expected, as I had swept the rooms, after tearing the carpet out.  I was happy, that they were happy.

  We talked about some various things and I mentioned that I had looked in the shed, out back for a trash barrel to help with debris.

  "You know, I don't see any reason you couldn't clean that shed out and sleep in there.  Just don't tell anybody.  You wouldn't be hurting anything and it has to be better than sleeping in the woods!"

  I contemplated it.  She was right.  I still planned to sleep in my spot but maybe the next day, if there was work......

  They soon left and said they'd be back soon.

  The middle room was the living room.  The carpet needed to come out of it, also.  The new carpet rolls were sitting in the middle of it, on pallets.  It was a 2 man job.  They were large and heavy.  I wasn't sure I could do it but I was determined.

  I wrestled out the pallets and placed them in the kitchen, where there was a linoleum floor.  I struggled with the rolls and got most of them in place.  The second to last was very heavy and I had to lift it up higher to get it in place.  It really strained me and then the last one was even heavier.  I got half of it on and lifted the back end higher, so it was bending.  I kicked it, shoved it, sweated on it, probably cussed and prayed it into place but I got it.  I felt the old familiar tugging of my hernia, repaired years ago, but reminding me, with a groan, that I may not have heard the last of him.

  I went back to my windmill approach and as I was finishing the last room Ross and Mike, or as Mike would have me say, Mike and Ross returned.

  They walked in and the first thing Mike said was "How in the world did you move those rolls of carpet?"

  I kinda chuckled and just said "Well, God had the heavy end, I think!"

  He laughed, repeating what I had said.

  We talked and did some small stuff.  They made a list of things I would need for the next days work.

  "The next days work?" I thought to myself.  "It sounds like I'll be back!"

  They eventually went off to Home Depot, for the items needed and I began working on pulling up all the carpet tack strips.

  Perhaps an hour went by and Ross returned with "Twinkle Eyes."

  She brought me half a cheesecake, some apples and some candy bars, placing them on the counter and then set down a 20 dollar bill, beside it.

  "Now, that's not for your wages today, that's just for your meals."

  I was overwhelmed.  It would have been easy to cry, right then.  I didn't but I had to tell her "Ma'am you folks have so blessed me!"

  "You have blessed us, Jeff!"

  Her eyes twinkled even more.

  Ross said "Jeff, we think you should stay here, tonight."

  "You mean inside, here?"

  "Absolutely.  Here's the key."

  "Well.  Thank you.  Is it okay to pick up my camp and bring my pack back?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Do you think it would be okay for me to go eat at McDonald's.  I'd really like to write about this day."

  "Absolutely.  Do whatever you'd like and we'll see you in the morning!  You seem mechanically inclined, so if you'd like you could get the hot water heater going and have hot water."

  "I will gratefully do that, Sir!"

  They left with good-byes and soon after I ate a couple of apples and thanked the Good Lord, for putting me on the right track.

  So you see why I must be going.  I really want a shower!

  And you see why, although I so appreciate all the offers of money, from many different people to "Take a bus and go, man, go!"  If I had taken that advice and the offers, I would not have had this Godly experience.  I would be somewhere else, wondering what I was doing there, floundering in the flesh.

  I really must go, now.  Well, maybe one more coffee.....

Saturday Nov. 29, 2014

  Woke up with the threat of rain and after downing a couple of cold instant coffees, I decided not to fight what looked like and was forecast for the day.  Instead of hitch-hiking I ran(or walked) some errands around town, including a side trip to Circle K for a coffee offered from a new friend, Rhonda.

  I found the above shack in the woods and although it would have made great, temporary housing, it was filled knee high with trash!

  I did some exploring in the woods, had my promised coffee and did some shopping at Save aLot and Dollar General.

  I bought mostly food but I was hoping to clean up my appearance, in hopes that I would have better luck getting a ride, so I looked in both places for some good smelling spray and some type of dye for my beard, which I planned to either use or just shave the whole thing off, to get rid of the gray.

  There appeared to be only black for color and I didn't think this would look very natural, with my blonde hair.

  I left to return to my camp, weighed down with Monosodium Glutimate saturated food with a side of sodium nitrate infused, summer sausage.  It seemed to be the only fare these two places vended.  I also bought two gallons of water, one to drink and one for my planned make-over.

  It was a heavy load in my small pack.  It seemed more painful to carry than my large pack!

  A couple miles found me back at camp.  On the whole trip, it had only sprinkled, briefly.

  The weather forecast for Sunday was to be rain but in the 60's!  I decided it would be a great day for my beauty enhancement and took the time to set up a proper camp.

  I set the tarp up, over a rope I strung between two sturdy trees and even whittled eight stakes to secure it to the ground.  I unpacked and readied everything in it's place so that I didn't have to do it in the dark, after my planned walk to McDonald's for coffee and wifi.  I wanted to catch up with the goings on, back home.

  I took a good deal of time, eating the garbage, I had purchased.

  Finishing about dark, as I had planned, I found it easy to slip from the woods, to the road without being seen and was soon seated at McDonald's, with the usual crew, who had become quite used to me, by now.  Even some of the customers knew me by name!

  I tried to write but I was soon feeling quite ill.  Small noises were horribly loud and seemed to cause physical pain.  I felt bad in ways I can't explain.  I hadn't felt like this in a long time and I knew that my overindulgence with all the protein I amassed through Thanksgiving, was causing me to have a Porphyria attack.  The only cure was a good sleep!

  Instead of the sleep I needed, I put off writing and just perused what others were up to on facebook.

  I exchanged personal messages with a few and enjoyed to on-goings of my son, Jeffrey.

  Several cups of coffee, kept me going but alas, I finally caved in and after wringing out my laundry, rinsing it twice, re-wringing and draping over the tarp rope, I went to sleep around 10 p.m.

Sunday Nov 30, 2014

  This morning greeted me with clear blue sky and much waited for warmth!  The forecast was for 40% rain, so I made my usual cold coffee and started getting ready for my anticipated makeover.

  I checked the laundry and turned it over to finish drying, cut the bottom off a half gallon milk container, to use as my sink and put some water in it.

  I found my scissors and started whacking my bushy face and alternated with the razor, until it was smooth.  I didn't like the thought of it but once I started, there was no turning back!  I planned to shave all but the goatee and decide whether or not to keep it, gray as it was.

  My mind began to wander, as I did the deed.

  I thought of some gray, bearded folk, I had seen in the past.  Specifically the ones who chewed tobacco....

  I remembered that the constant spitting required of them, resulted in it often running down their chin whiskers and it would leave permanent streaks of brown, which looked rather natural.  I didn't have or use chewing tobacco but I certainly had regular tobacco!  I decided when I got down to just the proposed goatee, I would mix a concoction of tobacco and water, to dye it!  I remembered also, that I could use black walnut to make a dye but that it would be more trouble.

  I kept chopping and shaving.  I took a big swig of coffee and had another brilliant idea!

  Who hasn't spilled coffee on something and had it permanently leave an un-washable stain?

  It seemed crazy but most of my ideas start that way!  It just may work and I thought I'd give it a try.

  So, down to the part I wanted to save, I mixed a generous quantity of instant coffee, with just enough water to turn it into a thick paste and using my toothbrush, began applying it.

  In lieu of finding some "Just for Men" hair dye the previous day, I had invented "Just for Idiots!"

  I let it soak in for a good half an hour while I gloated on my brilliance, all the while struggling to keep it off of my new sweater.

  Suddenly, with all the coffee I had consumed, I needed to find a tree!  I failed to clean my hands before doing so and discovered it turned other things brown, also!

  So now I had also invented "Just for Idiot Men" tanning solution.  Coffee flavored......

  Finally, I washed the mess off and it was indeed a couple of shades darker.  I thought a few more morning applications would result in the desired, youthful look but I wasn't sure if I was willing to go through all that, again.

  

  I then went to McDonald's and tried my attempt at started a blog of my adventures.  I had trouble from the very beginning.  I believe I was hacked!  Fortunately I was able to save what I had managed to write.  It seemed like it may be a very slow connection but what led me to think of the hacking, was that my anti-virus had been turned off and not by me.

  I am going to post this, to share and see if I like it or not but I have to get my anti-virus up and working again.

 

Talk to ya later!