Nathaniel called me at the motel.
“Dad, do we still have a dinner date?”
“I’m looking forward to it. What time?”
“How about six o’clock?”
“That’s fine with me.”
“I’ll pick you up at your motel.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
In the hour remaining I carried as much to
the car as I could. I also tried to straighten it out. I had washed all my
dirty clothes and had them in a plastic bag. This evening I would do ironing
while watching television.
Over dinner Nathaniel told me that he had
proposed to Joy and had put his Mom’s engagement ring on her finger.
“Thanks for saving her ring for me, Dad.”
He went on to tell me that they planned to be
married on January 1 and go on a honeymoon for four days after the wedding.
“Well, son, a lot of people would think it
strange to be getting married when you will only see each other once a month,
if then. It doesn’t matter what a lot of people would say if that is what the
two of you have agreed. You are getting a wonderful wife and she is getting a
fine man. I will pray that the Lord will bless you with happiness.”
We finished our supper, shook hands, then
hugged.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, son. God bless you.”
The next morning I started the long hard
drive to Laramie, Wyoming. As I drove I saw different colors of sandy soil,
rocks, and mountains. I don’t think that I saw anything green unless it was
painted that color. My first overnight stop was Las Vegas, New Mexico.
Las Vega, New Mexico looks impressive from
the distance, but it is a typical Western small town. I stayed at the Plaza
Hotel. It looked like it came from a Western movie. However, the room and bed
clothes were clean. I found a restaurant, ate supper, went back to my room,
took a shower, and went to bed.
The next morning I left without eating
breakfast. I found a McDonald’s, went to the drive-thru and bought a sausage
biscuit with egg, an orange juice, and a black coffee. I ate my breakfast while
driving north on I-25. After driving for an hour or so, I heard a loud BANG and
the rear end of the car started going sideways. I slowed down without braking.
I realized that the car could have spun around in the road or even turned over.
When I got the car stopped and on the side of the road, I got out to inspect
the damage. The right rear tire had blown out. I opened the trunk and started
putting everything on the side of the road so that I could get to the spare
tire and jack. We were on a bit of an incline. I found some rocks to put behind
the other wheels to keep the car from rolling backward.
I jacked up the car. Before the wheel was off
the road, I loosened the lug nuts. Then I jacked it high enough to remove the
blown out tire. I removed it, put on the spare tire, tightened the lug nuts on
it, and lowered the car. I put the jack and the blown out tire in the wheel
well and then repacked the trunk. I noticed that the spare tire was low on air.
Not far up the Interstate I came to Raton, New Mexico. After a few inquiries I
found a garage that sold tires.
I told Ray, the mechanic and owner that I had
a blowout on the Interstate; I put the spare on but I didn’t think it was very
good. I wanted to buy two tires for the rear.
“What kind of tires do you want?”
“Just like the ones that are on there. I
don’t care what brand.”
“Where are you going? It looks like you are
packed to stay someplace for a while.”
“I’m on my way to Wolf Point, Montana. I have
a son who lives there. I wanted to spend Christmas with him and his family
which includes two of my grandchildren.”
“May I make a suggestion, sir?”
“Certainly, by all means do so.”
“You should put snow tires on the back wheels
at least. Snow tires on all four wheels is best. At least put them on the rear
wheels. I would be surprised if you make it all the way there without
encountering snow. We don’t always have a white Christmas, but I’m sure that
they always do.”
“That is a very good suggestion. Thank you.
Put snow tires on the rear wheels. I’ll have to unpack the trunk. The wheel
with the blown tire is in the trunk. Don’t put the old spare back in there, Put
the other rear tire in the trunk as a spare.”
“I’m glad that you are a person who can take
advice. Now if you will walk out that door and turn right there is a café two
blocks down the street. Get one of the plate specials. If you are lucky, they
may still have some blackberry pie. By the time you finish your lunch and walk
back here, I’ll have your car ready to go.”
I followed Ray’s advice a second time. The
food was good, the other customers and the waitress were friendly. I ate
leisurely and enjoyed my meal.
True to his word Ray had my car ready and had
even packed my luggage back into the trunk. I thanked him. When I paid the bill
I gave him $20 extra. I told him it was not only for doing a good job but for
the good advice he gave me.
Out on the highway and onto the Interstate I
was surprised at first at the noise the snow tires were making. It was like a
circular saw. I still had over 300 miles to go to Cheyenne. There were two big
cities, Colorado Springs and Denver before Cheyenne. I hadn’t realized how much
they would slow me down. There were not only cities to slow me down, but
mountains. I thought when I left Raton that it would be about 8 p.m. when I
reached Cheyenne. As it was I didn’t reach the Hampton Inn in Cheyenne, Wyoming
until almost 11 p.m. When I entered my room, I took off my coat, went to the
bathroom and washed my hands and brushed my teeth. I took off my clothes and
shoes, crawled under the covers and fell asleep.
The next day I slept until after 9 a.m. I
dressed, went down to breakfast, and made a waffle which I covered with fruit
salad and yogurt. I drank two cups of robust coffee and a glass of orange
juice.
Returning to my room, I shaved, freshened up,
and went back to the Lobby. I asked the desk clerk where the department stores
were located. He showed me on a street map of Cheyenne.
There were several department stores in the
center of the city. I looked for a doll and a snow board first. I didn’t want
just any doll. It had to be special. Finally, I found a beautiful doll about
eighteen inches tall. The skin was soft, the hair felt real, and it had a
pretty dress and shoes.
The snow board was another matter. I looked
in several stores until I found a salesman who knew what he was talking about.
He asked me how tall Billy is, is this his first snowboard, and a set of
intelligent questions. Finally, he pointed to three snowboards.
“Any one of these three snowboards will be
all right for a beginner in snowboarding. I would suggest this one. That one is
cheaper, but it isn’t made well. The other one is the most expensive, but you
are paying for a fancy design and an endorsement by someone your grandson
probably never heard of. This middle one is Plain Jane but well made.”
“Thank you. That is the one I’ll take.”
Since I had a doll in my arms, he carried the
snow board out to the car for me. I’m glad no one is riding in the passenger
seat because it extended from the back seat into the front passenger seat.
I locked the car and went back into the store
to get a present for Philip and Molly. I looked around and finally bought
Philip a pair of fur lined gloves. I bought Molly a kitchen apron with matching
oven mitts.
By then it was lunch time. I saw a Subway
shop. I bought a twelve inch sub, ate half of it for lunch and took the other
half back to the motel to eat for supper.
I was running out of money so I went to an
ATM machine. The limit was $300/day. I made a note to myself to go to an ATM
machine tomorrow and get another $300.
I called Joe Sheetz and told him about my
conversations with the executive presbyters of Tres Rios and Wyoming
Presbyteries. I told him that I was supplying the pulpit in a vacant church in
Laramie, Wyoming this Sunday and having lunch afterward with the executive
presbyter of Wyoming Presbytery.
“I had a call from the executive presbyter of
Glacier Presbytery in Montana. Apparently the church in Wolf Point, Montana
asked him if they could have you supply their pulpit while you are visiting
your son.”
“Philip told me that they were going to ask
me to preach. I guess that is good that they asked their Presbytery’s
permission first.”
“How are you doing, Joshua.”
“All right, I guess. Tuesday my youngest son
got engaged. Wednesday I had a blow out on the Interstate. I haven’t had any
feelings of depression – not yet at least. With two major losses – my wife and
then the church – I ought to be plummeting into depression. Maybe I have
escaped it.”
“Just don’t let it sneak up and capture you
from behind.”
“Thank you for listening. You are a good
friend, Joe.”
“You are a good friend and a good pastor.
Call me again when you have news or when you need to talk to someone.”
“Thank you and goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Joshua.”
The next day I slept late, had a leisurely
breakfast, and read the morning paper before checking out. I drove to Laramie, and
had lunch in an intriguing café called “The Soup Kitchen”. All they served were
soups and what goes with it – bread sticks, crackers, and croutons. On a chalk
board was a list of the soups for that day. One was scratched out. It was sold
out.
I ordered tomato and basil soup. It was
really delicious. There were basil leaves in the soup. When the waitress
brought the soup, she also brought warm bread rolls, butter, and cheese on a
wooden board with a cheese cutter. That day’s lunch was a delightful feast in
an unexpected place.
I walked around Laramie for a while, looked
for the Presbyterian Church, and then checked into the Hampton Inn. When I went
to my room there was a surprise waiting for me. The church had sent me a fruit
basket. Someone had cut the pictures of the members from a church directory,
and had decoupaged them onto the basket and its handle. I smiled at the
creativity of my unknown benefactor.
I decided right then that I would preach on
“The Fruit of the Spirit” the next day. I set down my bag and got to work on
the sermon right away. I didn’t stop for supper, though I did eat several
pieces of fruit from the basket. About ten o’clock I had the sermon written out
in pen on odd pieces of paper. I went down to the Lobby to the office equipment
they have for use by guests. I typed and printed the sermon and took it back to
my room. I took out my suit, white
shirt, and tie to see if any of them needed touching up.
The next day I went to the Presbyterian
Church a half hour before worship. There was a man waiting for me. His face was
leathery and wrinkled. His grip was firm and his hands rough and calloused. He
was wearing a nice suit and tie, but looked out of place in them.
“Reverend Sterner?”
“Yes, sir, that is me.”
“I’m Calvin Willoughby. I’ll be your lay reader
today. How do you like Wyoming so far? I understand that you are an Arkansan.”
“I’m not an Arkansan, though I have just come
from serving as pastor of a church there for ten years. Show m to the Study and
I’ll tell you about the first time that I came to Wyoming over thirty years
ago.”
In the Study I told him about riding a bus
across country while I was in the Air Force and my experience in a steak house
in Cheyenne, Wyoming.
“So you were an enlisted man in the service,
not a chaplain?”
“Yes, I was an enlisted man. That is how I
was able to get a college education. When I came out of the service, I went to
seminary on the G.I. Bill.”
“Say, you are an all right guy. Preacher.
Here is a copy of the bulletin. I’ve put a check mark beside the parts you will
do, and an ex by the parts that I will do. Be sure to thank the choir after
their number and thank the organist before you start preaching. The choir
director’s and the organist’s names are in the bulletin. At announcements time
call on Mrs. Definbaugh. She is the Clerk of Session.”
“Thank you, Calvin. I’ve never had anyone
prepare me so well when I was in a strange church, God bless you.”
Calvin reinforced my initial impression of
Wyoming people many years previously. I thought of the salesman who had helped
me buy the correct snow board for Billy and the Soup Kitchen. I silently
thanked God for the kind people He had sent to be here for me.
The service went very well. Despite his gruff
appearance, Calvin had obviously prepared for his parts in leading the service.
When he introduced me, it was obvious that I had made a good impression on him.
Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought that Calvin and I were old
friends from way back. When I started my sermon I acknowledged that it had been
inspired by a fruit basket that had been waiting for me in my hotel room. I
described the creative way in which the basket was decorated with the pictures
of the people to whom I was now preaching. I also noted that I was eating some
pieces of the fruit while I was writing the sermon. After the service, Calvin
escorted me to the narthex while the organist was playing the postlude. Before
he left me, he said,
“Preacher, you hit a home run, today.”
I smiled, pointing at him, and said, “I had a
good batting coach.”
The congregation was filing out, shaking my
hand, and complimenting my sermon. A young, alert, and wiry man dressed in a
sport coat, blue jeans, white shirt, gambler’s string tie, and cowboy boots
said,
“We talked on the phone about ten days ago.
I’m Rex Nolan. I’ll wait for you out on the sidewalk. When you are ready we can
go rustle up some grub.”
That was the executive presbyter! The last
person to leave was a Mr. Frisby.
“Reverend Sterner, I’m Frank Frisby, the
church treasurer. Here is a token of our appreciation. We also have paid your
motel bill. Thank you for coming to us today.”
“That is very gracious and considerate for
the church to pay my motel bill and give me an honorarium besides.”
“I think we got our money’s worth.”
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