Wally, My Pastor for Almost 25 Years
Wally, my dear husband, who has helped me to experience in the flesh what it means for a husband to love his bride like Christ loves the church, faithfully pastored God’s people at First Presbyterian Church in Dyersburg, TN for 18 years, loving and being loved by them.
After having fired the pastor six months before calling Wally, and all the pain and heartbreak that went with that, they needed a tender shepherd who would provide stability and peace.
Wally consistently fed the flock a solid and steady diet from His Word that helped all of us to see how desperately we need Jesus, more than any of us tend to realize.
I know that I am not alone when I say I came to know and love and cherish Jesus more and more dearly as Sunday after Sunday, Wally pointed me to how Jesus has satisfied my every need.
We saw people grow in their walk with the Lord. I can’t count the number of people who shared about how they started reading their Bibles because of Wally’s encouragement.
We saw people love the Lord and each other. We saw them live out their faith, quietly serving one another behind the scenes, meeting needs. We saw marriages restored. We saw people come to know Christ and seek to honor Him in their relationships at home, work, church, and the community.
We have walked through life with these sweet people, through births and marriages and the valley of the shadow of death, mourning with those who mourn and rejoicing with those who rejoice, always finding God to be faithful and delighting to see how He grows His people.
And they wept and rejoiced with us as well.
This church was our family for 18 years.
Our children were 1,2, 4, and 6 when we moved to Dyersburg.
Our daughter had married in this church just a year and a half before our departure, and was blessed by so many ladies both in our church and community with help for the wedding and showers and gifts and you name it.
Every time our kids were in the Dyersburg State Gazette, multiple people brought copies to me at church, and someone always put it on the bulletin board.
When my aunt was dying of cancer, they faithfully prayed for her. They texted me and checked on me while we traveled.
When my grandparents passed away, they prayed for us and sent flowers, and especially for Wally as he preached at my Papaw’s funeral.
They have loved us well. They have been what the church is supposed to be, not only to us, but to each other and to their community.
Killing the Church? Or Being Killed?
Pastoring, like mothering, is hard.
When your kids are small, and all you see day after day after day is dirty diapers and dirty faces and dirty clothes, and it seems like you spend all your time cleaning, and you wonder what you actually accomplished, it can feel like you’re spinning your wheels. Will you ever see the fruit of your labor?
And in a small church in a small community, it can be difficult to keep your focus—to keep your vision—to believe that you’re really accomplishing what God wants for you. You can wonder if the church is making any progress, or like a car in a mud hole, if you’ve got your foot on the gas and just going deeper in the ground.
And in spite of the many ways I and countless others expressed our gratitude and appreciation for Wally’s shepherding us, this dear man has been haunted for almost 30 years as he took to heart the seminary counselor’s interpretation of a personality test when she told him he was ill-suited for pastoral ministry.
And in spite of the havoc we have seen pastors wreak on congregations by their harsh treatment or gossip or instability or judgment or neglect of their flock, and my constant pointing Wally to consider that Christ is his Master and how I and all the people love how we see Jesus in his care of this flock, his judgment of himself loomed larger than any of us could convey: FAILURE.
Over the course of eighteen years, FPC’s membership changed as older saints departed this life and younger ones relocated, all Wally could see was a big beautiful building well situated on the bypass that could be filled, yet sat mostly empty Sunday after Sunday. I would encourage him to focus on the faces of the 60-80 who were there. How ten years ago we’d been down to an average of 30 each Sunday, and how God had doubled that and brought all these new families not because of anything we had done differently, but simply through the ordinary means of grace—prayer, preaching the Word, genuine loving fellowship among believers, serving others, the sacraments.
Oftentimes people would be out visiting family or going to soccer games or some other activity. And yet, we kept a choir, even if there were only four or five people in their robes at the front of the small gathering scattered across the building, adding to his sense that the church was dying. The lingering question for Wally as he looked out into the empty sanctuary was, “Am I killing the church?”
I told him he didn’t have that kind of power. That if God wanted to grow the church, He could grow it in spite of him. But repeatedly, he had this gnawing sense that he was the problem.
One of his frequent sermon exhortations would be to tell our people to quit listening to themselves and to talk to themselves instead. To tell themselves the truth. I told him he needed to listen to his sermons and preach to himself.
We went through church revitalization with Briarwood’s Embers to a Flame ministry, which deepened the commitment of our people to prayer and repentance and concern for deeper community and worship and reaching the lost. But through that process, Wally became convinced that in order for First Prez to reach out to the community, they needed a person with skills like more of a church planter—someone more outgoing who could build relationships easily. He’d just completed the Dale Carnegie course in an effort to help him with that, but ultimately he felt he was trying to be someone he wasn’t, and that the pressure internally of feeling he wasn’t what First Prez needed and externally of seeing a mostly empty sanctuary Sunday after Sunday was killing him.
So, we prayed that God would open another door for ministry.
And many tears were shed as He did exactly that. God called us to Moriah.
Called to FCA? Or Deeper Still, to that place of vision known as Moriah?
People have asked how He called us…so here’s the story…
On Sunday night, October 31, as Wally and I were sitting up in bed talking, he said he didn’t think he was going to make it. I asked him what he meant by that, and he said he didn’t think he could keep going—that he didn’t think he could keep pastoring. He didn’t think any other church would want him. If he couldn’t make it in Dyersburg, how could he make it anywhere? Who would want him?
For 25 years of pastoral ministry, the Sunday night “feeling like quitting conversation” was nothing new. He’d laughingly said he talked himself out of quitting every Sunday night for years. I’d found encouragement from other pastors’ wives who shared in private conversations that their husbands went through the same thing. And then there are those friends from seminary and our younger days in ministry whose marriages and lives we’ve seen torn apart—those we thought had the perfect marriage. Life has taught me that life is hard and there’s no such thing as perfect. It’s broken people helping broken people looking to a perfect Savior.
Then looked at me and said, “I think I’m done.” Without blinking, I asked him what that meant. He said he didn’t know, that he didn’t know what else he could do.
God didn’t call me to be a pastor’s wife. God called me to be first and foremost His daughter—the daughter of a King who loves me and cares for me and knows the plans He has for me. Secondly, He called me to be a wife and mother, which was the desire He put in my heart soon after He called me to be His daughter. As a wife and mother, my chief responsibility is to look to the needs of my family above any other.
As Wally’s helper, my role is to be his biggest cheerleader and supporter. And for some reason, this time, this Sunday night in this conversation when Wally said he didn’t think he was going to make it, when he said he was done, I responded differently than I had in the past. In the past, my focus had been to remind him of all that I could see at First Prez and all that we knew of God’s character. But I heard such hopelessness in his voice this time, such a cry for help, a plea to not have to keep serving God as pastor at FPC Dburg.
So, I responded that if he really couldn’t keep going that there were all kinds of things he could do—he could work in a factory or a fast food place; he could drive a truck; he could teach, and I said I’d do whatever I needed to do for us to make it.
Then I said, “We could open a Bed and Breakfast.” Wally’s eyes lit up, and he said, “Yeah, let’s do that.” We spent the next couple of hours searching online for B&Bs for sale throughout the southeast, mostly near family in MS or East TN.
The next morning, Wally said he felt such a relief thinking there was something else he could do. We’d visited a B&B in Ohio in June, and loved how the couple used it as an opportunity for ministry and even gave pastors a discount. We’d felt really pampered there and the prospect of being able to provide that kind of hospitality to others gave both of us a lot of joy.
We quickly discovered that in order to make a living running a B &B, you have to get a LOT of things right. As with any real estate, location is everything. To find a place that we could afford and be able to rent the rooms out frequently enough to bring in enough income to both sustain and make a living could be a challenge. We’d want to make it nice and cater to our guests to elicit the best reviews, because reviews are everything. We’d be talking about a significant investment—probably emptying out our retirement in order to do it right, and even then, we’d probably have to borrow. Which meant one of us would probably need to work at first outside the B&B to bring in a living until we really got it going.
By the next morning, I’d texted Tiffany, my sister-in-law, and asked her to pray for us. She said she would, and put us in touch with a good friend in Chattanooga in real estate, and we set up a meeting to visit in a couple of weeks.
As I began searching for Bible teaching jobs in East TN, I came across Bethel Bible Village, and the heading “House Parents” caught my attention. As I scoped out the site, it reminded me of French Camp, MS, which I knew all about both from my college days of working at their summer camp, Camp of the Rising Son (CRS), and taking our kids there, and from our daughter Elizabeth working there in 2013 and 2014.
The first time I drove under the arch at French Camp in 1986, a feeling of coming home came over me. The quiet little campus nestled off the Natchez Trace in one of the few “dark spots” remaining in the United States—dark enough to house one of the largest observatories in the southeast—the Rainwater Observatory. God used the two summers I worked at CRS significantly in my relationship with Him, in large part because of the leadership of the camp director at the time, Margie Newman, who I came to see as a sort of spiritual mother.
In fact, in 2013, when Elizabeth drove down to interview at CRS, I’d written Margie a letter telling her Elizabeth was coming, and asking if I came with her, if we could get together for a visit. I was delighted to find she was still there and in good health and that she invited me to spend the 3-4 hours with her while Elizabeth interviewed.
So, I googled French Camp, and found they also showed an opening for house parents. I called Wally and asked what he thought about the idea. He said, “Well, you know I’ve been saying for years I’d like to eventually be closer to my parents.” We both loved the ministry of French Camp, a ministry our church had supported since before they called us. To not have to do something scary we’d never done before like open a B&B felt better. We’d both really enjoyed parenting our four kids and lamented the empty nest, so the prospect of getting to make an impact on young people appealed to both of us.
The main thing we wondered about being house parents is if it would be possible to make a home there. What about holidays and other times when we would want to have family gatherings? Would this be a place we could make a home for our own kids to come?
Since I still had Margie’s cell phone number from visiting in 2013, I tried to call her, and sent her a text asking her to call me, telling her I had questions about the house parent position. A few hours later, Wally called and asked if I’d heard back from Margie. I hadn’t and began to if maybe her number had changed, so I went back on the website. To my surprise, I found Margie listed as the HR Director, with her email address. So, I emailed her.
I wrote the following in my journal:
Nov. 1, 2016, “Oh Father. Please, please, please give Wally and me wisdom. You know we are thinking about this B & B idea. Is this what You want for us? Please show us. You know Wally wants to be used. You know our resources. You know our skills set. You know the future. What would You have us do?
…We were up until 11:30 last night thinking and talking about B&Bs and then today continuing and talking about teaching in Chatt or being houseparents, and feeling once again, as always that we do not have a home.
What a blessing it is that today I would read those sweet words in Ps. 90:1, ‘Lord, through all the generations, You have been our home.’ You are God. You are on Your throne. None of this has caught You by surprise.
v. 12 Teach us to realize the brevity of life so that we may grow in wisdom.
v.14 Oh Lord, take pity on us. Satisfy us with You unfailing love—that Wally and I may sing for joy to the end of our lives.
I Kings 19, in v. 4, where Elijah said, “I’ve had enough, Lord,” it sounds exactly like Wally. Lord, I think of the rest of that chapter, how Elijah reminded You of how he had zealously served You, and how the people were trying to kill him. For Wally, it’s not like that at all. He has faithfully served You and has seen no visible increase—though the people here have grown and we’ve had new people join—just not conversions, other than R 18 years ago. But the reality is that he can see nothing he can point to as fruit—other than when we came there was so much conflict and now I really think this is one of the most loving churches ever. But he feels like a square peg in a round hole—like what the church needs is someone who’s gifted in outreach. Lord, You know, we do not. We are empty. That’s the bottom line. Elijah was empty and felt like quitting and giving up. He’d had enough. And You revealed Yourself to him in the gentle wind. Would You reveal Yourself to Wally? And make it crystal clear what You want us to do? Just as You did to Elijah? Would You open and shut doors so there’s no doubt? And if You are leading us out, would You bring just the right person to pastor this flock?
Zechariah 4, Lord, as Z was the one who laid the foundations, in v. 10, You say not to despise small beginnings, that You delight to see the work begin…Lord, You truly have used Wally to lay a foundation of solid biblical preaching on the Good News of what Jesus has done, of prayer, of peacemaking, of loving each other. You have used him to shepherd this people. And it has been small beginnings. So, now, if You will not use Wally to complete it, that’s Your prerogative, Lord. We are simply instruments in Your hands.
Thursday, 11-3-16
James 1. Thank You, Lord, for this opportunity for great joy—for the chance You are giving Wally and me for our endurance to grow. Lord, we do need wisdom. So, we are asking You. And I thank You for Your promise that You will give it—and without rebuking us. My faith is in You alone. Not in our own or any human resources. You alone are the God of all wisdom and the Source of all resources. Help any flicker of me that doubts—any part of my unbelief…Lord, would You open a door—the door—where You want us to go? Would You have a church or school pursue Wally because of his gifts in teaching so that it would be crystal clear? Or, would You bring an influx of people here because of their desire to be fed Your Word and open doors for conversions so that it is clear that You want us to stay. We don’t know Your will, but want to know. Would You show us? Please.
Friday, 11-4-16
Oh, Father, thank You for Your Providence. That just a little while after having written the above prayer, we got a call from Bruce Hosket at FCA, and Wally and I were both able to talk to him, and now we’re going there next Thursday.
Lord, thank You for Margie, what she has meant to me all these years, how she was like a spiritual mother to me when I worked @ CRS and how she has been such a role model for me and so many others. The prospect of having her right there—as a spiritual mother again—well, You know the joy that gives me. And You know how watching the Angela Morgan story video touched a nerve for me, and reminded me of how French Camp felt like home –always—how I always wished it could be my home—but never thought it could be possible. Such a feeling of nostalgia comes over me every time I drive under that arch—like I’ve come home. And the prospect of becoming houseparents for those kids—it fits with how I’ve thought so many times about foster parenting, but have been afraid of do I have the emotional fortitude? To carry it through? And Lord, honestly, that is what scares me the most—do I have what it takes? Which is why the boys sound better to me than girls—just because I’m afraid of myself. But then, I do love ministering to young girls. Lord, You know what is best. I’m Yours, and whatever You think best.
And then there’s Wally and where he might serve. Lord, I just want to see him full of joy—excited in what he’s doing in serving You.
Sat., 11-5-16
Ps. 96 Sing to the Lord a new song. Lord, is this change—are You leading us to change to lead us to sing a new song? How I pray for Wally as he is possibly talking to Miles and Troy now. Give them wisdom and discernment in how to respond. Lord, would You prepare a man with gifts of reaching this community for Christ?
Zech. 9:16 How I praise You for how You have rescued me and how I pray Lord that You would rescue more of Your sheep and use Wally and me to play a part in those rescue efforts – that all the sheep will sparkle like jewels in a crown.
Wed., 11-9-16
Zech. 10:12 Thank You for this promise, Lord. By Your power, You will make Your people strong, and by Your authority, we will go wherever we wish. You have spoken. I think too of Wally making decisions for us to leave, to possibly go to FCA—by Your authority—there’s Your sovereignty. We will go wherever we wish—there’s our free volition to do as we please. Profound mystery. Yet both hold true.
On Thursday, Nov. 10, Wally and I left Dyersburg right after Community Bible Study and headed for French Camp, arriving there late that afternoon. We talked to Bruce for a while and then headed to Taylor Dorm, where we visited with Randy and Joy Martin, the house parents there. On Friday, Bruce took us on a walking tour of FCA and also showed us Moriah Home, the building for younger boys, which had been closed the past year and a half and he was thinking of reopening and moving some of the younger boys into.
Sat., 11-12-16
Thank You for the past couple of days at French Camp, for being around Christian brothers and sisters—people who love You and are ministering to young people and their families. How I pray for wisdom as we proceed, and that You would help us to know if this is what You want us to do, where You want us to go. If not, please make that clear. Lord, I know it is worldly to think of that building and apartment and how ugly it is. I know that You are about restoring the ruined places—both physically and in people’s lives. It’s not so much that it has to be beautiful, but just not ugly. And I never really feel like I know how to make an ugly place not—though You did help us to do that at Millsfield. And I wonder about our furniture and piano and Wally’s books. Lord, would You just show us how—what You’d want us to keep and get rid of. It’s all ultimately Yours. You could cause a fire or tornado or earthquake and cause it to be destroyed in a heartbeat. I know that the things of this world will all pass away, and it’s never safe to hold tightly to those things. My only question is how to strike that balance of a willingness to give up what we have and at the same time a desire to make our home lovely—warm—that is a place we enjoy coming to and being. Would You make it that and show us how? Would You cause Bruce and Margie and others to see it like that and to think about living there and what they would want for themselves?
John 6:27 Jesus, thank You for this verse, especially in light of my earlier prayers—that I should be concerned about perishable things, but instead I should spend my energy seeking eternal life You can give. For God the Father has given You, Lord Jesus, His seal of approval. And to give myself, to spend myself, for these kids—what a blessing. Could there be any greater?
Sun., 11-20-16
John 12:25 “Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who care nothing for their life in this world will find it.” Lord Jesus, how I think You for these words, even as we think of the prospect of moving to FCA and that particular dorm that really does look so dumpy right now—that may also mean losing our bedroom suite which we have come to really love—our king size bed, etc. It does make me really sad to not get to sleep in it any more. But Lord, if this is what you want for us, I know there is so much more to life than “BED.” And Jesus did not have a place to lay His head. And it’s not as if You’d be calling us to sleep on the floor or dirt. We would still have so much more than most people in the world. Help me be willing to give up my bed—to care nothing for it compared to the gains of serving You. Oh Lord Jesus, how dreadful, how terrible, that I would for a moment begin to complain about leaving my cozy home for the sake human beings.
Fri, 11-24-16
Ps. 115 Not to us—not to Wally or to me—but to You goes ALL the glory—for Your unfailing love and faithfulness. Lord, I thank You for how we’ve seen You work here. Thank You for giving me the big picture. Would You help Wally to see it too? Would You help him to reflect on how different it is now from when we first came? Lord, we hear people talk about You as an integral part of their lives. That did not happen when we first moved here.
Oh Lord, would You help them more and more to trust You—that You are their helper and shield.
v. 10 Father would You help Wally especially, as Your priest to trust You.
Mon, Nov. 28 – Fri, Dec. 2 – FCA Interview Week
FCA’s application and interview process is grueling. It has to be. The children they serve and the work they do is too critical for it not to be. The application is 28 pages, including 8 references. So, before we ever got to November 28th, between us, Wally and I had talked to close to 20 people, plus there were spouses. The fact that everyone managed to keep it confidential is almost miraculous. God so protected and cared for the flock of First Prez while He walked us through that time.
All the reference forms had to be turned in by the time we arrived. That in itself was a feat.
Providentially, I left my journal at home…
We arrived at FCA a little after 4:00 that Monday and stopped by Margie’s on our way in so she could go over the week’s schedule with us. We stayed in the guest room at Taylor Dorm, where Randy and Joy Martin are the house parents with their four children. We ate at the dining hall with Randy and the Taylor boys and then Wally visited with the guys while I visited with Joy.
Tuesday morning, we had to be at Turpin Home with the Paladino’s at 6:30 AM. Michael & Audrey are the houseparents there with their five kids. Michael surprised us by asking us to share our testimonies during devotion that morning. From there, we went to Maintenance and met with David Dennis, who happened to be one of my brother Jad’s college roommates. One night I also got to meet his wife Marla who told me how instrumental Jad had been in her life as a young believer when he coached her flag football team at State. At Maintenance, we also got to meet Erin, who is the wife of the head of Maintenance, and who grew up in Yazoo City in Second Prez and knows Marie Cato.
The days kind of run together now, but one afternoon they had us work as part of the work crew—Wally with the grounds crew and me in the Welcome Center, putting labels on loaves of bread they were getting ready to mail. They mail out over 6,000 loaves of sourdough bread that they make themselves!
We also spent time with Lance Ragsdale, the VP of Development. I knew his name sounded familiar. As soon as I saw him, I knew I knew him. Turns out he was a freshman when I began working at Hinds Community College right after I finished at State, and he came to our RUF Bible Study.
Wally had never visited the Rainwater Observatory, so he totally ate up getting to spend several hours out there with the director, Edwin Faughn. And then we had lunch one day with Bruce and Kim Hosket. Kim is Margie’s daughter, so I’d worked with her at CRS in ’86 and ’87, and with Bruce in ’87. I wasn’t super close to either of them then, but I liked what I knew of them, and I could see Wally and me being friends with them. I could see Wally and Bruce hitting it off from what I remembered of Bruce. And we also had lunch with Alex Coblentz, the pastor of French Camp Presbyterian, and got to hear his story of how he grew up in Brazil as the son of missionary kids, and how God led him and his wife to French Camp.
We had dinner with Kevin and Hannah O’Brien—he’s retired navy and is in charge of cooking all the bread and fudge in the Welcome Center and his wife is a cancer survivor and a graphic artist, and does all of FCA’s graphic design work. He gave us perhaps the most grim outlook. I think he was trying to be realistic—which was good. They mentor the Arrowoods, the houseparents of Day, which housed 15 boys, ages 6-16, who Bruce was thinking about splitting up and moving the younger ones to Moriah. Kevin shared that Sarah A. was having a really hard time with the prospect of those boys moving out—that they are like her kids. Wally and I prayed afterwards that if it wasn’t God’s will, or if He wanted us at FCA, but not split them up, or have us in some other capacity, that He would make it clear. Or that if He wanted us with the little guys, that He would make it okay with the Arrowoods.
He could not have answered more beautifully. By the time we arrived at 5:45AM on Wednesday, we learned that Bruce had already been there the night before and had talked to the Arrowoods and the boys and told them the plan. And Wally and I seemed to connect immediately with Steve and Sarah, and the boys seemed excited.
And then we got to visit Moriah—with a tape measure. And I found that our king size bed would fit. Such a kindness that God extended to me that He did not even give Himself—as He had no place to lay His head. And Bruce let us pick colors for paint. So, we got to plan where we would put where and what we would keep and what we would need to replace. Seeing there was no stove, I asked Wally to ask if we could make a donation to get a convection oven. Bruce said they would just get us one. Wally asked Bruce if we could get shelves to line three walls so that he’d have room for his books. He replied, “Done.” I asked if it might be possible for us to replace the sink with one that had a deeper and wider left side. Bruce’s reply again, “Done.”
Wednesday evening, we ate in the dining hall with Mary Jane Winter and the boys from Barrett and shared our testimonies with them afterwards. And then visited with Mary Jane and her husband Don and daughter Kate in their apartment. Don served as a pastor in Jackson, TN for 23 years, so it was encouraging to talk to someone from such a similar vocational background.
On Thursday, they had a meeting for me to attend to talk about a strategic initiative to help students develop a Christ-centered Life Plan that had been stalled because of lack of a coordinator. As they shared about the initiative and what they’d done so far and about my background and skills set, it seemed apparent that God had fitted me for the position—all the while they had been wondering where they would find someone with that skills set who would want to come to French Camp, MS.
On Friday morning, we had breakfast with the president Stuart Edwards, followed by a formal interview with him, Bruce, and Margie. They told us they like to take about a week afterwards to pray and consider before extending a call.
Getting the Call and Saying Goodbye
Saturday morning, December 3, was our annual “greening of the church.” Wally and I prayed that no one would ask us where we were all week. As He would have it, no one even came. It’s usually a dozen—or 15 or 20. This year, Wally and I were the only ones until 9:30. By 10:00, three others had come, but we were almost through. It was pretty disappointing if not confirming that our time there was done. How could we not be discouraged? Was that not symbolic of a general lack of interest in supporting the activity of our church? One of the ladies commented that the bulletin said 10:00, and there had been some confusion. Even so, only three came. I’m sure they were all busy. And everyone assumed everyone else would be there. But for us, it was pretty disheartening.
We were both praying that even though they’d said a week, that we’d hear sooner. Timing wise, we wanted to give the church at least three weeks notice, and we felt the best time to move would be the first of the year. In order for the timing to work out, we needed to let the folks at First Prez know by Sun., Dec. 11.
So, Wally began crafting a farewell letter on Monday, Dec. 5. And as we talked about it, we felt it would be better for them emotionally to read the letter and be able to digest it in the privacy of their own homes than to hear it from the pulpit, where it could be harder to take it all in. We knew there would be questions and comments and thoughts, and we wanted to give people time for all that privately before having to deal with it all publicly. We prayed we’d be able to get it in the mail by Wednesday or Thursday, at the latest, if God was indeed calling us to French Camp.
Thurs., 12-8-16
Dear Father, thank You so much for answering our prayers to hear something from FCA in an early enough time so that we could send out letters to our church family. Wally heard from Bruce yesterday around 2:00, so I went to the church, and we were able to get the letters in the mail by 3:00. And now Lord God, there is so much to do. We need to list our house and pack. Would You bring a buyer quickly so that we would not have to keep making payments on a house when we do not have sufficient income to do so?
That morning, I posted the letter on Facebook and said my first goodbyes at Community Bible Study, our last meeting of the semester. Eighteen years ago, I’d attended my first one there at Cumberland Presbyterian. As I said goodbye to so many familiar faces and shared our news, it seemed surreal, and just like yesterday that I was a newbie there.
On Wednesday, Dec. 14, I journaled about how Jan and Dana had spent basically all day Monday and Tuesday cleaning, preceded by Dawn and Dana having helped the Friday before and Susan and Martha coming to help on Tuesday too. By Tuesday evening, we had our home ready for Mark, our agent to come take pictures to make a video. And God blessed us by helping us sell so much of our stuff and helping us find a small dining table that would fit in the nook in the living room.
The next week I journaled about how Dana had been there so much helping me with packing—she, Dawn, and Lana came. We would not have been able to get it all done had it not been for them.
Mon., 12-19-16
Oh Father, it’s so hard to believe that we load the truck a week from today. I’m feeling really sad about saying goodbye. Thank You for last night with the Hamers. They had Wally, Ian and me over for dinner—started with Brie and hot apple cider followed by delicious shrimp and pasta. Then bananas Foster with homemade vanilla ice cream. Talk about feeling pampered. And they took us down to their basement and gave us some old books that were Miriam’s dad’s and Tom’s sister’s.
Thurs., 12-29-16
Oh Father, the last few days have been a blur. Thank You that You are my One constant. My Sure Foundation. My Rock. We packed the ruck Monday. Thank You for Ian’s friends who came to help. Chase, who would have come without being paid. Terran, who could only stay a couple of hours before having to go to his grandmother’s for lunch. Austin who arrived early and stayed to the end. Omar, who came at the drop of a hat as soon as Ian called, when Terran left. And thank You for the $ to pay them. And thank You for Shane coming and directing everyone in how to load the truck so that we were able to
get everything loaded.
I didn’t realize how sad I was or how inadequate I feel as we head to FC, but I was very teary as we pulled away from our street, so thankful Wally and I were riding separately. My tears were mine and not for anyone else to see. As we were between Winona and FC, I broke down and began sobbing. I tried to call Tiff, but no answer. So I called Lana. Thank You that I got her. Thank You for her prayers. Thank You that You heard. Thank You for all the people who were there to greet us when we arrived—who helped us unload the truck. It was unloaded in less than an hour. Thank You for helping me take measurements and to plan were everything would go before we got there so I could direct people. Thank You for Bruce having shelves built and the place freshly painted and the new stove put in for us.
Thank You for Kim and Bruce having us over to eat with all their family for supper and for how they all welcomed Ian. Thank You that we were able to get most of the kitchen unpacked and most of our books unpacked and on shelves. Thank You for how homey You are already helping us make it.
Is. 60 Thank You that You will be our light. Thank You for all these promises and the hope they give. How I long for that day. V. 20 Thank You that my days of mourning will come to an end. That I will be righteous. That I will possess the land forever.
Oh Lord, even now, as I am in between homes and reminded that I don’t really have a home—a permanent dwelling place on earth, it is such a comfort to read these verses and be reminded that ultimately You are my home. You will plant me in Your land to possess forever—in order to bring Yourself glory.
v. 22 The smallest family will become a thousand people—the tiniest group a mighty nation. You, the Lord, will make happen. Lord, would You do that with my family? Would You make our family a godly heritage?
On January 1, 2017, Wally preached his last sermon as pastor of First Presbyterian, Dyersburg. Our youngest, Ian, who was honored by his classmates by being voted “Mr. DHS,” was in the middle of his sophomore year in college and loved coming home to visit with his best friends. Many of our youngest son’s friends who are members of other churches worshiped with us that last Sunday.
The sweetest anointing was at the close of the service when those who wanted were invited to come forward and lay hands on us and pray as we knelt in the middle, as they sent us to this new mission field.
When we got up afterwards, I realized that no one had remained seated, but every single person had come forward to pray.
Through the hands and arms touching us and the words being uttered, it truly felt that God Himself was touching us and saying, “Go. I am sending you. I will go with you. And I will be with these, My people, as you leave.”
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