My Story - Part 3

We began our married life in a mobile home. It was nice for a first home; not too shabby but not exactly elegant either. I resigned from my teaching job at the Christian school and worked on making our trailer a home. That fall I began substitute teaching which led to a full time job as a kindergarten teacher in a public school. In 1988, John was hired by the Virginia State Police and upon graduation from the academy, we had two weeks to find a place to live.

Our second home was even more humble than the mobile home. Goochland County did not offer any apartments and houses to rent in that rural area were scarce. We felt fortunate to find a tiny one bedroom farmhouse. It was almost charming, even if it did have a complete lack of closets. I had a little pantry just off the kitchen but the washing machine took up most of that space. The dryer went in the landlord’s barn. It was small but it was enough. Life went on smoothly. The biggest disturbance in our life was the coal miners strike in the western part of the state and John had to leave for two weeks for his duty of riot control.

When we first moved into that little house, we decided that we needed at cat; an outdoor cat to chase the mice. So I got a cute little gray tabby kitten and named him Romeo. He didn’t like being outside however and he found a hole on the side of our house. It led him directly to the pantry just off my kitchen. There was a metal plate on the floor and he could push it up with his head. I told John that he needed to plug up that hole or we’d have mice in the house for sure. That task didn’t get done for a while.

Months later, John and I were getting ready to go out to dinner. He was already outside and I was heading toward the door. Before I opened the screen door, I looked on the step and there was a huge Black snake. Harmless, right? Helpful even, on farms. Of course they could be deadly to a person who is phobic. I screamed and John came running. Of course the snake ran too, or slithered away quickly. John loaded his shotgun with birdshot. I don’t know if he had intentions of killing the dreadful reptile that was outside minding its own business (albeit on my house step), or if he was just trying to make me feel better. I was shook up and in tears. When I had calmed down, we went out and I almost forgot about the incident.

The next day I went to school. I became so sick that John had to pick me up and take me to the doctor. When we came home, I headed towards the kitchen to put my uneaten lunch in the refrigerator. My kitchen, like the house, was tiny; only about 4 feet by 5 feet. It was rather plain too. The walls and appliances were white, the linoleum was brown. I had less than 2 feet of counter top and it was brown as well. We knew it was a temporary arrangement and we didn’t spend much time or money on decorations. About the only spot of color in the room was my bright blue trash can. John had something to do outside when we first arrived home that day and didn’t come in with me. Before I reached the kitchen door I noticed that my brown floor was now black and moving. SNAKES! More than one! I couldn’t tell how many but I saw heads. I screamed and John knew that it was something worse than the day before. He grabbed his shotgun. He ran to the kitchen and there on the floor were two very large Black snakes mating on my floor. He knew that shooting the shotgun inside the house was not the best idea in the world but he did not have much of a choice. If he hit one over the head, the other might get away. He knew he would have to kill them both if I were ever to stay in that house again. So with one shot they were gone, or at least dead. I stayed in the living room while John got rid of the colors that did not belong in my kitchen. Of course the landlords and the farmhand heard all the commotion and came to see what was going on. They took pictures of the headless serpents and immediately plugged up that hole! Thankfully, we already had a contract on a house and only had a few more weeks to live there.

To read earlier posts, click on the "My Story" label below.

The Very Beginning - Almost

Life is far from boring right now but there are not many blog worthy events to write down. So I thought I would write some more about our lives as missionaries and how we got there in the first place.

If I were to give my story a title it might be, “Lord, here am I, send me. But what are you going to do about my husband?” I spent four and a half years in college, trying to earn my MRS degree. I dreamed of being a pastor’s wife and attending Liberty Baptist College seemed like the ideal place to make that happen. However, I ended up with a BS in Elementary Education and failed miserably at any attempts on the MRS degree. During those years, God gave me a tender heart toward missions and I surrendered to do whatever the Lord wanted me to do. I didn’t feel led to go to a foreign field as a single woman. There are many single missionary women and there is nothing wrong with that. I don’t think I’m cut out for it. Right after I graduated from college, I had applied with the Southern Baptist Convention Journeyman program to be a short-term missionary for two years. They rejected me! I never found out why but just accepted it as God’s plan. Later, I all but signed a contract to teach in a Christian school in Korea. But I had no peace about that. I knew that if God wanted me on the mission field, I’d have to marry a missionary. But that didn’t happen. Instead, I met John, a Police officer; 100% cop. It was his life. We were married in April of 1987 and I just knew he’d be a cop the rest of his life. Asking John not to be a cop was like asking a fish not to swim or a bird not to fly. It was in his blood. He lived to write people tickets. The faster they were going the more he loved it. And he hated rainy days because he couldn’t run radar. I never mentioned to John that I felt the Lord had called me to missions. And I never asked God to make him a missionary. My prayer for him during the early years of our marriage was that he would be closer to God and the spiritual leader in our home. Well, the Lord certainly answered that prayer and in April of 1991 John told me that he felt the Lord calling him into full time ministry. I was surprised and not surprised.