This was a ministry that was dropped into my life about 15 years ago, and accepted by some and thoroughly disliked by some others. All I can truly say is that the Lord laid it on me. Spiritual mapping is studying the history of areas where other gods were worshiped, were sacrificed to, and even recently people continued to carry it on. I have hundreds of files in my file cabinets. Both locally, nationally, and internationally. I have to trust Him for the consequences. The wonderful consequences are becoming a teacher and sharer AND meeting some pastors and spiritual friends who have remained in my life.
When I drove up to northern Minnesota on September 8th to visit my dear friend/"sister", Susan Jones, I rested at her house for about 3 days, because I was exhausted after helping to the delivery of one of my Bhutanese babies. Had not had enough sleep for 4 days, and then hit the road.
On Saturday the13th, I drove north to Baudette, MN, right on the
Canada border to see some very dear friends/pastors, Dave and Mary ("Ducky") Gens. Dave is a wonderful guitarist and singer and music writer and sharing it around and about. For a stretch of time a few years ago, he rode his bike, keeping his guitar and his clothes, and his sleeping bag. He rode hundreds of miles around and about, in Minnesota, and sharing the Lord through his words and his music, sometimes just being in a park by the roads. I met him nearly 10 years ago, and he was still doing that and he'll be 65 in December.
And, while he was gone, his wife was the speaker and teacher and
minister. They've both done helping with and for each other and the people in their town. I've been very impressed when there and was able to explain some of the spiritual issues and MY Dave came up and they so enjoyed him that a few years ago they asked us to move up there and they'd get us involved both in churches and helping through apartments in that area. We wanted to be there and a number of other places in northern MN, but the Lord kept us here in Omaha, and we can do much in either place, while serving the Lord. That's what counts.
After with them for a few hours, I drove back down to Susan's, and that was about 130 miles. The next day, I drove to another town, Crookston, about 60 miles north from Susan's area, and one of my dear friends, Stacey, was for me to be with her. What a treat she was. She drove us around and about, looking at the significant spiritual challenges, both locally and historically, many we'd talked about before and looked at a few years ago. She also reminded me that Dave and I had given quite a number of computers to people from other nations in the '06 stretch of time. And, when I asked about a Sudanese fellow who I met when he was on a bike and cold much of the time during that stretch of Fall, I remembered visiting with him in a fast food place with her back then. Well, she said the blessing I was then was that I bought him bus tickets for a stretch of time and he could adjust and arrange from his new job. Wow! I didn't remember that.
I had connected with her in '05, and went up to teach her about spiritual mapping through the ministry/company I was involved with. Well, when teaching, other pastors in the local area were where I pulled in. It was a pizza place and the 10-ish of us ate and I shared. One of the pastors, Craig and Sonja, who had been living in a town about 40 miles south, became my friends, too. They had been in YWAM for several years, heard of this ministry there-- a special time in Jamaica, for instance-- and were very positive about this. They encouraged Stacey to be with me then. When I see her, we rejoice together. She's only a little older than my daughter, so I consider her a daughter, not just a friend.
When leaving her place, I drove south to see Craig and Sonja, and
reached there just about dinner time and shared with them too long about what I was going through. So enjoyed that time. They put up with my yammering and prayed over me as I was heading out. It was about 9:15 and dark and I needed to drive back north a bit to stay on main roads instead of being on the side roads through the farms and smaller towns from their place to Susan's, because deer and skunks and lots of other danger could be on the roads So I drove miles further, to stay on the main highways; it was so much safer.
When I reached Susan's it was about 10:30. I was a tired cookie. And it took a couple days to restore. It was a huge blessing of being with these people who always thought of me as a good teaching, a good preaching, a good sharing person. Can't not rejoice.
The main wonderfulness of this trip to northern Minnesota, gone for 11 days, was to see MANY dear friends, again. Not just these, but a significant number of others. Love so many!! And am loved by many. What a blessing.
Jedediah Smith has been one of my historic heroes for some time. The reason? Even though he was a mountain man, mixed in with piles of less-than-righteous explorers and hunters, he focused on the Lord. He was seen with a Bible, was known as pious and very straight. He refused to have any sexual relations. He didn't drink or smoke. Rarely had a sense of humor that fit in with the rest of the guys. He didn't cuss. He did what he thought was his leading by the Lord. And he was all over the west portion of our country. He was going over hills, around rivers and lakes, imprisoned in California [since he was considered an invader], and chased by a variety of civilizations. He drew maps and put pieces together for the future members who would be hitting the trails to expand the U.S. territories.
Was he perfect in terms of how we would recognize conflicting cultural issues today? No. But, if nothing else, he was young-ish -- 23 when he began to travel and 32 when he was murdered. Yet he did more in that short time than most of us could even imagine doing in our present days... and we've got cars to drive, good solid roadways, cell phones that help us contact others if we are in any kind of need, and credit cards if we are out of cash. He [and the others who were hunters, fur traders, trappers, explorers] had very little on a regular basis. Yet, they accomplished so much that prepared our future. Some good, some evil... but much done.
I have a book about him called "Men Against the Mountains" that was published in 1965. Interesting. Well written.
When traveling across Montana this post is in a rest area and I've seen it a number of times. And, considering the mountains, the rivers, the hills, the boulders, the winter storms [with strong wind, ice, and piles of snow], the conflicts, the danger of being attacked by animals [which often occurred] and having a lack of helpfulness -- no doctors, hospitals or clinics -- I'm always amazed that he and the others made it.
The only bit I would like to see on these history posts was his Methodist faith, which was very strong and intensely focused on worshiping and serving the Lord. Back in those years, the denomination was fairly new and very missions-oriented. Jedediah fit into it quite well.
When I was wondering what I could share today, when looking through my hundreds of photos from the trip, this jumped out at me. Not filled with easy sweetness and light, but a good reminder of what was done for us to spread out and prepare as a nation.
... And, in my heart, how we as individuals and families can step out to serve the Lord in ways that will reach out and plant seed into the lives of those nearby and far away. That's one of my main goals of life. Has been for years. Will be forever.
I never could have imagined what God was going to drop into my life, through this House, and why, and how.
In February, 1967, I moved from Tacoma to East St. Louis. I stayed with the roommate I had in Tacoma whose spiritual insight had opened the "God-door" and through whom I met a leader who led me to the Lord. A few months later, she moved back to her family in Belleville, not far from E. St. L., and when we agreed to have me come, they found an apartment for us. It wasn't fancy, by any means, but sufficient. She had a job and I found one and, between us, we could pay the bills.
I can't remember how it happened, but in April, I became involved at the Neighborhood House. On Friday evenings there were dancing and skating activities in the basement level and I helped prep and clean. In June, I quit my job and moved into the House to work full time. The income was extremely limited, but I was a Boarder, and that met the basic needs.
I have written a number of stories about what I faced through it. You see, E. St. L. was at least 90% Black and most of that race was poverty stricken, partly because of the lack of work that could meet their needs and the White controllers that they faced. Believe me, I saw horrible housing conditions, and it sure wasn't their fault! Consequently, angry and fighting people lived in the surrounding area. It was a very good thing that I came from a poor and angry and fighting background. I was not frightened very often, and when attacked, I fought back -- maybe not godly, but protective reaction. I gained wonderful friends and fit in with them better than I had for years anywhere else.
A funny one: I was walking down the street and a toddler ran away from his Mom and was headed my direction. She hollered and he kept running. I stepped in front of him and told him "go back to your Mommy." He stopped suddenly and I reached for him. He froze. He looked at my hand, then his hand, then my hand... and started running back to Mom, screaming. The Mom and I laughed. He hadn't seen a "white" hand before.
A heavy-sigh one: I met a 25 year old woman, very pretty, very sweet. She had just become a grandmother. She was 12 when she had her first baby and her 13 year old daughter had had her first child. I was horrified. I couldn't have imagined anything like that, even with my tough background.
A sad one: I was walking through the neighborhood with a list of House survey questions. I saw a little 8-year old girl that I had in one of my classes. I asked her how she was. She said she was fine. Then she said, casually, "My Ma died yesterday." No stress on her face; lots on mine. When I ran back to the House and talked to the lady who ran the whole program, Miss Provence, she wasn't surprised or shocked. She just nodded at me and truly understood.
I could go on for MUCH time, believe me. However, frequently I have to think of this one and laugh -- and be grateful.
We were supposed to stay in the building after dark. Period. WELL, I often broke the rule. I would go down the fire escape on the back wall and hit the street. When I first started doing it, kids going past in cars would lean out the window and holler, "Miss Jo, Whacha doin'?" They were concerned about my safety. I was 21, and looked a bit younger, so really put myself in some less-than-bright situations, and all my fault, of course.
Not long after, I'd gained a reputation for being out after dark. When I began walking, a couple minutes later a tough-looking mid-20s guy would step out from under a tree or out of a local doorway. "Hey, Miss Jo. Where're ya goin'?" I'd just smile and say hi and he'd keep walking with me. These guys were friends of mine. Arzell, Steve, James and others. Four were Black; one was White. What finally dawned on me was that these good buddies had set themselves up as my Protection Guards. They always stayed near the House, during certain hours, and watched in case I would hit the street.
Talk about being blessed and loved. They were good to me -- always good to me.
I left E. St. L. in late-March, 1968. Had walked through the result of riots, the Black Power movement -- someone right under my face once, and not being nice, believe me, and Arzell protected me then, too -- and a group of teen girls had attempted to kill me and the boys threw themselves between us and stopped them. Even with those events, I felt loved by so many. Appreciated. Comfortable. But I knew I needed to leave or I'd be in real trouble. I wasn't sure why, but I knew I was to leave NOW!
A few days after I had reached Tacoma, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. Fighting, anger, and danger increased in many locations of our nation, of course. It is quite possible, because of the danger of that surrounding neighborhood, God was taking me out for safety.
I hadn't seen this building for 44 years until last Saturday. I had been following the instructions from my GPS voice telling me to "turn" and "turn" again, and I glanced up and saw the House. Unexpectedly. Nothing leading to it looked familiar. Everything has changed... large housing project built across the street, all the former houses gone.
My glance flooded me with joy and love. Yes, that House connection had sadness and sorrow and deep difficulty at times; but it had love and warmth and appreciation in a level I'd never known before, and, in some ways, have never known again.
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My friend Susie's comment when she knew I had left in '68 ... the angels that had been taking care of me had pleaded for an R and R after having to work so hard.
