November 25th, 2017 3 comments

Grace BaptistI am sitting in the sanctuary at the church waiting. It is during that short break between Sunday School and the morning service. I usually take this time to check out the program for the day, the weekly announcements & birthdays and to place bits of paper in the hymnal marking the songs we’ll be singing during the service. As the noise levels around me would indicate, it’s a time for smiles and hugs and catching up on what’s been going on all week, greeting visitors, making them welcome, and doing all sorts of odds and ends that need to be done before the service gets started.

I sit quietly listening to the pleasant hum of all this activity while pondering the morning’s Sunday School lesson and wondering what topic the pastor will choose for today’s sermon. It’s Missionary Month and I read that today we’ll have a guest speaker from the Prison Missions Program.  Thinking of missionaries, I notice Eric chatting with Kim over on the “Hallelujah” side about the latest news he has received from Mlachivka. For the past ten years or so, he has led a missionary group over to this small community in the Ukraine to help out a church and an orphanage there. A staff housing building was lost in a fire recently and funds are being raised to try to help re-build it.  He is deep into details about buildings and children and already making plans for leading another team next summer.

“Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we you hungered, and fed you? or thirsty, and gave you drink? When saw we you a stranger, and took you in? or naked, and clothed you? Or when saw we you sick, or in prison, and came to you? And the King shall answer and say to them, Truly I say to you, Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these my brothers, you have done it to me.” (Matthew 25:37-39)

Little Kelly comes running up to Pastor Mark with something important to tell him. He sweeps her up into his arms…up to his level… and she chatters away, using every one of her ten fingers to emphasize the information that she needs to tell him…probably some wonderful thing she might have heard in Sunday school this morning that the Pastor should know.  Just as quickly as she arrived, she is out of his arms and chasing down the aisle after Sammy and Delia who are most assuredly trying not to see their mama’s stern look reminding them that it is time to settle down and find their seats for church. But they’re off…totally ignoring mom……streaking by the Pastor’s wife, Sarah, who comes in loaded down with two oversized tote bags filled to overflowing with pencils and crayons and books and construction paper and hand sanitizer and crackers and all the other bit and pieces she’ll need at one point or another throughout the day. Three more little ones trail behind her like wayward ducklings first going this way and that before heading to their seats up on the second row with the other kids where James is waiting patiently for them and handing out quarters and dimes so that they too will have coins for the offering plates. I find myself thinking about the special memories children will have who are raised in church…how all their lives they will remember the stories about Jesus being born and the verses they’ve memorized….. and they will know that overall feeling of acceptance that every father and mother, grandmother and grandfather, uncle and aunt in the whole congregation somehow also belonged to each of them.

“But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said to them, Suffer the little children to come to me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” (Mark 10:14)

More and more people are starting to drift into the sanctuary and the noise level, though still pleasant, increases…..lots of talking and catching up going on today.  A rousing rendition of “Power in the Blood” is coming from Michele at the organ over on the “Hallelujah” side of the sanctuary. In the meantime, Marlene sits over by the piano over on the “Amen” side silently fingering the notes on her flute for the special song she will play for us right after the morning’s announcements. She studies the music sheet in front of her and nods her head in rhythm and as she mentally practices at getting everything just right. Karen moves past her and sits down at  the piano so she can spend just a few minutes going over the hymns for the songs the congregation will sing today. She stops for a moment to smile and wave at someone at the back and then gets right back to the task at hand. The music I hear provides a lovely backdrop to all the chaos and I find myself humming along as Michele changes to Because He Lives”.

“I will praise the LORD according to his righteousness: and will sing praise to the name of the LORD most high.” (Psalm 7:17)

I see one of the deacons heading up front to check to make sure the offering plates are where they’re supposed to be. His wife stops by the communion table to straighten up the autumn floral arrangement making sure all the yellow, orange, and golden chrysanthemums are arranged just so and looking their best. Her hand lightly moves across the linen table runner pulling out any wrinkles and then settles on the open Bible to smooth down the pages that have curled up in the breeze of someone just passing by. She gives the flowers one last smoosh and heads back to her seat towards the back. She stops on the way to say hello and get hug from Inez who has made a double-sized batch of cranberry conserve for Thanksgiving dinner and is busy passing out pint-sized jars of the sweet tangy relish so that others might also enjoy it with their turkey and dressing this year.

“Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus…”  (Philippians 2:3-5)

Steve heads up towards the pulpit with a hymnal in hand and I know we must be very close to the time to get things started.  As I look around at all the activity going on, I am filled with thankfulness for this joy, this love, this congregation, and above all, the shared beliefs that have brought us together on this Sunday to this place. I bow my head and reach for that still quiet place deep down inside that I know will always be there and I whisper a little prayer that all these ordinary but wonderful things going on around me, all the chaos, all the noise, all the hugging and smiling and chattering…will always be the same and that we will always come together like this in thanksgiving to remember the gift that was given and the price that was paid. And I am thankful for this grace….this very ordinary but amazing grace.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…..was blind but now I see.”


  1. Victory in Jesus, Words and Music by E.M. Bartlett, © 1939 – Administrated by Integrated Copyright Group, Inc., All rights reserved; Lyrics –
  2. Amazing Grace”; Words by John Newton; 1779; Music by Virginia Harmony; Lyrics –
  3. Because He Lives”; Songwriters – Matt Maher, Jason Ingram, Ed Cash, Chris Tomlin, Daniel Carson, Bill Gaither, Gloria Gaither; © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Essential Music Publishing, Capitol Christian Music Group;1971; Lyrics –



Categories: Churches, Family, Life Tags: , ,

California Days – Fossil Falls

October 23rd, 2017 No comments

It was hot. We’d left the mountains with temperatures in the low nineties (90’s) and were now in the middle of the Mohave Desert and heading out in 104 degrees to find a local landmark called Fossil Falls. We were staying down the road at Ridgecrest, California which is noteworthy for a big military weapons testing and desert training facility called China Lake. But it is the Mohave – we never saw a lake – just a few salt flats here and there that would imply that there might once have been a lake there in the past and that there just might be a lake again in the future if it ever rained enough. But there wasn’t much chance of rain on this hot dry day in July…and it was doubtful for the near future.

California Oil Fields

We had arrived in Ridgecrest on Saturday after a long drive around from Three Rivers over on the western side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. We’d gone from cultivated areas with lots of orange, almond, and olive groves to drier “farms” with lots of oil wells pumping steadily throughout the long hot days. As we traveled further east, it became drier and the oil wells changed to gigantic windmills covering every ridge. Maybe about half of the windmills were slowly turning but they seemed to be calibrated to the same slow ever-droning-on sequence as the oil wells we were leaving behind. Then turning north and moving even deeper into the desert, we encountered fields of solar panels…which probably moved slowly if they even moved at all. It was like traveling through a diorama of the history of power generation for the past fifty (50) years. Then it was nothing but desert and the occasional Joshua Tree until we left the highway and headed east to Ridgecrest.

After checking into our hotel, we went into town to check out a small local museum where we’d heard from our hotel clerk that we could get some information on how to get to some well-known petroglyphs in the mountains nearby. The Maturango Museum was lovely – small and well-maintained with quite a few native crafts and displays, but, alas, our hopes to see the petroglyphs in the area were dashed when we were told that the petroglyphs were in a restricted area on the military reservation and no one was permitted to enter without a guide from the base. For a glimmer of a moment, we thought maybe we could hire a guide and see the petroglyph site that way…but that was not to be. The Government only allows visitors into the site twice a year in fall and spring. They would not even be considering allowing access to the site at any point before September – we’d be long gone on our way home before the next reservations would be made for visitors to see those petroglyphs. In all fairness, the problem was the heat…the military just couldn’t take visitors up into the mountains in the heat.

Maturango Museum in Ridgecrest, CA

Outside display at Maturango Museum

Checking the time on the human sundial at Maturango Museum

Seeing my disappointment, the kind docent at the museum told me that just up the road from the museum there was a lovely park where a few years ago, the community had set up rocks along the walking path and local artists had painted their “interpretations” of the petroglyphs on the rocks. She said I should take a look at those renderings if I wanted to see petroglyphs. Her heart was in the right place, I am sure and she only wanted to help. I thanked her kindly but, somehow, seeing modern versions of ancient drawings and carvings just wasn’t going to be the same as seeing the originals carved a few thousand years ago.

The artistic renderings of petroglyphs in Petroglyph Park

But, we did cruise by Petroglyph Park anyway and it was indeed a lovely park with a pretty good walking path just as she had told us it would be….and there were great fake petroglyphs that we could enjoy if we chose to take a stroll through the park while enjoying the nice stiflingly hot weather.

Did I mention it was hot? Cruising by the Baptist Church to check out the temperature.

On Sunday, we’d had a lovely morning visiting a local church for the morning services and had then stopped in at Arby’s for a sandwich for lunch. It’s a military town – lots of strip malls and fast-food joints – always something available to grab a quick bite. Our plans were to head out to Death Valley bright and early on Monday so we had Sunday afternoon to do a little exploring. Since petroglyphs were out, we decided to check out another local landmark called Fossil Falls.

So, here we were traveling north on Highway 395 looking for a roughed up National Monument sign that would direct us onto a washed out gravel road leading across the massive lava fields to the site. The sign turned out to be relatively easy to find and soon we were passing Red Cinder Cone, also known as Red Hill, one of the many evidences of volcanic activity in the area, and heading back to the visitor’s area near the “falls”.

Lave Rocks. Somewhere in there is a trail…or not. Red Cinder Cone Hill is in the background.

Of course, there are no waterfalls today. The Owens River that flowed here at the end of the last Ice Age and carved out a path through the lava rocks is long gone. The lakes and ponds that filled Indian Wells Valley and supported aboriginal peoples are also long ago dried up leaving only rocks and gullies that might support a flash flood now and then in the event a storm comes sweeping in from the mountains to the west.

Red Cinder Cone Hill, one of the volcanos that would have helped create the Lava Fields here.

But no such storm is predicted for today. Today it is dry and hot…..very much so. As we drive into the parking lot, I am surprised to see that it is a relatively well-maintained park with a cinderblock toilet rather than the usual porta-potty we have been seeing in all the national parks we’ve visited on this trip. Nonetheless, in this heat, I eyed that bathroom with a goodly amount of consternation telling myself that there was just no way I was going to venture into what would probably be a very hot stinky hazardous filled to the brim with all sorts of nasty bacteria box in this heat. Not no…but NO!!! Just wasn’t gonna happen.

Ancient Lava Flow coming down from the mountains nearby.

The temperature had risen to just about 107 in the meantime but we decided we would go ahead and walk the trail out to the former river bed and take a look at the cliffs where once the raging river had rushed over the lava rock polishing rough knife sharp edges down to the glassy smooth surfaces that were now so slippery as to require caution even when dry. That’s what the signs said and I believed it. However, I found the sharp rocks much more intimidating as we tried to navigate the “trails” through the lava. One misstep and an ankle could be broken or sprained just like that….then I suppose I would be forced to hobble my little hobby back to the car. There just weren’t any improved walking trails here…no markers….no cleared pathways…..just more or less tracks laid down though the lava rocks by previous visitors and hikers to the area.

The trail was just under half a mile one way so I figured I could handle it even in the heat and even with all the rocks. After all, haven’t you heard all about it being a “dry heat” and not the same as that oppressive heart-stopping humidity back home? The air is dry here….so dry. That’s what I have always heard and I can vouch for that for the most part as we hardly even broke a sweat all day although breathing was a bit of a chore. Then again, I suppose that every ounce of humidity that dares to form on our bodies was just evaporated away into the heated air before it ever had a chance to form a good solid drop of sweat.

In the heat, as we walked across the lava field, I found myself wondering about the ancient peoples who lived here. According to my research, the Coso People had lived and camped along the river about 10,000 years ago but, by 6000 BCE, those natives had abandoned the area due to drying conditions. The glaciers finished melting…the rivers stopped flowing.

Sometime around 4000 BCE, the climate became more moderate and the natives had returned to the area. It was still plenty hot and dry but they learned to use what resources were available in the area. By the 19th century though, only the Little Lake Shoshone peoples came here to look for obsidian in rocks among the lava fields to make the spears and knives and arrowheads they needed to survive in the harsh climate.

(We didn’t find any obsidian although we did look for it. It is probably best that we didn’t as I would, no doubt, have wanted to bring it home as a souvenir. As I get older, I’m finding that some things are best left in the preserves where they are found and not lugged all the way back home to sit on a shelf somewhere. And the sign said not to take anything out of the park…so, there’s that.)

The “Falls” at Fossil Falls. The Owens River would have rushed over the 40 foot drop        creating the waterfalls.

Now, the area is abandoned and the site is managed and controlled by the state. The river no longer exists; the falls no longer overflow with water thundering down onto the rocks below….no more water, no more trees, and no more people….the land is silent now and left to the small desert creatures who can still manage to survive in the harsh environment.

The ancient Owens River bed (center). Note that the lava rocks in the old flow area are smoother here.

We found the old river bed with few problems. Just pick you way through the rocks until you reach the gully, and then head downstream until you can see the cliffs where the falls used to be. We didn’t hike all the way down to the cliffs themselves….time and the heat just did not permit it….at least not for me.

We weren’t the only ones at the site that day. We had noted with amusement the two teenage girls who headed out across the lava rocks taking lots of “selfies” wearing absolutely the wrong shoes. Really, who wears flip flops and sandals through a rock-strewn desert with snakes and lizards and scorpions and spiders?

The trail begins. That Owens River bed is towards that small hill in the distance (center).

On our way, we met four young men who seemed to appear out of nowhere heading back to the parking lot. They looked just plain hot, beat up, exhausted and ready to get back into an air conditioned car and head to some cool oasis for a nice cold glass of iced tea. (Tea, right?) I think that I must have looked equally as bad when I emerged from the trail and headed across the parking lot because a nice lady hurried up to me with a nice cold bottle of water straight out of her cooler. Guess she thought I was going to pass out or something.

I thanked her profusely but I was on a mission at this point and couldn’t be delayed. You see, I had other things in mind…..I was going to have to do it….going to have to risk everything….put aside my better judgement and my sanity….just take my own safety in my own hands and head right into the heart of danger. I was going to have to risk it….I was going in….just had to do it….no other choice. I was going into that bathroom after all. Imagine my surprise to find a bright sunny well-ventilated clean-smelling composting toilet with plenty of toilet paper and a full container of hand sanitizer.


You just never know what you are going to find in the desert in the middle of nowhere.

Sources for Factual Information:

  1. Wikipedia Fossil Falls –
  2. Visit California Website –
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