“We’re not turning around!”
Ron ended the conversation before it started. Just past 8:00 a.m., on I-64, minutes from the house, I discovered that I left my battery for my hot glue gun at home. A half hour before we left, I had the brilliant idea to make cloth angels during the drive to Lancaster. Cutting the squares and gathering the needed materials, I grabbed the glue gun and its charger but not the battery pack.
Well, I’ll buy a glue gun in Pennsylvania. Tucking away the project, I dug into my yarn bag and started crocheting, the other past time I brought.
“Let’s listen to “Case for Heaven,” I said after we finished listening to the newest World and Everything In It and the Albert Mueller Briefing.
“You have it on audible? Then why did I buy it on Kindle?” Ron’s voice sounded perplexed.
“I had credits available.”
Downloading the book to my phone and plugging it into the audio, I hit play and thought of Heather. Picking up my crochet needle once again, I thought of how God worked in our lives through Lee Strobel:
Excerpt from the Email I sent to our Small Group
Caroline connected the dots for me this morning about our first prayer request in the group: God would give me something to do for my friend Heather.
Dot 1: A friend invited us to the Care Net dinner on Monday before we started the group.
Dot 2: Wednesday, we attended the group and met all of you, and I made the prayer request for Heather.
Dot 3: Last Friday morning, I asked God for something to text Heather and got nothing.Just after lunch, I felt prompted to text her about the Care Net dinner, which I hadn’t told her about before. And so I did, telling her about my hopes to meet Lee Stroebel. And she called me spontaneously for the first time in almost four months.
Dot 4: Heather had a request, something I could do for her. If I got the opportunity to meet Lee, she wanted me to tell him Ashley had bought “Case for Christ” and a Bible the week before she died, and it’s why Heather believes she’s in heaven today. She also wanted me to tell Lee she’s reading “Case for Heaven” right now, which comforts her. She reads it every night before bed. Heather had never told me any of that before; I had no idea.
Dot 5: Ryan made it all happen. He brought Lee to our table, and I got to deliver Heather’s message and, for the first time, do something for her that eased her pain. I brought a little joy to one of my best friends and light into her darkness. God gave me something to do and made a way for it to happen. My prayer request was answered in a particular, very God-like way.
And so I wanted to read the book that brought my friend comfort and gave me something to do for my friend.
Passing Amish children on bikes, we arrived at Mill Bridge Camp Resort just after 3:00 p.m. While Ron checked us into our site, I updated the blog, and Sophia whined, ready to get out of the crate after the long drive.
Horses by the house didn’t notice the traffic going past. The quaint camp store/check-in sat in the shadow of the grist mill, serving guests.
As always, I have to go when I spot a Hobby Lobby. After we set up camp, I left Ron and the pups to their beer while I browsed my favorite craft store for an hour.
Traffic on the way back delayed my return.
The chilly air made for fantastic fire weather. As the sun set, we played on our phones, letting the flame warm us.
Just before the orange globe disappeared for the day, I rode my bike to the entrance and snapped a few pictures, catching a buggy crossing the bridge.
“That must be the church Bells,” I said when the music started invading the luscious countryside. Whipping out my camera, I hit record as Ron went to pay for our golf outing.
The hourly church bells ringing made me think of “Soul Revolution” by John Burke. The book challenges its readers to touch base with God every hour. Churches used to ring the alarm and remind us of our Savior, but now most remain silent; I miss the old days. We can stray far from the Lord in 60 minutes, without a doubt.
Willow Valley Golf Course, nestled behind the quaint church, follows the hills of PA. Holes one and three share the same green, and golfers play holes two and nine twice. Beautiful views of the fall foliage made for a picturesque morning. Not a USGA course; it didn’t appear in my app, but thankfully, Ron’s app included the course, and I replied to him for yardage.
After golf, we drove a few minutes to the 2.5-mile Conestoga Greenway Bike Trail, which runs along the Conestoga River. We heard conversations along the way. The first two men we passed talked about God, and the next two talked about capitalism. From then on, I stopped listening and enjoyed the scenic ride.
Y’all know that Laura Ingalls Wilder inspires my writing.
And God knows she saw this sight daily, but for me, my mind follows a rabbit trail of possibilities in a life much different than mine.
A life much more adventuresome, less connected to the world, more connected to the Lord. Full of discipline, hard work, and much love, they care more about each other and less about proving a point.
I listened to a podcast that explored living with the Amish for two weeks. Do you know what the podcaster enjoyed most?
Tech-free evenings around the hour and a half dinner table discussions about each other’s days, triumphs and sorrows, and everything in between.
What a novel idea!
We ate lunch at Longhorn after another quick stop at Hobby Lobby on the way home from our morning outing. Walking past Amish ladies as I picked up the forgotten things in the craft store made me smile.
“A lot of Amish ladies in Hobby Lobby,” I said, climbing into the truck.
“Buying stuff from there and selling it in their stores.”
“They make crafts like I do; gotta get the supplies from somewhere. We’re doing the same thing.”
Sitting across from an older couple at lunch, the lady suffered from some type of medical issue. We thought about helping, but the staff had it under control. Watching them care for their guest warmed our hearts as they showered her with love, but it also made us empathize with her husband, who had his hands full taking care of her.
Driving around Lancaster produces one beautiful sight after another. Watching the Amish, quaint and simple, go about their lives makes me smile. The Amish couple we saw walking across the bridge as we entered our campground made me curious about their destination and what awaited them at home.
Once back at the Atlas, we had time to shower and relax before the 3:00 p.m. performance of Daniel at Sights and Sounds. Less than two miles from our campground, the theater began in the late 1970s by a couple who wanted to do biblical theater. Looking around the sold-out auditorium, they probably never envisioned the success their dream would become. Now run by their sons-in-law, the show captivated us and brought the Old Testament book to life.
Good morning!
Thirty-nine degrees on the ground, unbelievably cold in a hot air balloon drifting over Lancaster.
When I opened the door to let the dogs out, the sight took my breath away—watching the balloon float through the sky, simple yet beautiful.
Something I will never experience because of my fear of heights.
But I don’t mind enjoying the view from the ground and letting my imagination wander to the thrill of its passengers as they enjoy their ride through the heavens!
“Around two of the PA Fall Open begins,” Ron said, pushing his rented walking cart up the hill to hole one.
At 10:55 a.m. Ron teed off to begin the round. By a shutout, B. Morrison won the first round of their favorite game: First On, First In, Closest to the pin.
“I’m done,” Ron said, viewing my ball closer to the cup on hole eight.
“I needed to get all three on these last two holes to win.”
And with that B. Morrison closed out her husband in the second round of the PA Fall Open.
After golf we headed to Lancaster Central Park for another bike ride.
“Can we ride the Mill Creek Loop?” I asked the woman just finished her jog, coming towards me as we started our ride.
“Umm, I’m pretty sure bike aren’t allowed. It has a really steep hill at the end, and it’s not good for bikes. But I tell you what, go to through the covered bridge and you’ll come to a closed road on the left. Take it, it’s beautiful!”
Thanking her, the trim brunette’s in running shorts and pink top, smiled as she put the white ear bud back in her ear, and turned back towards the parking lot.
Her advice proved true, the bumpy road gave us a beautiful view of the river and fall foliage surrounded us. Not the ride we anticipated, but enough for the day after walking nine holes.
“There’s four horsepower for you,” Ron said as we waited at the stop sign to turn left when leaving the park.
Every time I see the fallow fields, I think of John,.our driver from the girls trip a couple years ago, and his explanation of the gospel. We must die to live, as the seed does in the field over winter, then blooms in the spring
After lunch at Smokehouse BBQ in Bird in the Hand, I did some retail therapy, stocking up for Christmas. As the kind Amish lady helped me carry my things to the truck, I couldn’t help but ask:
“Do you use the German translation of the Bi le or a different one?”
“We use the King James Version.”
Smiling, I quickly explained the documentary we watched that claimed they used an old German translation, one which no one could read today. She disproved the lie.
While Ron napped, I finished my cloth angels, enjoying the beautiful weather while children played around me and the sounds of family life energizing my soul.
“Do you want to buy some baked goods?” said the oldest Amish boy.
“No, we’re good,” said my cheap husband.
“What kind of baked goods do you have?” I quickly added.
“Pumpkin rolls, whoopie pies, apple pie…”
“I’ll take a pumpkin roll…and a whoopie pie.”
How could anyone resist these adorable children and their wonderful cart full of wares? Not my neighbors who soon gathered around
But apparently my husband could:-).
I love camping life!
“Your’re a threesome, he’s playing with you,” the started said at Overlook Golf Course when we arrived at the number one hole for our 10:30 tee time.
“My name’s Cory.”
With quick introductions, the third round of the PA Fall Open began. Sun warmed our skin in the low seventies weather, the tree’s autumn colors creating a frame around the link-style course.
Talking to the tiny, brunette started while the guys teed off, I learned her dark hair had no color to cover gray, all natural for the 70 year old starter.
“My dad’s 94. He doesn’t have any gray either. I think you get it from your dad’s side.”
“You won,” Ron said, walking onto the green of hole nine and sizing up the situation. Only needing one point, I got it when Ron’s ball stopped a few feet behind mine. A complete shut out for B. Morrison, wining all three rounds.
“I hardly ever play with other lefties,” Cory said as we waited on hole 10 to start the back nine.
“You’re a lefty?” I asked, amazed.
After playing two hours with our new friend, I hadn’t notice the most obvious thing.
“The first time I played this course, I hit it off the toe and hit that house right there.” Cory pointed behind me to the white house visible through the trees.
After parting ways with Cory, we stopped at the Brasserie for drinks and an app before picking up candy to settle in by the fire for our last night in Lancaster. Trick or treating starts at 7:00 p.m.
Trick or Treat start at 7:00!
Candy bought.
Fire lit.
Wine poured.
Who cares if we use a colander for the candy bowl, I bet the kids won’t even notice.
With no Walmart near, the Amish supplied the goods with fistfuls of candy bought by the pound.
Let the festivities begin!
After many attempts, I found the right angle for our evening of trick or treating. Ron and I debated on speed to record, finally, I put it on auto and let the phone decide. Our evening in time lapse:
“Headin’ home puppies,” Ron said at 8:52 a.m. as I hit record on the phone for one last video before we hit the highway for the five plus hour drive home.
Until next time Mill Bridge Village, we thoroughly enjoyed our time here.
