"Calamity Jane"

As Southern Baptists mission work is in our blood.  It always creates excitement whether it is local or across the world.  It is a time of venturing into the unknown, meeting different people, and experiencing the power of God.

I remember my second trip to Wyoming during the 1980’s Alabama/Wyoming partnership.  The Bridger Valley Baptist Church in Lyman, Wyoming, needed help with a mission in Granger, Wyoming and extended a Macedonian call to come help them.

A log home company donated a building to Christian believers in Granger.  The Chilton Baptist Builders mission was to remodel the log home and make a small church.  Bridger Valley, the sponsoring church said that it would be ready for our team.  The Chilton Baptist Builders were in their second year of mission work.  The first trip we drove to Kemmerer, Wyoming.  On this second trip we decided to fly.  That was the beginning of an eventful mission memory.

I remember it was the first time to fly for several of us.  Somewhere between Birmingham and Memphis, I experienced a holy hush.  It was a wine and cheese sampler flight.  Being from a “dry county” and being “teetoler” Baptists, we confused the flight attendant by our refusal to partake of the different flavors of cheese and wine.  Someone did suggest what we could have the Lord’s Supper since they were serving wine, but since it was our Lord’s last meal, we did not want this to be our last meal due to drinking the communion wine.  What I thought of as a holy hush after that moment was really my ears were stopped up from the altitude change.  I realized this when I could see people talking but could not hear them.  I learned to chew gum to make my ears pop.

Flying into Salt Lake City International Airport, we watched a severe thunderstorm beneath us as we circled the airport.  We noticed a great big flash on the horizon and that the Great Salt Lake resembled an Alabama catfish pond.  It was much bigger when we got on the ground.  We were glad we did not drink the wine and missed being struck by lightning.

Exiting the plane, we went to get our luggage.  One of my bags was the first to come up and around the carousel.  Soon everyone had their luggage and was ready to go as I waited for my second piece.  All of a sudden the airport went black.  The thunderstorm knocked off all the power in northern Utah and southwest Wyoming.  I decided to go down into the luggage carousel.  I saw my piece, retrieved it, and we went to find our ride.  I am glad the electricity did not come back on.

Outside a black man asked if he could take our luggage.  David, one of our team who had never been out of Chilton County, said “Sure.”  He told the man that was neighborly of him to offer.

After he carried our luggage on this cart to the curbside, the black man stood at attention, lowered his left hand by his side, snapped his fingers, and said, “We are porters sir.”  David said, “Glad to meet you, I’m an Easterling and we have some Porters back home in Clanton.”  The porter snapped his fingers again and said, “We are porters sir.”

I said, “David, he wants a tip.”  I was pretty country myself, but I knew tipping porters was different than tipping cows.  David gave him a dollar.  The man snapped his fingers again.  David gave more, and I gave some.  David was not a happy missionary.

The host pastor stood outside with a sign with ALABAMA printed on it.  We loaded in his van for a 135 mile trip to Kemmerer.  We were hungry; remember we had only cheese and water or soft drinks for our only meal of the day.  All of northern Utah was without power, no place to eat and a long ride before we found a place with power.

Finally, we stopped Bingo’s Truck Stop in Evanston, Wyoming.  It was ten at night, Wyoming time.  The cook there looked like the cook on Hee Haw except he did not have fly swatter.  Bingo’s had a 12-ounce T-bone special.  I ordered it medium rare.  When he brought it out it was the largest steak I had ever seen.  The French fries were on another plate.  I could not eat it and I took it back.  With the toothpick rolling in his mouth the cook said, “What’s wrong?”

I said, “You are going to have to “lick that calf again”.”  He said, “You said medium rare.”  I replied to him, I can eat a steak when it is rare, when it is red, when blood is seeping out, but it has to be hot!  The steak had ice crystals around the bone on the side against the platter.  He said, complaints, complaints. . .  I was hungry, but not that hungry. 

We pulled a Willie Nelson and got on the road again.  Arriving at Granger at midnight, we found the log home.  It was sitting on the ground; there was no phone, no power, no water, and no sewage.  We thought as we surveyed the situation, welcome to mission excitement.

And a vision appeared to Paul in the night; There stood a man of Macedonia, and prayed him, saying, Come over into Macedonia, and help us.  And after he had seen the vision, immediately we endeavoured to go into Macedonia, assuredly gathering that the Lord had called us for to preach the gospel unto them (Acts 16:9-10 KJV).

The Chilton Baptist Builders were tired and sleepy that first night at Granger, Wyoming.  Church members from Bridger Valley and Granger provided some travel trailers and a mobile home that had Sunday school rooms, for us to sleep.  I slept on the floor of the children’s class room.  It had carpet.

The host pastor said that seven miles up the road on the Interstate was Little America, a large souvenir shop where there were bathrooms and showers for truckers.  That was a good hike to use the restroom.  Thank goodness the church did provide us with a van.  It was Saturday night, but we could wait to Sunday morning to shower at Little America and dress for morning worship at Bridger Valley.

The next morning we tried to decide what to do first.  The host church was to have the log cabin ready for us to remodel.  It was on the ground.  The grounds had large holes for water and sewage lines.  In Wyoming the frost line is eight feet whereas in Alabama is four to eight inches.  It was a mess and we needed some power and needed to find who was in charge of the utilities.

As we talked we heard a racket and the banging of car doors.  Looking around the corner was an old Toyota pickup.  A lady was hauling barrels of water to water trees in planned community of Granger.  The church was in this small development area near a river.  Other than a Honky-tonk, the log cabin was all that was in the development on the river.

We asked her who the man in charge of the power was.  She said she was.  She said she would get it turned on.  We asked her who we need to see about the water.  She said she was in charge of the water.  Yes, you guessed it.  She was in charge of the sewage.  She chastised us when we asked for the man in charge.  She was very much in charge.

She wore blue jeans, a plaid shirt, cowboy, maybe that was a cowgirl boots.  Her demeanor and the feeble husband caused us to give here the nickname “Calamity Jane.”

She constantly flew in and around the church in that beat up old pickup.  I said flying because the doors would not stay closed and it looked like a bird flopping when she skidded up to the church.

When we tried to unload the water for her she reminded us she was not a Southern Belle but an independent Wild West woman to which we said, “Yes mam!”  She was good to keep us stocked with snacks and drinks.  We were glad she did not tote pistols.

For three days S.O., a slave to alcohol now gloriously saved and nicknamed “Rabbit” and I worked under the log cabin jacking it up.  Underneath were skunk dens.  We did not change clothes because we had skunk hair and skunk feces all over us.  We worked and ate alone.  We did shower and put on clean underwear each day.

On Wednesday Calamity Jane slid in and demanded that all the workers give her their dirty clothes.  Rabbit and I were under the church running electrical and water lines.  Rabbit said, “Be quiet and be still.”

Our guys tried to tell Calamity that it was okay, but that was like spitting in the wind.  They all disappeared and returned with their dirty clothes.  Calamity took them and then shouted, “Where’s your underwear?”  Rabbit and I were quiet as church skunks.  Wayne, our brave spokesman and electrician, tried to convince her that she did not need our dirty undies.  This time it was reminisce of the stand off at the shoot out at the OK corral.  Calamity did not have pistols, but those “wimps” disappeared and reappeared with their dirty BVD’s.  At least they were man enough not to squeal on the two dirty skunks under the church.  Calamity just wanted to minister.  She was not a Lydia, but she did love the Lord and His workers.  She returned every man’s clothes clean and folded.

And on the sabbath we went out of the city by a river side, where prayer was wont to be made; and we sat down, and spake unto the women which resorted thither.  And a certain woman named Lydia, a seller of purple, of the city of Thyatira, which worshipped God, heard us: whose heart the Lord opened, that she attended unto the things which were spoken of Paul.  And when she was baptized, and her household, she besought us, saying, If ye have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my house, and abide there. And she constrained us (Acts 16:13-15 KJV).

We were able to winterize the little log cabin.  There was three inches between the window and the logs.  They were worshipping in weather that was below freezing. We put in a new ceiling, new lighting, and electrical outlets.  It is good to do mission work.  It shows us that people are different.  The people of Granger and Bridger Valley were wonderful and I often think of our time there.  I can say that for us “kountry boyz” from Chilton County that porters and Calamity Janes can be a culture shock.  They remind us that people need generous tips and lots of love, understanding and encouragement.  We did have the opportunity to witness, help change lives, and be changed as well as do some remodeling.  Mission work is exciting and eventful.