...or humble gratitude

Blacksburg, SC

Another rush of surprises. We arrived at a church last night and met a group of women just leaving a baby shower there. After a brief introduction they offered us fried chicken, potato salad, and sweet tea ("Now I know I'm in the South!" Heather said) and called the pastor. But his wife answered, and didn't want us sleeping there. Sharon wasn't deterred though, immediately calling her own pastor, who let us sleep at that nearby church. The pastor even showed up soon after we arrived to make sure we were comfortable.

And this morning, after heavy rains last night, Pastor Gunn came back and offered breakfast and a ride down the road. We talked all the way (and smiled when his cell phone rang a Dixieland version of "When the Saints Go Marching In"). An interesting, energetic guy, who took plenty of time to make sure we were cared for. He dropped us at the library here, where Sara will pick us up soon. We'd been planning to visit her but thought we wouldn't arrive until next week.

It feels like we've been passed from hand to hand by people the past few days. Carried over daunting stretches and through threatening weather and given warm meals and safe, comfortable places to sleep. It certainly has been much more an experience of grace than accomplishment, bringing forth an overwhelming feeling of grateful humility.