Church in the Windshield
Good Sam Campout
June 13-17 2019
It’s
9:00 a.m. on Thursday June 13 and we are loading the final last minute items
onto the motorhome. I have checked the coach, its fuel tanks are full, the oil
levels proper and each of the six tires show a pressure of 105 pounds. The car is in good order as well and has no
mechanical issues. I press the button on the garage door opener and listen to
the giant garage door creak, rattle and shake as it rises above the roof line
of the coach. A turn of the switch brings the diesel to life . . . music to the
ears of people who like to travel.
Within
a few minutes both coach and car are parked on the street and securely hooked
together for safe towing and travel. Sheron climbs aboard the coach and I ask
her if she has closed and secured the house . . . “No,” she responded, “I
forgot something.” As she went back to the house, I sat in the driver’s seat
drumming my fingers on the steering wheel and fuming because the time was close
for us to meet our camping group at exit 206. In a little while Sheron came
back and once again climbed aboard announcing, “Well I guess we are ready” . .
. It was then that I remembered the forgotten keys needed for this trip.
Needless to say, it was a bit humbling for me to reopen the house . . . God has
such a good sense of humor.
We made our way to Hutchinson
uneventful until we got to plum and seventeenth-street. It’s a tight turn at
its best and larger vehicles have to turn into the northbound turn lane to have
enough room to make the turn. The light
changed to green in our favor and we began the maneuver just then an elderly
gentleman (myself excluded) entered the turn lane from the west. For a few
seconds, it looked like we were going to meet eyeball to eyeball with our headlights
fortunately both vehicles were only creeping along. Each driver gave the other
as much space as possible . . . we all made it . . . “life is good!”
We dragged out our lawn chair type
camping rockers from the basement of our motorhome, slid out three slides to
make the living space larger. And now we were setup to enjoy each other and the
other members of our camping group . . . that is right after a nap. Naps are good . . . long naps are better than
short ones. No naps at all, make our spouses “grumpy.” Can you guess which type
of nap we recommended for each other? And so, day one of our camping experience
began.
Before the day was over, we had a “pot
luck dinner;” or should I say “lock put dinner,” whatever. Any way, it was one
of those dinners where everyone brings their specialty cooking recipes. I like
to start at the dessert table and get the “good stuff” first but on this day I
was cordial, friendly . . . and patient. After dinner, we all sat around and
had a good time visiting. I recalled and recited a little poem (I don’t know
the author) but the poem went like this:
It was 12:45 p.m. and everybody
gathered around to sort out which vehicles were going to Strataca and who was
riding with whom. Strataca is a new name for the Old Hutchinson Salt Mine. We
must hurry, I thought because we have a 1:30 p.m. tour scheduled. I thought I had gotten over the finger
drumming, but I guess I still have some work to do on that one. At any rate our
five car parade eventually made its way across town, passed by the airport and
parked in the Strataca parking lot.
We “que tips” (older white haired
people wearing white tennis shoes) made our way to the Strataca lobby and
waited for instructions. We observed a group of tourists waiting patiently near
a door and all of them were wearing yellow helmets. Suddenly, the door opened
and we were ushered into a room next to a large rugged iron elevator. But . . . but we don’t have yellow helmets, I thought
to myself . . . they have yellow helmets . . . why don’t we get yellow helmets?
I soon had an answer to that question. A firm no nonsense female voice said,
“Those of you that don’t have helmets take a white one off of the rack next to you;
place it on your head and adjust the head band to fit.” I decided it was not in
my best interest to ask why we didn’t get yellow helmets. It turned out that
the lady was our safety guide for the elevator; certainly nice enough but, she knew
her stuff and how to make the elevator ride a safe one. She went on to say,
“Those of you who have white helmets will get to take the tour . . . and the
dark ride.” I thought to myself, life is
good . . . all good. Certainly this was new twist to the scripture listed
below:
The
elevator was a double deck freight elevator with each deck having a maximum
capacity of fifteen persons. A bell rang, heavy doors clanged open and fifteen
of us stepped inside the upper deck. One of the fifteen was our safety person
who closed the heavy metal door with a bang! The elevator shook a bit and moved
up eight to ten feet. Fifteen people boarded the deck below us. We could easily
hear the banging of the heavy metal doors in the elevator below us. In a few
seconds the elevator gave a slight jolt and started descending to the bottom of
the mine. Ninety seconds later we were
650 feet below ground surface.
Once
we reached the bottom of the mine shaft, we were ushered into a magnificent
large room with walls and ceiling made entirely of salt. The pavement below us
was constructed by using salt instead of sand mixed in the cement. A
photographer took a group picture of the que tips reporting for duty. Sheron
and I were the ones wearing the white helmets . . . Duh!
It
was relaxing to sit on the tram for a few minutes. Before long the blocking
strips were removed and the tour guide said, “Hi everybody,
welcome we are glad
you are here to take a tour through the mine. Please, stay in your seat . . . don’t
stand up . . . keep your arms in and
enjoy the tour.” With that, the tram lurched forward and we were on our way. It
was awesome to realize that we were beneath four hundred feet of highway melt
and untold tons of cattle lick.
The
treasure that I found, I took home and placed under color changing LED lights
and this is what I saw. These two pictures are both of the
same piece of salt.
I couldn’t help but think about what Jesus said in the following scripture:
Matthew 5:13“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness,
how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be
thrown out and trampled underfoot.
The
salt of the earth is the common folk, rich in the faith, strong in the spirit
and willing to share the word.
The Dark Ride
A young tour guide announced over the tram
sound system, “All Aboard! Ah . . . well
I guess you are aboard . . . come to think of it.” He then turned toward the
tour scheduling booth and yelled, “Is this the group that I am supposed to take
through next?” “Yes it is,” echoed back the reply. We began the tour ride through the mine,
around darken corners, through sometimes narrow passages and then through wide
open spaces. The tram stopped, the lights went out and it was darker than
standing in the middle of a pine forest on a cloudy night. I gave Sheron a
squeeze and she said, “I will give just to three to stop that please . . . 99 .
. . 98 . . . 97 . . . and the lights came back on.
Matthew 8:23-26 (NIV)23 Then he got into the boat and his disciples
followed him. 24 Suddenly a furious
storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was
sleeping. 25 The disciples went and
woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!”26 He
replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was
completely calm.
During
the course of the tour, we saw old salt handling equipment now rusted and
inoperable. In its day, the equipment was dissembled and piece by piece hauled
down the freight elevator; then reassembled in the mine. This old equipment will never be returned to
the surface; what goes in the mine, stays in the mine.
About
mid journey, the tram stopped to let off willing workers. The workers with
helmets of yellow and white determined to work through the day and part of the
night, to find the treasure just perfect. I watched this motley crew dig in the
salt for something new. Then I spied a box on the table it sat. I looked in the box and found the best treasure
yet. I was excited as can be; I grabbed it up and held it close to me . . .
cost a dollar.
The Dark Ride
All
too soon the tour was over and the photographer took one last picture of a
miner, exhausted from a hard day’s work. Again, the freight elevator doors
clanged and banged before the ninety second ride back to the top.
Once
on top where the sun was hot; “que tips” made their way to their cars and
journeyed back to the old camp ground. For a while, some visited, some read and
some just kicked their shoes off for some “toes up time.” One thing about a que
tip camp-out is that it is not too structured and free time is . . . well free
time.
Evening Diner
In
a little while though, campers began to emerge from their homes on wheels . . .
its supper time or dinner time depending on your corner of society. For us
though, eating is anytime; call it what you want. We all made our way to a nice
local restaurant and the food was so good. And as for Sheron and I, we decided
to call the place “The Royal Gorge.”
The Storm
It
was about 10:30 p.m. when Sheron and I decided to call it a day and turn in for
night. No dogs were barking; no cats yowling, no loud music playing and the
park seemingly at rest. Sheron peered out the window and said, “I think I saw
some lightning . . . do you think we need to pull our slides in?” I responded
with “Nah, we will be fine, I am going to bed.”
Close to the middle of the night, there was more lightning; thunder,
heavy rain and wind, lots of wind, strong - unrelenting wind. Sheron said, “Honey do you think we ought to
pull in the slides?” “Nah, I responded, it will soon pass over.” Just then, a
gust of wind caught the awning slide cover, yanked open the retracting spring
and violently-flopped the canvas. I jumped out of bed and yelled, “Bring the
slides in, bring the slides in.” I pressed the button and the slides came in .
. . I hate it when I’m wrong. Remember when Jesus the disciples were fearful
for lives then Jesus calmed the storm?
After
the storm, we thought, had we been in the mine, we would not have seen the
lightning, would not have heard the thunder, and would not have felt the wind.
Walking with God is as calming as being in the salt mine during a storm.
Commitment in an
empty Water Bottle
Each
Sunday morning, the “Heartland Good Sam’s” celebrate God in a worship service.
This Sunday
was no exception. Campers
found a shady spot, brought their lawn chairs and prepared for the worship
service. Sometimes, they (the campers)
have music, sometimes sharing but always a devotional. On this particular
Sunday, each person was given a strip of paper and asked to write on it what
talent or skill they would be willing to use for God in the coming year. They
were then asked to put the paper strip in the empty water bottle and talk about
their commitment (if they felt so inclined). Each person participated and
placed their commitment in the bottle and each person chose to share their commitment.
We are all a part of the body of Christ; one party with many parts.
Romans 12:4 . And although its parts are
many, they all form one body. So it is with Christ
The Final Good
Byes
After
the church service campers prepare to break camp. Connecting hoses, cables and
wires all returned to their proper storage places. Good Byes are extended and
one by one the campers begin to leave; sometimes a lump comes up in our throats
and maybe a tear in our eyes. We travel quietly for a while.
Until
next time, Let God Write Your Story and keep the faith.
Ron & Sheron,
Drivers behind the windshield
I enjoyed reading about your trip. We have heard the salt mine tour is interesting.
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