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Chapter 2

Friday, December 9.

            It rained last night and part of today, which wound up being a big factor in the day’s events.

            I got a good night’s sleep under the assurances of town’s folk that crime is rare in Walterboro.  I was up and on the road by 8:00 and spent some time driving around town seeing the sights.  Located 50 miles west of Charleston on Interstate Route 96, Walterboro is a picturesque country town with green forests of oak, pine, and cedar, rolling grassy fields, and large farms.  There’s a noticeable difference in the species of trees between these and the equally plush forests of East Texas. Seeing the beautiful land excited me all the more about getting down to some real farming work. 

            The Overcomer front property is located south of downtown Walterboro on State Highway 15.  The big sign which reads Overcomer Ministry, Faith Tabernacle, and Overcomer Inc. is easily seen as approached.  The property is of good size - I would estimate ten acres or more.  The building style and layout gives the impression that the place used to be a public school.  

            I pulled into the long lengthwise school bus style driveway at 9:30.  It was cold  and drizzling still, but the pavement wasn’t real wet..  There are three visible buildings, as I recall, situated around a large square fenced lawn.  To the north is a one level building, to the east a workshop style building, and to the south an auditorium styled building.  Numerous dogs run loose within the fenced yard. Not seeing any signs point toward an office, I went to the north building as I could see activity within. 

            I approached apprehensively, wondering if I was expected and how I would be received.  Warm air rushed out toward me as I opened the side door and entered.  Inside I saw women scurrying everywhere around a large kitchen.  Other than a few glancing smiles, they took little notice of me as I observed their. movements.  The women, mostly middle aged or better, all wear no cosmetics, have long hair, and wear dresses which went to the floor.  From first sight, though thinking none were strikingly beautiful, I thought it very attractive to see women dressed like Godly women.   I could see they had been working a long time in this warm kitchen for the perspiration which ran down their faces.  It didn’t take me long to realize that I walked into the wrong building. 

            Two or three minutes passed until I was approached by an attractive younger white woman who, based on a previous description and also on her authoritative mannerism, I would guess to have been Mrs. Stair.  She’s about 5’ 5’’ tall and was wearing a white top and a light solid blue floor length skirt. 

            “Can I do something for you?” she asked in a stern voice.

            “Hi,” I said, “I’m Mark.  I’m here from San Diego.”

            “Is there something you want here.  What can I do for you?” she asked as if totally unaware that I was coming, and annoyed that I was in her way.  Most people would have been surprised to see someone from so far away.  But she was totally cold.

            “I believe I’m expected.  I’ve come to stay with you all a while.  Is Brother Stair here?”

            “No, but he’ll be here soon.  Follow me and you can talk to Brother Curt while you wait.” 

            She led south through the kitchen and through the door opening onto the large fenced lawn, where I was immediately greeted by four very curious big dogs.  They were all mutts and badly in need of baths.  Though cautious at first, I discovered the dogs to be very friendly.

            “Brother Curt,” she called out when he came into view. “This is Brother Mark.  Will you talk to him until Brother Stair comes back?”

            “Hi,” I said reaching out my hand, “I’m Mark.”

            Curt gave a half hearted unenthusiastic hand shake as he looked at me with a sideways suspicious glare.  His eyes were clear but intense, as if trying to calculate what terrible thing I might be up to.  Curt is a white man with a full face of dark brown or black hair.  He’s not a big guy; about my size and height of 5’ 11’’ and 170 pounds.  He was dressed in coveralls and looked as if he’d been working on some machinery.

            “So, why are you here?” he asked in an unfriendly tone.

            “I came here to stay and work two or three months to learn farming and to see how a Christian community functions.”

            “Oh?” 

            “Why do I get the feeling this is a big surprise to you all?”

            “I’ve heard of you over the radio sometimes,” Curt said, making up for being uninformed.

            We did some small talking for about two minutes, and it was obvious that he was not going to get friendly.  So I moved off and started petting the stinky dogs.

            “What do you do?” Curt asked

            “For the past six months I was in Texas helping Brother Ben with his ministry until that work was done.  Before that, I worked as an auto mechanic and handyman in San Diego.”

            “Oh!” Curt said perking up. “You work on engines and stuff?”

            “That’s what I like best.  Working on machines.”  This revelation improved Kurt’s attitude considerably, and the conversation improved.

            Thirty minutes had passed.  My back was to the kitchen, when from behind I heard a commotion approaching.  I turned and from out of the kitchen door approached a disgruntled looking man making grumbling sounds in my direction.  He approached in a zigzag circling fashion looking me up and down and speaking unpleasantries at me.  It was as if a dog circling an adversary.

            “I was looking out upon you from the door and asking myself, well well well lets see what kind of a bad spirit we have in this one.,” he said in a gruff challenging voice.  He is short 5’ 7’’, well fed, bottle shaped, flinty old fellow. On his gray hared round wrinkled face was a hard gape.  His eyes searched me up and down continuously. 

            “Hello brother Ralph,” I said sticking out my hand.  “Good to finally meet you in person.”

            “Don’t you try to snow job me young man.  I’ve been tried to be snowed by the best of them, and you ain’t gonna snow job me, no sir.”  He circled me twice as if preparing for an altercation. “Well well well.”

            “Hey, I’m not here to snow job anyone,” I said smiling while taking off my cap to reveal a full head of snow white hair.  My attempt at levity had no effect.

            “I know you.  You’re a talker.  Your kind always is.  Are you going to learn to shut up and do as your told?  ...Got nothing to say huh?  That’s a good start.  You came here to work; well you’re going to work.  And just maybe we’ll be able to straighten you out..”  He stopped circling and looked up at me with a big creased grin revealing his mouth full of yellow and missing teeth.  “How does that sound?”

            “I must be here for some reason,” I said undaunted by his attack.

            “We’re going to do just fine brother,” he said smiling jovially and grabbing my arm. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.  Brother Curt will tell you how to get to the farm from here.  I may be coming along a little later.  There’s no time to talk any longer.  Sabbath is coming and there’s work to do to prepare for the Sabbath services tonight.  Good to see you had a safe trip. Just go right in through the gate to the end of the dirt road.  The brothers are waiting for you.”

            “I’ve got a trailer on my van.  I’m not going to get stuck in the mud on the dirt road am I?” I asked.

            “It’s a good road.  Don't worry.”  He disappeared quickly back into the kitchen..

2

            I arrived at the front gate of the Overcomer farm at 11:00.   The farm is close to ten miles from the other place.   It is secluded by a surrounding forest, and I missed the entrance the first time by it.   The metal cattle rail gate which crosses the entrance was open, and I drove through cautiously looking for mud holes.  I thought to myself as I moved along, “Stair is right.  This is a very good road.”   The trees thinned out as I approached a series of clearings.  Half way up the gently curved road, on the right. is a branch road which looked like it went into some woods.  I continued straight and came to a big clearing and to another right going branch road.  Down this road is seen buildings on both sides, and rows of mobile homes.  This road looked too like it went into some woods.  I found out later that the two roads meet to form a big loop.  The place now appeared to be a large quaint settlement.  It looked typical of a makeshift backwoods town.

            I continued straight, now quite a ways inside the farm, and crossed over a drainage channel.  In view now was a series of work shops on the right, other buildings on the left, and a very large muddy field straight ahead.  This was the end of the road.  A big flat turn around area was at the end.

            Men were moving about and I waved at them as I passed.  I wanted to turn around in case I would have to move the van back the way I came, and ahead looked to be large enough area to do so.  The flat area on the left was not a firm as it appeared, and as I completed my turn, and was nearly straight, the right side of the van slipped right to the axles in the mud. The van was stuck good.  I wasn’t embarrassed about getting stuck, it just happened.  Well,  I had made it all the way without a hitch.  If I was finally to have something difficult happen, at least it was here among helping hands. Nothing to do now but stop, get out and introduce myself.

            The man approaching me didn’t hold my optimistic view.  He is a big white man in his late fifties, 6’ 4’’ tall, 210 pounds or more, with short black hair, a clean shaved face, and dressed in drab navy blue coveralls.  He shook his head disapprovingly at me as he approached.

            “Well, I’ve arrived,” I said looking at him and then back at my latest and greatest trick.

            “You almost made it too.  But I knew you were going to get stuck.  It’s typical of your kind,” he said.

            “I’m Mark from San Diego.”

            “I’m Brother Dave.”  Dave had a pleasant look on his face, but I could tell that like Curt, he was busy analyzing how he was going to accept me.  “Lets move over here and talk out of the wet weather, “ he continued.  “That will be okay there for now.  We’ll get some of the boys to help push it out later. “ 

            “It will be easy enough I guess seeing the tractors you have here.  I could unhook the trailer too.  That will help, “ I added.

            “Don’t worry about it brother.,”  Dave insisted.  “You’re here now with nowhere else to go.  Come on over here and meet some of the boys. 

            We walked toward the shops on the right side of the drive.   Facing them, on the left are two shabby looking garages which house tractors and parts.  To the right is an open front work shop.  In the center is a raised blue enclosed shed with a ramp going up into it.  Next are a few other open front places with a path between them, and far right the main open front workshop.  The row of structures look ramshackle,  but functional and organized.  

            Three fellows emerged from the main shop and Dave introduced me.  Before every person’s first name is placed the article “Brother.”  Brother Mike, the first of the three, is a short white intelligent looking man.  He is 5’ 7’’ tall, 150 pounds, wearing jeans and green sectional jacket, clean shaved, wears glasses and is quiet and reserved.  Brother Tim is a big white guy wearing coveralls.  He has a thick face of hair, is 200 pounds, and 6’ tall.  And Dennis is a black man wearing jeans and a blue jacket, and the same size as Tim.   Dennis and Tim are both around 30 years old, and Mike is near 40.

            As we talked, Dave lead the conversation while the others stood quietly speaking only to back up Dave’s points.  He talked a little about the farm and their goals. 

            “I don’t like to say this too much,” Dave began to say, “but I think it’s important to mention to you who I am.  You see, Brother Stair, he’s the Prophet.  Now me, I’m just an old evangelist.  I’ve preached in many more places than Brother Stair has or ever will.  I’ve got the gifts... all the gifts of the Lord.  I’ve prophesized, spoken in tongues, healed sick people and all that.  And I run this farm.   Brother Stair can’t be here because he’s the Prophet and needs to be on the radio.  But if something ever happened to him, I could replace him immediately.. You see, on this farm I am Brother Stair.  We’re the same.  He and I are one.  You’ll learn that I’m never wrong Brother.  Because if I’m wrong, then you’re saying that the Prophet is wrong.  And if the Prophet is wrong, then you’re saying God is wrong; and that can’t be.  The Prophet Brother Stair is next to God, and I’m next to the Prophet.”

            I was getting an uneasy feeling about this Dave, and about his relationship to the guys.  So I thought it might be time about time to at least get the van out of the mud.   Dave was already telling the men his version of my arrival.

            “Yeah, I saw Brother Mark coming down the road, going into the turn...I just knew he was going to get stuck. He almost made it.  I wouldn’t have tried it though.  Would have made it if you went a little more right.  It wasn’t a good move.” 

            I could tell he was trying to put me down as he spoke.  Dave is a Southerner with a strong accent.  His words have a short clip at the end which gives the impression of conceit.  Dave is definitely the authority figure around here, and his speech pattern fits his personality well.   As he speaks, he puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heals and toes landing flat as he makes a strong point.  This man loves to control.

            “I was fooled by the smooth wet area over there.  It looked like part of the driveway.  Hard to tell sometimes in wet conditions.  But things like that happen,” I replied.

            “You’re not embarrassed?” Dave remarked.

            “No.  I’m just glad I made it here before something like it happened.”

            “Amazing.  You really aren’t embarrassed,” Dave said shaking his head and landing on his heals.

            “It will be easy to unstick it if you would help me, “ I said moving in that direction.  “I can unhook the trailer and we can put the tractor on the ball hitch...”

            “Brother Mark, don’t worry.  It’s not in the way there for now.”  Dave said.

            “Still I’d feel better if we could do it now.  I don’t want the guys to push it out.  As yet I don’t have any major dents, and it’s packed full of stuff.  Can you help me?”

            As I began unhooking the trailer, Dave motioned to the some guys to give a hand.  He called for a tall black man named Wayne to bring a tractor and chain.  It didn’t take but a few minutes to pull the van out and hook the trailer back up.  I felt a lot better and thanked the men  greatly for their help.  Dave was not happy with me over this though.  He took it as a challenge to his authority. 

            “We’ve got no more time for fun now.  It’s just after noon and Sabbath is coming.  So back to work.   Brother Mark, I’m sending someone to get Brother John.  He’ll show you where your house is.  In the mean time we’re winding down, so there’s nothing we can have you do right now.  John will come soon.”  Dave then turned and went away.

            I followed Mike, Tim and Dennis into the big shop where they were working on a project attaching an electric motor to a large grain elevator.  As I observed, I noticed they had rigged up a contraption to use a left running motor to do a right running job.  It wasn’t going to work unless the motor was very strong.  When they plugged it in, the motor just hummed.  They tried pushing the paddles in the elevator, but the motor wasn’t going to work.  It was then I stepped up and looked at the machine.

            “I think your motor is no good,” I said.  “It’s not even getting hot.”

            They agreed with me and I started helping them work.  Dave appeared suddenly from nowhere and motioned at me. “Brother Mark, they know what they’re doing.  Come away from there.  Brother John is on his way to get you.” 

            The other men just looked quickly at Dave and went back to work saying nothing.  They were not going to say anything in my defense.   Dave again disappeared, and I went back to watching the guys work from afar.  The grain elevator is heavy and almost fell once, so I ran to help catch it.   I found myself helping out again to their thanks.  But they didn’t warn me that Dave would be quite unhappy.

            “Brother!” I heard as Dave approached. “Now I told you that you are bothering these Brothers.  Please please come away from them.  Look, here’s Brother John.  Go with him okay.”

            Dave’s personality and attitude were very shocking to me.  Never before had I been treated in such an adverse fashion.  I was glad to see John arrive.  I introduced myself.

            “We’ll need to ride in your van, “ John said.  “The house is kind of far.”  I got the feeling John was looking foreword to riding in the van.  

            We Got into my van and drove back down the long driveway to the first branch road which I saw coming in.  Turning left, we passed a clump of trees and came to a clearing with a row of mobile homes on the left.  We stopped at the first one in a row of four. 

            John is an average sized white fellow, about my size of 5’ 11’’ tall, 170 pounds, and 32 years old or so.  He, like Curt and Tim, has let his facial hair grow full.  It gives them a kind of biblical appearance when coupled with the surroundings and their way of dress - or even that good ol’ unsophisticated farm boy look.  It’s simple and appealing in a way, except on John it looks sheepish for some reason.  Like he’s given up a lot somehow and submitted to something.  That’s the impression his personality gave me too as we conversed.  I’m also not sure he’s very trustworthy.  Something in his eyes.

            John showed me my room first.  It is located on the lower end of the first trailer.  This trailer, 40 feet long and 12 feet wide and dark brown, is the oldest looking in the park, but very adequate.  It has three entrances, two on the right side at either end, and one on the left.  Each entrance has a small covered porch and wooden steps up.  My room is 10 feet by 12 feet, and nicely furnished..  It is separated from John’s room by an office partition which nearly touches the ceiling. John explained that the gap up top is to allow heat to flow in from the other end of the coach where the wood stove is. 

            On the other end of the coach is a common living room between John’s room and another room occupied by another man named Marc.  This is where the wood stove sits.  John said that the living room is for the three of us to rest and fellowship.  There is a couch and a table.  But the room looks and smells very unkempt, musty and uninviting. 

            The entrance on the other side then is John’s room door.

            My room is very nice.  It has a well dressed double bed and night stands on each side.  On the left is a standing closet, a desk and chair, and a lounge.  At the front is a dresser.   On the dresser is a speaker box which John pointed out to me.  When plugged in, it puts out the 24 hour satellite broadcast of the Overcomer message. Unfortunately, John explained, there is no knob to control the volume .  It is either on full or off.  John showed how a pillow could work to muffle the sound.

            Leaving the trailer, we met Marc coming in.  After a brief introduction, John took me to see the Out House trailer.  It is the third in the row of coaches with two entrances.  A women’s latrine and a men’s latrine.  And what an awful place it is.  Because it is a community bathroom used by children and adults alike, it is a frightful mess.  There are a few showers in a row, a few unflushed bowls in a row, a couple of stalls, and one wash sink.  John must have noticed a reaction out of me because he apologized for the conditions. 

            “This is the bathroom.  Sorry it doesn’t smell good or look too clean.  There’s another one for us near Fellowship Hall that’s just being repainted, so it’s really cleaned up,” John assured me.

            “I’ll show you where the laundry room is next,” he continued. 

            “Good,” I said, “I do have some laundry to wash.”

            “The women do the laundry for us on Wednesdays.”

            “I like to do it myself.  I don’t let anyone else do my stinky clothes.  I’d be embarrassed if total strangers did my laundry for me.”

            “That’s not allowed.  The women do all the laundry,” John insisted. “We’ll have to talk to Brother Dave about you wanting to do your own laundry.  He’ll be unhappy.”

            As we approached our coach I asked, “Will you help me unhook and park my trailer over there so my van can be free for running to town for supplies?”

            “You won’t need to go to town, just ask Dave for what you need.  He’ll get it for you.”

            “There may be some free time I have though, and I’d like to look around the town while I’m here.”

            John looked sideways at me and said, “There is no free time.  That’s not allowed anyway.  No one goes to town.  There’s no need.  Besides, if you go, everyone else will want to go, and they don’t have cars.”

            “Would people get envious of that?”

            “You had better talk to Dave before you unload.  If you already have trouble with the rules, you might not want to stay.”

            “That’s okay,” I said, “I’m here now.  But I’m doing my own laundry.  Help me unhook.”

            After unhooking, John asked what I had in my trailer.  What could anyone possibly have that took so much space?  I told him it was all of my stuff and books and tools.  He expressed some bewilderment toward why I would need anything else with me besides clothing, as everything he needs is provided by the farm.  I explained that people usually have stuff to live with, like dishes and books etc..   But why doesn’t he know that?  Of course he knows that.

            We started walking through the park toward the workshops when we met an older woman coming toward us.  She was smiling and happy to meet me.  She lives next door in the second trailer with another old lady roommate.  I can’t remember her name right now.   She is short and well fed looking, and I can tell she used to be handsome woman in her younger years.  She is still pleasant looking though, and very nice.  (Note: I forgot this woman’s name and from here on she will be called Sarah as indicated in the diary later.)

3

            “Brother Dave, “ John said when we found Dave at the workshops, “Brother Mark needs to talk to you.  He wants to do his own laundry, and go see the town.”  He seemed quite eager to tell Dave this.  This guy likes controversy me thinks.

            “What’s that?  Brother Mark, doing laundry is the women’s work.  All of us guys get it done that way.  That’s the way it works around here.”

            I was somewhat defiant. “Brother Dave, I don’t mean to cause grief, but I do my own laundry.  It has always been that way for me.  My own mother isn’t allowed to do it.“

            “Brother, you won’t have time to do your laundry.  You’ll be working too hard.”

            “I’ll find some free time I’m sure.”

            Dave’s face became stone.  I now could see the lines in his face which formed his usual expressions of conceit and control pronounce themselves.  His lips looked a little more puffy now, his cheeks a little more drawn down, the lines in his forehead a little more deep.  His accent too became very thickened with it’s sharp end tone clip, and he uses them for effect.

            “Free time!” he burst out while rocking on his heels, hands thrust into his pockets. Brother, there ain’t no free time.  You don’t  have no free time.  Your time belongs to the Lord.  You’re here now. “

            Men had now started gathering around to hear us talk.  Dave looked around at them side to side, enjoying himself,  as a chorus of soft “Amen” rose up.  About eight men were not gathered around me.

            “You were out there wandering around doing no good to anyone Brother.  The Lord has brought you here now to this farm to straighten you out.  We do the Will of the Lord in this place, not our own thing.  This is not Hotel Texas.   You think you were out there in Texas helping Brother Ben, but you were useless to him.  You can’t help him, he’s going to Hell.  There you were running all over Texas thinking you were saving people, helping their lives.  Brother, they’re all going to Hell.  But God has brought you here to this farm so that you can be saved and go on to the Kingdom.  Everyone here on this farm is going on to Glory.  You want to go on to Glory don’t you Brother?”

            “Well of course.” I said.

            “That’s why God brought you here.  This farm is a representation of His Kingdom on earth.  And all your time belongs to God.  Occupy until He comes.  You were useless in Texas.  But you think you’re wise.  Just like the little foxes right?”

            “What do you mean?  I’m not useless.”

            “You see, you don’t even know your Bible.  And you think you can help those doomed fools.”  Dave was getting a charge out of making me look foolish to his boys.  “Brother...” he pointed to one of the black men.

            “The little foxes spoil the vines,” the man said in reference to Solomon’s Song 2:15.  A chorus of  “Truth,”  and  “Amen”  followed.

            Though there were new faces around, I was not introduced except that this was how they were seeing me for the first time.  Dave continued:

            “So you see you did more harm than good.  You’re a mess brother.  You better get right or you’re going to Hell.”

            There is no doubt in me that something is wrong here by this time.  I’m not perfect, and possibly I brought all this on, but enough was enough.  My first thought was to leave this place immediately, but for some reason, I didn’t.  So I continued talking with Dave.

            “I was also hoping to see a little of the town while I’m here.  It’s far away from home, and I think it would be a good thing.”

            “There’s nothing out there for you anymore Brother.  What do you want to see?  It’s all going to burn anyway,” Dave said.

            “You don’t go out and witness to the people there?”

            “We’ve done all that.  We’ve had our boys all over that town for three years.  Not a one of those people are in our church today.  We’ve tried and tried until it was obvious it is useless.  If they’re not on this farm then they are going to Hell.”

            “I wouldn’t say that.”  I was shocked.  “Coming into town I met a very nice woman who was really searching.  She had just turned to Christ after a time in the New Age movement.  I told her about the Word of God in the King James Bible too.  It did her a lot of good, and I would like to talk with her some more.”

            “Oh.  Now I know why you want to go to town.  A woman.  Well she’s going to Hell.  You’re carnal Brother.  You’ve got to learn to think in the spiritual.  Look at these young brothers around me here.  They’ve given up on the carnal.  I know it’s hard to not get married and to put the physical needs aside.  But these young men, Brother John, Brother Enoch,  they’ve given up the lusts of the flesh for the Kingdom.  Some of us are fortunate enough to be married.  But Paul said it’s better that some be not married.  Ain’t that right Brother John.  I tell you you could work until Jesus comes, and you can’t help that girl.”

            “Why?”

            “Was she wearing pants?”

            “As part of her job,” I said.

            “She’s a Jezebel.  You did her no good at all.  But hey, I tell you what.  If you want to go to town, go right ahead.  It’s Friday, we’re all done here as far as work goes.”  Dave was now being very sarcastic. “You go and do the little things you need to do and come back by church time.  Get it out of your system.  Then come back to stay.  If you really need to go.  But I don’t think you do now, do you?”

            I had now to make a decision.  If I went to town, I would not come back, and Dave knew that.  He’s no dummy.  I decided to stay because, seeing I am in no physical danger, I am curious to learn a little more about what I’ve stumbled into.  “I’ve got no need to go.”  I said.

            “Thought so.  The evening meal will be served soon.  It’s time to go get dressed.”  Dave said.  The group split up, and all went their ways.

4

            After this very enlightening conversation with Dave and the guys, it was time I find myself alone to think about what I was into.  I went to my room to unpack the necessities, and plunked a few tunes on the banjo while thoughts of desperation pressed through my head.   At around 14:30, after I was done with my little pouting session,  I ventured out toward the middle of camp and noticed the place was deserted.  Approaching Fellowship Hall, I could hear the activity inside.  “Surely,” I thought aloud, “someone would have come and gotten me if it was meal time.  Possibly it’s an informal thing; come when you’re hungry type deal.”   My thoughts were soon corrected.

            Inside for the first time, I saw Fellowship Hall at meal time is a busy place.  People were already moving about with their plates gathering food in an orderly fashion.  Lost, I walked to the long set of tables where Dave sat at one end, and searched for a place to sit. 

            “Brother Mark, take off your hat and coat.  No no, you can’t sit there, move down a few...not there, one more. “

            All along the table were little cloth napkins and some drinks already placed.  It was a crowded layout and hard to tell which spot was free, if any.  It still hadn’t dawned on me that mealtime is a structured affair and that all the seats were assigned.  Confused, I asked Dave, “What is the procedure?  Do people get a drink and put it down where they want to sit, or are all the seats assigned?

            “Well if you had been here on time, you might have known what to do.”

            “Sorry Brother Dave, how could I know?  No one came to tell me what to do.”  I looked around and watched the actions of the other people.  Following their lead, I filled a plate and cup.  I had to be shown piece meal by a number of people what to do.  To Dave who was observing from afar, I must have looked a klutz.  He knew I had been wronged in the ordeal.  I made it back to the crowded table with my stuff.  Again that little feeling came over me, as I sat down, that I was not in the right place.  People were looking at me funny.  I was disrupting the setting order, or some horrible thing, because the kids around me were giving those tell tail looks.  Not an adult, man or woman, gave me an approving look. 

            Instinctively I stood up and scanned the room for another place to sit.  Dave was still watching; always watching; what a creep.  “I’ll move over there,” I motioned to Dave toward an empty table on the side.  Quickly I made the change and sat with my back toward Dave.  At least then I couldn’t see him watching me.

            The meal was a light one.  It consisted of corn bread, muffins, fruit, apple sauce, and potatoes.  The food was very good and fresh.  When I noticed people going for seconds, I did the same.   No one spoke during the supper.  I smiled at a few people while in line, but they just barely responded.  Boy, what a hostile group, I thought to myself.  At the same time though, here I am. a stranger in their little community who Dave, the leader, has seen fit to rail, and by now they all know it.  To me it was a totally understandable situation.  But I’m sure they’ll accept me in time if I am an honorable and upright fellow.  Still I wonder how I screwed up so badly already.

            After supper I took to watching the women work to clean up the kitchen.  Dave had wondered outside for some reason, and I had struck up a conversation with the nice older woman I met earlier - the one who lived next door.  She was doing most of the work since she has no husband or child to attend to, so we were somewhat alone.  We struck up a little conversation and discovered we are a lot alike.  So far she is the nicest person I’ve met here.   I can’t remember her name, so for now I’ll call her Sarah until I can correct it later.  I walked with her around the kitchen helping her lift some heavy things while she showed me the equipment.  The kitchen is mostly powered by burning wood.  She told me some personal things about how she wound up at the Overcomer, and that she and others trade off between working the farm and the Campground (the name given to the property on Highway 15) periodically.

            It wasn’t long before Dave was back on the scene.

            “This kitchen is one place you are not allowed.  And I mean that,” he gruffed.  “I mean, you can look right now, then that’s it.  If we find you hanging around the kitchen, we’ll put an apron on you.  The men don’t go into the kitchen.”  While speaking, he straightened up his tone and ended on a light note, trying not to appear too forceful in front of Sarah.  With that kind of hint, I left quickly and returned to my room to think once more.. 

            Friday night services are held at the Campground.  Since I have done so much writing for today, I’ll try to write about tonight’s services tomorrow.  For now, I’m very tired and need to clear my head.  The bed provided is very comfortable.  This first day was quite troubling for me. 

            Good Lord, thank you for getting me this far and keeping me safe.  Amen.

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