Things have been well here. We've traded in the sunny, Oregonian Indian summer for rain and clouds and temperatures marginally reminiscent to Michigan's if you wait up till the late hours of the night. Being that many of these folk are from the west coast, I am one of the only ones relishing in the traditional fall weather we're finally getting - welcoming it as an improvement on the sunshine and warmth we had for the first two months.
(Distributing flyers for the evangelistic seminar... I'm probably smiling extra big because of the ominous clouds over the mountains... Huzzah for season nerds)
About a month ago, my outreach partner Cari (whom you can see above in the white hoodie) and I were doing door-to-door surveys as I've described earlier. We had just begun a new neighborhood and were eager to hit the first door so as to get an initial vibe for what the receptiveness of this new community would be like. Parking our minivan at the end of the dead end street, we approached the first drive way . . . it was chained off . . . and gated off . . . equipped with "no trespassing" signs . . . and "this property video-monitored 24/7" signs . . . Now, I'm no detective . . . but . . . I sensed a strong devotion to hermitage in the air. I planned on moving along to the next house without bothering, but my partner Cari (who spent 14 years as a police officer), the ever-brave hero in our duo, insisted that we go ahead and give it a shot. I saw my life pass before my eyes as I walked by nearly 12 video cameras (some in trees, some on the corner of the house, some mounted on lawn-gnomes' heads, etc). The lawn was filled with rubber snakes and skull statues. "Filled" is not an exaggeration. Mounted above the garage door were several voodoo masks, one nearly as big as me. Approaching the front door we encountered this sign:
Upon closer examination, I realized it was a real gun . . . "Hey, why don't I take my functional handgun and slap it onto a 'beware owner' sign next to a skull?" Good point, why not?
Cari knocked . . . I probably wouldn't have. That said, though, it was my turn to do the talking. Why'd you go and knock, Cari. A friendly, elderly gentleman came to the door. I instantly liked him - he was wearing flared 80s warm-up pants. He asked us how we ever managed to make it past all his scare tactics, and began explaining to us that nothing within the borders of his property escapes his view. He can instantly have every square foot of his property pinpointed with a rifle. Then he proceeded showing us the arsenal of destructive instruments he had hiding behind his front door - ball and chain, pistol, and home-made American Indian club, for lack of a more fitting word. It was remarkably pleasant conversation. My guard and fears subsided immediately as soon as we started talking, even though he was armed to the teeth. He kept explaining about how he used to be a professor of rhetoric and public speaking, served in the special forces, travelled the world as a circus master, and spent the last twenty years "committed to bachelorhood and the art of survival." His good manners and proficiency in small talk and communication left me unable to doubt his stories. He explained his multiple plans (in detail) for evacuation of some of his previous homes in cases of different national emergencies. He told us the amount of time he could last with the food provisions he had stored in his basement and cellar . . . to the day. Then he explained that he had over the past few years precariously devised military strategies for defending his property against multiple varieties of attacks. "My entire home is set up so that wherever I am inside, I am always within three feet of something I could kill you with." I was amazed, but with little to relate ("I had a BB gun once, sir."). The stories got more and more exciting, as it seemed clear he cherished the few visitors he sees. He eventually invited us into his house to fetch us two copies of his own survival manual he had compiled from "only the best sources" over the past twenty years. He had several copies; it seemed he had intentions of being published. If anyone could, he could, because as we entered his house I saw manifold evidences all over the living room affirming the truth of his stories. Front-page news stories with his picture (circus master, decorated soldier, etc) lined the walls. LINED. Hanging all over were woodworking and leather-work projects he had created during travels all over the world. We were thoroughly enjoying the stories and conversation, complimenting the accomplishments and creative work of who I would basically say is a real-life Edward Bloom or Forrest Gump (Big Fish and Forrest Gump movie references). It was incredible. He brought us piece after piece of handmade mastery, and finally brought us two copies of his survival guide, a "payment," has he called it, for having taken so much of his time. He had expressed from the beginning that he had no interest in our survey or what we were doing, but he later on said that he admired the work we were doing and the the friendly people we were, though he still had no interest. I told him it was only fitting that he takes a few of our GLOW tracts to read, as he was giving us some of his literature. He agreed and said he would read them. In leaving the place, I had such a new perspective on the once-harrowing yard. How often are we deceived by what we see? How many stories in the Gospels are ones of Jesus seeing something different than what everyone else saw...? ... I suppose all. Especially the greatest one -the cross . . . the day that He saw me - not what I see or the world around me, but what His eyes only can see. Thank God.........
I suppose it could be said that we made a friend . . . though I doubt he was super interested in friendship, as I have since seen his driveway and he has added a new rope and chain to prevent people from entering altogether . . . . . . . . . oh well. I suppose God is sowing a seed deep in the heart of Springfield, Oregon's Area 51survival artist.
(Note: I excluded this gentleman's name, as he would be aware of this posting of it within 24 hours, and I would likely have to lay low for the next few years in a quiet community very far away).
Just as interesting as when you told it to me!! Who can say they've ever had a visit like that?? Awesome!
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