This blog centers around a tiny little mark on the Indiana map. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of spending some time in Urbana, Indiana, let me explain. Imagine the absolute smallest town you know. Urbana is smaller. The people are great. All farmland and everyone there has a connection to the earth. It is a place where people pray for rain and each other. If you go into the local post office (only open three hours a day) you will know everyone there and there will be at least one relation. It was my joy to be there for seven years. Now, Urbana was not always a bump in the road. It was once a bustling little town. But Kroger's and Walmart in the next town over made the little stores and shops obsolete. However, there was a past. In my e-mail giving the link to the blog, I mentioned the Big Gun, who just happens to be from Urbana. So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you this blog written by Mrs. Tami Overman!  

URBANA—There Are a Million Stories in This Little Town. This is Just One.

Growing up in this little town in the seventies was the best of times. We had Cub Scouts baseball games, rode bikes to our friend’s houses to hang out, and played basketball in the hayloft in the barn. We enjoyed Jon and Virginia Hansing’s Sinclair Station for Nehi Pop, and Push Up Pops, and Myrval Kratzer’s Barber Shop for penny candy. We had the Urbana Post Office where some met to chat (i.e. me and my now husband). We had best friends and then we had acquaintances, but everyone knew who everyone was. We all had one thing in common, we were The Urbana Kids and that in itself was a bond for sure.

There were two great churches in town; The Grace United Methodist Church and St. Peter’s United Church of Christ. The winters were spent at Grace, and the summers at UCC. Not everyone in town attended those churches on Sunday. Some went to Wabash and others didn’t attend anywhere. There were 2 sides of the RR tracks. I lived on one side, and my Grandparents lived on the other.

As happens in life, we all grew up and went our separate ways. Some stayed in town, others moved away. Some led fairly good, normal lives, others struggled. Some stayed in touch and others we never heard from again. Fast forward several years and the invention of social media and ways to find and reach out to those that you haven’t seen in many, many years. Maybe even those that you knew and never really chatted with, due to age or other circumstances, but here they were, and they were most certainly still one of “The Urbana Kids.”

One “Urbana boy” in particular, “Mitch”, who was a few years younger than me, struggled in one way or another as a kid. He spent a lot of time out of the classroom and got to know the principal and office secretary pretty well. He didn’t attend either of our churches and I don’t believe he attended anywhere. I never knew what happened to him or his sibling, until; you guessed it, social media. I got a friend request a few years ago and decided to accept. I saw where he had a child, and a grandchild. He was a truck driver and had moved several states away. He drove the open road with his dog. But then after a very short time, I thought oh boy, why did I do this? He was very boisterous about politics on his social media account and even made some posts and sent some private messages that made me personally uncomfortable. He lost several friends over these things. I never unfriended him, but was very cautious. I personally know others who “were absolutely done with him!” Maybe I was just too nice, or maybe me not unfriending him was a God thing?

I realized he had disappeared from my feed and I wasn’t seeing any more posts. Then recently he appeared again and his posts were different. Very different. They were almost “sad in their nature.” I silently felt sorry for him. I liked some of his posts and even commented on a couple of them. I also noticed there were no political posts. NONE. Hum?

Fast forward to this past Sunday, I was sitting in the same little church in Urbana where the Pastor talked in the sermon about helping people who were struggling, and making sure we tell them about Jesus, so we have no regrets. Then he changed up the last song of the service with a different one, “The Altar and the Door” by Casting Crowns. WOW. That song hit me! It hit me so much that I looked it up immediately after church and posted it on my own Facebook feed. Now, skip ahead to Monday evening at 9:06 p.m. when my phone dings. I glance down to see, “How are you, Tami? I could handle a friend to talk to.” Just when I was thinking I can’t answer this, I have laundry, and dishes, and bills to pay and it is getting late, and I wanted to go to bed earlier tonight.………God nudged me and said, remember yesterday’s sermon? Remember the song you posted? So, here I was, replying back to Mitch and chatting until after 10:30 p.m. He used phrases like “I am a train wreck,” “not in a good place,” “at a very weak point,” and “I am lost bad.” I learned he had wrecked his semi in March and had died, but was brought back to life! I learned he was so happy his dog lived through that wreck also, as it was all he really had left. I finally drummed up the courage to ask, ”How do you feel about God?” From there, I learned he was a believer, but he was asking me why he was even still alive? I told him he was so capable of much more than he thought, and he could do hard things. I asked him to start praying and ask God to help him, and I would pray for him too. I even got him to laugh at one point. We finally said goodnight and I did pray for him. The next day at noon I got a message from him, thanking me for being a friend and caring enough to take the time to talk to him. He said I truly made him feel better about himself and he felt better about life. I realized we really were friends, we weren’t just acquaintances from the same little small town; we are The Urbana Kids, still to this day, and I am OK with that.

Funny thing is, I wasn’t even going to be in church on Sunday, but plans changed last minute. If I had not been, would I have been so willing to give up my time and answer that message? If the Pastor hadn’t have jumped out of the Book of John to start a new series and changed up the last song, would I have given up my time to answer that message? What if I had not answered it? There are a lot of what ifs. I think those were all God things. On Tuesday, I spent the night doing laundry, and paying bills, and it was all just fine. And, after I read my former Pastor, Larry’s blog, I reached out to ask him to pray for my friend too, and told him his story. He said he would also pray and then he said, “You need to write next week’s blog……….

Back in 1994 we had finished a long ministry at a church in Warren, Ohio. At the request of our denomination at the time, I had gone to a church in crisis to deal with a nasty little issue. It was something that was very difficult, something that, even though I had been trained for it, I would have been happy to have avoided forever. But we jumped in with both feet. Very stressful.

One night Marsha showed me an ad in a local paper saying they wanted someone to report on high school football games that fall. I had no hobbies and no way to blow off steam from the pressures of pastoring that wayward little church. Wouldn’t it be fun to do something a little different for a while? It would only involve ten Friday nights. It also only paid $20 a game but they covered gas and you got into the games free and got to sit in the press box. I thought for a bit and then thought, sure, why not? And soon I had a genuine press pass and a pencil and I was a sports reporter. One thing led to another I ended up doing all high school sports in that town for an entire year, which wasn’t real fun. But I learned some things, one of which was that girls’ sports were not the same as they had been when I had been in school. Girls no longer slapped at volleyballs or squealed and tried to get away from errant basketballs. The first girl’s sport I covered was a volleyball game. Girls would slam into the floor diving for balls. One girl crashed into the stands going after a ball. They were fearless to stand in front of a spike. I was completely mesmerized. It was 20 years after high school for me and girls were different. They were every bit as tough as the guys. Actually, I think that if I was in high school now I might be a little scared to date.

There were two girls on the same volleyball and basketball teams who went over six feet. They dominated. They were great. They were unstoppable. In every game I covered I was completely impressed. Rebounds, elbows flying, bodies knocking others out of the way. It was hard to think of these girls as kids who had normal issues and concerns. They were scoring machines.
One evening I went by the school to talk to the coach. I was walking into the gym after practice and a lot of the players were leaving. I smiled and nodded at them but then one of the two really fine players stopped me. Everything about girls’ sports made me feel out of place and now standing there looking up at a 6’2” girl just seemed surreal. But she wasn’t stalking the basketball court now, looking for someone to devour. Now she was a pretty blond girl who just happened to be 6’2”. Like most blonds when they are a little embarrassed, this girl was blushing a deep crimson red. Oddly, that made me feel better. She kind of stammered a little, but she wanted to thank me for writing a favorable article about her. I told her that I had only reported the facts, nothing more. But then I remembered that this was just a kid, a senior in high school who would be going out to meet the world soon. “Grace, I want to tell you something. There are college recruiters in the stands at every game. Don’t be bowled over. You have a great talent, but you are a greater person. Go to school on that scholarship, get what you can get but keep your mind focused. You are Grace Bennett, be the best Grace Bennett you can be.” She smiled a little and said she would be the best she could be and off she walked.

The church situation had just been temporary. Work out the problem and move on. I had been called to another church father away, and mt reporting career had ended. I wasn't around to hear what had happened. Grace got her scholarship and then Grace got pregnant. I felt bad for Grace. I was a little disappointed, but she soon slipped from my mind. I knew she never went to college. One mistake, one bad choice…….

Eleven years later Marsha and I were in that small town where I had written for the paper. We were sitting at a table in a small eatery. A tall blond woman walked in with a tall blond boy of about ten. She handed him a few quarters and he ran off to join his friends in the arcade and she went to get their meals. It took me a second to realize I wasn’t just seeing a Mom, I was seeing Grace and her child. She got their food then called to him and he left his buddies and came over to eat. She prayed a heartfelt prayer before they ate. They chatted and laughed over their meal, enjoying the food and each other. It was a sweet scene. When she saw me, she smiled a little and turned red. As they were leaving they passed our table. I said, “Hi Grace.” She turned a little redder and said, “HI, Mr. Wade.”

The thing that pleased me was that she hadn’t let that one mistake beat her at life. It changed the course of her life, yes, but she had risen above it. She was neat and clean and her son was neat and clean. They got into a nearly new SUV in the parking lot. Not only did she and her son have a good relationship, but his friends seemed to like her, as well. She could have had a very different life, but she wound up embracing the life she had. She became the best Grace Bennett she could be.

Because they had prayed over their meal, I knew that the Lord was involved in their lives. So long as the Lord is there, Life doesn’t have to beat us down.

Blessings to you all.

I used to start my day with comics. I have become much more mature now in my retirement, so I go to various liberal and conservative news feeds. Actually, it is funnier. I started doing this to see both sides of the issues.

Trending liberal headlines for September 10,2024.

Thirty of the Richest Donors Funneling Money to Donald Trump (the point being to show who you must hate), College Coach Gives Updates on Injured Players, Eleven Christmas Crochet Patterns, Major Trucking Company with 480 Drivers Shuts Down, The Worst College Football Coaches, How Much Money OnlyFan Creators Make, The Passing of James Earl Jones, Bankruptcies Push Up Store Closures, The Best Ice Cream in Every State, Apple and Google Lose EU Court Fights.   

Trending conservative headlines for September 10,2024.

RFK Shifts Course Ahead of Tonight's Debate, James Carville Gives Prediction on Tonight's Debate, Mom Slams Border Policies that Freed Daughter's Alleged Killers, Delta Plane Involved in Collision at Alanta Airport, Americans Want Answers About Dwindling Bank Accounts at Tonight's Debate, Top US Surgeon Breaks Ranks Concerning Gender Surgery for Minors.  

At first reading, you can see that liberal newsfeeds on this day are much 'fluffier' than the conservative feeds. For me, the only article that interested me was the passing of James Earl Jones. Truely a man blessed with talent. Another thing you see just reading the liberal news feed is that there is not ONE story about the presidential debate. I can only assume that their readership is more concerned about ice cream and Christmas crocheted items than the future of their country. Tomorrow they will tell how VP Harris laid waste to Trump and all will be well.

On the conservative side of things, half the stories were about the debate. Reading just the liberal news you wouldn't even know there was a debate, while the conservative news seems to direct you to watch the debate. The other conservative news concerns 'hard' issues.

This, alone, tells a lot about our country today.

However, there is one other news story that has been ignored on September 10, 2024 by both liberal and conservative. The last time this country rallied together as one people. The events of September 11, 2001.

Or nation was attacked on OUR own soil. It didn't matter if the dead and the dying were Democrats or Republicans. They were OUR people. When the Republican president went before a joint session of Congress, he was met with a prolonged standing ovation because he was OUR president. When people gathered in churches all over the country that night, it didn't matter if they were liberal or conservative, they were heat sick and they needed to call upon OUR God. We said we would never forget, yet we have forgotten. In just twenty three years it has slipped from the public mind.  

This, alone, tells a lot about our country today.

Commerce happens on rivers, preferably deep, slow moving rivers. One of the things about the United States that gives it a huge edge over other countries as far as growth and wealth, is the extensive river system. This is not as vital now as it was during the pre-automotive age, but it is still important. Near where I live now there is the Grand River, which compared to other rivers is not really deep and is not really 'grand' but back in the day it had great significance. For much of its length it was dredged out and smaller sailing vessels could go quite aways up the river from Lake Erie and dock and wait for small barges to come down the river loaded with furs and flour and corn and lumber and whatever could be sold. Lake Erie connected to other cities via the water and commerce thrived. 

Along these waterways, one river would flow into another and make a larger river. The confluence of two rivers would often give rise to towns at the meeting point and trade would flourish there. These towns often took on the name Port, as in West Port or Reynolds Port or Logans Port, usually named after the first person who set up shop there. Trading posts were established, a saloon was organized, various shops would spring up, some industries and, eventually, a church would begin. Often there would be multiple churches. Not separated so much by faith or denomination, but more often in the early days, by language. Settlers came from all over the world to tap into the abundance that flowed on the rivers.

These rivers needed to be deep enough and wide enough to handle barges. Some rivers, like the Mississippi, were wide enough already. But others had to be dredged out where they ran shallow and widened where they narrowed. This also served to slow the speed of the flow. For all the rivers that were able to be used in this way, there were many other rivers and streams that just moved to fast to handle barges. They might be wide enough and deep enough, but the flow of the water would just be too much.

This would usually happen with rivers flowing down from a mountain. Once in a valley the river would slow and could be used. Sometimes canals would be built around the rapids and sometimes dams would be built. Man is ingenious in ways that make him prosperous.

But there are places in this world that man simply cannot tame, usually because it just isn't worth the trouble. Decades ago I was told of such a place. A place that was so wild that no effort had ever been made to bend it to the will of man. I was told how to reach it, but it would be a serious walk through a thick wood. Follow the game trail. Hard going, but worth it. Maybe if I had been a little older and had grown a little cynical, I would have shrugged it off as an old timer having a little fun with a young man. However, if that had been the case, I would have missed out on an incredible sight and life defining moment. 

I parked on the side of the road where the old timer had told me to park. Emerging from the car, I heard a distant roar. I zipped up my jacket (it was early spring) and entered the woods. Right about where the old guy had told me, I found the game trail. As I followed it and descended down that part of the mountain. Actually, it was a pretty easy walk down, but getting back nearly killed me. Anyway, as I made my way down the trail, the sound got louder. Then I noticed another sound. The same as the first, but a little deeper pitch. An interesting sound, familiar, but different, too. I could tell I was going to emerge from the forest soon because I could see the opening through the trees. I could also feel a vibration in my feet.

And then.....I was clear of the timber. A river was running violently downhill, carrying the weight of the snow melt further up-stream. Because of the amount of the flow, the river was almost to the banks, but not quite. How many ages had cut this river? It seemed old and new at the same time.

I marked the spot where I had emerged so that I could find it when I came back and then I followed the river. As I did, I could hear the other roar of rushing water getting louder. And then, at a high point overlooking the river I was following, I saw the point where another river, much larger than the one I was following, ran into the first river. This second river was larger than the first and running faster. The mountain it had just come down was higher and steeper. It also didn't seem as dirty as the first, which I attributed to the second river probably have more of a rocky bottom along the way. Where the two rivers came together there was a twisting and turning and quick whirlpools that came and went. Then, as I looked down the river further, it settled into just one, great, fast moving river. I watched for a long while and then turned and headed back.

I had been told of this place because I might find it interesting. But what I took from it was the thought that here I was; young and determined to make a name for myself in the ministry. Everything stretched before me and all things were possible. But, in spite of my head long dash to greatness, I was operating under my own power. Somewhere something bigger than me, something that sang the same song but sang it deeper and with more resonance, had to enter my life and take control. In my pondering, I realized the second river was the Holy Spirit. I might struggle, I might fight Him at first, but if I let Him take control, we could be great together.

And so it has been. His path was not the path I had worked out, but His path was better. With each passing day I can see the river slowing down as it nears the sea, and I am content. Since joining with His plan, good things have happened. Not necessarily in my personal life, but certainly in the life placed before me.

Some are hesitant to allow Him to lead. The cost can be high. But His plan is the best plan.

Blessings.