A Rolling Mission Field

This week was one of the longest months of my life.

All right, that’s an exaggeration, but the first few days did kick me in the hiney. I’ve been working at the newspaper Mondays and Tuesdays through the summer, but this Monday was the first day of school. I was back in the driver’s seat of the school bus, I still had to write and edit for the newspaper, and I needed to get my own children’s homeschool year off on the right foot.

I was worried. Worried I would oversleep. Worried I wouldn’t get it all done. So my brain and body did the logical thing—woke me up at two thirty Monday morning and didn’t let me go back to sleep.

The weather was hot. I was in an exhausted brain fog. The students were wild after several weeks of summer vacation.

Back in the bus lineup at the elementary school.

By Tuesday morning, I was exhausted. By the time I dropped off the last student Tuesday afternoon, I was practically in tears and ready to throw in the towel on bus driving. Did we really need to money that much? Why was I doing this to myself?

Thank God that He reminds us of things when we forget.

Yes, I started driving school bus for the extra income, but I’ve also always viewed my bus as a kind of mission field. I may not be preaching to those children, but I knew I could pour love into them—not my own, because there are far too many days that falls short, but the love Christ has for each one of those students.

And, believe me, there are far too many children who aren’t getting much love anywhere else.

However, I’d forgotten that earlier this week. I was dreading the rough schedule and the packed planner and all the to-do lists. I was only thinking of myself.

Wednesday morning, I was doing devotions with the Lectio 365 prayer app. (The 10-minute devotional is an easy way to start my day with God even when I have to be out the door by 5:15 a.m.) As I listened, I heard these words:

“Edward Kimball was a Sunday School teacher in the 1880s, who made it his mission to care for the most troubled boy in his class. ‘I have met few friends whose minds were spiritually darker,’ he later recalled, ‘who seemed more unlikely ever to become a Christian.’ But through Kimball’s consistent kindness that boy did eventually become a Christian. His name was D. L. Moody and he grew up to become one of America’s greatest evangelists, leading tens of thousands of people to Jesus.”

That would be an extraordinary story if is stopped there, but it didn’t.

“Moody discipled a man called F. B. Meyer, who helped spark the Welsh Revival of 1904, and he in turn discipled a fledgling evangelist called J. Wilbur Chapman. Chapman discipled a professional baseball player called Billy Sunday who started a prayer meeting for businessmen in North Carolina. These businessmen invited an evangelist called Mordecai Ham to speak at a citywide gathering in Charlotte, NC and, during one of these meetings, a 15-year-old surrendered his life to the Lord. That boy went on to preach the gospel to more people, live and in person, than anyone else in history, leading 3.2 million people to Christ. His name, of course, was Billy Graham.”*

Wow. From a Sunday School teacher who wouldn’t give up to D. L. Moody to Billy Sunday to Billy Graham. What a lineage.

And that reminded me that I get up in the morning for more than a paycheck. In small ways, I also can choose not to give up on the children and teens in my bus. I can be cheerful. I can be kind. I can listen. I can speak politely instead of yelling when they misbehave. I can treat them like people instead of problems. I can see them.

It’s not always easy. There are many days when I feel like giving up or flipping my lid. With the power of Christ in me, though, I can choose not to. I can show the love of Jesus through my words and actions. And, if they ever ask why I make that choice, I can be prepared to give them an answer to the hope that is in me (1 Peter 3:15).

I always thought I would end up in the mission field overseas. I still wish I could. For now, though, my mission field is right here, rolling through the dusty back roads of Eastern Oregon. Where's yours?

Not a stock photo--this road is actually part of my bus route.

 

*Lectio 365 app, 27 August, “True Instruction.” Adopted from https://visionforchristworld.com/it-started-with-a-sunday-school-teacher/.

 

Apricot Update, County Fair and Nectarines

Family vacation was all too short. We had a few days after returning from Crater Lake, which gave me time to check up on some of my experiments.

I will not share the recipe I used in my attempt to make apricot wine. Not yet, anyway. It definitely turned to vinegar by the time I was able to bottle it. It was a disappointment, but I do have uses for vinegar, and it sure looks pretty in those clear flip-top bottles.

Too much delay getting the wine into the carboy, plus too much air at the top of the carboy, meant too much exposure to air in the fermenting process. 

The apricot wine-turned-vinegar sure looks pretty in the bottle, though.

I don’t know if there were flaws in the recipe I used, but I suspect operator error—too much air and too little sugar. I’ll have the chance to try again though. Our nectarine tree is loaded with fruit that can’t be ignored much longer. I’ll keep you posted.

One of my apricot brandy experiments is still steeping away, though the eight-week process is nearing its end. The other two turned out rather well, though with a lot of apricot sediment that probably wouldn’t have occurred with dried apricots. I honestly don’t know which recipe I prefer, though I’m leaning toward the first, simple recipe. The sugar finally mixed with the vodka and apricots, and it ended up with a pleasant, liqueur-like consistency that was just what I was looking for.

In case you think I’m obsessed with alcohol, I did do other things with those apricots—roll upon roll of apricot leather, dried apricots…did I mention the freezer preserves?

Tray upon tray of apricot leather.

A couple of jars of apricot freezer preserves.

On another note, one of my recent Amazon purchases is my favorite thing right now. I used to dry herbs by hanging them on a hat rack, but I decided to let my husband’s hats have their space and got this herb-drying rack instead. I am happy both with how it works and with how it looks. It adds a certain charm to the kitchen hall in our Victorian home.

My new drying rack is mounted and in use.

Vacation was over all too soon, though. Hard on the heels of our brief time of relaxation came the county fair.

Last year, we were about to set off on a month-long, cross-country trek, so entering things in the county fair wasn’t high on our list of priorities. This year, I persuaded several of my family members to enter items (the lure of premium money helped) and gathered everything I could find to enter myself.

The fair hasn’t officially opened as I write this, so I don’t know all our results, but I did get this peek at one of my photos. Unexpectedly, a photo I took of those apricots received the Judge’s Choice ribbon. It’s an honor I’ve never received in my life before, and I’m kind of proud of it. Even though our fair is a small one, there’s a lot of competition from some amazing photos. Turns out those apricots were good for something I never imagined!

All those apricots!

Proud as can be of that ribbon!

After two days of 100+ heat, today is forecast to be gusty with a high of 91. We’re all sending up a prayer that no stray sparks start any fires in these ideal wildfire conditions. Meanwhile, the forecast of high winds means I need to get outside and pick the nectarines—ripe or not—off the overloaded branches of our tree before those branches break. In the seven years since we planted that tree, I’ve never seen an abundance like this. It’s a blessing, but also means more time up to my elbows in fruit.

Better get started.

 

Family Vacation 2025: Crater Lake

 

Last week, our family took an all-too-short vacation to Crater Lake.

You’ve probably seen hundreds of pictures of Crater Lake. I took more than 50 myself on this trip. I took them knowing that no picture I’ve ever seen truly captures either the scope or the particular shade of blue in that water.

No words can describe, or picture capture, the amazing blue of Crater Lake.

There’s a scientific reason Crater Lake is such as startling blue. It has to do with the depth and clarity of the lake—Crater Lake is one of the deepest lakes in the world, and its waters are among the purest in the world. That allows light to penetrate deeply, so blue light is scattered more.

Still, those explanations don’t really prepare you for the amazing color palette God used when he created that famous body of water. It’s truly one of the world’s wonders that you have to see for yourself to fully grasp.

Crater Lake is a drive of several hours for us, nearly as far as the Oregon Coast. Since we weren’t able to get an early start on our Monday drive, we stopped about halfway, at a KOA campground near Madras, Oregon. I will freely admit that I had never stayed at a KOA before. When I was growing up, camping was less a destination and more a way of avoiding the higher costs of hotels, so parks like KOA were considered too expensive. At least, that’s what I remember.

Anyway, I was duly impressed. Our family of five stayed in a teepee that was both roomy and comfortable. It had actual beds. With mattresses. Yes, it was the cost of a motel room in some states. Trust me when I say, though, that hotels in Central Oregon in the height of vacation season are waaaayyy more expensive. Even though we were nowhere near our destination, the vista of the high desert country with the Cascade Mountains in the distance was extraordinary. We kind of didn’t want to leave.

Since we were still in semi-arid country close to home, and low enough in elevation (about 2,600 feet), the temperature at night never dropped below the “pleasantly cool” zone.

The same can’t be said of our journey's end. At 6,178 feet in elevation, with the caldera rim ranging from 7,000 to 8,000 feet in elevation, the climate at Crater Lake is considered subalpine. Shaded areas around Crater Lake can still hold snow even at the end of July. Since our own semi-desert climate means little snow even in winter, our teen/tween children were in awe of the large patches of white we saw along the road.

The campground at Mazama Village was booked solid well before I started planning our short family trip. The only other campground in Crater Lake National Park, Lost Creek Campground, turned out to be closed for the season. That left us grabbing a last-minute free spot at nearby Diamond Lake.

Around the Campfire at Diamond Lake.

Diamond Lake is about a thousand feet lower than Crater Lake, but still an elevation of 5,184 feet. Our sleeping bags and multiple blankets were no match for the cold the two nights we stayed there. Lesson learned.

Cold aside, it was a fantastic, if quick, vacation. Since we arrived early Tuesday afternoon and left early Thursday morning, we ended up only having one full day at Crater Lake. We spent the morning meandering around the lookouts at Rim Village and then had lunch at Crater Lake Lodge. After lunch, we finally made it to my main reason for pushing for a Crater Lake visit this summer—the trail to Cleetwood Cove.

Even from the end of Cleetwood Cove Trail, the trip to the water is rocky and steep.

The Rim Drive offers multiple viewpoints with every-varying vistas, but Cleetwood Cove trail is the one and only way to reach the water at Crater Lake. If you want to fish, swim or take a boat tour to Wizard Island, you have to walk the grueling trail from the rim to the water’s edge. Cleetwood Cove will be closed for maintenance for the next couple of years, so I felt like it was a now-or-never moment to experience one of the world’s most famous lakes up close.

The view of the water from Cleetwood Cove.

Cleetwood Cove trail isn’t for the faint of heart. Remember the elevation difference I mentioned between the lake and the rim? While the trail is only about a two-mile round-trip, it drops 700 feet in a series of steep switchbacks. It’s not such a big deal on the way down—maybe a little hard on the knees—but you really feel it on the way up. I’ve let myself get out of shape the last couple of years, and I deeply regretted it on the climb back up that trail.

Splashing in the rare water of Crater Lake.

That said, the climb was worth it, and I’m glad we took the chance to visit Cleetwood Cove, even if we spent more time driving than hiking on this trip. Crater Lake is famous for a reason. This blog post, like so many, falls far short of explaining why.

 

Gazing across Crater Lake at Cleetwood Cove.