Most of you live in cultures quite different from here in Middle Tennessee. One of the dear ladies in our church, widowed, 57 years old, lives alone, deep in the woods, on thirty-six acres.
She just came to know the Lord this past summer through the witness of Tom Slayman, T. J.’s daddy. Her dwelling is an eight foot travel trailer, with no running water, electricity, or toilet facilities. I am not telling you this to make you feel sorry for her. She is as contented as a squirrel in a beech tree. She works here in the office some and buzzes around like a bug. Her name is June, so I call her June Bug.
Just the other day she came rushing into the house holding up a torn piece of paper that read “Happy Birthday.” She insisted that I tell her who was responsible. Not me. She told how she returned home to find that sign attached to a new, double seater outhouse, complete with a freshly dug hole, standing not too far from her trailer. What a blessing! No more whistling winds on cold nights. Privacy, just in case a hunter should get lost and wander too deep into the woods.
Have you counted your blessings lately? You don’t complain do you? June doesn’t.
Now you may be wondering as I am what a widow would need with a two seater. “Could be prophetic,” I told her. She is not looking, but you never know with a vacant seat.