This past Friday morning, Lisa and I went through our normal morning routine – part of which has to do with my groping around in the dark, trying not to fall down the three steps going from our bedroom to our kitchen – and putting together Lisa’s breakfast and lunch in complete silence.  She is an amazing sleeper.  Her ability to doze right through thunder, fireworks, and dynamite blasts is only surpassed by her ability to awaken at the slightest grunt when I ram my knee into the corner of a cabinet.  She says I have selective hearing – I believe she has selective sleeping.  I sneeze or fart and she is wide awake sitting straight up in the bed and asking what happened.  The camper two doors down explodes and she goes into REM sleep.  It was just another, average day in the life of the McFarland’s here in Cambridge, Ohio.

And then I went to start our truck.  Things suddenly became very un-average.  Our diesel truck sounded like it was trying to digest a crescent wrench and the clanging, clacking, and chinking sounds told me this was not good.  One of the pitfalls of traveling is finding a good, trustworthy mechanic.  Not easy.  The last thing you want to tell a mechanic is that you are from out of town.  Say those words and you can practically see visions of dollar signs dancing in their heads.  But, I had no choice but to try and locate a diesel mechanic here in Cambridge.  Guess what?  There was not one.  Apparently the only diesel mechanic in town left town for another town and I don’t know what town.  So my next option was to locate a Ford dealer.  Might as well stop by the bank on the way and see about that second mortgage.

I managed to get into a Ford dealership in Zanesville, Ohio and, believe it or not, had a very pleasant experience.  They weren’t cheap but did repair our truck and got us on our way.  There are good people on the earth.

Dealing with unexpected things like vehicle breakdowns have never been easy for me.  I seem to easily slip into a false sense of security and fool myself thinking that unexpected expenses or unexpected illnesses or unexpected accidents or an unexpected crises of one sort or another will not only be unexpected – they will not happen at all.  I tend to forget about rainy days when the sun is shining.  I don’t want to live my life believing a disaster is lurking around every corner, but, perhaps, I should heed the advice of Don Henley from his song, “New York Minute”.  “The wolf is always at your door.”  I once told teachers in the middle school where I worked that we should hang a banner across the front door of the school that said, “Welcome to Our Middle School – A Difficult Place.”  Middle school is just that – difficult.  Middle school aged children are difficult because middle school age is difficult.  There is no changing that.  The best thing you can do is be aware of it and do your best to help everyone adjust to it.  In the same way, I should probably hang a sign in my world view screen that reads – “Welcome to Steve McFarland’s World – It May Be Difficult”.

My mom always gave me good advice.  When I would lament to her a problem in my life or share some struggle I was having – she would always say, “It will get better.”  She was right.  It always gets better.  This has not been a good week for us – the winter here is dreary and cold and our truck repairs put a strain on our already strained budget. We miss our family, we miss our friends and the winter doldrums seem like they may drag on forever.

But the forecast for Saturday is sunshine and high forties.  You see?  My mom was right.

Love, Steve and Lisa

I love horses.  I love to watch them graze and gallop.  The coolest thing in all of sports to me is the “down the stretch” run of the Kentucky Derby as the jockeys ride their race horse to the finish line.  But, I don’t like to ride them.  I am totally afraid of them.  I know some will find that particularly wimpy to say – I’m just being honest.  Being a city boy, I was never around horses enough to feel comfortable with them.  My only experience on a horse was an occasional trail ride on some half-dead animal that seemed disgusted with me and my fat ass on top of him (or her).  It was my thought during those rare riding occasions that the horse might just decide the ride was over and run me into a tree or drop me off a cliff.  And that is what scared me most.  This animal knew what it was doing – and I did not.

But, I still love horses.  Here at our campground I have made friends with a couple of horses that are part of an adjacent farm at the backside of the campground property.  I noticed the horses back in the summer and would stand at the wire fence watching them.  One day the two horses noticed me standing by the fence and turned in my direction.  Very slowly, as if unsure who or what I was, they began walking toward me.  They would occasionally stop and look and it seemed they were trying to decide if I was worth the trouble of walking across the long field to where I was standing.  Finally they arrived at the fence and stopped about ten feet from me and sort of checked me out for a couple more minutes before eventually walking up to within arms reach.  I knew they were wanting something to eat, but, unfortunately, I had nothing to give.  They let me touch their nose and then, realizing I had nothing to eat, turned and began grazing in the other direction.

The next day I returned to the horses and, again, stood by the fence and waited for them to notice me.  I was not sure if they would bother with another trek across the pasture since they came up empty yesterday.  “You going back over there Bob?” I could imagine one of the horses saying to his buddy.  “Heck no, Frank, he’s got nothing.”  But, sure enough, here they came.  Either these horses are really stupid, really hungry or full of faith.  I want to believe the latter.   I noticed the black horse seemed to be dominant over the brown horse and was first to arrive at the fence where I was standing.  I had brought along apple slices and the black horse gulped them down while the brown horse stayed back and watched.  The next day I returned again (this time with carrots) and laughed as the black horse galloped to me, literally kicking at the brown horse to keep it back so it could have all the snacks.  Again I fed the black horse and rubbed its nose and said good-bye.

Interestingly, after doing this several times per week, the brown horse (who wears a peace sign covered blanket) has become the dominant horse and has managed to beat “Blackie” to the fence for a daily snack of carrots.  “Peace Sign” (as I call him) is now starting his trek across the field as soon as he sees me walking up the lane – probably a good quarter-mile away.  He eats from my hand and then allows me to pet him for a minute and then we part ways as he goes back to grazing on the grass and I go back to grazing in my RV.  We are very much alike – “Peace Sign” and me.  He likes to eat, I like to eat, he seems a little afraid of me and I’m a little afraid of him.  But we are warming up to each other.  It feels good seeing him walking across the field toward me.  I have to wonder if he looks for me throughout the day – raising that huge brown head up from his grazing to see if that man with the carrots is over there by that fence.  Maybe.  I don’t know what horses are thinking and that makes them fascinating to me.

People ask me what I do with all my time while Lisa works.  I get tired of answering that question.  From now on I’m just gonna say I feed the horses.  People don’t need to know anything more than that.

Love, Steve

Lisa and I arrived here in Cambridge Ohio in early May of 2014 for a thirteen week assignment at Southeastern Regional Medical Center.  Today we learned that she has been extended until the first week of May 2015.  We never imagined that we would be spending an entire year here.  By rule of law, Lisa is not allowed to work in one state for a full year as it makes it appear she is a full-time resident.  Because of that – she is required to not work in the state of Ohio for thirty days upon her work anniversary date.  So – we are going to endure the winter here in Ohio and, God willing, take a month (or more) to vacation and be at home starting in May.  Now all we have to do is survive the southeast Ohio winter.  And that may not be easy.

In fact nothing is easy living in an RV in cold weather.  Our new camper has performed like a champ so far and we have no reason to think that it won’t continue to perform as it should for many years to come.  We stay warm and dry and have all the comforts of home.  Surviving winters in an RV requires daily attention to water, propane, electricity and every crack, seal and seam.  It is forecast to be in the single digits this week and snow is also on the way.  Here we go – let’s see what this Forest River will do.  We still have to practically pinch ourselves every time we step inside – not believing this is ours and not believing we survived for two plus years in the little camper we had before.  God has been good.

So it is another four months here in Ohio.  There are more romantic and interesting places out there for us to travel to and Lisa and I discussed the possibility of turning down another extension.  But, we are just six hours from home and we have made friends here that we are not quite ready to say good-bye to yet.  Also, I have decided to complete something I started over twenty years ago – my Masters degree at Louisville’s Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.  Knowing that we will be here through my first semester of on-line classes is something that Lisa and I have been praying about for some time.  I am a little nervous about the thought of going back to school at the age of fifty-five, but it is something that I have felt was an unaccomplished part of my life ever since I completed my first twelve hours of classes back in 1991.  When I learned that all my past credit hours can be applied to my degree and that I can complete a Masters of Arts in Theology on-line, I decided to go for it.  And who knows?  Maybe I will preach someday.  I just can’t imagine who would want to listen.  Boy, God has a sense of humor.

Brothers and Sisters!  Love Steve and Lisa.

Heather was only seven or eight years old when it happened.  While having lunch at the Liberty Tree Tavern at Magic Kingdom in Disney World, Heather asked for some ketchup for her fries.  As she turned the ketchup bottle up to pour, she suddenly realized that it was pouring so fast – her fries were about to drown and sort of froze not knowing what to do.  The only thing she could say was, “Too much! Too much! Too much!”  I grabbed the bottle and stopped the deluge of ketchup from covering everything on our table and Heather and all the rest in our party were saved.  Immediately after that we all laughed at her reaction.  “Too much! Too much! Too much!” would become a phrase we would use (and still use) often when the need for such a comment seemed appropriate.  In that moment all Heather could say or do was utter those two words, “Too much!”

I have thought of that phrase this Christmas.  As Lisa and I have walked through various stores here in Ohio and across the state line into West Virginia searching for gifts for people who don’t need anything (sound familiar?), while navigating in and through the crowds of people also searching for things nobody really needs – Heather’s words, “Too much!”,  come to mind.  Christmas has become too much.  We spend too much, we want too much, we work too much, we worry too much, we do too much.  Every year we tell ourselves to keep things simple at Christmas and convince ourselves that this year will be different.  We won’t go broke or go crazy.  This year we will slow down – take it easy, R-E-L-A-X.  Those good intentions last about as long as it took that ketchup to overtake Heather’s fries.  Before we know what happened – we have spent too much money and worried too much about spending too much money.  Christmas can be a real bummer if we let it.

The truth for Lisa and I is that our Christmas is being made by simply going home.  That’s it!  We want nothing else.  Two years ago we spent our Christmas in southern California, unable to get home.  We shipped our gifts home and watched our family via our computer open their gifts.  The only Christmas decoration in our apartment was a card sent to us by a family member.  It was the saddest Christmas of our lives.  But a great lesson was learned in the process.  That Christmas was sad not because we did not open a lot of gifts Christmas morning or have a tree to decorate or a home cooked meal to enjoy.  It was that we were not home – not with our family – not where we belonged.  Being home for Christmas means everything to us and home, for us, is our family and friends.

The simplest Christmas of all time was the first Christmas.  I can’t imagine a less hectic, less chaotic moment in history than what we find in the nativity scene.  Could anything be more simple than the humble birth of a baby in a bed of hay?  Why God chose that time and place to bring his Son into the world is beyond me.  It was so primitive and exposed and unsanitary.  Had he chose to come in 2014 we could have really put on a show.  But, thank goodness that decision was not left up to us.  In Bethlehem there were no Wal-Marts, Hampton Inns or “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”.  That first Christmas happened without car horns or ATM machines.  The first Christmas happened in near silence.  Think of that – Christmas in silence.  I am reminded of the title of an old album by Christian singer John Michael Talbott – “Come to the Quiet”.  That is good Christmas advice, Mr. Talbott.  Let’s all ‘come to the quiet’ this Christmas.

I know that is not easy.  In fact, I really don’t know how to keep Christmas simple.  It inevitably becomes a frenzy of activity and chaos.  No matter how we try, the Christmas holiday always seems to get out of hand as if it automatically kicks us into a higher gear as a, sort of, default setting if there is an indication we might slow down.  I suppose I should just give in to it. Okay, crazy, hectic Christmas – you win!  But at least we will be going crazy at home where the search for a simple, quiet Christmas will go on.

And don’t be surprised if in your quiet Christmas moment you hear a crazy man yelling, “Too much! Too much! Too much!” It will probably be me.

Coming home for Christmas, Love Steve and Lisa

As I get older I find that my memory is just not what it once was.  I have friends that remember events with such detail that they can recite dialogue and date.  Not me.  I do well to remember much of anything in very good detail and often my memory of events does not jive with others who shared the same experience.  It is frustrating not remembering things – which is why Christmas and special events like Christmas are so important.  Holidays serve as memory landmarks that help us identify where we were and who we were with at those various special occasions throughout life.  Just like I may need that exit sign to remind me where to go – I need Christmas and the holidays to remind me where I have been.

For me, memories of an event or times past come to mind as brief moments – as if captured with a camera.  I may think of a moment with my parents or grandparents and it flashes in my memory as an image or multiple images.  They are snapshots of my past that I have managed to retain in great detail. God willing – I will never lose those images for if I do – all ability to remember will be gone for good.

While home at Thanksgiving I had a unique experience capturing a real image that may very will serve as a way to remember this particular stage of our lives.  Our grandson, Conner Jack, was at our house one evening when this very unexpected and, I promise, unstaged moment took place.  I had gone out for a few minutes and upon returning noticed Conner looking out our front window.  He had pulled the curtain back slightly and his little face was illuminated by a Christmas candle that had been placed in the window.  In the background one could see the lights of our Christmas tree – the most remarkable image of a child at Christmas that I could imagine.  I fumbled with my phone to pull up the camera feature and managed to get a couple of shots before Conner turned and knocked the candle from the window and, essentially, end the moment.  Frustrated and certain I had missed my chance at capturing the moment, I walked into the house and let it be known to all listening how mad I was at my stupid phone camera.  Thinking the pictures captured would be no good – I finally looked at the results and could not believe what I saw.  Conner gazing out the window and the candle illuminating his face in a moment of what looked like complete Christmas wonder and joy that only a child could convey.  I was ecstatic.

Moments come and they go.  Most are unremarkable passing seconds that hold no significance.  Christmas is one time of year when we tend to remember things a little better – probably because we want them to last forever.  I would love for Conner Jack to stay a little boy always – but that won’t happen.  He will grow up as they all do and will eventually be going to school and getting older and, well – living the life that God has planned for him.  I can accept that.  But, at least, there is a Christmas picture of him that will forever capture one moment at Christmas – one we will never forget.

Love, Steve and Lisa

My mom passed away on Valentines Day 2006.  I was driving down Frederica Street in my hometown of Owensboro, Kentucky when the call came to me that she was found that morning in her apartment – having passed away sometime during the night.  Nothing can prepare you for losing a parent and I agree with those who say there is nothing like losing your mom.  She had battled with cancer for the previous couple of years and, in many ways, her sudden death was a blessing as she avoided the long-term pain associated with that disease.  But, I miss her still – now almost nine years later.  And I especially miss her at Christmas.

My mom loved Christmas more than any other time of year.  Growing up – our house at Christmas became a winter wonderland of everything from dancing Santa’s to decorations that looked more appropriate for Mardi-Gras.  The gaudier the better seemed to be her motto for decorating  and when all the decorations were in place – her cooking began.  My mom came from a long tradition of really good cooks and Christmas was the time to really showcase those skills.  Fudge, cookies, chocolate covered marshmallows, cakes, brownies and every year some newly found recipe would be on display for practically the whole month of December. No wonder my dad battled with weight and diabetes in his life – you could take one trip through the kitchen and gain ten pounds.  Most years my mom would take part of her vacation during Christmas – just to have more time to cook, clean, and prepare for this annual production.  What memories!

One of the hardest jobs I had after she passed away was going through her apartment and all the things she had accumulated through the years.  As she got older, she became insistent on holding onto everything – bordering on being a hoarder.  I came to understand that she, living alone, had lost so much in her life (including my brother and dad) those things became a way to off-set the losses.  It took weeks for Lisa and I to finally discard, sell or store away all the things she left behind.  But there was one box of items that I remember most.  It was part of the Christmas presents she bought for us that we never received.  Unfortunately – her poor health kept us from exchanging gifts that previous Christmas and we had decided to wait until she felt better – even if it meant after the first of the year.  That never happened.  So with great remorse I gathered up the items she had purchased for us and took them home.  It would be weeks before I had the nerve to go through what were the last Christmas gifts my mom gave.

One day, about a month later, I managed to go through that box.  It was not easy seeing these final gifts and knowing they were bought with her meager fixed income.  Most of the items I hardly remember.  But there was one that I will never forget.  It was a little snowman candle that would turn out to be one of the greatest gifts of my life.

There is a book that a friend let me borrow called “When God Winks at You” and it has to do with those unexpected moments in our lives when something so bizarre and wonderful happens that you have to conclude God had something to do with it.  The unexpected reunion of an old friend right after you had been thinking of them; the ten dollars found in your coat pocket when you are down to your last dime; the unexpected snowfall walking home from your church’s Christmas Eve service.  These are moments that God winked at you as if to say – I’m here and everything is going to be alright.  I did not know it at the time, but that little snowman candle would be used in one of those God-winked moments.

My mom always liked unique things.  She would be one that could never pass up buying the singing mounted fish or a dancing elf.  She loved that stuff.  The candle snowman seemed almost out-of-place with the other gifts she had for us – it seemed boring and without much thought behind it.  But, for some reason, rather than storing it in our Christmas boxes or throwing it out altogether, I placed it on our dining room table and spun around to turn off the light.  As I did, I noticed a glow coming from the table.  I quickly turned back around and saw that it was that snowman – glowing in the dark.  But not only was it glowing – it was changing colors and turned from blue to red to green and orange and every hue of color in between.  It was activated by touching it and I had no idea that it had that capability.  I sat down for a moment and watched the colors change and thought of my mom and cried.  It was as if she was saying – everything is okay.

God does wink at us from time to time in a way that communicates His love for us but also to say everything will be okay.  I miss my mom and think of her often – especially this time of year.  There is a snowman glowing somewhere at our home in Owensboro and God and my mom are winking.

Love, Steve

Charles Shultz, the famous creator of Charlie Brown and the “Peanuts” cartoon strip, once gave an interview saying he wished he had allowed Charlie to finally kick the football.  He said he regretted that Charlie never had a chance to fulfill his dream of kicking the ball that Lucy always pulled away from him at the last second.  Interesting.

I’ve been giving that idea some thought as Lisa and I prepare to travel home for the Thanksgiving holiday where we will be spending a week with our family and friends.  I can’t remember the last time I looked so forward to Thanksgiving and Lisa and I both have never been as excited to spend a week at home.  In our lives – we tend to take practically every good thing for granted.  Good things become so commonplace that the bad things that happen seem exaggerated and the blessings and comforts of life – hardly recognized.  That is until they are gone.  The holidays of our past were often met with a “who cares” sort of attitude as we were. for most of our life, home and in constant contact with our children and family.  Now our time at home is so infrequent that we cherish every minute and moment we are there.

The irony to all this is that our understanding of how precious our family and friends are required we be gone for months at a time.  We had to lose our time with family in order to appreciate time with family.  Perhaps that speaks as much to our sorry state as human beings and the tendency to make the old proverb true: ‘familiarity breeds contempt’ as it does to anything else.  But, whatever the reason, we certainly love home more now than ever.

So, this Thanksgiving I am trying something new.  I am deliberately being thankful for the things I don’t have.  As strange as that sounds, it is important to realize that God, in His wisdom, always leaves us wanting more.  And that is a really good thing.  Think about it.  Food always tastes better when you are really hungry, a warm coat feels warmer when you are really cold, a soft bed feels better when you are really tired.  As I have written about recently, this new RV that Lisa and I are now enjoying has been even more appreciated because of the two and half years we spent in one almost half the size.  I am thankful for those years and that old RV – now more than ever.  I am more thankful for food when I am hungry – more thankful for warmth when I’m cold.  Looking around my life I can name hundreds of things I do not have.  I am thankful for every one of those things.

I suppose winning the lottery would be a wonderful thing.  There would be nothing that you could not buy or own.  But, on the other hand, it may be the worst thing that could ever happen.  There would be nothing else to dream about.  Eric Liddell, the famous Olympian featured in the movie “Chariots of Fire”, was once asked what it would mean to achieve his goal of winning a gold medal.  Very astutely he responded that it was the greatest fear of his life.  As he explained it, everything he had trained for and sacrificed in his life – would have been achieved.  What would be left for him?

This Thanksgiving I am thankful for all the things Lisa and I do not have.  I am thankful for the times we are away from home and miss our family.  I am thankful for the things we dream of but have yet to achieve.  And I am thankful that Charlie Brown never kicked that football.  I just hope he never quits trying.

Happy Thanksgiving!  We will be home soon.  Love Steve and Lisa

Readers of our little blog have shared with us that they love hearing our RV stories.  Those tales have (typically) been good for a laugh as we have invited followers into our camping experiences – the good, the bad and the ugly.  We have learned much along the way of this two and half-year journey and the adventures continue.  Now – sit back for yet one other RV adventure story.  This one has to do with pulling our new, much larger fifth wheel from Owensboro, Kentucky to Cambridge, Ohio.  This is a story of a squeezed buttocks, a two lane road, and the flat tire that wasn’t.  There is your teaser.

For weeks now Lisa and I have anticipated finally pulling our new RV here to Cambridge – having ordered it from the factory.  The day finally arrived for us to unload our belongings from our old RV – the one where all the adventures began for us in Hanover, Pennsylvania.  It was sad seeing our little home for the past two plus years empty and knowing we had slept our last night in our beloved little trooper.  It really did serve us well.  As we hitched up for the six-hour drive home, it felt a little like we were taking it to be euthanized – the final trip before it was “put down” so to speak.  Perhaps the good people at ‘Owensboro RV’ (allow us to put in a good word for them – they treated us well) can return it to its past glory.  We believe it still has many good years left.  Good-bye old friend!

Friday November 7th finally arrived.  Lisa and I made it home safely the night before and arrived to pick up our new RV at noon.  We almost cried when we walked in to see our new home for the first time.  It all seemed to good to be true.  Walking around the spacious forty-two foot camper made us feel almost amazed that we had survived in our little cracker box for so long.  There is something to be said for those who wait and sacrifice and wait even more for good things to happen.  Our appreciation for our new digs was heightened because of the inadequate digs we had before.  It is moments like this that I am reminded to “give thanks in all circumstances” as the apostle Paul admonished in 1 Thessalonians 5:18.  It brings some understanding of how and why we should even be thankful for the painful things of life – the sacrifices, the leaky roofs and squeaky floors.  There will come a day that will be better and it will be so because of the pain.  The great life paradox is that we have to know pain to know comfort.  We have to be without in order to understand plenty.  We had to live for two and half years in a tiny fifth wheel camper in order for this moment of walking through our new one to have any meaning.  It was a long-awaited moment.  Paul was absolutely right when he wrote: “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9.  God has been good.

Finally, after all the paperwork, all the ‘walk throughs’ and explanations of this button and that knob and those lights, and this lever – we slowly pulled our new RV onto the by-pass and northeast to Cambridge.  At the risk of sounding crude – the best description of my physical condition as we headed out with this beast was that my butt cheeks were squeezed so tight – Lisa thought something was rubbing in the backseat causing the squeaking sound.  Nope – it’s just my anus.  Now leave me the hell alone.  My fingers gripped the steering wheel until the blood had drained into my elbows – leaving my hands numb and a light shade of blue.  Ever so slowly I began to relax and before long we were comfortable with this twelve thousand pound house pulling behind us.

One of the great fears of pulling an RV is finding adequate fuel stations that can allow easy access.  Being on the safe side – we stopped at almost every station that looked good – regardless of how much fuel we needed.  At last count I think we stopped six times to make the three hundred mile journey.  Better safe than sorry.

Before long I became even more confident and even drove one-handed and started waving at all the other travelers as if I pulled this big RV every weekend.  I could imagine many of them were impressed with my one-handed driving – even making such comments as, “Boy, look at that guy handle that rig.”  I was cruising.  In fact I cruised so well that I missed my turn to Cincinnati coming out of Louisville.  After a few miles I commented to Lisa that the landscape looked unfamiliar and after a few more miles realized we were off course.  Both hands back on the steering wheel because the next fifteen miles would be on skinny, hilly, curvy, two lanes roads to get us back to I-71.  With my anus firmly shut and numb hands gripping the steer wheel – we breathlessly navigated the Oldham County countryside.  The trip off-road would have been a wonderful Sunday drive – if I were in a convertible sports car, but not pulling a forty-two foot fifth wheel.  But thank the Lord we finally made it back to the interstate.  Thank God for four lane highways – six lanes are even better.

As we neared the north end of Cincinnati – having caught our breath from our back roads adventure, I noticed smoke coming from my trailer tires.  What in the hell?  I had a flat tire.  How could a brand new RV with brand new tires have a flat?  We were in a terrible spot with high traffic and no place to turn off and we drove on slowly until we reached an off ramp.  I looked closely through my side mirrors when we finally stopped and noticed water pouring out near the back tires.  I then realized that I did not have a flat tire.  What I had was a sewer drain cap that had come lose sending water onto the tires and causing what looked like smoke steam up.  Whew!  I don’t think people driving near me were too happy seeing fluid flying out of my sewer line.  What they did not know is that the water was clear and only present due to the factory running clean water through the system during final inspection.  But drivers around me did not know that.  “Breaker, Breaker!  We go poop flying all over I-71 just north of Cincy.  Be advised truckers to avoid that blue Ford F-250 pulling that big-ass RV.  And that driver looks a little tense.  I think his ass is squeezed shut.”

After several more unnecessary fuel stops and several more hours, we finally arrived here at our campground in Cambridge.  The fun of backing this thing into its spot would be the final challenge.  Lets just say it was not easy.  No – lets tell it like it is.  Lisa and I absolutely suck at backing up.  I am certain that I have some sort of backing up mental deficiency.  I struggle backing up our truck without an RV attached to the bumper.  Now I am trying to back up a forty-two foot small house into a ten foot wide slot with a tree on one side and another camper on the other.  Our neighbors became so concerned they came outside for fear they may get rammed while watching TV.  We took out one campsite marker, got hung in mud, moved up and back and in and out and this way and that way and finally had one of the oil and gas workers in our campground give us a hand (no he did not clap) until we were finally here.  Thirty minutes later we were set.  Home for the next three months (at least).  We have spent the past two days getting everything in its place and trying to figure out all the bells and whistles of this thing.  But we have never been happier.  God has been amazing to bless us with such a place as this.  We now have room for all our family and friends to visit with us, room for all of Lisa’s clothes (and my one shirt and two pairs of pants) and even have a second bedroom that I have designated my “Man Cave”.  It all seems too good to be true.

We now prepare for the upcoming winter as cold temperatures are in the forecast.  We don’t know how this thing will hold up during in the cold and snow – but we will soon find out.  We don’t know what glitches we will encounter (and there will be some).  We don’t know how long we will be in Cambridge and we don’t know how long we will own this RV.

What we do know is that God has been good to Lisa and I – and that the scripture is true.  Our hearts never imagined what God had in store for us.

Thanks readers for sharing in our adventures.  Love, Steve and Lisa

Moving day.  It is about to happen.  After two and half years of living in our little, leaky, one-slide fifth wheel trailer, today we move it home for the last time.  Tomorrow we set foot inside our new twelve-foot longer, four thousand pound heavier, four slide mansion.  Well – in all honesty it is, perhaps, not as nice as some out there on the market – but we could not be more thrilled with having a newer, roomier model.  We feel blessed.

As Lisa and I woke up this morning, we realized that last night was our last night in this place we have called home since June 2012.  We felt a little sentimental thinking back at the time we have spent in this camper.  From the day we made the purchase in Hanover, Pennsylvania it has been a blessing in many ways.  It has survived five months in the Mohave Desert, the apocryphal Atlanta two-inch snowstorm at Stone Mountain, the winds of Amarillo, Texas, the three AM ghost of Round Top Campground in Gettysburg and, in the end, two amateur RV’rs still learning how to camp.  Here we learned many life lessons such as: how to store all your clothes in a two foot wide space; how to stack pizza slices into a refrigerator the size of a desk drawer; how to flush a toilet with your feet; how to empty the black water first and then the gray water; how to keep hoses from freezing; how to make sure to lower your tailgate before pulling away from the camper (an expensive mistake) and, in the end, how to live simply and happy.

We have learned much from others who call themselves full-time RV’rs.  There is a sense of community in a campground unlike any other.  Here you find people not only willing to help – but wanting to help.  I suppose there is not much else to do but help your neighbor with repairing an awning or a leaky drain.  It gives everyone a sense of purpose and it really does feel good to lend a hand.  Back home, we have lived in the same house for over fifteen years and we don’t know the names of most of the people living on our block.  We know more people here in this campground and have been here only six months.  That really is sad.

So it is time to pull our slide in one more time and head west on I-70.  Awaiting us back home is our family, our friends and a brand new 2015 RV.  We will return with it on Sunday and here we will stay (with the exception of being home a week at Thanksgiving and a week at Christmas) until, at least, early February.  What awaits us is surviving the eastern Ohio winter.  But, at least, we will have a new RV to do that in.  Lisa and I can only hope it gives us as much pleasure and stories to tell as this old camper has.  Thanks for the memories.

Be Home Soon!

February 6th.  That is the new day we will end our time here in Cambridge Ohio.  From the sound of things from the hospital – Lisa may be employed there for much longer than that.  But, for now, our date is February 6th.

We feel blessed being here in this little hamlet.  The campground we are staying at is battening down the hatches (whatever that means) for the winter and the seasonal campers have winterized their campers and headed south or wherever.  All that is left here is mostly the oil and gas workers and Lisa and I.  This should be an adventure.  God has been good to us in that this will be the first time since we started traveling that we have been able to go home for a week at Thanksgiving and a week at Christmas and have a job to return to after that.  It is a good feeling knowing that we can stay in a place for another three months just six hours from home.

Cambridge is already gearing up for the Christmas season and everyone has told us the decorations downtown themselves are worth staying around for.  A life-sized Dickens Village is already being set up all over the downtown area with scenes of Dickens characters placed on park benches and in front of the downtown shops.  Really cool!  I’m amazed how little towns we have lived in are able to pull off some rather stunning events.  I wrote about the amazing fireworks display here in July and can only marvel at how the citizens pull together for various parades and other events.  I suppose when you live in small town America – these events have extra special meaning.

My favorite television show of all time is “The Andy Griffith Show” and I can’t help but think of Mayberry when I walk the sidewalks of downtown Cambridge.  People here seem to know each other and I love how, with the exception of Lisa and I and the oil and gas transplants, everyone seems to have their place and position in the town.    Here there is one hardware store, one bakery and one grocery store.  Also you will find at least one church from nearly every denomination known to man and God.  There may be a “Floyd’s Barbershop” somewhere here – I just have not found it yet.  I understand how people can make this place home and never leave.  But, may I say right here and now – we really like Cambridge, Ohio – we love the people here – but we do not see ourselves making it our home for good.

Aside from Owensboro, Cambridge Ohio will be a place that we have spent more time in our lives than any other.  By the first of February we will have been here ten months.  We are just six hours from our real home.  We are also just a few weeks away from being home for an extended vacation.  And that is not too bad.

We love you all!  Lisa and Steve