A Step Of Faith Part 31

Alan Christoffersen's diary

The next day felt like a rerun of earlier days, with seemingly endless cotton fields and, again, the mysteriously leaning power lines. The tilt of the poles was so perfectly symmetrical that I wondered if they had been purposely set in this manner or if their leaning was caused by some natural phenomenon, like the famed bell tower of Pisa. I vowed to ask someone when I got the chance, which settled my mind on the matter enough that I never actually got around to asking anyone.

I felt physically more able than I had in days and I was eager to get through this lonely stretch, so I walked nearly twenty-five miles until I reached the quaint little town of Wilson. Wilson had once been a thriving logging town, built around a huge sawmill and lumber yard which, decades before, had been closed down, cordoned off by an eight-foot chain-link fence topped with razor wire.

What distinguished Wilson from the other towns along that stretch was the architecture-which, peculiarly, was more British than southern. I stopped for dinner at the Wilson Cafe and my server gave me some of the history. The town was founded by Robert E. Lee Wilson, who, after cutting down the trees, used the land for agricultural purposes. Wilson pretty much owned the town, but he was a generous public benefactor, and every town resident had use of the company doctor for just $1.25 annually, about $17 in today's money.

Wilson's son, Wilson Jr., and his bride, returned from a honeymoon to England fascinated by British architecture. Apparently their excitement was contagious, because shortly thereafter all the town's buildings were either built or retrofitted with Tudor elements, giving the town a distinct and charming British appearance.

I finished my meal of split-pea soup and pork ribs, then camped the night behind a screen of trees in the park next to the restaurant.

CHAPTER Twenty-six

For centuries the spiritually seeking have asked G.o.d for a sign. Perhaps that's why there's so many of them planted out front of southern churches.

Alan Christoffersen's diary

The next day marked two weeks since I'd resumed my walk. Unremarkably, I pa.s.sed more cotton fields and walked through a string of small towns: Ba.s.sett, Joiner and Frenchmans Bayou (the latter town so named because no one could p.r.o.nounce the French name the original French settler had given it).

My route led to Highway 77, which I reached just before sunset. I ate fried chicken and Baskin-Robbins ice cream I bought at a gas station, then stopped for the night at the small town of Clarkedale, making camp on the far side of the railroad tracks that ran parallel to the highway. I set my tent too close to the tracks, and when a train whistled in the middle of the night, I woke, all but certain my life was over. I slept fitfully the rest of the night, antic.i.p.ating the advent of another pa.s.sing train, which never came.

Early the next morning I reached a town with the biblically inspired name of Jericho. Appropriately, the first street I pa.s.sed was Praise the Lord Boulevard. Perhaps not so appropriately, the first building I pa.s.sed was the Jericho Liquor Store. I was always surprised to see more than one church in a town with so few residents, and this town contained many. I walked by a church sign that seemed especially apropos to my circ.u.mstance:

Are you on the right road?

I should write something about church signs. Walking from Seattle-the third-least Christian city in America-to the pious southern roads of the Bible Belt, one of the things that stood out to me (in addition to the sheer number of churches) was the phenomenon of church signs. Pretty much all of the churches had signs or marquees. Some were designed to lure people to their meetings, while others were sermons unto themselves. A few of them bordered on the bizarre.

As I had with the Wall Drug signs along Interstate 90 in South Dakota, I decided to dedicate a few pages of my diary to writing down some of these messages.

Walomart is not the only saving place.

G.o.d's last name isn't "d.a.m.n"!

Stop, drop and roll won't work in h.e.l.l.

You have one New Friend Request.

From Jesus. Confirm or Ignore.

Santa Claus never died for anyone.

Don't make me come down there.-G.o.d.

Read the Bible.

It will scare the h.e.l.l out of you.

Yes, our A/C is out.

But there's no A/C in h.e.l.l either!

Free Coffee. Everlasting life.

Members.h.i.+p has its privileges.

Life is a puzzle.

Look here for the missing PEACE.

Forbidden fruits create many jams.

G.o.d is like TIDE soap.

He gets the stains out others left behind.

Why pay for GPS?

Jesus gives direction for free.

Honk if you love Jesus.

Text while driving if you want to meet Him.

What is missing from CH**CH? U R

There are some questions that can't be answered by Google.

Be an organ donor.

Give your heart to Jesus.

Sign broke. Message inside.

People use duct tape to fix everything.

G.o.d uses nails.

Prayer isn't the only thing that can bring you to your knees.

For all you do, His blood's for you.

Then there were some that could only be described as bizarre.

Don't let worries kill you.

Let the church help.