In darkness, Light

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned." Isaiah 9:2

Advent has arrived. Over the last four or five years, Advent's worth and meaning in my life has increased at a steady, rapid rate. In fact, Advent has become even more the focus of my excitement than Christmas day itself, at least the gift exchange part. Without the birth of Christ, Advent would lose its power, as it is the anticipation of said birth. Perhaps it is due to maturity, or more likely my employment at a church, but regardless I adore Advent. Each year I find such a peace of heart and mind during this season. Even when I was student and December meant the end of the semester rush and the chaos of finals week, this season felt calm. The church becomes my location of choice for more than the usual activities. I suspect that the juxtaposition of darkness coming so early in the day, and the church's light and warmth increases my attraction, add to that the wonderful adornments within the church such as wreaths, greenery, purple and silver decorations, and the large Christmas Tree in the Sanctuary, and you have my favorite place to be during this season.

Grace Presbyterian Church, my church, has become home and family for me ever since I began my work in the music ministry there in March of two-thousand eleven. The music ministry itself has taught me more than my awareness declared I needed. Most weeks I can be found on a piano bench aiding in rehearsals on Wednesday and Thursday nights for a couple hours, entering into a community of people sharing in the worship of God, while rehearsing so that others may enter into a deeper level of worship come Sunday morning. All people unfortunately have a certain relationship with darkness, and I am no exception. Darkness takes on many different roles so as to not leave anyone untouched. In the depths of my perceived despair, at any point, I find and have found solace at Grace Presbyterian. The church, a place which I avoided for a period of my life, has shown a brighter Light than any place ever has; Light filled with community, vulnerability, acceptance, encouragement, challenge, belief in me, and unconditional love. Tonight, our fearless leader shared words of remembering moments of our lives and glorifying God by honoring those memories. The memory that I suspect inspired her words is a tragic incident in her family the resulted in the loss of multiple loved ones far too soon. While that occurrence is six years in the past, I can only imagine that it must feel so fresh at each anniversary, and yet there she was using that memory to bring Glory to God the Father. She is finding Light in darkness, and in sharing that Light with others partners with them in driving out their own darkness. The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness will not overcome it.

Frequently, I am overcome with distress caused by the state of our world. So much hate, so much unrest, so much persecution. Why? Why do we drive ourselves into acts of cruelty and a life of pain? Whether it be rejecting refugees, attacking one another because of differing opinions and beliefs, or discrimination based upon race, class, and sexual orientation, it all causes further separation between people and breeds more hate. Hate cannot drive out hate. There must be Love. Darkness adores company in the way of fear. Genuine Love extinguishes fear. Lightness casts the darkness aside and shines evermore brightly.

This year will mark four years in a row that I will have sung either Comfort Ye and/or Every Valley from the Messiah. Preparations for my yearly contribution to worship have involved a new perspective on the text. The prophetic texts of Isaiah that comprise both pieces of music have become of my favorite. The idea of the entire world preparing for the birth of Jesus is incredible to me, and a little bit overwhelming. "Comfort Ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak thee comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, and her iniquity is pardoned." I see so much brokenness impacting my loved ones. A friend has health conditions that weigh heavily on him, even if he doesn't want me to see. Family members struggle to support one another and grow weary. When these kinds of things weigh on my heart, simple things like having best friends live across the country in either direction from me and not knowing when I will see them, hearing the hurts of people about whom I care dearly, and really small irritations start to disproportionately burden me. However, as we explore Advent, we are actually awaiting the birth of a King. He is a King that will right every wrong and lay our brokenness to rest. 

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace" Isaiah 9:6

Any time I feel darkness creeping in, I can hear the opening lines of Comfort Ye. "Comfort Ye, Sean. Your iniquity is pardoned. There is no darkness here, only Light, and darkness will not overcome it".

"Glaf Clops"

Thanksgiving has come and gone. Hours of preparation for a thirty minute meal surrounded by loved ones are always met with mixed feelings. I, for one, really love cooking, however I frequently find myself cooking arguably the largest meal of my year (Young Life Camp excluded) in a small kitchen that is relatively unfamiliar to me, which is less than desirable. This year was no different on that front, however I had a lot of help. This is the first year that I have been responsible for such a great amount of the meal, and it went really well. I coached my mother through prepping the turkey, I handled a bourbon pumpkin pie and a jello salad, and she aided me in creating two mashed potato dishes: one for gravy and one to stand alone. We had nine mouths to feed, and no one left any way close to hungry. All parties were thrilled with the food, and I think all our hearts were thankful for one another and the shared time.

My Aunt Teresa is famous for her ability to switch letters and syllables in spoken words (golf claps came out as glaf clops) and is thus the subject of much of our laughter as a family. She provides us with stories to share for years. Actually, we all have provided humorous antics. Each year the same stories are told, and we laugh just as hard, if not harder. We always play Catch Phrase, and this year we played the Game of Things which was most enjoyable. My cousin Joely is now seven years old and is getting to the point where she can really interact with all of us, and I think we all appreciate getting to see her develop and gain more of her own personality as kids do. She has energy and excitement almost all the time, and that can rub off on the rest of us. My mother and Aunt Teresa bonded with Joely well this year, I think. "Miss Mary Mack" was taught and repeated many, many, many times. And then repeated some more. I know all the words, and I certainly did not before.

I must confess that I have moments of extreme cynicism in regards to family. No family is perfect, and it is easy to believe your family is the worst, and I get stuck there. My family certainly has what sometimes seems like more than its fair share of discontent, but for this four day period, I believe we were largely able to look passed any issues and simply enjoy one another. I got to see my mother display a child-like joy that I have not seen in a long time as she played clapping games with her sister and niece. Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary were able to relax more and not worry as much about what their daughter might be doing. Aunt Teresa was there to field difficult questions for me and provide a listening ear. Nana sat, watched, directed the baking of rolls, and laughed. If you looked into her eyes, there was love and peace that she probably has not felt in a while as she manages the less wonderful parts of age and a weaker body. When I wasn't in the kitchen, I sat and watched a lot. Siblings can certainly lose sight of the good in one another as they face life, realize that they are vastly different, and see one another change. However, this Thanksgiving I am so thankful for clarity of vision in what is important and what is beautiful in family - my quirky, dysfunctional, broken, hilarious, loving family.

Along with family rides friendship in my heart. For whatever reason, this Thanksgiving equated with a trip into Sean's past. High school was not my favorite time of life. In fact, I loathed it, and thinking back to it isn't loved either. Those four years were pervaded by broken friendships, a keen lack of understanding of myself, and heartache. Of course there were good things, too, those are overwhelmed by the not-so-good it seems. I have apologized time and time again to people I hurt, and have forgiven people that have hurt me. However, forgiving myself is the most difficult task for me, and probably deserves it's own post or five... As I reflected on a few lost friendships last weekend and the beginning of this week, I had no idea what was awaiting me on Wednesday night. I literally faced a friendship which I assumed was long gone. It didn't end well in high school, at least I didn't handle the end of it well. What actually happened was that our needs changed. Tell that to an angsty, emotionally intense, seventeen years old Sean, and see how he takes it.

Josiah (the friend) and I saw each other randomly at a friend's house. There was no awkwardness (I let go of my hurt and anger over that friendship long ago), and we simply started talking and catching up between interruptions and distractions. We talked about music, literature, random stories and anecdotes, and laughed a lot. At the end of the night we were both getting ready to leave and the conversation led us to the point of no return: discussing our friendship. Neither of us seemed to avoid it, so in we jumped. Apologies were given and accepted, honesty was displayed, and genuine wishes to have done things differently were shared. At one point I told Josiah "I have thought a lot about what I would say to you.. Turns out that this was it". That was the truth, and it caught me off guard. Never had I actually thought this kind of conversation would happen, nor that we would ever simultaneously express the desire to re-enter each others' lives. Redemption. Reconciliation. My heart Rejoiced. No where in my being was I aware that this is what my heart needed, but it was. I had spent so much time looking at the ways I had messed up and hurt people, and I found myself believing that nothing would ever change that. Not one day later, I faced Truth. Truth that says that love, time, and genuine hearts can allow Redemption. Nothing is completely lost if there is real desire for change. There is no room for "glaf clops". No. My heart erupts with applause at the thought that, even after heartache and friendships dismissed, there can be Redemption, Reconciliation, and Rejoicing.

And there is much Thanksgiving for that.

My Declaration of Independence

“And by and by Christopher Robin came to an end of things, and he was silent, and he sat there, looking out over the world, just wishing it wouldn’t stop.“

I think I've been avoiding this post. Sitting here, reading that quote for the one-hundredth time, I am forced to admit my reality of being in Wichita with no set plan to return to Oregon. You see, A. A. Milne spoke that quote to me, a year after my first encounter with it, a brief two nights before I departed Oregon after spending almost half a year there. Five and a half months is quite the expanse of time, my friends. In fact, I challenge you to spend that much time in a place and not allow your heart to settle there. That was the most trying part, because in past experiences, I have only been long enough away to build really great relationships, but not feel like I had actually moveed, Does that make sense? I've always known where in my tenure I was. This time, however, there were enough pace changes and even season changes that my whole person settled as if it was a more permanent situation. In one way, that made it all the more worthwhile. I lost the sense of "I'm leaving" and gained the feeling of "this is life", so I dug into it more. In another way, it hurts. Unfortunately, I cannot work around that.

My most recent stint in OR was one of the most impacting periods of my life. Not only was I isolated in a desert, but I was also isolated in my job. There was no community handed to me. In fact, if I wanted it, I had to work to get it. Eventually, I did achieve a really wonderful community in my roommates and a couple other people, but it took a while to get there, and then even longer to really maintain. Murphy's Law would dictate that the community begins flourishing just as it is about to be disrupted, and Murphy was right. However, that is okay. My goal is not to discredit any of that community, as it was necessary for my survival, and it was wonderful. That being said, the lack of community that I mentioned influenced me just as much as the moments filled with community.

Before going to the Ranch last May, I was far more dependent on my friendships than I would have ever cared to admit. Furthermore, my identity was wrapped up in having friendships that looked the way I wanted them to look. So, I was put in a desert working my ass off in a job that didn't have tons of companionship (managing people, being managed, and only having one other person in your position who always worked opposite shifts of you), living with three guys whom I didn't know beforehand and hardly saw. Truthfully, I thought I would rely on older friendships to get me through, however communication is difficult out there. I've always prided myself on my communication abilities, but even the best laid plans go awry when exhaustion is so pervasive and you work harder than you knew you could. Because of these things, I learned to not only survive, but thrive independently. My reliance began to shift from those relationships upon which I leaned too heavily, to the relationship on which I don't lean enough.

Part of me wishes I could tell you that this season changed all of my habits, rid me of all of my sinful nature, got me doing daily devotionals with ease, and all other wonderful things that "true Christians" are supposed to have together. That would be a lie. What this season did accomplish was changing my view to see Christ in things that I otherwise would overlook. It allowed me to see Christ within my own heart and truly believe that my identity did not need friendships to exist. Do friendships aid in molding me to be this person I believe Christ wants me to be? Of course. Are friendships necessary in life? I believe so. However, they are not necessary for the reasons I thought. Friendships are there to sharpen us, teach us, love us, but not define us. This was knowledge that existed in my head but had never quite made it to my heart. Because of this new "heart-knowledge" my friendships prospered. Naturally I saw it in my friendships out in OR, and in the broader Pacific Northwest, but now I do see it in the relationships in which I'm investing here in Wichita.

Friendships in Wichita, and even my work in Wichita, have helped to smooth this transition. But all the smoothing in the world cannot prevent my heart from longing for what it knows exists in relationships all across the country. Interestingly, I had no tearful farewell. I say it is interesting because tearful departures are kind of in my blood. Even this quote didn't shake me enough to bring tears. However, as I was leaving the the state of Oregon, I heard the quote a little differently in my head: 

"And by and by, we have come to an end of the things, and we are silent, and we sit here, driving out into the world, and just wishing it wouldn't stop".

Truer words have ne'er been spoken. And as I meditated on that statement, I realized that in all of my readiness for change and home that I never wanted those relationships, that world which I was leaving, these adventures of travel, to ever, ever stop. And tears finally flowed.

My Friends of the Week

I have been awfully remiss in my blog posts over the last several months. Many times I have found myself wanting to collect my thoughts by writing, yet I never seem to make the time to do it. Hopefully, this will reignite the discipline in me to articulate myself more regularly. 

If you don't know or have forgotten, May brought my departure to Oregon for a brief five months to work at Young Life's Washington Family Ranch, much like it did last summer. While yes, I'm at the same location with some of the same people, the two summers could not be more different. Last summer taught me much about living in community, and the importance of community in my life. However, this summer has been the opposite. Over the last three months, my "knowledge" of friendship has been torn apart. Truthfully, I have somewhat prided myself, justified or not, in my ability to be a friend and my understanding of what friendships should look like. Now, I still hold true to my values in regards to healthy relationships and what those look like. That being said, I realized that I have been pigeon-holing my friendships. Friendship is the state of being friends. A friend is someone, generally outside of family or sexual relations, with whom one shares mutual affection. Thanks, dictionary.  "Open-ended" hardly begins to describe those definitions. So why have I always viewed it as a finite entity? What compelled me to view friendship in such constrained terms? I wish I had the answer, but I don't. Speculation would guess it was my insecurities and my desires to have my friends fulfill certain holes in my heart.

This summer has taught me to be content in the present. By that I mean not only the present time, but also physical present. Often my mind wanders to this place of comparison between the friends whom I am discovering, and the friends whom I have already known. In growing close to friends in one location, I have felt like I am doing a disservice to my friends from home or from another adventure. Because of this, I hold back. I hamper the amount I will invest and care because I am scared of growing close to someone new. Friendships are not mutually exclusive, it turns out. Nor does the definition of friendship limit the number of friends you may have. Many of us have heard that quote that says we only have two or three genuinely close friends at one time. The thing that people leave out is that those two or three friends may change as often as weekly. In trying this summer to invest in our high school volunteers (Work Crew), college volunteers (Summer Staff), and Interns, I have learned that I simply cannot handle all people at once. In fact, I am not supposed to do such a thing. For every person that I invest in and get to know, there are many others loving the people I cannot. And there is nothing wrong with that, which I say as much for my benefit as anyone else's.

Physical location has a lot of influence over with whom we are close. Simply, it is easier to be involved with those we see all the time. But, there will always be days where we need someone across a distance who has been with us for longer or knows a certain part of our lives better. Is it true that right now one of my closest friends is a soon-to-be senior who lives in Lake Oswego, OR? Yes. Today was our last day of spending almost every day together for twenty-one days. We chose to invest in one another and be parts of each other's lives. Wouldn't it be strange if he wasn't one of my closest friends? I think so. Does my close friendship with him, or anyone else out here, discredit any of my friendships back in the Midwest? Or from last summer? No. I am not betraying anyone by caring for and investing in another human being. Everyone, out of their inherent worth as a human, deserves to receive love and care. So, when Jesus places a high school student from Edmonds, WA, or a wild-man who tries to convince me to drop everything and travel around the world, in my path and on my heart, I say "party on". 

The hardest part in all of this is accepting that some friends are for a season, or multiple non-consecutive seasons. I have always wanted all of my friends to be constant and in one place. This, I have come to know, would cheapen all of them. If they were all with me all the time, how would I be able to invest in all of them? That would be a disservice. Allowing these friendships to exist separately is what allows me to love them all. The beauty of these friendships is that I can visit them when I need them, or when they need them.

"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place." 

Amen. And I would add that never being completely at home again is one of the most beautiful aches that I have ever known.

"Why don't you talk? I don't even know what you sound like."

The first redeeming quality of that treacherous is simple and takes far less writing than the others. Jasper and I couldn't be more different, and sometimes that is a bit intimidating. However, one of the things that we agree on is the need for quality time with a person. In expressing love, I much prefer touch and verbal communication, whereas Jasper would rather keep a three foot buffer around him with little to no invasion of that space. Jasper loves to show love through acts of service, which in turn I don't know how to receive. He also isn't terribly expressive verbally until it is really needed. But quality time we can come together on. And that trip to Pendleton, OR provided a great deal of that, as well as some leaning on one another for support and to keep spirits up. Whether it was driving in the car, walking around Wal-Mart, waiting for a miracle or a tow-truck, or spending the night in the hotel, we had plenty of quality time with each other. And let me tell you, when you see someone almost every day for 3.5 months, and then live 1,600 miles apart for 4 months, you really miss that physical presence in your life. 

Redeeming quality number two comes from a man whose name we do not know. We call him Scott because he looks like a Scott. Scott was the cook at the Rainbow Cafe. The place was set up in such a way that Jasper and I sat at a little bar and the kitchen was no more than five feet from our faces. We got to watch Scott cook and chat with him while we ate. It was really slow that night, so we got a lot of his attention. Scott is this older man, kinda rough around the edges, with white hair and a white beard, who is missing some of his teeth. Making small conversation, I asked if Scott had cooked all his life. Expecting a simple answer, what we received was so much better. He embarked on stories of going to culinary school, working at the Crater Lake Lodge and working his way up from making Omelettes to being the Sous Chef. We heard about the hierarchy of breakfast foods and what each post meant. He told us about getting to the Rainbow Cafe and how long he has been there and his highlights. He had a child tell him he made the best Reuben sandwich that she's had, and wrote him down in her list of Reubens.  He had a boy who had to be younger than 10 ask for crab cakes only to learn that they were out, and then he promptly changed his mind to a grilled cheese. I will say, writing these tidbits down, they don't have quite the impact that Jasper and I felt. That's because the importance was not in the information we acquired, but in the experience of having another human being share parts of his life with us. Scott exuded joy when telling his stories, and you could tell he delighted in sharing his experiences with us. Well, Scott, we certainly loved hearing them. If any of you find yourselves in Pendleton, OR you must go visit Scott at the Rainbow Cafe and eat some Pressure-Cooked Fried Chicken. He'll only be there for 3.5 more years, though, because he's retiring. Jasper and I want to go see him again sometime. It'd be well-worth it. 

Now the third experience is similar to our experience with Scott. However it was on a larger scale. We met Shawnie the receptionist at the Knight's Inn the night we checked in. She was the person who recommended Rainbow Cafe to us. That night I was over it all and was kind of joking and charming with great abandon. But hey, we got a sweet hotel room for pretty cheap. Anyway, that set the stage for our friendship. We chatted a little with her that night about whatever movie she was watching and about Pendleton. I didn't think much of it other than being friendly. The next morning, however, Shawnie was at the desk once again! Jasper and I had gone down to eat breakfast and ended up chatting with Shawnie for something like an hour and a half. Once again, we just made small talk about our room, the hotel, breakfast, the Rainbow Cafe. She asked us what we were doing in Pendleton and we told her. Simple things like that. Joking all throughout. She had a great sense of humor, and a boisterous laugh. It was just really fun to be around. At one point, she looked at Jasper and said "Why don't you talk? I don't even know what you sound like." Jasper replied something snarky about him being the brains and me being the mouthpiece (rude), and then proceeded to freak Shawnie out by talking in a British accent. She couldn't decide if he was American using a British Accent, or British using an America. Eventually she just said "yeah, I'm gonna need you to stop...". It was hilarious. 

Shawnie really told us a lot about her life. She told of her siblings, her mom, and what her life had looked like. It's a pretty cool redemption story. One of us asked her how she got to the Knight's Inn, and off she went. An hour later, we had heard about her perspective on taking charge of one's life. "if you're stuck somewhere, you might as well take advantage of the programs around you. Educate yourself, take yoga, learn to cook, so something! Your situations will only improve if you make them". We got to hear about learning to stand up for one's self, the importance of getting where you want to be - even if it means walking for miles in sweltering heat with your belongings on your back, the blessing of truly kind people, and her relationship with God. Shawnie has an appreciation for Life that I envy somewhat. She has come so far, and is moving up at the ol' Knights Inn in Pendleton, OR. I have hope for her. People like Shawnie just get it done, and are a light to those around them. 

People receive and show love through so many ways. Quality time is a commonality for Jasper and me. Apparently it works for Scott and Shawnie, too. There are few things I love more than a good story, and there are few things better than personal stories. I love listening to a person tell me about his or her life, and Jasper is better at listening than I am. We walked into the Knights Inn the night before wondering why we were stuck there, and pretty frustrated and saddened that we hadn't gotten to visit Justin. As corny as it may be, we left knowing that Pendleton, OR is exactly where we were supposed to be. 

I only hope that Scott and Shawnie got a fraction of what they gave us. 

Oh, the Places You'll Go: Pendleton, OR

I honestly had never heard of Pendleton, OR, so I obviously did not suspect that I would ever be staying the night there. But there I was, on a hotel bed with one Jasper Gerhardt on the other bed, trying to figure out what had just happened. What on earth was that day about?  Why were we stuck in Pendleton, OR instead of visiting Justin in Baker City? Why did the car break down while the two of us were driving it across central OR? Why was it on a Sunday when no mechanic shops were open? Why couldn't we have just gone a little further and meet Justin in La Grande? Why aren't I that upset?

I'm sure there were other questions. yet those are the ones that come to mind as I am writing this a couple days later. Now, I'll just get on with the story you all know is coming.

I've been in Oregon with Jasper since the 26th. The 27th, we got up and left the house at 7 a.m. to go see our friend Justin in Baker City. Probably about a four hour drive or so. Well, we were there was some snowy roads, so we were taking it easy, but still making decent time. After maybe 150 miles or so, the RPMs kept spazzing out on us, and lights were flashing on the dashboard. We pulled over, exploring various options. When Jasper opened the hood, I said "this ends my knowledge of how to fix the car". It's true. So, we poked around, Jasper called his parents, and we ended up checking the transmission fluid. There was zero fluid on the dipstick. Turns out we had a leak. That's okay, we will call triple A and get towed to Hermiston where it can't be that hard to fix. So, Jasper walked a ways down the highway to figure out where we were exactly, and the tow truck was on his way. Dave came to save the day, driving us to Hermiston with the car in tow. Only, then he gave us some tough news: All the mechanic shops in Hermiston are closed because it was Sunday.

Enter creative Sean and Jasper. We were dropped off in a mechanic's lot at First and Elm, right across the street from the Wal-Mart with very little hope. After some thinking, we thought we should check with Wal-Mart, so we walked over there and asked if they thought they could help us even though it was out of the realm of "lube and tire" service. They said yes, and hope was kindled once again! We just had to get the car across the street to Wal-Mart. Calling Triple A was a possibility, but did we do that? Of course not. It's just one major street that only takes 11.45 seconds to walk across so surely we can simply push the car across the street. We were poised and ready to do so. I mean, we had the timing of the lights down, we knew approximately how long it would take us, I was prepared to push like I'd never pushed before, and then a truck stops and offers to help. Turns out the guy is a mechanic of sorts, and he quickly assessed the issue: There was a cut in one of the transmission hoses. Wal-Mart could no longer help us. We were a little put out. We called Jasper's mom and she told us we probably needed to get a hotel in Hermiston for the night. Neither of us had any desire to do that. There's no way that our epic trip to visit Justin could end this way.

After trying to think in the car, I suggested we find wifi so I could be somewhat helpful in finding a hotel at least. Eventually, we walked into a starbucks, dejected, and went to work. However, I then thought of searching for mechanics is nearby towns and things like that. No luck. Back to hotels. However, once again determined not to be bested, we discovered the brilliant plan of getting towed to La Grande, and having Justin meet us. The game was on. We called triple A, it was all set, and then they asked our location. I told them we were in the parking lot of a mechanic's shop in Hermiston, and they told us they couldn't tow us. "We can't tow out of a mechanic's shop." "even if I haven't had any correspondence with the mechanic?" "Yeah, we would need some kind of verification" "Can you tow me if I get the car out of this parking lot?" "Yes" "okay, I'll call back". So I jumped out, Jasper steered, and we pushed that car about 500 feet into the next parking lot over, called back, they said someone would do it, and we were set. We went to Subway with a spring in our steps, ate lunch, got a call from triple A saying it would be 2.5 hours until they got to us but that was okay because we were going to Justin! We decided to walk back to the car after eating and after approximately 45 minutes had passed. As we were preparing to cross the street, our buddy Dave from D & R towing in Hermiston was already there getting the car ready to go! We climbed (literally climbed) into the cab and waited for the same driver as before to climb in with us. Off we went in good spirits and a little bit of excitement! Until Dave the driver told us that we might not be able to get through the pass to La Grande, but he would investigate. Investigation occurred, and he determined that it would not be wise, so he took us as far as Pendleton, and left us there.

At this point in the story, I think neither Jasper nor I had any care left. We were just accepting of our circumstances and doing whatever we could to make it through. We googled hotels nearby, settled on the Knight's Inn and walked about a mile in pretty good spirits. I think we were just happy to have a conclusion for the day and to be done trying. We ate dinner at the Rainbow Cafe and called it a night.

The next day, Jasper got up early and went down to the mechanic shop to find out that they could get us in early. They proceeded to do so, and then we were on our way back to Madras. Because this post is getting lengthy, I'm going to write a second one about the redeeming qualities of this trip. Jasper and I have had some really cool experiences together, this trip is actually among them.