Watts Happening

I almost died the other day.

I was installing the dryer into the house a few days ago. We had gotten a new electric plug for it. You know the kind: big heavy cord covered with thick rubber with that obnoxiously large connecter at the end baring three metal prongs like some primordial snake. On the other end were three corresponding metal clips which I had to screw into the back of the dryer. It suddenly occurred to me that I wasn't sure if the plug end was the right type. Without thinking (which is always dangerous) I quickly slipped the plug into the wall to see if it would fit.

Now, before I go on, let me say that any smart, experienced handy-man would have made sure that they turned off the electricity to the dryer outlet before attempting any work on it. Logic and common sense dictate such an action. Sadly, I was apparently in short supply of both that night.

The plug slipped into the outlet. The metal prongs at the other end of the cord were touching each other and right next to my hand. Before I knew what happened, an incredible bolt of electricity, white-hot, burst from the end of the cord. I jumped four feet in the air. My wife, who was watching with interest, cried out, "Troy Fuller! Are you alright?" Okay, my wife hasn't called me 'Troy Fuller' since, well, she's actually never called me by my full name. I knew I was in trouble when she yelled that. The kids tumbled downstairs from their bedrooms. "What was that?" they cried. "We saw lightening!" It was a true miracle that I wasn't electrocuted especially considering the powerful voltage that flows into dryers.

I'm no handyman but necessity is the mother of invention or, in this case, life-risking handy-man work. Needless to say, I will be retiring my screwdrivers and drills pretty soon and trading them in for scalpels and textbooks.

May that day come quickly in and our time!

I'll keep you posted.

Food Stamp Saga

It's Monday. As I type this I am sitting in a chair in the corner of the living room, the chair next to a set of large windows over-looking the backyard. This place is such a change from the life we knew in Philadelphia. Since we have been here he haven't once had a single police car, sirens roaring, scream past the house. In Philly we had become accustomed to busyness and crowds, cars loudly passing by and sirens at all times of the night. Here the afternoons are filled with children playing on their scooters in the street and the evenings are stone silent. I had forgotten that life could be like this.

I had an interesting experience last week. I spent the better part of a day standing in line and later sitting in the waiting room of the local social service food stamp office. This was the first time in my life I'd ever had to be in such a place petitioning for help. It was humbling, to say the least. I entered the austere government building, not quite sure what to expect. I stood in line with other people, waiting patiently as the slightly bored-looking workers behind the thick glass up front shuffled through what appeared to be reams and reams of forms. Finally it was my turn.
"I'm here to find out about food stamps!" What else could I say? Do they simply hand them too you? Did I need to offer a pint of blood? I had no clue.
The disinterested government worker in front of me pointed to the rear of the room. "You need to fill out the form and get back in line. Next!"
So it began. I left my precious spot in the queue and trudged to the rear of the waiting room, took the form, and sat down in one of the uncomfortable vinyl chairs. It took me about thirty minutes to fill out the twelve sheets (front and back) of requested data. Who lived with me? How much did I make? What were my expenses? I stood and obediently took my place at the back of the line which, miraculously, had diminished somewhat by this time. I waited again. To my right a baby was crying. There was the impatient sound of children as a young mother behind me struggled through the form I had just completed. An elderly couple to my left sat quietly in some chairs against the wall. They knew what to expect. Finally it was my turn again. The all-powerful Man Behind the Glass took my form, looked through it, stamped a few pages, then asked me to sit down and wait. Back to the uncomfortable chairs. I waited, and waited, and waited, and watched some TV, and waited, and waited, and read a bit, and waited, and looked around at the other folks. A young father to my left was trying to console an infant. And I waited. Most people avoided eye contact. At last I heard my name called. "Troy Fuller?" I stood.
"We got your form," the young lady who greeted me said. "You'll be receiving a letter in the mail with your appointment date in about 4-6 days."
And that was it. That was it? After so patiently waiting for hours and standing in line and enduring the uncomfortably intrusive forms, that was it? The young woman disappeared down the hall and I was left standing in the middle of the waiting room. What could I do? I took my hat (yes, I wear a hat in public. I know that fashion fell out of popularity about 60 years ago. I think it should be brought back) and I left the building. So ended the beginning of my experience with government social help.

I did finally get that promised letter. I have a meeting set up with a social counselor this coming Friday. It should be interesting.

I'll keep you posted.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,

We have been in Oklahoma City for a week. Where can I begin? So much has happened.

As many of you may recall, my daughter underwent brain surgery a couple of months ago in an effort to relieve her of ever-increasingly disruptive epilepsy. For seven weeks after her surgery she was seizure free. Every day that she lived seizure-free was a blessing. This past Tuesday we were getting ready for supper when my wife stopped me and told me to look at Hannah. Sure enough, despite our best efforts and greatest hopes, she was having a seizure. It was brief, but it was clear. We were devastated. Hannah was depressed. For seven years we have struggled with this through multiple anti-seizure medications and two surgeries. Now, after everything, she is still seizing. Of course we called her physicians in Philadelphia. They were concerned and gave me the name of a local epilepsy specialist. We appreciate prayers as we continue to bring this beast of epilepsy under control.

Despite this setback, God has reminded us of His faithfulness and ever-present reality. Today we were at the end of our rope. Vickie had a job interview this morning. She did well, but failed to land a job. We still needed a place to live. We have been living at a local hotel and our finances are drying up. By the time this afternoon rolled around, we were all pretty depressed and feeling defeated. What could we do? Where could we go? Where was God when we needed Him most? Within two hours of this crisis, God granted us a place to live with a rent that we could afford. As I type this, we have the keys to our humble duplex. It's not a palace, but it is a true miracle and we are incredibly overjoyed by God's miraculous provision. Even when our hope wavered, He remained faithful. God came through for us when it seemed there was no future.

Challenges remain: Vickie still has no job. Hannah struggles with her epilepsy. Finances are incredibly tight. I start college shortly. We are learning, though, that God is a God of provision, even when it seem impossible.

I'll keep you posted.

Where the wind comes sweeping down the plain . . . .

Well, we're here: Oklahoma, the wide-open, wind-swept American mid-west. Our original plan was to go to Kansas. That didn't work out. God opened a window in Oklahoma so here we are. Our introduction to the state has been mixed. We spent yesterday at Rosh Pinah Messianic Synagogue, a wonderful congregation led by Messianic Rabbi Michael Weygant, a godly man. The worship was wonderful and the message convicting. A very positive experience. We will be going back.

Then, after service, we drove north to a small town to look at a few houses. The town was peaceful, the homes definite fixer-uppers, and the price not so bad. On the way back to the hotel we noticed smoke billowing over the road. We spent the next three hours sitting on the interstate with hundreds of other stranded drivers as a terrible grass fire raged across the land, burning over 1000 acres. Huge clouds of pungent smoke blocked the sky as we sat there, seeing trees and even homes burn to the ground. Emergency vehicles raced past us as we sat helpless on the road. It was a pretty surreal experience.

When we finally started moving again an enormous thunderstorm drifted over the city, bringing some much needed relief from the 110 degree heat. We got back to the hotel by 10:00 pm.

We are really in a place of faith right now. Money is running out. As of yet we have no job and no place to live. We know that the Lord has moved us forward so we are eager to see what He will do. He has never failed us. I don't expect Him to do so now.

I will keep you posted.

Go West Young Man . . . .

I'm writing this from the hotel in St. Louis, MO. Outside of our window we can see a large parking lot and just across the road the St. Louis International Airport. We are headed West. In the past two days we have traversed five states and over a thousand miles. Today it's three states and our final destination.

Vickie is driving the minivan, packed with suitcases, four kids, and a cat. I'm driving the 22 foot moving van, a lugging behemoth painted an obnoxious yellow that goes from 0 to 60 in about twenty minutes. All of our earthly possessions are in this truck, mostly boxes of clothes, books, and toys and some second-hand furniture we bought at a Philadelphia thrift store. It's the kind of truck that slows to 35 miles an hour going up hill and needs to be controlled from exceeding 70 when going downhill. Quite an adventure to drive!

We have a plan for the future, but the details of it are still a little foggy. We have no place to live and job prospects, although hopeful, are uncertain at best. We know in our hearts that we are walking under God's direction. How exactly He is going to provide, however, remains yet to be seen. This has truly become a walk of faith.

I better go. The kids are up and we need to pack the vehicles for today's journey. I'll keep you posted!