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Our Journey Through a History of Faith

Posted by on Nov 21, 2015 in Blog | 0 comments

Our Journey Through a History of Faith

One of my husbands’ dreams was to travel all over England and visit the historical places of martyrs, burials, churches and ministries of some of  his heroes in the faith.  Men that lived in the past and are known today for their continued work in the lives of us, God’s people, through their love for God’s Word and the God of the Word.  I am going to take you on our journey, because as my husband learned, it wasn’t just his dream!

We have friends that live in the city of London.  While they were visiting us earlier in the year, Josh was explaining to them his dream of traveling all over England to see these amazing sites.  They insisted on us coming, and even offered to pay for everything.  We only took them up on the offer of a free home to stay in.  God provided the rest.

Upon our arrival to London, we were greeted with a taxi driver booked to take us to our address.  We had no idea what to expect, and holding our breath, we showed up at a big silver door.

As we unloaded our huge suitcases there on the sidewalk and waved the taxi driver good-bye, our friend tapped us on the shoulder.  She opened that large silver door and showed us our home for the next nine days.  We were so thankful and so happy to see such a clean, nice studio apartment there in the middle of the city.  Within just a few hours a very prized possession arrived via delivery truck wrapped tightly in plastic.  For those of you who know my husband, getting a fresh, new, germ-free mattress was a great prize.  The ladies had cleaned this apartment and had it tidy and stocked with drinks, juices and snacks.  It was the great start of a great trip.  We were now off in search of a fan.  This inner-city apartment was going to have a noisy nightlife.  After we met a new friend for a quick coffee, we walked store to store in search of a fan.  No luck.  As we headed back to the apartment to meet the mattress delivery, we noticed a store underneath our apartment.  The store owner came out to greet us and inquired if we were the new tenants.  We walked in her store admiring her apparel and I just took a quick gamble to ask if she happened to own a box fan, you know, at her store.  It was a gamble.  It was a chance.  It was bingo.  She climbed on a ladder, she carried down a large box, and with a perplexed look and a hundred questions (it was 59 degrees out) she loaned us her box fan!

Our first night sleep was dreamy.  Only because of the fan.  We woke up quite early to catch a train to Bristol.  A hundred bucks later and lots of confusing talks over maps on the train station wall, we made a new friend that would be our train-station-angel the rest of our stay.  She told us exactly what to do each day we arrived at her window, with a smile on her face, and I swear there were tears in her eyes the day we showed up at her window with our luggage in hand needing a one-way ticket to the airport.  Okay, no tears, but she was very sweet and helpful!  That train station and that sweet black lady will always be with me.  We boarded the train to Bristol, coffee in hand and found our seats.

Arriving in Bristol was our first of many treasure hunts.  We only had an address, so we jumped on a bus that someone told us would get us very close.  When the bus stopped, we hopped off, and after the bus motored away, it was silent.  We talked with a lady on the sidewalk and she pointed us in the direction we needed to go.  Off to the Orphan House of the late George Muller.  No one in the town, really, no one, knows who George Muller is or was.  He is a forgotten figure in Bristol, but not forgotten around the world.  And certainly not forgotten by the families of the thousands living today that had ancestors raised by him.  We used google earth, we asked some construction workers walking by, and after much searching, in the misty rain, we found the George Muller House.  We did have an appointment, so we were greeted with a friendly smile.  We were led to a small room in the back of this large victorian-style house on a normal street, in a normal neighborhood.  In this sweet room, where we would spend the next hour, this nice man told us all he knew about George Muller.  Josh and I have both read his biography, but we learned more in that room than we ever thought possible.  We saw pictures of the orphan children, we saw pictures of the buildings God gave them on Ashley Down, we saw all the hand-written, detailed entry and exit records on every child that was ever cared for at the orphan houses.  Seventeen thousand orphans in his sixty plus years of ministry.  He fathered these children, he lived among them, he knew them.  One impressive fact we learned was that since poor children in that day didn’t get the opportunity to attend school and receive an education, Muller planted school rooms in each of the orphan houses.  The children not only received an above par education, but these children were also taught life skills such as knitting, sewing, cooking, caring for children, wood-working, craftsman skills and much more.  These children each left the orphanage with enough skills to find an excellent job, and most children were hand-picked by Mr. Muller to companies that were hiring.  These children were impacted greatly and were consistently taught the Scriptures and the gospel.   Many families visit this house each year seeking the records of their loved ones that once resided in those orphan houses.  They arrive to find the impeccable records they are seeking, and much more.  Each child not only has a record, but a file.  Files sometime even contain artifacts from each child and tell their whole story.  For most, not a detail was missing.  George was an extraordinary man, and an extraordinary book-keeper.

We left the house with two maps in hand.  One map was to the large orphan houses on Ashley Down that were less than two miles away.  The other was a map of the cemetery near the train station where we could find his grave, but we were warned that it was super muddy and the trail was small and narrow leading back through woods.  Josh smirked at me when he said this and he commented, “we have one day here, a little mud will not stop me!”  We would laugh at these words later.

We hiked the hills and roads to find the six large orphan houses there on Ashley Down.  The very ones we had read about and heard about for years.  We were so excited to find them, although now they were in the middle of a hustle and bustle city, and one hundred-sixty-five years ago it was quite a different place.  The orphan houses there now have all been sold.  One building is apartments and that building just went on the market for 13 million pounds (about 20 million dollars).  The same orphan houses that, by faith, God gave Muller to shelter the children.  The other buildings now belong to a college.  Josh and I stood in front of these buildings, bustling with activity of college life, gazing at their beauty.  Josh suggested we walk in and talk to someone in the visitors center.  I thought it wasn’t the best idea, but I quietly agreed and followed him in.  As we walked through the crowds of college students, we made our way to the desk.  Josh asked the young girl behind the desk if she happened to know the history behind these old buildings.  She didn’t hesitate, she turned her chair around to a table just behind her and reached for a book.  She handed us the book and in her thick Brittish-English accent she said, “here you go, sit down and have yourself a little read.”  We took the book to a table and sat down.  As we opened the pages we were amazed at the history of these walls.  It was pictures of the orphan children. Pictures of the children playing, pictures of them schooling, pictures of them lining the streets mourning their father as his casket was carried to his grave.  These pictures were beautiful.  This man was beautiful.  And perhaps that was the most touching moment of the trip, searching through this book and thinking that this college does indeed care, even if a little, of a legacy of God’s immeasurable love of all of his adopted orphans, me included.

We walked back out into the drizzly rain and stopped at the bus stop to catch a bus to the train station.  We had one more item of business and that was to walk a short walk from the train station to the cemetery.  We waited, and waited and waited.  The other passengers were all impatient, the bus was 37 minutes late.  We finally boarded the bus and the sun was setting fast- we were quickly running out of daylight.  By the time we got on the bus, we were resolved that we would have to see the grave in the dark.  So now we would see it in the mud and the dark.

We made it to the cemetery and were greeted by an extremely large, tall, wrought iron gate.  The unfortunate thing was that the gate was pad-locked.  We missed the cemetery being open by about thirty minutes, thanks to that late bus.  No emojii can express the disappointment we were feeling.  I was satisfied not to see the grave, but I knew it was on Josh’s heart.  I knew we would more than likely never return to Bristol, and certainly not this trip.  We had one shot, and it was gone.  With no words exchanged, I could tell he was down.  My first instinct was to climb the gate.  We are harmless intruders only wanting one glance at a tomb and one moment of knowing his bones were there in our presence.  Well, if you are into that kind of thing.  So we did what all good christians would do, we kept walking to see if there was another entrance.  Sure enough, to our great surprise, there was an open gate just down a ways.  As we walked in and started walking around with Josh’s flashlight, we realized we were not in the right cemetery.  It was the next door cemetery that we needed to be in, but upon walking through the wrong one, we noticed a small wall separating the two.  We found created a way over.  Once on the correct path, we pulled out our map.  There were no lights, no moonlight, nothing.  It was dark.  We used the flashlight to navigate our way through this dark, muddy, wet, ancient, creepy, disorganized cemetery.  The tombstones were on top of each other, very unkept, covered in ivy and moss, some fallen over, and creepy.  We found the right trail.  It was muddy indeed, so I stopped to roll up my pants.  It was quiet and dark.  I can’t use words to describe the feeling, I wasn’t scared, although, did I mention it was creepy?  We continued walking this extremely narrow trail and shining the flashlight over every tombstone we thought could be his.  At one moment a flock of birds suddenly was spooked and flew away, which in return spooked us.  But soon enough we found it.  His tombstone has actually been cleaned and well-kept to be one hundred and seventeen years old.  My first thought was, “how in the world did they get this casket through this tiny, tree-lined trail?”  Josh had me snap his picture and then he wanted mine.  I leaned over to get my photo and just as Josh was about to capture this moment, a loud blast went off just a few yards behind me.  No warning, no voices, no preparation.  Loud blasts of fireworks.  I started to take off and even suggested we get out of there, the blasts weren’t stopping.  Josh was laughing at me and actually he was pretty hysterical.  He couldn’t have planned someone’s celebration any more perfect than that moment if he had tried!  So quickly we left.

Back on a train to London.  We had a sound night of sleep, thanks to that lovely fan.


This is George Muller’s desk

This was his Bible.

This was a wall in the room with all the pictures of the orphanage, children, and articles from George Muller’s 66 years of ministry.

This was a trunk that each child would leave with when exiting the orphanage.  It would have articles of clothes, some money, an umbrella, and other necessary items for starting their new phase of life.

This was a map of the orphanages on Ashley Down back when the buildings were new and the area surrounding the buildings was open land.  Notice a few pictures down how different things are now, but the buildings are still the same and so very beautiful!

Josh and I at George Muller’s desk, just thinking of all the prayers, tears and conversations he had at this very spot.  I can’t even.

Outside the Muller House.  What a great find in a small town in west England.  A man famous around the christian world, but hardly a household  name in his own town.

Orphan Houses on Ashley Down.

This was the book the girl behind the desk told us to look at.

Pictures in the book of the children.


The locked gate, a little too late.  Not.

The dark, muddy walk to find this tombstone.





The following day we rode a train to Cambridge, England.  I wasn’t prepared for the beauty of the colleges there.  There are 31 colleges total in the town, all nestled together there in the center of Cambridge.  We learned early in this trip that ideally two to three days in each location was necessary, but we only had one.  We walked all around taking in all old architecture and pristine gardens.  The shops and small antiquarian libraries were nice, and we had wonderful afternoon tea and lunch at Aunties Tea Room.  We boarded a long, wooden, flat bottom boat for a nice punting tour along the canal that runs between many of the colleges that make up Cambridge.  The bridges we traveled under while on boat were stunning and hearing of their designers and architects was impressive.  It was such a nice day.  We also saw the church of the late Charles Simeon.  He pastored here in the late 1700’s.  This church dates back to the 1100’s and only small remains of that original stone building are there today.

Punting to see beautiful Oxford.

Josh decided to give it a try, and give our guide a rest.  He enjoyed it but he isn’t going to make it a profession!




On Saturday we were introduced and connected with a friend-of-a-friend.  This local pastor found out about our trip and what all we were in London to see and he was already going to be in the city that day.  He so kindly offered to meet us a few hours before his meeting and show us some of the sights.  We had no idea what a gem Jeremy would be in our exploration of church history.  He pastors a church south of London and he loves church history.  It just spills out of his mouth.    You can tell he has read and studied and has such a passion for these historical figures.  Josh and I were excited to spend five hours with Jeremy and to get to enjoy a glimpse of his love for church history.  He is from that area, he knows history like he knows his own address, so he was a walking text book as he quickly guided us from site-to-site through the city.  That was one of our eleven mile walking days, and we also hopped on and off the rail system all throughout the day.  We were able to learn so much from him, but most of all we met a lifetime friend and fellow pastor.  I can’t even think of all the amazing sites we saw, there were so many.  All the small nuggets of information Jeremy spat out as we walked through cemeteries, chapels, and streets.  I may never remember every detail, it may be that during a sermon, or while in the middle of reading a book, that a detail will come to my memory.  Yes, I can see that happening, this trip held so many small details, so many tiny amazing things, that it may take me a lifetime to process everything I read and saw and experienced on this amazing trip.  Just that five hours we spent exploring with Jeremy will do that for me.

We saw many things that day in London, in the drizzly, blowy rain, (they call it blowy, we call it windy).  We saw Smithfield, which is where bloody Mary (Queen Mary I of England) had several people murdered for recanting the Catholic church.  John Rogers was among those.  He took over Tyndale’s Bible publishing secretly and then was caught and imprisoned.  His wife had delivered their seventh child while he was in prison, and this was the first time John had seen his baby.  The day of his murder, here at Smithfield,  she ran through the crowd, infant in her arms as they brought him through.  Many people thought she would beg him to recant, but rather, she insisted that he never recant or backdown.  He gladly went to the stake to be burned.  We saw the William Tyndale monument there in the city.  It stands so tall and honors him.  He was the man that translated the Scriptures into English in order that common people could read it.  He was executed by strangulation, after which his body was burnt at the stake. His dying prayer that the King of England’s eyes would be opened seemed to find its fulfillment just two years later with Henry’s authorization of the Great Bible for the Church of England—which was largely Tyndale’s own work.  We also saw Bunhill Fields which holds the tombs of Bunyan, Isaac Watts, Susanna Wesley and more, along with a tour of the Wesley Chapel.

I love this man.  Wow, what a great time we had together.  I am so blessed to have a husband that loves the Lord, love His Word, and loves these great pillars of faith we traveled so far to see.

Our lunch with Pastor Jeremy.  What a gift to us if only for a few hours!

The guard.

Buckingham Palace.  London, England.


Dinner was fish-n-chips on the boat on River Thames.

Big Ben- Still where we left it 17 years ago!

William Tyndale Memorial in London


Smithfield Plaque- names of those burned at the stake.

Tomb of John Bunyan in London. On one side of Bunyan’s Tomb it has a carving of the pilgrim carrying his burden.  On the opposite side it is the pilgrim at the cross and the burden is on his back no longer.  He is still preaching the cross, even after his death.



On the Lord’s Day we attending morning service at Metropolitan Tabernacle.   This was the church that Charles Spurgeon founded and pastored, and our friend Joyce happens to be a member there.  She graciously hosted us for lunch afterwards as well.  We traveled by bus after church about an hour south to find the cemetery where Spurgeon and his wife are buried.  This was, by far, the most gorgeous cemetery I have ever seen.  It was so old and unique, and very well manicured and well kept.  We made it just in time for evening services at Evangelical Reformed Church, which is where we have dear friends and the pastor that loaned us the apartment for the week.  So we were well received and enjoyed the preaching that evening, and the fellowship afterwards was so warming and encouraging.

Beautiful Cemetery where Spurgeon is buried.

C.H. Spurgeon’s Tomb.

Metropolitan Tabernacle.

Our lunch with sweet Joyce and some church members after the service!



Monday we caught a very early train to the airport.  This was the first time all trip we would see the sunrise.  The view from the train was breath-taking as we were entertained by the orange and purple hues that lit up the sky over the rolling hills and knolls of England.   That would be our only glimpse of the sun all day!  We had a quick flight up to Scotland.  It was a cold, rainy, blowy day as our plane door opened on the tarmac and we walked off the plane.  As we jumped in a taxi we requested to be dropped off at the Royal Mile.  If I could re-live that day again, I would have been dropped off much earlier, because the views and the walk would have been much more enjoyable by walking than from the taxi.  I really cannot remember experiencing such a beautiful sight, and I have seen many sights in my life.  I have seen castle ruins in the mountains of Transylvania, I have seen Ecuador with the captivating mountain views, I have been to the Caribbean and Maui.  But maybe it was this time in my life, with this person, with all we have been through lately, but something caused this to be so special.  This place makes you never want to leave, and even in terrible weather (which we found out is pretty normal) it was an amazing day, one we really did not want to end.  If we could have postponed our flight for a few days and just took in more of Scotland we would have done it without a second thought.  We stopped in at Banner of Truth publishers.  Josh had been sent there by a good friend that visits often, and suggested he stop by and ask to see A.W. Pink’s handwritten journal and sermons.  Sure enough, they had it.  Josh was so happy to be able to sit and look at it, have it all to himself, and take pictures to be able to read more later.  The people there were so nice and warm.  A.W. Pink was a great preacher and author from the 1800’s. He impacted and continues to impact the kingdom of God.  What a privilege to be able to pick through his words.  We walked up the Royal Mile, toured the amazing castle there, and stopped in some nice restaurants.  We also toured the John Knox house.  John Knox, while Presbyterian, made a huge impact in Edinburgh in the 1500’s.  Mary Queen of Scotland resided up the hill in the castle, while Knox preached on the streets and in the church.  There was a huge divide between the Catholic faith of the Queen and the reformed faith of Knox.  He was a threat in her kingdom.  He was a devout man of God and was used in a mighty way during that time so long ago.  As we were walking through town, Josh’s friend sent him a text that read, “find St. Giles Church, where Knox pastored, and behind the chapel, in parking spot #23, there is where he was buried and there is a small plaque there.”  So that is precisely what we did!  What another treasure hunt.  At some point since the 1500’s the church paved over the graveyard, but they honored the spot where Knox was buried.  It was wet and hard to read the plaque.  I walked to a nearby pub and grabbed some napkins.  We dried it off and could read the words perfectly.  We ended our Scotland day with the famous Scottish dish, Haggis and Totties.  And on a plane back to London we flew.

Parking spot #23.  I wish we were there now.  So cool!

St. Giles, parking lot paved over graves!

Grave marker after we dried it!

Banner of Truth Publications.

A.W. Pink’s Sermons, handwritten.

Edindurgh, Scotland.

Some random, beautiful cathedral.

Walls inside the castle.

View from top of castle.

View from the side of the castle.

Haggis and Totties with gravy!

Arthurs Seat.  Edinburgh, Scotland.


The day started with breakfast and tea! I loved having coffee time, tea time, train time, and small meals with my best friend.  Exploring these sites with him was so wonderful!  We aren’t used to that much alone time, so it makes me long for our empty nest days, and many trips in our future- Lord willing!

Tuesday was Oxford.  We had several other things on our agenda for the week but only due to lack of time and the requirement that we sleep each night prevented us from getting it all done.  Well, the trains don’t run at night, that is really what prevented us from getting it all in.  We sat down weeks before our trip, and with much advising from friends that have traveled there before, we mapped out our plan.  We knew this trip would be jam-packed and busy, but we really had no idea how much until we were there.  So Monday evening we had to make some decisions of what Tuesday would hold.  I let Josh make the decision, but deep inside I wanted to visit Oxford, so after showing him just a few photos from Pinterest, he was all in.  And boy are we so glad we did.  Oxford was so beautiful, and very comparable to Cambridge.  Josh got to visit a historical library to read through personal, hand-written journals from the great missionary William Carey.  Letters of correspondence written from him to his parents while he was living his life in India in the late 1700’s.  Such touching words, and incredible that we can read them today and be so inspired.  He was criticized by the church for taking the gospel to the heathens, yet he did not let it hinder him.  Josh also got to view journals written by Charles Spurgeon himself.  This was by appointment only, the libraries are very proud and very careful of how they take care of these precious, old, rare books.  We ate lunch in the back room of a very small pub called, Eagle and Child, which is where C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein, known as the Inkings, would meet every Tuesday to discuss Literature and their writings.  As we were walking and enjoying the evening, seeing all the buildings lit up at night, Josh received another message from his friend.  He told us to be sure to visit the Martyrs Memorial there in the town.  We found it, and realized we had walked right by it earlier and didn’t know what it was.  The plaque read that these three men; Anglican bishops Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley and the Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Cranmer, were executed in Oxford on the orders of Queen Mary Tudor in 1556.  The plaque read that they were burned at the stake on nearby Broadstreet, and that the exact location was marked on the street with a cross.  So now another treasure hunt was on, we walked around following Google earth on Josh’s phone until we found Broadstreet.  Even with cars and people and bicycles everywhere, we found it!

Broad Street memorial- the exact spot the men were burned at the stake for Christ!

The Martyr’s Memorial, Oxford, England.

The Bridge of Sighs.  Beautiful.

Opening room to the Bodleian Library.  Room where much of Harry Potter was filmed.

Inside the Bodleian, we were not allowed to photograph inside, so I got this one from Pinterest!  Harry Potter was also filmed inside here.  We had to pay to go inside and this is as far as we went.  These books are from the 1700’s and are rare, old and irreplaceable.  The king himself could not take books out, so there was an area designated for him to come read.  This is the oldest, largest library in the UK.

Martyr’s Memorial. This was the picture Josh took during the day when we walked by it, not knowing what it was!

Oxford Chapel.

Eagle and Child, where the Inklings gathered weekly.


Wednesday was our last official day and one we were greatly anticipating.  While at lunch with pastor Jeremy, I had asked him what all there was to see in Bedford, where John Bunyan was from.  I took notes as he talked, and then I handed him my notebook and asked him if he would sketch us a map of where we could find these things.  So once we got off the train, our next, and final, treasure hunt began.  We found the large Bunyan Statue first, and we walked through the town and found the river and bridge.  We knew he had been baptized in the river Ouse, and we were were told to hike along the side of the river until we saw a small blue plaque down low.  After much searching, and the river took a few turns, we had to ask a few people, but we finally found it.  Next we were on a search to find the county jail, they spell it gaol, where he spent twelve years in prison and wrote the famous, Pilgrim’s Progress.  Bunyan’s second wife even begged the magistrate to release her husband.  She was caring for his children and one daughter that was blind.  Bunyan was told that if he would quit preaching, he could live a free man.  The magistrate accused him of preaching the doctrines of the devil, but his wife stood before the court and replied, “it will be known the when the Great Judge shall appear, that his doctrine is not the doctrine of the devil.”  So not only was Bunyan famous for writing such a fascinating allegory of the christians pilgrimage, he also preached with intensity during a time of religious uproar.  We also found the chapel he founded and pastored.  There was a seniors group having lunch there at the church, but a nice man let us in and gave us a quick tour and told us to stay as long as we wanted.  The stained glass windows there in the chapel all have scenes from the book.  The front door has beautiful, ornate carvings from scenes from the book as well.  It was a beautiful sight.  All these places that honor Bunyan were very neat finds.  Tracking this history was touching to say the least and for a brief moment led us to see a glimpse of the lives they lived.  To see some things, although altered now, a little bit they way they saw it.  The bridge at river Ouse was two-hundred years old and stunning, and one of the top most beautiful pictures I saw all week.  Swans and ducks gracefully swimming and blue skies that day.  It was a great way to end the trip.  We caught a train back early, Bedford was a small town and not much else to see.

The treasure map pastor Jeremy drew for us to find the places in Bedford.

Statue of John Bunyan.

This is the very place where he was in prison for 12 years, and wrote the famous story.

Bunyan’s Chapel.

Front door of the church, carvings from the book.

Place along River Ouse where Bunyan was baptized.

Beautiful River Ouse.



That evening we met our friends in London for dinner and dessert.  It was such an incredible time of christian fellowship.  The girls brought a friend with them that we had not met, who is now a member of their church.  I asked her what I thought was a simple question, “So how did you find this church and come to faith in Christ?”  For the next thirty minutes her answer amazed me.  She had been in classes learning and studying Allah and the Muslim religion.  Through a miraculous series of events she reasoned that these things were not truth.  God used people and situations in her life, and now this young, beautiful lady has been saved and her eyes have been opened to the truth.  Josh and I had been shocked at how London had been flooded with Muslims.  Upon arrival at the airport, even all the taxi drivers were wearing turbans and had long beards.  I felt a sense of security, although false, that since we were not in America that maybe we weren’t as hated there, but I was wrong. Even while we were finding our gate at the airport to fly back home, I noticed our gate was 100% Muslims.  I was starting to sweat and ask Josh if we could ask for a plane change, but then I saw that gate 10 had two sides and two planes, and that the other side was more of a mixture.  While boarding our plane I noticed the other side of the gate had a QATAR AIRLINE sign.  Even then I had such an emotional roller coaster of my real fear of the Muslim hate group.  The very evening we arrived home was the very night that Paris was bombed.

We are still talking about, thinking about, and dreaming about our trip.  It was such a necessary trip for our marriage and for our faith.  Our apartment was perfect, even the fan was a blessing from God.  The fellowship with other believers was delightful and getting to follow the footsteps of some amazing men of God was hard to swallow.  The wives many of these men had were behind them, pushing them to continue in the work of the Lord, and although many of them do not get recognized, there is a crown and reward for their work and the trials they suffered as a result of their husbands ministry.  This trip was amazing in so many ways, and daily, Josh and I still laugh and discuss things we saw and experienced.  I hope to go back and see the things we put off the list, and perhaps visit some places again and stay longer to see more, but if I don’t its okay.  It sure made me a better mommy, now having stories and pictures of hand-written journals to add when the children and I read the biographies of these men.  It sure made me a better christian, seeing how these men gave everything and sold everything they had to live a life devoted to spreading the Word, the Gospel and the Truth.  God used these men as His tools to pass His message along to us today.   This journey sure made my Savior more beautiful!

How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, who publishes peace, who brings good news of happiness, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.” Isaiah 52:7

Our apartment- we really only were here to rest and shower!  It was lovely and so nice.

Our precious friends.  Time goes by too fast when we are together- but one day we will get to chat non-stop about the goodness of God!

Trains, planes, buses and taxis.

And there are still hundreds of pictures and memories, there are too many to document!!




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