Corn you believe this??
Oh vey! Illisouri…
Harken this portion of our trip to wandering the world’s largest corn maze! Illisouri (Half Land-of-Lincoln, Half Show-me state) overfloweth with the muffiny, Chex-y, polenta-y, delight called corn. And as an extra bonus, the soy fields lie just across the way. If you’ve ever wondered, “what if the U.S. ran out of food one day?” I’d like to set your mind at ease. Even with obesity growing at an alarming rate, I assure you…
And, then we had St. Louie…
Which wasn’t just for the sake of staying in a lavish hotel that overlooked the Gateway to the West.
As a matter of fact, after donning skirts and heels for the weekend, and acting all professsional-y this girl was dang-good-and-ready for a smattering trailer attire. (If you must envision fuzzy pink slippers, cold-cream and curlers, go right ahead…)
As a bonus, we visited the butterfly house! And by the way, Benj held it together very well during our walk through this enchanted greenhouse. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even know he had a phobia of fully-enclosed-butterfly-habitats until he muttered through tight-white lips, “I’m doing all I can to keep my hands pinned to my sides right now.”
You’re a trooper, Benj!
Wait a second… I know that guy!
BUT, not before church.
Of course, gypsies don’t have a home church, but if it’s Sunday morn, we’ll find us a house of worship. We’ve always been blessed to find a fellowship of believers who welcome us into their church home. Presbyterian, non-denominational, Church of Christ, Calvary Chapel… we’ve seen many and loved them all.
But this past Sunday, we were in the heart of St. Louie, folks! So, it just seemed logical that Benj and I would dress to the nines, strut from our hotel and take a cab to the land where word the “church” takes on a whole new meaning (for us).
You see at Central Baptist, you don’t sit in a wooden pew, hands folded, just humming a hymn. Here, worship is a foot- stomp’n, hand-clapp’n, jump’n and jiving affair. And when the music stops, don’t bother sitt’n down… cuz worship aint done. All it takes is one “Hallelujah!” from the back of the room for the horn section to burst into another chorus of praise.
To my surprise, I discovered that even a voice as white as a bag of Wonder Bread can be heard in this congregation. Yes, ma’am (sir), at one point when the choir had finally ended the song, “He’s a keeper,” I heard a familiar voice to the left of me shout “He’s a Keeper!” And, bless his little heart, Benj’s proclamation brought the entire congregation back to their feet, dancing and fanning themselves from the heat, as we all lifted our voices for another round. “He’s a keeper… He’s a keeper!”
It took us an hour to get through three songs.
It was an experience.
It was holy.
Thank you Central Baptist Church.
…And now for some deleted scenes…
Three cheers for Jakes Espresso Bar and GLUTEN FREE BAKERY! (click the delish muffin for their FB page)
Looking for the best burgers in the Southern Illinois? Enter through the blue door….