Our house on Florence Avenue sagged in the middle. Adequate for a start, it was a squeeze for the 7 of us. Dale, who’d initially invited us to work in Jellico had also found the Florence Avenue house. She had even made all the deposits and other arrangement for us to move in. Her help made for an easy transition. The Florence Avenue house would be our home for the next five years. 

My Mother took a bedroom downstairs and nearest the entry. Our rooms were upstairs in what was actually a converted attic. The ceiling was low. I had to stoop low to make it to our bedroom. Only down the center of the room could my 6'3" frame stand fully, but the low ceilings provided a wonder-world for the kids for whom it must have felt a perfect fit. The enclosed area over the porch, where Hannah slept most of the summer, was not insulated which made for a cool place in the hot months, but became too cold in the winter. During cold months all the kids slept in the space above the living room which was better insulated.  Donna and I had our own room in an attic room with a door that offered privacy, but it too was a squeeze. Our mattress lay directly on the floor since attaching the bed frames made the bed too tall. It was a tight, but cozy, fit.

Downstairs a kitchen, washroom, small sitting room, dining room,  and bedroom (for Mom) squeezed into about 800 square feet. A single bathroom had been added off the dining room. Likely, the house had not originally had indoor plumbing. It was near to Mom’s room however, and that was important. 

The backyard had a wild apple tree, which the kids loved. The front had just enough room to park our cars. This is where we began. It was God’s first provision for us, and we thanked Him. 

My intention was to find work locally. It shouldn’t have been a problem. I was articulate, honest, hard working, a quick learner, and good looking. (Okay, nix that last descriptive, though my wife thinks I’m handsome.) I figured, “Within 6 months I’ll be employed and up and running with the church planting”.  Soon, the title of the chapter God was writing became clear, “Overly Optimistic”. 

Appalachia was a low income, high unemployment area of the country even in a booming economy, and Jellico seemed at the epicenter. As a missionary, I had no training or experience for secular industry. I attempted several types of self-employment--often working at several of them simultaneously-- including multi-level marketing, sales, sign painting, book writing, carpentry, investing, agriculture and technical recruiting. I applied at the Rite Aid, the State Park, and Taylor’s machine shop, I even drove 60 miles to interview at a Wal-Mart distribution center. Many workdays were 16 and 18 hours and  often producing no net gain. Though we lived very frugally, only three times during those first 3 years did my income meet our expenses for that month.  As our savings dwindled stress grew. Often, I questioned the sanity (or insanity) of moving to Appalachia. 

My efforts at provision were taking the bulk of my time and energy. The dribble of them that remained was insufficient to carry out any of the dreams of church planting we had envisioned for the mountains. Something had to change, drastically and soon.

It did in late 1999. I was approached by a nearby University to work with students and the school’s local outreach program. I interviewed. It was an all consuming role meaning no time or energy for church planting. Scripture counseled me to see advice. How glad I am that I did.

I explained the entire scenario to four close friends. Two I phoned. The last two were husband and wife and our neighbors. Mike was first. He listened and slowly responded, “Steve, I don’t know that I could do this, but I think you ought to go on and do what you think God sent you up there to do. Just get busy with the church planting.” 

Wow! That was not what I’d expected. Stop working all together? Drop my only income producing efforts?  How would we get any supplies? Dizzying.

I thanked him and did what anyone would do, I sought a second opinion. Dwane, took my call, heard the whole story except for what Mike had advised, and you will not believe what he said. Almost word for word he responded, “Steve, I don’t know that I could do this, but I think you ought to go on and do what you think God sent you up there to do.” I thanked him and sat down to think. Instantly, I knew what to do next…seek a third opinion.

The Greeks, our neighbors, met with Donna and I at our house. We explained all and shared with them the advice Mike and Dwane had given us. What was their opinion? They, not to our surprise, but almost contrary to our hopes, agreed with the other two. So, Monday morning I walked in and submitted my two-week notice to the building contractor I was working for. He was stunned. When I tried to explain why I was leaving and what I would be doing. His face expressed his thoughts, “You are nuts.” 

 Again, I was reminded that since God expected the Jews to feed their work animals, it was reasonable to expect that He would provide for us, who spent our energies and time doing His work.