In the summer of 1984, I accepted the call to pastor a rural Baptist Church in Southern Indiana. Soon thereafter, my wife, daughter, two sons, and I loaded all our belongings in a big U-Haul truck and embarked on our pilgrimage from Wyandotte, Michigan. Soon the church began to grow a little and every day seemed to dawn with a new sense of expectancy. From my perspective, all things appeared to be going well. The following March something happened that would change our lives from that day forward.
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