11. Back to Bowens Mill

© 2019 Daniel Yordy

January 1981 - September 1982

I Give You Thanks 
I have always had an odd notion in my awareness of myself. I do not know if it is shared by others or if I’m just weird. I have always had the idea that I WILL BE giving an account of my life face to Face before the Almighty.

Now that union with the Lord Jesus has turned me completely around, I see what that means from a different viewpoint. Giving an account does not disappear; on the contrary, giving an account of our life is what we do every moment. There is only one question – how do we call our life? By Christ? Or by loss and ruin and failed ambition? 

I now understand the judgment of God, that every knee should bow and that every tongue should speak the Lord Jesus. It means that every individual person, including you, dear reader, will give a detailed account of your life, just as I am doing, you will bring every moment into the Lord Jesus, and you will give thanks.

Every hidden thing will be brought out for all to see and all will call themselves by Christ in that moment, against all memory of accusation and regardless of any wicked or deceitful action, and all will give thanks. Those who give thanks now are glorious beyond all conception, kept utterly inside of Father’s Heart.

“Father, I give You thanks for my time with the Albuquerque community. I give you thanks for every moment there and for each one with whom I interacted. Father, I give you thanks that I have been able to set forth this time of my life for all to see, in spite of any present emotional awfulness and sorrow. I give You thanks that You have sealed my heart in You.

“And Father, I give You thanks beforehand for the road just ahead. I could not travel this road, I could not give an account except You, my Father, were utterly with me in all things, as You are.”

Returning to Bowens Mill 
Before we went to the Lubbock convention, Pepi suggested to me that I consider Bowens Mill as a destination after the farm closed. At Lubbock, I met with an elder from Bowens Mill by the name of Claude Mack. It was arranged that I would catch a ride back to Bowens Mill and join the community there. On the drive, as we entered Arkansas, I saw sprigs of green grass coming up across the fields as far as the eye could see. I wept for the beauty of green.

I arrived at Bowens Mill in the first week of January, 1981. I was 24-years old. This would be my home for four-and-a-half years. I had simply followed where I was directed.

In my letter, “Into the South,” I gave you a picture of the original Bowens Mill buildings as they appear today. In this letter, I want to give you two maps; the first is the larger Bowens Mill property. “Bowens Mill” had become three different communities living in conjunction with each other: the Ridge, the Family farm, and New Covenant, two miles to the northwest. The second map is the Ridge

There had been two purposes in the people who had arrived at the Bowens Mill property from the start. On the one hand were the many coming from the Sapa, Mississippi care and teaching community who desired to continue with that ministry. On the other hand were those who came to be part of taking care of the newly-built convention center and who did not wish to live in the stricter environment of a “deliverance” community.

Each of these three communities functioned as their own unit, but we all gathered together twice a week for the main services. The elders of the three communities also met regularly to discuss common issues, including the larger property and the school. And so the Bowens Mill property itself became divided by use into four distinct areas, the Ridge, the school (the original buildings across the road), the convention site, and the Family farm.

I have copied this map from Google maps, but I have penciled in the different locations myself. This is all very approximate, especially the non-highway boundaries of the property, which was, I believe, about 480 acres.



I am dividing my time at Bowens Mill basically into three parts. The first is from January of 1981 until September of 1982, a time of precious anointing and fruitful ministry. The second is from October of 1982 to December of 1983, a time of growing loneliness. The third, then, is from January of 1984 until June of 1985 during which I discovered a new song for which God had created me, yet in the midst of great difficulty. 

The Ridge 
On the south side of the road from the original Bowens Mill buildings was a small slope up for a couple hundred yards and then a flat space for another couple hundred yards before dipping down again. On this “ridge,” there had been an old CCC camp building in great disrepair. This building was “redeemed” and turned into the Tabernacle of what then became the Care and Teaching community at Bowens Mill, commonly referred to as “The Ridge.”

The Care and Teaching community focused its ministry on those who had various mental or emotional needs, providing them with a structured environment, that they might be restored to a sound mind. The number of people needing some sort of care at any given time might have been between 10 and 20. The majority at the Ridge were there either to minister as caregivers or were family members or just chose to live in that community.
When I arrived in January of 1981, there were a little under one hundred people living at the Ridge in rows of trailers lined up around the Tabernacle. At that time there were only two fixed buildings, the Tabernacle and a washhouse just behind it. 

The map on page 92 is an outline of the Ridge, my home for the next several years. Again, the outlines of things are approximate. There were more trailers than I have shown, I do not have an exact layout to copy.



I have placed the names of people in some of the trailer locations. The primary elders at the Ridge were John and Bambi Hinson who spent about half their time here and half their time at the Citra community. Then there were Jim and Joyce Fant, originally from Greenville, Mississippi, and Claude and Roberta Mack as well as Roberta’s mother, Susan Jacobsen, from California. There was Abel Ramirez from Mexico, Margaret Crowson from Texas, and Jim Messick from Maryland who moved there with his wife not long after I arrived.

The Ridge provided a three-month teaching for all new-comers called “the Basics,” taught by Jim Fant. Brother Jim was a southern gentleman of great dignity and worth. The teaching time took up the whole morning, so I was on the work schedule only in the afternoons and on Saturday. Because I reacted to the great change in climate from all-dry to all-wet, I came down with the “flu” a number of times the first three months and missed quite a number of teaching days. Brother Jim thought I should sit through the teaching a second time in order to receive what I had missed. For that reason, I spent my first six months at the Ridge in the teaching trailer listening to Brother Jim teach “the Basics.” 

There was an interesting distinction of “doctrine” held by Jim Fant and John Hinson versus the rest of the ministry in the move. Those two believed and taught that we are secure in our salvation, whereas Buddy Cobb presented the “God” of John Calvin who was ready to cast off anyone at the drop of a hat. In contrast, the Ridge environment was much more strict and disciplined whereas other communities moved in a more real level of grace. This strictness was ostensibly for the sake of those in need; the problem is that it becomes a theology or way of thinking in itself.

I learned many good things from Brother Jim, but the most important was his statement, repeated often, “Justify God in all things.” That line strengthened my own heart in the seed God had planted in me at age fifteen – to give thanks. It would bear critical fruit in the years ahead.

Immediately upon my arrival at the Ridge, I was given a bed at the back of the men’s dorm trailer, on the bottom bunk. That would be my bed for the next 4 ½ years. There were about a dozen men living in the men’s dorm after my arrival. We would have up to 15 in there at the most, but twelve was still crowded. The trailer was twelve feet by eighty, not new. In the back bedroom where I was were three bunks, that is, six men. In the middle room was a bunk, open to the hall. In the front room was another bunk. Someone slept on the couch in the living room and there was another bed in what had been the kitchen. I was given a small closet next to the front door.   

In the front room were David Troshin and Peter Honsalek. Peter was the dorm example at that time. He was the cousin of the Mack girls; Sister Susan was also his grandmother. David Troshin was – how shall I describe David Troshin? I would bear with this man for four years. He was in-part a child, yet utterly conceited, yet simple, yet cunningly deceitful. He was, to put it mildly, a difficult man with few if any redeeming qualities. He was originally from California, having connected with the move through the same group as the Mack’s. But he was at the Ridge for care; otherwise he would have been out on the street or in prison. I walked closely with and worked with this man for four years, yet nothing bore fruit and no real connection was ever made. You will understand more of why I am getting side-tracked here as we go forward. But David Troshin received a sizable monthly disability income from the government, and his money had bought the trailer, so he had the front bedroom and bath. I must add that this was at least one redeeming quality in David, that he was always generous, and that generosity was reasonably real.

In the middle bunks were Lebron Tucker and Mark Santora. Lebron had been at the Sapa farm. He was a tall, strong, good-natured man who had bad epileptic seizures often. Mark was from Jacksonville, Florida. He was also tall and strong. He had been in a car accident as a teenager and had become stiff, difficult, and often angry. His parents had sent him to the Ridge as a “last hope.” Mark was a handful. He conflicted with David Troshin more than any. 

Around fifty different men spent time living in the men’s dorm during the years I was there; I cannot remember them all. I will name a few more as time goes on, those with whom I was most involved.

Peter Honsalek was walking out a year with Patti Landis, from southern Florida, so after a few months he stepped aside from being the dorm example and moved to a smaller men’s trailer. The elders chose John King, the son of Margaret Crowson, to replace him. John King lasted a month before he was ready to call it quits and leave the Ridge.

Right next to our trailer on the north side, parallel to us was a much smaller trailer in which lived Claude and Roberta Mack. Then, directly behind our trailer, in the same “row,” was a smaller trailer, an Airstream, in which lived Susan Jacobsen, Roberta’s mother. In the trailer with Sister Susan were Patti Landis, and the three Mack girls, Lois, Jessica, and Maureen. Lois is less than a year younger than me, so when I arrived, she would have been 23, Maureen was 18 and that would have put Jessica at 21. The “Mack girls” seemed to me to be quite out of my league.

The trailers were mostly surrounded by pine trees throughout the community. There were plenty of open spaces as well. The setting felt sheltered and warm. We had two meetings a week with the other two communities, Wednesday evening and Sunday morning. Those meetings were held over the years either in the school building across the road or in the Family Farm or New Covenant Tabernacles, or in the large convention Tabernacle. I remember the various meeting places well, but just not when. Because there were over three hundred people in all three communities, the preaching was varied and good. Because Bowens Mill was the convention center three times a year, we had many leading ministries stopping by to preach in the regular services.

The Ridge Tabernacle was too small to hold the larger gathering. For us, it was crowded, with one aisle down the middle and a row of tables on each side. We had all three meals together in the Tabernacle as well as additional Ridge meetings through the week.

I also want to mention a sister who, though not an elder, was very much a part of the life and “flavor” of the Ridge and that is Laurie Pettis, not yet married to Don Pettis when I first arrived, but their marriage, I think, was my first experience of a move wedding. Laurie was blind from the medical practice in the early fifties of putting pre-mature babies into a high-oxygen tent. This created many blind children and was soon brought to a severe halt. Laurie was gifted in singing and in piano playing and many anointed songs flowed out from her. She often led us in rousing worship and often was asked to sing duets with another blind girl at the Ridge.

There are a few more things that will give a further perspective on our life at the Ridge. They had a number of milk cows, so I was soon part of the milking team. The Ridge also had a large goat program, overseen by Roberta Mack. The wash was all done by the sisters in the wash house behind the Tabernacle, so we had to put our names on every piece of clothing. The Ridge had large and bountiful gardens, with a number of the men working in them. A few of the men maintained regular jobs outside of the community. The children would all troop down to the school house across the highway each morning and return in the middle of the afternoon. Although the sisters did most of the cooking, there was a rotating shift that included the men on Sunday mornings. I was part of the Sunday cook crew on occasion.

Finally, there was the nightwatch. Because the Sapa community had been much more a “deliverance” community, and because it was so large, they had instituted a nightwatch. In that same thinking, the nightwatch was maintained at the Ridge. That meant two men spent the night awake, mostly sitting in the Tabernacle, but making regular rounds throughout the community buildings. Married men were not part of that duty, so we single men served one night a week on nightwatch. We would sleep, then, through the morning of the next day. Nightwatch was a regular, mildly unpleasant part of my life until I started teaching school in January of 1984. There were at least a few times when having a nightwatch did forestall difficult situations. During the nightwatch, I spent much time in many and varied Bible studies.

My First Construction Tasks
Abel Ramirez was the elder in charge of the men’s dorm and the men’s work. In the same line, Brother Jim was the teacher and lead elder; his wife, Sister Joyce, was in charge of the kitchen. Roberta Mack covered the women’s dorms and the goat program. Claude covered those men who did maintenance tasks, electrical and mechanical, and Jim Messick was in charge of the gardens.

Because I was in the men’s dorm and a builder, I immediately connected with Abel Ramirez during my afternoons. Abel was a wonderful man, in his mid-thirties at that time. He was gentle and patient, caring and anointed to care. I was soon at work constructing a small carpenter shop out on one of the entry lanes.

Because I was a builder willing to take the initiative on any task, I was soon marked, however, for the building needs at the convention site. A few weeks before the April convention in 1981, the Ridge elders agreed to release me to lead the construction of a large building for nursing mothers and little children at the convention site, just across the road from the large Tabernacle. A couple of other men from the Ridge, probably including Lebron Tucker, who was a good construction hand, joined with me, but at the same time, I worked with men from the other communities. We had ten days to build the entire building from start to finish. We succeeded, having it ready for little ones and mothers the day the convention started. In fact, men from elsewhere in the country came in the evening before to lay the carpets. 

It was while we were building the nursery that I discovered a wonderful gift. I have never been much for “praying,” my time on my knees being spent thinking about everything pressing me. But it was there on my knees, thinking about an impossible construction dilemma that the simple answer came to me. This would be a regular occasion through the years. The Lord faithfully anointed me to lead these construction crews.

I don’t remember things well enough to give a full chronological layout, so I will approach this account more thematically. I would return to more construction at the Tabernacle site in February of 1982. Meanwhile, at the Ridge, I was given the task of constructing a “cannery” in May, situated directly behind the Tabernacle on the downslope. The women elders had already created the design. The front part was a large storage room filled with shelves for jars of food. The back part, overlooking the woods below, was the canning kitchen. I remember working with Glenn Fant, the younger son of Jim and Joyce, building sliding windows for the cannery. The floor of the cannery was to be vinyl tiles. I had never laid tiles. I told Brother Jim that I was not sure how to do it. His response was immediate and cheerful, “I have every confidence that you will do a great job.” What a wonderful difference that was in contrast to my experience at the Albuquerque farm. 

After the cannery was completed, I constructed a child’s playground on the downslope between the two women’s dorms. It had a slide and swings and a center gazebo. I made it mostly out of branches, having pealed off the bark. I remember little Angela Gearhart as one of the children playing there; she was always cheerful and bright. Sadly, the playground lasted only a couple of years before it was rotting away in that humid climate.

And it was humid and HOT and muggy. Chiggers were everywhere and other unmentionable critters. Any foray into the woods meant chiggers under your skin eating away. Some of the men in the dorm would scratch until they became bloody. I learned that utterly ignoring them meant they caused much less trouble. There were no air conditioners anywhere, just fans. It was hot in the back of the trailer with just a large window fan right next to me. I had to learn to sleep in the noise and heat. I’m sure it got well above 120 degrees inside the trailer on a regular basis. One just learns to live with it.

In September, I was given the task of building a front office. Again, this design was created by Roberta and Joyce. One side would be the main community office, the other side would be the financial office occupied by Carol Breeze, who kept the accounts for the community. Across the front of both rooms was a foyer. In the center of the foyer, I built a brick enclosure for the wood stove. I did not know anything about cabinet construction, so I built all the desks and cabinets like framing a house. I built a lovely little wooden desk with a locking lid for Sister Carol. This office was my second favorite building of all I have built. It was ready to be painted when I flew home in December to visit my parents. Adele Ramirez and Nancy Jessop picked out the paint colors. I was horrified at what they chose. When I returned in January, it was painted. To my utter astonishment, the awful colors they had picked worked wonderfully well together, increasing my enjoyment of that building. 

The office building with me standing in front.



Dorm “Example” 
By the end of June, I had completed the “Basics” and John King had had enough of being a dorm example at the Ridge. When he left, the elders asked me to be the dorm example. Brother Jim told Abel, “I think we’ve got the right man this time.” I would be the dorm example for the next four years, longer, I suspect, than anyone else. It was a task that battered the hearts of many.

BUT – not while Abel was over the men’s dorm. Once I had settled into life at the Ridge, and was no longer in the teaching sessions, this next year in the community was good and memorable. As the dorm example, I was “in charge” in the dorm. I would report regularly to Abel whenever difficulties arose with the  men. Abel always treated me as an equal with him in ministry. We shared much, heart with heart, in our care for the men in the dorm. My limited times in prayer for the men were anointed and fruitful. I walked in peace and wisdom and in the anointing through this time.

David Troshin was our primary difficulty in the dorm. He aggravated everyone, especially Mark. David loved to fart, to say the most irritating things to everyone, to evade work, and especially to shave. If we did not keep an eye on him, he would be shaving his face three or four times a day. Nonetheless, each of the other men had their own issues. 

In October, Richard Hernandez came from Denver City, Texas, to join with us at the Ridge. He had the bottom bunk opposite me in the back room. Richard would be at the Ridge for about three years. He soon joined with Jim Messick as his lead helper in the gardens. Our friendship continued, but not as it had been. Because my task was to share with the elders all the going’s on in the dorm on a daily basis, I could not develop close friendships with the men, just a brotherly and working relationship. Because I was not an elder, I did not have a close relationship with those men either. While Abel Ramirez was my covering, this was no problem at all. That next year was one of the more successful and good times of my life. I learned much, working and walking with men in their various levels of difficulty. The Lord anointed me in that task.

A Word from God 
Once the wrenching of my heart from my experience with Roseanna Navarrete had passed into the distance, my desire to find a wife continued. While I was building the little carpenter shop one day, a pretty girl by the name of Lois Mack walked by. She look intently into my eyes and smiled at me quite cheerfully. That happened more than once over the next few months – but later, she caught another fellow’s eyes and no longer looked at mine.

Then, an energetic tomboy of a girl, with her hands deep into goat problems or butchering or whatever adventurous task, caught my eye. Her name was Jessica Mack. It’s not that she showed any interest in me, but that I admired her.

One time that first summer, Roberta Mack organized an outing one Sunday afternoon for several of the young people, a hike past the fish ponds and down to the Ocmulgee River. Her three daughters were along as well as Peter Honsalek, Patti Landis, and myself. There were also a few others I no longer remember. This was a good time in my memory. I didn’t talk much, but it was good to be out of the men’s dorm and with girls and boys around my same age. I remember inspecting an abandoned stone house along our way.

Maureen was a quiet girl who did not smile much. I had taken little notice of her in the light of her two older sisters (who all continued, in my imagination, to be entirely beyond my “reach”). I remember brief conversations with her on a couple of occasions. 

One day in October I had a dream from the Lord. This was probably the most God-filled dream I have ever known. In my dream, I was sitting on a bench waiting for an elder’s meeting. I was in trouble over something and had to wait for my turn to give an account, not a comfortable feeling. In my dream, Maureen came up to me with kind gentleness on her face. She expressed her concern for me and said that she wanted to know me better. There was complete acceptance in her stance towards me. 

Then, as I was awakening from the dream, I saw first, Lois’s face and second, Jessica’s face. I was fully awake, then, when the Lord spoke His word to me, “Man looks upon the outward appearance, but the Lord looks upon the heart.” I knew immediately that the Lord was referring to the story of Samuel bypassing the older siblings and choosing David, the youngest. That word resounded all through me. I knew that God had chosen Maureen for me.

A short time later, I shared that dream with Brother John Hinson. 

Before continuing, I must give an account of John and Bambi Hinson. I highly regarded Brother John and Sister Bambi; both were profoundly anointed of the Lord. Yet I also learned to hold them at arm’s length. They were both great encouragers, yet their exuberance seemed to me over time to be outward only. When asked to bless the meal, Brother John would pray only four words loudly, “Thank you, Lord, Amen.” I picked up that practice from him.

Once, after I had been dorm example for awhile, Brother John shared in the Ridge Tabernacle that anyone desiring to be trained in ministry should come to see him. I was soon at his door, where I was received with exuberance. 

EXCEPT – nothing ever came of it. This hollowness that was Brother John Hinson would be the final factor in my time of great difficulty and in my contention with God, coming up in the third chapter of this season at Bowens Mill.

I shared my leading concerning Maureen with Brother John. He received all that I shared exuberantly, as was his wont. He suggested, however, that we say nothing at all to anyone, not yet, but that we give it time to settle. I agreed fully. 

Several weeks later, however, he came up to me in the drive in front of the newly-built office, put his arm around my shoulder, and said to me, “I shared your leading concerning Maureen with Claude and Roberta Mack. They asked Maureen, and she expressed that she had no interest at all in you. So, I guess that’s that.”

This betrayal of trust was a terrible blow to me, one that could only grow in its immediate disconnection. Certainly I was hurt by Maureen’s response, but far more by the cavalier attitude towards my own heart, when I had shared in complete trust.
Yet such an approach was part and parcel of Ridge eldership practice, most of which was guided by John and Bambi.

Needless to say, once I thought I was interested in Maureen, all ability to speak to her vanished from me. I saw her many times a day over the next nearly three-and-a-half years. She passed by the dorm trailer on her way to the Tabernacle. Time and again the Lord arose in me in joyous witness when I passed her. One time after a difficult nightwatch and after milking early in the morning after, I passed through the kitchen on my way to bed. I felt awful, emotionally and physically. Maureen was alone in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the family; her back was turned to me. As I passed her, saying nothing, without cause, joy leapt in my heart, and I went to my bed in the dorm in the life and joy of the Spirit. This happened, unsummoned by me, so many times.

Yet I could not talk with her, and I never saw her smile through these years. 

I did not know what to do.

From Motels to Kitchens
Once the office at the Ridge was finished, in February of 1982, I returned to working at the convention site in a big push to prepare more lodging before the April convention. This time I worked in conjunction with George Hawkins, a wonderful southern country man who lived in a house at the convention site with his family. For the most part, it was George and I working together on two “motel buildings.” These were long two-story buildings with four bedrooms on each floor in motel style. We mostly completed one and then went on to the other. During this same time we also built a cabin with money provided by a particular move group. That would be their cabin during a convention.

I really enjoyed working with George Hawkins. He was funny and light hearted. We worked well together as equals. One of the neat things I added to my construction knowledge was that I got to put in the whole electrical wiring system in both motel buildings. A brother who lived near the communities was an electrician, and he gave me good advice on what to do.

Now, back at the Ridge, through this winter, Derrick Jessop, who had a bit of money, (around $40,000) had completed a training in cabinet making off the farm. He wanted to invest his money into a cabinet shop at the Ridge. Peter Honsalek, who was also a builder, worked with him to build a new woodshop across the ravine, next to the goat barns. The little building I had built then became the mechanics shop. This lovely new woodshop was small, just 20’ by 40’, with a wood floor. But Derek had purchased a full array of high-quality woodworking tools. Derek was a stickler in the use of his shop. He required that everything happening in it be done his way. I had to “test out” on all the tools to his satisfaction before I was allowed to use them. Obviously, this rankled; nonetheless, I came to greatly value Derek’s procedures and simply loved the hours I spent working in his shop.

The final couple of weeks, then, before the April convention, were a huge push to get everything completed in these two motels before the convention started. Earlier, because the sawdust floor had become unacceptable, a crew of men had poured a vast concrete slab for the convention tabernacle. I was not part of that job. Now, a new platform and sound booth were being completed as well. For the motel rooms, we needed three bunk beds per room. That makes 48 bunk beds, if my calculations are right. I created a design that enabled me to mass produce them. Derek, though not liking it, surrendered his shop to me for this massive assembly-line project. 

Let me share something about myself. I have never had normal male stamina. Recuperation from hard work always came slower for me than it did for most men. I worked hard, yes, but at a certain point, my body would collapse, and I could do nothing at all for a couple of days except lie in bed. This would happen every now and then through the years.

There were two days to go, ninety-six people coming to the convention needed beds in which to sleep. The foamies were all purchased and waiting. I was working on the bunks mostly by myself, putting in long hard days, going back and forth between Derek’s shop and the convention site, directing the work there. My body gave out. I could no longer continue. I dragged myself back to the dorm and lay down in the middle of the living room floor. I could not move. Yet I had this great responsibility upon me. I lay there for a bit, then I called upon the Lord, drew something I did not know I had from deep inside, got up and went back to work. Somehow, by the Lord’s anointing, I had the strength, not only to finish the bunks and get them in place, but also to oversee all the other things being completed at the convention site.

In April, Brother Abel shared with Richard and I that he wanted us to attend the Mexico City convention. Abel was big on experiencing the reality of other cultures, something that fitted well with move communities all over the world. Richard and I decided to go. First, we drove down to New Orleans where we spent the night in the home of an elder there, Betty Burke. Then we flew from New Orleans to Mexico City. We were in Mexico City for two weeks, including the convention time. We stayed in the home of the leading elders in the Mexico City fellowship, a man and wife, last name of Naranjo; I do not remember their first names. 

A young lady from a community in northern British Columbia called “Blueberry” was spending several months in the home of this couple in order to learn Spanish. Her name was Elisabeth Roes. Richard and Elisabeth hit if off right away and spent the time forming a happy friendship. 

I really enjoyed my time in Mexico City. It was very different. We visited the central cathedral and drove over to Puebla on May 5 for the Cinco de Mayo parade where the battle happened. During the convention time, with other people coming in, Richard and I moved over to another young couple’s home. We had the servant’s room on top of the flat third floor, accessed by a narrow and high spiral staircase. This was pretty cool to me.
I could write a separate chapter on this visit to Mexico and all the neat things we got to experience, but I will refrain.

After returning home to the Ridge, my next task was to build a two-room addition to the Mack trailer. I spent a couple of months working on this addition for Claude and Roberta including a work room in the back for Brother Claude and an office in front for Sister Roberta. I built a work counter, shelves, and a desk. I sided it with cedar siding.

Through this time, Derek was talking with me and with Joyce Fant about his desire to use his shop and new trade to build a really nice kitchen for the Ridge. The old kitchen was a catastrophe, designed to turn every task into far more work than necessary. The job of designing the layout of the new kitchen was given to me. This would be my first design; I was 25 years old. What a joy that was. You see, I am a designer, that is, an INTJ on the Meyer’s Brigg personality scale. I always think efficiency, how to make every job flow smoother. 

I designed a really cool kitchen, but I will refrain from putting that design here. In the old kitchen every movement conflicted directly with another movement. In my kitchen no worker ever crossed paths with another. All tasks followed a smooth flow from one function to the next. And when the kitchen was completed and in full use, all my ideas worked seamlessly. Forgive me for my boasting, but that design was one of my best accomplishments. 

Of course, we had to rip out the entire kitchen before we could start. I had charge of the construction zone while Derek put together the design and construction of the cabinets themselves. I think the ladies used the cannery kitchen to prepare the meals through this time. We rebuilt the walls; I remember a lot of attic work, but not what it was for. As we had the places ready, Derek brought in the materials to install the cabinet bodies.

During this time, however, Abel and Adele Ramirez announced their leading to move, first to El Paso, and then to Ciudad Juarez in order to lead the brethren there towards starting a community in Chihuahua state. They left that September. I had no idea of the loss their departure would be to me.