Jim Balmer - Coming into Welsh

Here it is already 2 p.m. and we’ve had to stop again because of the rain. This is the third rain delay of the day, and even by southwest Louisiana standards, this one is turning in to a real dandy. Don, Barney (Robert Barnes), and I are huddled under a vinyl parka that serves as a makeshift wind break and helps to keep the north-wind-driven-rain from reaching us. We just barely made it to the porch of this deserted auction barn before the skies had opened up again, and with a vengeance this time.

Our last delay was scarcely 30 minutes ago. That time it was just starting to come down by the time we reached shelter under the awning on the north side of Fontenot’s Animal Hospital. As the sky had become more threatening and the misty drizzle had begun to increase, I had told Don and Barney that I was sure that Dr. Jody would let us take shelter at his clinic. Thank God we had made it, just barely. We had hunkered down there for 30-40 minutes, but then only traveled another mile before being forced to stop again.

All morning Don had reminded us how much he disliked getting soaked his first day back on the road after taking a break. So, the three of us crowded together behind the parka, hoping the rain would soon stop.

I couldn’t help but think about how many times Don must have had to do this very thing during the past three years. No doubt most of those times he had sheltered without any company to share the misery. And, with seven more years of his odyssey still before him, how many more storms lay ahead before his mission is finished.

Don Vermilyea in Roanoke

Looking at Don and Barney, I realize just how blessed I am to be here, to be sharing (if only for a few brief hours) in this unique ministry. Our shelter for the moment may be meager, but it is sufficient to keep Don, his gear, and us from being “completely” drenched. We are far from dry, but also far from soaked.

This Wednesday morning of the last week of February, 2005, had started beautifully, with only the threat of rain. Barney had joined Don on the walk about 8:30 a.m. three miles from the official restart point of the Walk Across America at the Roanoke (La.) Church of the Brethren parsonage. I caught up with them about two miles later, a little less than a mile east of Jennings, Louisiana.

My wife Jackie and I had been unsuccessful in our attempt to convince Don to stay with us for one more day in hopes of better weather tomorrow. It had only been four days ago when I had met up with him on Highway 90, about 10 miles west of Roanoke, to walk the rest of the way in with him. That day I had carried his pack for only about three miles, but it had taken until today for the aching muscles in my back and legs to begin to feel semi-normal again.

From the long conversations we enjoyed with Don as he rested with us before continuing his journey, I very much understood the struggle (both physically and mentally) that he had gone through the past two months. And all just to get to the three deep south Brethren outposts along the Gulf Coast of the Southern Plains District. There was no doubt, in our minds at least, that his body needed more time to rest and mend itself. But there was also no doubt that when Don decided it was time to be going, he was going. Rain or no rain!

Don & Barney heading out

Today has been Barney’s first chance to carry Don’s pack. As I am sure has happened to many others before him, it didn’t take him long to learn it was no fun. Since he is thirty years our younger and strong as an ox, Don and I had both been quite content to let our brother shoulder the load through the morning. And I must confess that since I had taken over carrying “The Pack” when we had left Fontenot’s, I was not in a big hurry for this rain to stop. Don, however, was chomping at the bit to be moving and repeating what I suspect has become his mantra for this journey, “I gotta make some more miles”.

I was learning more all the time that it was this single-minded determination, this dedication to the task ahead, that kept Don Vermilyea moving along the highways of this vast land of ours. I was still amazed at what he had put himself through in order to come to Roanoke. I could not imagine attempting such a journey myself, but I was sure glad that he had.

I was glad, and thankful, that not only had Don been well received by our church family, but so had his message. The impression he left with our congregation was one that would remain long after he was gone from the swamps, plains, and bayous of southwest Louisiana. I know that now, because of his journey, there are many who will no longer look at the homeless and the less fortunate the same way they had before.

Don’s visit had left a lasting impression. And the stories! We never tired of hearing his stories. Tales not only of the perils and pleasures of his travels, but also of his life before “The Walk” had begun. Such a rich fullness of life experiences that God has used to shape a most remarkable individual for an even more remarkable mission.

Did Don and I see eye-to-eye on every aspect of our Christian lives? Of course we didn’t! But we did seek and find the common ground, that The Walk is not about him, but about the message he brings. The Walk is a living message of love and peace. A wake-up call that we all need to be taking better care of one another.

It was humbling to meet someone who gives all the credit for what they could claim as their accomplishment to God who has equipped them for the task. Over and over again, the fact that Don is sustained by prayer (both his own and those praying for him), was abundantly clear. Through meeting Don, seeing first hand the tremendous power of faith in his life, I have found my own faith strengthened. That such renewal would come through a homeless West Virginia farmer is just another example of the mysterious ways in which God works, “his wonders to perform.” It makes one wonder how many opportunities for renewals Christians avert their eyes and walk away from every day. That too is part of the message of The Walk.

Well, it looks like our mini-monsoon is over and this time it looks like clear skies ahead, at least for the rest of today. It’s now three o’clock and we’re once again heading north, towards Hathaway. We’ve been on the road this time for over and hour and making good time in spite of the wet roadway. Barney’s wife Nova is supposed to pick us up about 4:30, somewhere along this stretch of highway. Sure enough, she and their daughter Madison arrive right on schedule and none too soon for my aching shoulders. Still, I feel kind of guilty as I sit on the tailgate of Barney’s truck to remove “The Pack”. In just a couple of minutes Don will be shouldering the load and resuming his (most of the time) lonely walk.

Out come the cameras for a couple of parting snapshots. Then it’s hugs all around and a prayer for God’s speed and a blessing for safety.

Don hooks up and with a final wave begins trudging north as Barney and I gratefully accept dry towels from Madison and climb into the truck for the 15 mile drive back to Roanoke.

Our animated conversation about the events of the day soon fades into a weary silence. As I look out the window at the sun as it appears to sink into the rice fields of the western horizon, my thoughts return to Don.

I know that a hot meal, a sheltering roof, and a warm dry bed are waiting for me at the parsonage. For some reason I find this knowledge especially comforting tonight, but also equally troubling. What about our brother Don? Will God answer his prayer by leading him to dry shelter for this night and the nights to come? Even for February, it is getting warm in the south and the rats and snakes will be moving a lot because of all of this rain. If he can find a place out of the weather, what will it be like? How safe will it be?

It is then I realize that the thought process I’m going through is the goal that is at the heart of Don’s mission. If, when he leaves a place where he has shared his story, he leaves behind a new awareness of the desperate plight of the homeless all across this rich land of ours, if he has helped to reach one person who will now care enough to begin to make a difference in their own little corner of this world, then all of his hardship and struggle has meaning. The success or failure of what Don is seeking to accomplish doesn’t depend on his physical strength or mental resolve to finish his ten year journey. Whether or not his walk will make a difference is ultimately up to every one of us who have been and are yet to be touched by our contact with him and The Walk Across America.

As I sit at the computer writing this reflection I wonder, as I do every day, “Where is Don?” He’s been gone from Roanoke for six weeks and is now somewhere in south central Missouri. If he is walking today, I hope it is as beautiful a day where he is as it is here. The sun is shining. The birds are singing, the trees and plants are springing to new life, and the sky is clear and blue.

My brother, wherever you are, I know that God is walking with you. I’ll pray with you today for what I know you ask of the Lord for everyday that you are on the road, “Lord, help your servant to find a dry, safe place to spend this night, Amen.”

May God continue to richly bless you, Don.
Bro Jim Balmer