Date: 2004-05-02
From: Rest Day At Fontana Village

To: Seeking Divine Assistance
Miles today: 0.0

This morning, the sounds of a church choir serenaded the occupants of the hostel and nearby cabins.It's Sunday, I thought, looking out the window at a nearby church.This private vacation resort seems to have everything; it's like one of those showplace Pokeman villages in the former USSR. Everything seems just right. Maybe too right. I walked through a deluge of rain to the church, hoping to catch at least the end of the service. When I arrived, the place was empty. Turns out the choir was actually taped music emitting from loudspeakers aimed at the neighborhood. The real service was scheduled for later in the morning.I walked back toward the hostel, passing by the cabins. Parked in front of most the cabins was a Mini Cooper, a tiny car imported from England. The Mini Cooper buffs were having themselves a rally this weekend, and they were staying here at the village. There was also a bird watching convention happening here, with lots of people strolling around with binoculars.I returned to the church for the ecumenical Christian service. At the door, I was greeted by Pastor Ernest Stiles, an elderly man, and his middle age daughter Gloria Hardy. The rest of the congregation consisted of a biker couple visiting from Florida. It seemed strange, only myself and the couple from Florida occupying the pews up close to the altar and the rest of the church being empty. At the altar, Reverend Stiles read some psalms and his daughter led the singing of hymns with the assistance of some kind of taped music. Behind them on the cement wall was a painting of Jesus. In front of the altar was a Menorah for Jewish visitors to the village.During his sermon, the Reverend customized his remarks for me. He made several biblical references about "coming down from the mountain," and stated that I too had come down from a mountain. Actually, it was the slope of Bee Cove Knob, not exactly the stature of Mount Sinai, but so what? This Reverend was making an effort to engage his flock¢all three of us¢and I respected him for it. A somber moment occurred when the Reverend and his daughter informed us that his wife, who usually occupies the pews where the Floridians were sitting, has been placed under hospice care. The woman is dying of cancer. The Reverend also described to us in detail the physical sufferings endured by Jesus.Near the end of the service, Reverend Stiles invited me and the biker couple to step forward by the altar. He asked us if we wished to share any words. I told them about the blister on my heel, and how trivial it seemed after listening to the sermon about the passion of Jesus. Hearing this, the pastor's daughter closed her eyes and initiated a group prayer to the Lord requesting that my blister be cured. What a touching moment that was. The prayer lasted for almost an entire minute.I told Reverend Stiles that when I climb back up the mountain, specifically, to the summit of Clingmans's Dome in the Great Smoky Mountains¢the highest point on the Appalachian Trail¢I would offer a prayer to the repose of his wife's soul. The Reverend and his daughter seemed appreciative of my remark. Still, I wondered if "repose of her soul" was the correct expression to have uttered because it refers to what happens after someone dies. Would they have preferred that I pray for a cure of her illness? One thing is for sure, I intend to fulfill my promise.Today, I gave a trail name to a thru hiker named Chris, an ex-Marine wounded in the First Gulf War. He told me that he is suffering from Parkinson's disease. There is a visible shake to his hands, which is an indicator of the disease. He told me that he wants to thru hike the trail now, before he becomes physically unable to. I told him his trail named ought to be Pope, because The Pope in Rome has Parkinson's disease but still carries on. Chris, I mean Pope, agreed to the name.   Tomorrow, I begin my ascent into the upper elevations of The Great Smoky Mountains, a milestone on a thru hike of the Appalachian Trail.