We're Going on a Field Trip

           We’re Going on a Field Trip

I love to sing with children and often include “We’re Going on a Bear Hunt,” using the book for visuals and the body for action.

This morning as I am planning my inspirational field trip, “We’re Going on a Field Trip” resonates in my mind as I ponder the words and melody:

We’re going on a field trip and you echo, we’re going on a field trip.

We’re going to The Empty Cross and you echo, we’re going to the Empty Cross.

Please bring a notebook  (echo…)

Please bring a pen  (echo…)

Say a prayer  (echo…)

sit and meditate (echo…)

then we’ll write  (echo…)

We’re leaving as soon as I get dressed this Sunday morning.

I haven’t been to The Empty Cross for several years. It is a cross built high above Kerrville, Texas by Max Greiner, Jr. who was inspired by God. That is the crux of the story. You can find details on this website: https://thecrossatkerrville.org/

And now to the meat of this essay. I am seeking God’s Direction in finding a place to worship with other Christians. Currently, my husband and I are members of the Hunt Methodist Church. However, it isn’t meeting my needs. 

And just what are your needs, Joan?

That is what I seek to know. 

I was raised in the Evangelical United Brethren Church which was swallowed by the Methodists years ago. Grandpa Hoffner was a Presbyterian trained minister who served during my childhood as a EUB pastor in very small churches in Iowa. I attended weekly Sunday School and church, proudly wearing my string of Sunday School pins for perfect attendance year after year after year.

When I was a teenager I sang in the choir.

All five of my children have been raised in the church.

My husband and I always joined a church as we moved many times throughout our twenty-five years of marriage.

During my divorce and thereafter, I served as a church choir director, church organist, church pianist with various denominations, not large churches. The extra income was appreciated and somewhat needed.

And now, some twenty five years later:

I don’t want to be tied down every Sunday with the job.

I don’t want to be tied down every Sunday with a church-affiliated position.

I have been a “none” for the past many years until my husband and I joined this local church as previously mentioned. 

Being a “none” does not mean I am a non believer. No, no, no!

I believe! Oh, yes, I believe deeply.

With that backstory, let us go on our field trip. I know we’ll be walking so wear comfortable shoes and comfortable clothes. I am wearing my shorts and t-shirt.

I have been told by volunteers who are involved with rebuilding our home that their visits to The Empty Cross were inspiring, maybe spiritually renewing. Let’s see.

Here I begin by standing under the 78’ cross that dominates the landscape and can be seen as one approaches Kerrville from east and west, north and south on I-10 and Highway #16.

There are a few folks on the paths but it’s Sunday morning and churches are where many visitors to this Sculpture Prayer Garden are currently worshipping. I don’t feel guilty. I feel fortunate to have this opportunity.

I pass several boxes where donations can be made. They are tied with green ribbons.

I sit at a picnic table and write. I have difficulty meditating simply because there is music being broadcast through speakers and simply because I have difficulty meditating anywhere. The mind is scattered.

I write a prayer in letter form to Dear God. As prayers are answered, beliefs confirmed, it is You, Lord Jesus, to whom I submit…and then I ask and I acknowledge His Power and His Willingness and His Guidance. Yes, I am praying with my pen and letting words flow.

And now I am ready to walk down the path between the white crosses, many white crosses that memorialize the one hundred thirty-eight lives lost in the July 4th flood. There are markers attached to the wooden white crosses for messages to be written to the deceased, you will not be forgotten, you are loved, you will be missed,  forever in my heart, sweetest family. Several crosses include all the members of one family. Teddy bears and this crocheted doll are at the base of crosses for the children who perished. 

 

I go back to the truck not doubting God read my letter. I did not hear an audible voice as some do. I did not receive a flash of wisdom. I do not know where I am to worship. I do know that I will continue my seeking, my place of worship. I wish it were as clear to me as building the cross was to Max Greiner. His church is down the road from the KOA where we are currently staying. Perhaps, just perhaps, we should pay The Impact Church a visit.

(Originally penned for a Guided Autobiography Class, 10/12/2025)