I put this in here because I feel this is where my missions roots started. When I was around 12 years old the family took a trip to Canada. We went to a place called Chapais, a nice french name. We were invited by a minister to go up there and play some music for his church. So we drove and drove and drove. All I remember was 1,000 miles of dirt roads. We were so far up in Canada that, although it was July, it was so cold we had to wear winter clothes. While we were there at the church a man was saved. He was touched by a family coming all that way just to minister the Gospel. While we were there we had a trying time. I remember having to eat cereal with freze-dried milk. The people there spoke French. So we had a time trying to order food. That was part of the fun I would say. We got to visit an indian tribe out in the middle of nowhere. It was fun cause they invited us to stay and share some of the bread they were making. We traveled around and met at that time, the oldest person in the world. They said he was 120 years old. While we were there a man liked me and gave me some gold rocks he had.