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Around the World in 88 Years -E Book - Arthur Burt

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guides me. If I wait for God to perform His Word, He will, confirm<strong>in</strong>git <strong>in</strong> unmistakable ways.Over <strong>the</strong> years, as I waited for Him to br<strong>in</strong>g about <strong>the</strong> promise ofmy tak<strong>in</strong>g wood and build<strong>in</strong>g a house for His glory, Sister Woodm<strong>in</strong>istered f<strong>in</strong>ancially to me many times. You can give me a hundredreasons why I could have imag<strong>in</strong>ed that God was speak<strong>in</strong>gto me out of <strong>the</strong> Word <strong>in</strong> Haggai. But after all, can imag<strong>in</strong>ationbr<strong>in</strong>g checks for a thousand dollars?The house is no longer a vision or a desire. It is <strong>the</strong>re. I live <strong>in</strong> it.Bron Wendon is a 21-room house <strong>in</strong> Penmaenmawr, North Wales,four m<strong>in</strong>utes from <strong>the</strong> sea on a hillside at <strong>the</strong> foot of <strong>the</strong> mounta<strong>in</strong>s.After many years of hard work, <strong>the</strong> last of those 21 rooms,<strong>the</strong> master bedroom, f<strong>in</strong>ally has been renovated — a 50th wedd<strong>in</strong>ganniversary gift to us from <strong>the</strong> Body of Christ. We do notrun our house commercially. It is for God’s people, and manyhundreds have come here, receiv<strong>in</strong>g m<strong>in</strong>istry with peace and bless<strong>in</strong>gfor <strong>the</strong> glory of God.The Coal HouseVision can come to one man among thousands who have novision. I once knew a retired air force man from Cornwall, Bro<strong>the</strong>rBaker, who saw an old dilapidated coal house — slates off, bricksout, holes <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> roof — sitt<strong>in</strong>g down <strong>the</strong> hill toward <strong>the</strong> sea from<strong>the</strong> owner’s cottage. Its only value was that it faced <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong>road where all <strong>the</strong> tourists went down to <strong>the</strong> beach. One day,Bro<strong>the</strong>r Baker, who had gone down that road many times, bought<strong>the</strong> coalhouse.Bro<strong>the</strong>r Baker, a widower, and his artistically gifted daughter, Joy,rebuilt <strong>the</strong> coalhouse, turn<strong>in</strong>g it <strong>in</strong>to a little souvenir shop which<strong>the</strong>y called The Hole <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Wall. They would go down onto <strong>the</strong>beach where <strong>the</strong>y would collect shells, and <strong>the</strong>n Joy would glue<strong>the</strong>m toge<strong>the</strong>r to make little Victorian ladies with big-brimmedhats and long dresses. She also did raffia work, basket weav<strong>in</strong>g,and pa<strong>in</strong>t<strong>in</strong>gs, which <strong>the</strong>y sold <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> shop.In about three years, Joy and her fa<strong>the</strong>r made a fortune out ofthat coalhouse. They took <strong>the</strong> money, bought a fish and chipsrestaurant, and after sweat<strong>in</strong>g through ano<strong>the</strong>r three years, retiredand moved to <strong>the</strong> United States.224

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