The Pastor’s Piece, Pastor Kevin Cernek, FCFI Chaplain

FCFI

June 15, 2025

Last weekend my wife and I traveled to the great state of Montana and had a great time celebrating our nephew’s high school graduation. They call it Big Sky Country for a reason. The scenery is a vast view of sky and mountains. It looks big because it is big. The air is crisp and clean. The weather was perfect. The humidity was a whopping 26%. In the evenings, we sat around a fire on the patio laughing and telling stories and enjoying family without a whole lot of care about what was happening outside in the real world. This was as real as it needed to be for us. My 90-year-old mom was there, a few of my brothers and sisters-in-law along with many nieces and nephews and great-nieces and great-nephews and family friends.

At the airport, we had a rather lengthy delay going through TSA. As the situation would have it, we allowed ourselves very little cushion when it came to travel time to the airport. It wasn’t that we were being irresponsible – we were up at 3:00 a.m. preparing for an 8:30 departure from Madison, Wisconsin. But by the time we got to the airport, we felt a little rushed, but still had time. Usually, it takes just a few minutes of being annoyed by the TSA  looking at images of whatever it is you packed in your carry-on case. It’s actually kind of fun to look at the screen and see outlines of your belongings inside the suitcase.

For some reason, on this trip I was concerned about whether or not they would have coffee at the Bed and Breakfast where we were planning to stay when we arrived in Montana. So, not wanting to not have any there when we arrived, and also not thinking, I took a soft package of coffee, already opened and taped it shut good and tight with packing tape and threw it in my carry-on bag just before we left the house. Well, turns out, that’s a big NO-NO. At the security check, they gave me the third degree. (I’m not sure what the first two degrees are, but the third degree is a real pain). They don’t like powdered substances and apparently, I found out, they don’t care all that much for the people who carry them. They took everything out of my bag, did a full body search on me, then scanned me twice, did another pat-down, then some kind of ultraviolet light scan on all my clothes and personal items, and carefully and meticulously removed every item from my toiletry bag and examined them. (I guess deodorant and dental floss can be weaponized). Then they swabbed my hands. Then they asked if they could take the coffee and do something else with it in the back room. The thought crossed my mind that there was something they could do with it all right, but I simply said yes – you can keep it. It was flavored coffee anyway – which I’m not crazy about – and Hazelnut to boot, which I’m really not crazy about. Then they let me go. They let our veggie tray and ranch dressing go through, no problem. Call me crazy, but we like to eat veggies on the plane. Patience. In all fairness, they were simply doing their job and usually the TSA headache is not much of a problem at all.

When we arrived in Montana, we stayed in a Tiny House B&B. It was a pretty cool tiny little house – 240 square feet total. It had a “full” kitchen and full bathroom complete with a washer/dryer, a queen sized bed tucked into a cubby-hole and a tiny little living room with an electric fireplace. The hosts thought of everything as far as amenities were concerned. We wanted for nothing. My sister managed to borrow and/or provide a car for each family that didn’t drive there, so none of us had to rent a car for the weekend. The pastor at her church gave a very interesting and God-honoring message about the end times and the return of Jesus. My brother-in-law was the song leader and his sister played the piano. The worship time was excellent and praiseworthy. Afterwards, their church family hosted a potluck for all. There was plenty of food and it was delicious and the company was delightful. It was a short trip but well worth the effort it took to get there.

Quite a few years ago, my sister and brother-in-law bought a house on a sprawling half acre of land in the city of Billings. The house was built in 1936 when the city and the streets were much less occupied. It turns out that the driveway is situated in such a way that the only way to exit is near a busy intersection. Somewhere along the way, the city put in a stop light just for them. It’s a stoplight for their driveway only. You stop at the end of the driveway and wait a few seconds until the light turns green, then you go. It’s fascinating. My sister grew up in Lafayette County, Wisconsin. There is not a single stop light in the whole county – the whole county. And now, she has her own personal stop light in the big city. Very interesting.

P.S. There was plenty of coffee waiting for us at the B & B. God is good. 

(Kevin Cernek is Lead Pastor of Martintown Community Church in Martintown, Wisconsin).