Truth be told, it wasn’t my idea, not the revival part, that just happened, I just wanted to go, just go and keep going, maybe bring joy into people’s lives, starting with mine, see what’s out there, learn, change, help, like disciples, only we had no leader, no Jesus, least not one we could all point to, that kind of magic had long since been taught out of us, though we still were allowed to create our own magic, if we could, most couldn’t, but that’s not my issue, or maybe it is, maybe that’s why I did this, because I just one day decided to use what little money we had, never told the wives, though they needed to go also, that much was clear, and so I refashioned a late model driverless truck and made it into a traveling mobile home, not home, exactly, more a collection of people, me, the wives, our children, a couple neighbors, others who joined us, took a lot of time, wasn’t hard, just time-consuming, of course time I have plenty of, what with our monthly stipend only requiring us to pledge to work 4 hours a day, but it took me a year, all told, to turn that truck into a mobile village, two bathrooms, makeshift kitchen, bunks for 15, plus our tools, out belongings, we’d travel the roads, laugh at the folks staring at us, stop wherever it seemed interesting, or when we had grown too restless to keep moving, bit of petty crime, some sex trade, off-list drugs, that sort of stuff, only it slowly turned into something else, a sort of revival in motion, others tracking our every mile, we’d all get out, the curious townfolk would gather, like we were from some distant star, at first a few, then crowds of fifty, then a hundred, then a thousand, a mini-economy built up, we’d offer music and dance, do baptisms for money, trade artwork for protein drinks and anti-aging pills, offer prayers for the people who joined in, and sometimes for those that didn’t, maybe stay in other’s homes, learn from each other, steal a small object or two, tack it onto the bus, a testament to who we met, where we’d been, their lives, though that wasn’t always easy, the motors in my legs had long since run down and not many were willing to help a 600-pound-man into their home, then on to the next town, then the next, hoping that the bridge from Alaska to Russia, which they promised to have completed five years ago, ever got finished, yes it was fine for everyone watching us, we’re now one of the most popular shows on the screen, people tracking us eat, sleep, stop, build, tear down, but I’d also like to see those folks across the oceans in real, not just in screen, that also makes for much better music, I think, since it’s quicker to feel what the others feel, of course that’s for another day, right now I’m just happy to be moving, staring up out the window overhead, laying here in my bunk, wondering what it will be like where we stop next, how the people will treat us, how the local security will treat us, what the children will discover, who will join us, who will depart us, what we’ll trade, that’s always the most fun, the thinking about it before.