Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

What a blessing it is to be back in Georgia. After staying the night in Springfield, Illinois last night and touring the only home Abraham Lincoln ever owned (if you have a chance to see it, go. The national park service did a fantastic job maintaining it and the comunity around it), we set our faces once again toward Georgia. Enroute, we had a chance to stop by a town in southern Illinois built on land dontated by an ancestor of mine in the 1840s. Even though his house was torn down in 1936, we could see where it once stood. I didn’t feel an immediate, “Ah, I’m home” like some do in similar circumstances. Instead I had a “wow, this is cool that my ancestors farmed this ground a century and half ago” type feeling.

On the way, we asked the kids if they wanted to take the last part of the trip in two sections. In unison from the back seat they said, “Let’s go all the way to Georgia!” So here we are. Pulling up to our friends house in Ringgold, I looked at the odometer (I set it before leaving). Over the past two weeks we traveled 4,511.5 miles and saw a lot of variety of people, places, cultures, history and so much more in this wonderful country. Initially, this trip was to raise partners for our mission work. That was accomplished. But it was also a time for all of us as a family to draw closer to one another and to go back to our roots again. I believe God wants us to work with the people in Peru, but God wanted us to see where we come from first.

Before our journey ended, God gave us a hint of the work behind the scenes. While we were in Springfield, Illinois, the city was hosting the national high school rodeo finals. There were cowboys from all over the country participating and hooping and hollaring. Our hotel offered breakfast for guests (we like to find that kind of place), and while I was packing up the car, Audra and the kids went over to eat (I asked them to bring me some–and they did). While Audra was putting some waffles in the toaster, a man beside her was fixing his breakfast. Being the person she is she asked him, “So, where ya’ from?”

“Georgia.”

“We’re from Georiga,” Audra said. “We lived in Ball Ground.”

“We live in Canton!” he said (Canton is 10 miles south of Ball Ground).

Audra, the man and his wife spent a good half hour talking (and Audra took me back later to meet them). They were there because their granddaughter was in the rodeo (Goat Tying). They ask Audra what we do and she told them about our mission work to Peru.

“Oh,” said the woman, “I read your article in the Cherokee Tribune. I clipped it out and read it to my twin sisters over the phone.” Then she said some amazing words: “We have been praying for you and your mission work.”

Wow! Here we are 500 miles from home and we meet a neighbor who doesn’t know us (and we don’t know them), but they have been praying for us already. That is humbling. God nudged us in the ribs and said to us, “See, you don’t know everything that is going on…” God’s ways are indeed wonderful and mysterious.

To God be the glory.

Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

It is an adjustment for me not to have access to a convenient internet access everyday. When we visited Audra’s parents in Bemidji, MN, we didn’t even have a telephone in the house or a cell signal! I guess we don’t have to go out of the country to get “rustic”! Since leaving Montana last Saturday, we’ve seen a lot more of God’s beautiful creation. After tearful farewells, we drove out of my parent’s driveway about 7.19 AM, heading toward Audra’s hometown in Minnesota. It just so happened that Audra’s brothers four daughters were begin baptized the next day. It was a long distance and we wanted to get as far as we could Saturday so we wouldn’t have such a long journey Sunday morning. A flat tire just past Bismark, North Dakota, (and two hours getting it fixed) put us a bit behind schedule. Oh, well. We can always go a bit farther the next morning. Not a problem. Two hours later we drove into Fargo-Moorhead and crossed into Minnestoa. Not much farther now and we’d find a room. Our goal was Detroit Lakes, forty miles away. Audra’s dad likes to say there are two seasons in Minnesota: winter and road construction. He didn’t lie… we met construction on the way, but finally reaching our goal, we searched for a hotel.

There is an old story you might know about a man and his pregnant wife not finding a room in an inn… There was no room for us. “And,” the hotel clerk informed us, “you won’t find any in town.” The city was holding the Festival of 10000 Lakes and the city was full and overflowing. We’d have to try the next city down the highway. Not a problem…

Two cities away (will still no room in any inn for us), we stopped for coffee at a gas station. “What is this Festival of 10000 Lakes?” I asked the clerk.

“It’s when 50,000 hippies from all over go out to the lake,” was her answer. On to the next city in search of a room.

None. Zip. Nil. We ended up driving the three and half hours to Audra’s hometown, looking for hotel’s there and finding them all full and calling her brother (at 3.30 in the morning) to beg a place on the floor. They were more than gracious hosts!

The baptisms were beautiful and it was good to catch up with Aud’s brother and family. A few days later we headed to Audra’s parent’s home in Bemidji, before packing once again to see Aud’s grandmother in northern Wisconsin. We’ve been on the road a lot over the past two weeks. Before we left, I set the odometer on the car. Last night it read more than 3500 miles. Google says we have only about 900 miles left before Georgia. Today’s we only have about 7 hours on the road.

Officially, we are all tired of traveling. The journey has been a good one, however. Not only have we spent time with many in our families, but we have also seen some of this wonderful creation. Bison, bald eagles, deer, antelope, raccoons and so on. The kids have seen giant wind turbines producing energy for us to use. They’ve stood beside Paul Bunyon and the big blue ox. They’ve experienced different cultures in our own nation. They’ve made new friends.

We are looking forward to being in Georgia this weekend (we speak at a church in Walker County on Sunday). Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. I hope to respond to your comments soon. They have all been very encouraging to us.

Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

When I was a kid growing up here in southeastern Montana, I used to joke about how desolate and barren and lacking this region of the world was. My favorite joke was “What is the difference between Montana and yogurt?” The answer: “One of them has culture.” I don’t know exactly what I was looking for, but I thought I couldn’t find it here. I have not lived here for more than 13 years. A lot has changed since then. I know I have.

Today I learned more about the culture that is here in Montana. The kids learned it is cowboy and cowgirl country (to be fair I could call this sheepherder country, but that doesn’t sound as romantic as cowboy country, does it?). I learned it is more than that.

This afternoon, my mom asked me to get the grills (all four of them) going for the barbeque they were holding for us tonight. As I sat on the tailgate of their pickup watching the black charcoal turn white, I looked up to the horizon and saw dark smoke rising in the distance. It was hot, but not hot enough for smoke, so I told my parents about it. Dad quickly got on the phone, calling the neighbor and verifying what we’d suspected: Lightening from last nights strom (and it was a doozie of a storm) had struck a tree, smoldered all night and ignited a fire this afternoon. Mom and Audra and the kids continued getting ready for the guests while dad and I hopped in the pickup to fight fire. By the time we got there, it was mostly under control (praise God). It had started midway up a steep mountain and had burned about halfway the distance to the top. We skirted the edge of the fire smothering what few flames we saw or pushing them farther into the burned area so they had no fuel to burn. At times the smoke was so thick we could not see 10 feet in front of us, but a few steps further and we were in fresh air.

That’s part of the culture here: the community comes together in time of need. It doesn’t matter what is happening. It doesn’t matter who our neighbor is. We are there for them…regardless. I’m convinced if the president were coming to town and a grass fire filled the horizon with smoke, the president would have to wait. The people here have priorities…

After the fire, we returned to the house with just enough time to shower the soot and smoke out of our hair before the first guests began to arrive. What a joy it was to see old friends and make new ones. Mom, grandma and Aunt Carolyn had gone overboard as usual and the roasted lamb, homemade chili, coleslaw and potato salad was suplemented by our guests bringing their own dishes to share. My parent’s home being somewhat small, the gathering was held outside. Yes, the weather was hot; but last night’s storms had pushed the temperature down about 10 degrees from yesterday. Flying ants decided today was the day to swarm and the biting flies decided to bite. The shade of the apple trees helped the first problem; fly swatters and bug spray helped the second. It wasn’t perfect, but this is life and we would survive. Grace was said, we filed through the line to fill our plates and found a place to sit and eat. That’s when the wind began to blow…gusting 25 and 30 miles an hour. Apples were blown off the tree, drink cups were spilled, and a few brownies and rolls flew through the air. That didn’t stop the party. It didn’t even move it. We held our plates a bit tighter, talked a bit louder, and brushed the hair that kept blowing into our eyes and mouths.

That’s a part of the culture here: we don’t get together very often, so when we do, it is important. Flying ants and biting flies aren’t going to stop us. A little wind isn’t going to push us away. The people here have priorities…

I’m thankful for this time here. I don’t know how much financial support we will get from the community. It is important, I know, because it will get us to Peru. But something else important is happening here. There is an ancient west African symbol called Sankofa. Sankofa is pictured as a long legged bird looking back over his shoulder. The word Sankofa means something like: You cannot move forward until you look back and see where you have already been. This week is helping me to see my own Sankofa more clearly. It is helping me to see my own culture, and a part of why I am who I am today.

Thanks be to God.

Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Today is Todd’s ninth birthday. I asked him how he feels to be nine and he said, “It feels different. I feel like an odd number. My dad told me that this is my last year of being a one digit number.” He got an e-card from a friend and it made him feel very happy. All afternoon he’s been asking to open his present. Not yet, Todd. You’ll have to wait until we have cake after dinner. He is really hoping to get a pocket knife. He earned his whittling chip in cub scouts last spring and can’t wait to put it to proper and safe use… He’s been playing a computer game on Nana and Papa’s computer called Balloonorma and wanted to tell you about it: “Balloonorama is a game for kid’s 3-8 years old. Even though I am nine, I still like to play it. It might sound dumb, but what you do is this: You are a car named Putt-Putt, and you bounce a dog named Pep to pop balloons. There are 120 levels. You can turn into a superdog and you can also make Putt-Putt turn into a limo. It has bonus levels. And when you pop the UFOs, aliens and astronauts come out. You can make your own levels. It is very fun. But after a while, your hands get really sweaty (mine do!). There are some balloons that contain candy. There are also moons, pigs, hilarious entertainment balloons, clown balloons, unknown balloons, spinners, trash balloons, paintbuckets that can change Putt-Putt’s color, and balloons with a mix of things.”

The thermomter outside earlier says it is 106 degrees. (Todd just checked and said it is only 105 now). It is hot, but this is Montana hot, not Georgia hot. We walk outside and it feels like we are walking into an oven instead of a steam bath. We are hot, but not drenched in sweat. The dust covers everything and we are learning to breathe in new and creative ways through a cloud of lingering dirt. So is the life here.

There are glimmers of wonderful hope. First some background: a few years ago my oldest brother and I were in Montana with our families during the same summer (we were here at different times during the summer). After we both got home, we talked on the phone and realized we’d come to the same conclusion… “This [Montana] is God’s country, but God is not here very much…” Maybe that was a bit strong, but it was the feeling we got. The people are good and moral and such, but not overly, outwardly “Christian”. On this trip, we have seen God at work in tremendous ways. The churches here in my hometown are small and average probably less than 50 on a given Sunday, but God is here and God is working in the lives of people. We saw that worshiping with my Grandma (the kids’ Great) at church on Sunday. We see that working with the kids at a community Vacation Bible School (with the Congregation, Lutheran, and Catholic churches — along with some others). This is not Bible belt, jumping up and down, hands in the air, wearing your faith on your shirtsleeve type of Christianity. This is good, even, steady faith. We call it “Good ol’ Lutheran faith…” Think Prairie Home Companion type people, and you might begin to get an idea of what I’m trying to say…

The kids are learning that we don’t have to leave the country to encounter a different culture. Montana is not “country,” they’ve decided. It is “cowboy/girl.” They were amazed at seeing not just one or two people, but most of the people in the grocery store wearing cowboy boots and hats. They see the handbar mustaches and the bandanas. They hear the kids at Vacation Bible School talking about rounding up the cattle and riding horses and bringing in the sheep and all sorts of things like that. No, we aren’t in Kansas…er, Georgia…anymore.

Someone commented recently that she knows what it’s like to go “home,” and that she imagined we have a lot of “homes” now. She is so right about that. Audra and I like to talk about “lifetimes.” When we run into people we know from someplace that isn’t were we currently live, we say something like, “Oh, he/she was from two lifetimes ago.” I think a better way to say that now, is “homes ago.” Someone once said, “You can’t go home again…” Well, you can. When you do, you are not the same person you were then (at least, I hope not), but home is wherever you decide to make it. We are thankful for all the people and places that welcome us, and we are so looking forward to making a new home in Peru.

Thanks for all you do and for who you are. To God be the glory…

Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

We made it to Montana! After a long day of driving yesterday with stopovers in Mitchell, South Dakota (the world’s only corn palace), Chamberlain, South Dakota (a great rest area overlooking the Missouri River where Lewis and Clarke camped two hundred years ago), and Keystone, South Dakota (Mount Rushmore), we drove the extra three hours to my parent’s home in Broadus, Montana. Driving at dusk in the west is not much fun. The highway is straight and mostly uneventful, but the deer and antelope like to eat the grass that grows in the ditches (I guess it tastes better than the grass farther off the highway). We saw a lot of great bucks and does and other animals and, even though the nighttime speed limit is 65 mph on the secondary highways in Montana, we crept along a bit slower to make it here in one piece.

The last 13 miles to my parent’s home is gravel (alternating washboard and soft sand). Crossing the first cattle guard we slowed to a crawl to allow sheep to wander across the road. Finally making it to the house, we woke grandma (who was watching the house and feeding the animals–alpaca, sheep and yorkie dogs–while my parents are away) at about 10 PM. After quick greetings and joyous hugs, she excused herself back to bed and all of us got a night of wonderful sleep.
Grandma is 84 years old and needed to get her sleep because she was up by five this morning to finish haying the lower field. She’s my grandma (mom’s mom), and Kia, Ayliś and Todd’s great grandmother. They just call her Great, though, because that is what she is…

This morning, it didn’t take the kids long to get out to the alpaca barns to meet their old four-footed friends. Ayliś and Kia have spent most of the day with them. Todd and I walked down to the Powder River (about a half mile away) and went wading and swimming. Audra relaxed at the house and tried to get the swelling out of her ankles (they are getting better…). All of us are taking it pretty easy today to get our bodies acclimated a bit more to this dry, dusty and windy climate.

Mid-morning, my Aunt Carolyn stopped in. She is mom’s sister and moved to the solitude and hard work of Montana about two years ago from the hustle and bustle of southern California. The last time I saw her I was a fifteen year old, self conscious, pimply faced teenager. She was in California and my family drove down for a visit and to attend another aunt’s wedding. A lot has changed in the years since then (nearly 22 years!), and I look forward to getting to know her more. My first impression: She and mom and grandma cannot deny they are related. The kids even saw this! My second impression: Montana has not hurt her at all. She is still the hardworking, caring person I remember. She drove up in an old battered pickup truck with a trapped raccoon in the back. The coon had been trying to get the geese in her barn and she was on the way to relocate him to a better place…far away from the birds.

Tomorrow we head back into Broadus for church and then a meeting with the leaders of the Vacation Bible School where we will be Missionaries in Residence (as well as teachers in other areas).

Chapter 1 of James is almost memorized. Working on it really helped to make the miles go faster…

Thanks for who you are and what you do. God bless you indeed.

Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Last Fall, when they heard we were headed out to be missionaries in Peru, the first church we served as a pastor’s family (Farmville UMC) called the Mission Society to see what it was we needed. They were told we needed good luggage because, “They will be traveling more than they can even imagine right now!” I wasn’t sure I believed that entirely…until now. Over the past six months, we have traveled to Peru, Brazil, Augusta, Elberton and many places in between. As I write this post, I am sitting in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. As a family, we are headed to my hometown of Broadus, Montana, where we will be working at a community Vacation Bible School as Missionaries in Residence. We are looking forward to it, but it is a long way from Georgia to Montana (yes, we are driving). Internet connections when driving are not as consistent as we would like, so I am behind right now. (Iowa, by the way, rocks! They have wireless internet connections at most (all?) of their rest areas!) Let me take a minute to review our week.

Sunday: We traveled to Elbert County, Georgia (almost in South Carolina) to speak at two churches: Eliam United Methodist Church in the morning and Elberton First United Methodist Church in the evening. It was a long day, but thanks to the hospitality of Eliam’s pastor and his wife (Wes and Dossie), we feel good about the work God is doing. The people in that part of the state are absolutely wonderful, and there is a spirit of joy and hope seeping from the architecture. We know we have a lot more prayer support now than we did a week ago. Praise be to God!

Monday: Back in Ball Ground, we finished (can a person really be completely finished?) cleaning out our house of our stuff. Right now we have boxes at three different houses and will be sorting through the boxes again soon.

Tuesday: Hit the road to visit our friends in Ringgold and to put our house in Chickamauga officially on the market with a real estate agent. She and her husband warned us the house (a double wide in an excellent location) will be hard to sell. We feel confident they are going to do their best to sell it. Both of them are Christians and are verbally supportive of our work toward and in Peru. When we went to their office to sign some papers, both Audra and I were impressed when we saw a Bible on the desk and the Lord’s Prayer on their wall. While Audra and I were doing business, they kids were at a Drama Camp with Mrs. Julia and their friends.

Wednesday: Hit the road yet again, this time heading out in the rain toward Montana. We pressed hard and made it to St. Louis, Missouri. Entering the city, we stopped at the Gateway Arch. Rather appropriate, we think. It symbolizes the gateway to the new frontier starting with Lewis and Clark’s journey to the Pacific in the early 1800s. For us, I guess is symbolizes a gateway for our new journey…

Thursday: Visited the St. Louis Zoo before heading out west again. (This is one of the best in the nation in our humble opinions–the animals are healthy, the natural landscaping is fantastic and the price is–believe it or not–free!). Again, we drove hard, crossing Missouri to Kansas City, turning north, entering Iowa and finally South Dakota (speed limit 75–woo hoo!). Our goal tomorrow is to reach Rapid City and take the kids (finally) to see Mount Rushmore.

They kids are doing great. Of course, they are kids and there have been a few tense moments cramped in the back seat of the car, but by and large, they have been much better than I imagine I ever was. Audra is doing well, too. Right now her feet are elevated to cut back on some of the swelling, but all and all, not bad. The baby is wiggling around and trying his/her best to keep Audra on her toes (I’ve felt a kick once or twice).

While driving, Audra is helping me to memorize the book of James (so far I’m only about halfway through the first chapter).

It’s getting late and I need to get to bed! Thanks for your prayers and support. You are all wonderful!

Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. As I sit and write this, Aylis and I are sitting at our favorite coffee/ice cream shop back in Canton, Georgia. We left Rio Sunday night at about 11 PM and arrived in Atlanta at 7.50 AM Monday morning. The flight was good and uneventful (a sleep aid works wonders–though Audra and the kids didn’t take any). We wanted to add more to the blog while we were there, but the internet access was very limited. We started our time there with three computers linked through a cell phone. After a few days it went down to two…then one…then off and on with that one.

Last Friday, we left all the kids at the retreat center and journeyed to Rio to visit two favellas (slums) of the area. It is hard to put into words what we saw there (and becuase of the dangers of going into the slums, we were asked not to bring cameras). In Brazil, the higher a person’s home is on the side of a hill, the poorer that person is (the rich, for some reason, prefer living in the valleys). Homes of the poor cling to mountain side, many accessibly only through a series of concrete steps and narrow alleys. Dodging thrown out garbage and dog droppings, we wound our way upward, past a mammoth boulder to a small chapel at the top. This chapel, we were told, played a role in the people’s crumbling trust of the government. The army learned of weapons being collected in the favella and sent in troops to seize them. Not finding any in the homes, they finally reached the chapel, threw open the doors and pulled the altar away from the wall. There they found the guns. In return for their labor and in retaliation for non-cooperation from the residents, they proceeded to shoot holes in all the water storage takes above each of the homes. The army then left, leaving the community to fend for themselves. The drug dealers living there came to the rescue of the community and met their needs. For this reason, the community has a drug problem, but they deal with it. The drug dealers where there when they needed help. The government was not. This, of course, is the story from only one side. Every story, as we know, has two sides (at least), and so we don’t yet know the whole truth about what happened.

Drugs are an issue, though. We saw the evidence of drug and gang warfare in the bullet holes on the walls and through the signs. Poverty is hugh, but the people are not hopeless. Government programs and assistance are allowing people to better themselves through education and experience. Some homes have internet access. Others have satelite television. Some of the homes are brick and concrete. Others are scrap lumber, tacked together against the weather. It’s a different world. People do different things.

Saturday, brought us back at the retreat center. More classes. More learning. More connecting with others from around the world. The evening ended watching a Brazilian movie that was up for an Oscar a few years ago: “Brazil Central Station” is the title, I think. We were supposed to watch “City of God” about one of the favellas we visited, but could not find it. “Brazil Central Station” was a better choice and it brought the strings we wove over the past two weeks, togther.

Sunday morning brought us to our final worship time. What an emotional event it was! Starting by washing one another’s feet, continuing with brief times of testimony interspersed with praise and worship music (in Portuguese), and concluding with Holy Communion. I had the opportunity to co-lead communion with Andres, a Brazillian pastor from Salvador.

But now we are home again. It is different now. We are staying for the moment with a friend in Ball Ground, but as I walk through town, I think, “Gee, I’m not a pastor here anymore.” No, I’m not. I am now a full time cross cultural witness for Jesus Christ. It’s time to shift my thinking and start working. We have about 85% of our funding to raise over the next few months. It’s not going to be easy, but with God, all things are possible.

To God be the glory.