The Mission Training International campus is located about 7000 feet above sea level. Over the past few weeks we have been trying hard to acclimate our breathing and our hearts to the higher altitude. (This is good preparation for us because the city where we will be living in Peru is 3000 feet higher.) The facilities and such here are situated in a beautiful valley. In a generally eastward direction from us are huge rock formations (one is called The Elephant) and opposite them are tall mountains. Mount Herman rises another 2000 feet above to an elevation of 9063 feet above sea level. Because Pike’s Peak is still 20 miles south of us, Mount Herman rules the landscape. For two weeks, he has been leering down at me. Challenging me to strap on my boots, put a pack on my back, and try to summit.

I know I’m not as young as I once was. My body is starting to fall apart. Little by little…but enough. My knees crack when I stand up. I can tell when it is going to rain by the arthritis in my hands. I limp after sitting awhile so my feet can work out the kinks. I know I am getting older, but that beats the alternative.

Herman doesn’t care. He looks down. He stares at me. Taunting me. Inviting me to pant and wheeze my way through the rocky crags and alpine meadows. “It’s only 2000 feet more,” he taunts. “That’s less than half a mile,” he laughs. “You know you want to do it,” he calls.

He’s right. I do. I like challenges. I like to see what looks impossible and give it a try. I like the sense of accomplishment.

This afternoon, Kia and I met the challenge and climbed Mount Herman. We’re tired. We’re worn out; but we made it. The views from the top are outstanding. To the west of us stretch the Rocky Mountains. To the east of us The Great Plains. To the south of us rises the majestic Pike’s Peak. To the north of us…a big tree blocks the view, but I bet it’s just as spectacular. (The picture is Kia and I at the top of the mountain. That’s Pike’s Peak in the background.)

The Apostle Paul tells us that all things are possible through Christ who gives us strength (Philippians 4.13)…even something as simple as climbing a mountain (gasp!).

Be blessed as you face all the challenges before you.

When we woke up this morning the sun was shining and the birds were singing.  A whole new day lay ahead of us and we gloried in the possibilities of the day.  Our morning devotion from Streams in the Desert took its key verse from Psalm 138.7:  Though I walk through the midst of trouble, you preserve my life.   Little did we know how important that verse could be for us. 

Class started this morning without any worship service.  The instructions were brief:   “Today, you are going to be kidnapped.”  I don’t want to scare anyone.  The truth is, it can happen anywhere.  Some places it happens more often.  We need to be prepared…just in case.  Today it was just a simulation.  Only a test.  We knew it wasn’t real, but it was intense.  rebels had taken control of the city and they did not like the foreigners.  We’d found a place to hide, but things were tight.  Twelve of us in a small space.  The kids were in a safe place.  Audra and I (like all the couples) were separated from one another.  After an hour (that’s all the longer it lasted), I think all of us had tears in our eyes.  Some of the singles felt devalued.  Some of the married couples were confused.  It’s been a bit of a sober day as we consider what we did, how we acted, the what if’s and I shoulda’s.    The lesson’s title was simply “Who we are under stress.”  It got me thinking.  Where do I put my trust?  Who is more important than whom?  How can we make that decision?  Where do I find my strength?  Who am I?  How is my relationship with my Lord? 

 This evening after dinner some of us gathered together downstairs and had a hymn sing.  Sitting there in around the table listening to us singing the old standards of the church in harmony (often without accompanament) was amazing.  But then to hear the words we were singing…not to one another…but to God…

Take my life and let me be consecrated all to Thee… 

Around the table were men and women and children who are leaving the known and going into the unknown.  We are going to Peru.  Others to Kenya and Ireland and Iraq and Afghanistan and Bulgaria and Russia and Zambia.  Those words tonight took on powerful meaning

…To God be the glory, great things he has done…

…Praise him, praise him Jesus my blessed redeemer…

…Fairest Lord Jesus…

Thanks for your prayers and encouragement.  We realize today so much more just how important they are. 

God bless you.

It’s hard to believe we are in our second week here at MTI.  We have made some great friends who will be going halfway around the world from where we are going.  We’ve learned about conflict and how we personally deal with conflict.  This is a growing place for all of us.  There is going to be conflict when we get to the field.  Conflict with our team, with the nationals, within ourselves.  We need to know how we are going to respond and react.  One of the main reasons why missionaries come home too soon has to do with conflict with other missionaries already on the field.  That statement by itself is sobering and humbling.  We were told if we do not want to grow in the area of conflict management, we need to stay home.  We are growing…

This past weekend, we took some time as a family and went to Colorado Springs.  Check out some of the pictures of our day by clicking here.  There we saw the Garden of the Gods and The Cheyenne Mountain Zoo.  The Garden of the Gods consists of huge rock formations like the kissing camels and balanced rock.  It happened to be Earth Day, so there were a lot of presentations and things going on at the visitor’s center.  The Cheyenne Mountain Zoo boasts the largest herd of giraffes in captivity.  The entire zoo reminded us of the one we went to when we are in Huancayo, Peru, a year ago. 

Oh, and the title.  I meant to use the wrong form of flew.  The flu hit us.  Soraya was a bit sick last Friday, but was fine by Saturday.  Sunday night it got Audra.  Trying to avoid sickeness, I slept on the floor, but it got me early Monday morning.  Kia, Aylis’ and Todd got it last night.  We have to be in quarantine away from the rest of the community here for 24 hours so our worlds have consisted of our beds and the ten feet from our beds to the bathroom.  I slept for most of the 24 hours (something I haven’t done for years).   Audra heads back to class this morning, I go back after lunch, and then the kids go back tomorrow morning.  We pray the bug doesn’t get to the rest of the community… it’s not fun.

 God bless you in all you do.

We had orientation yesterday and started our training sessions today. The focus: building community when we are all different with different ways of looking at the world. It was a good session. We played with Lego Blocks and talked and reviewed and discussed. The next three weeks promise to be good. The program is called SPLICE and each letter stands for a component of our learning: Spiritual, Personal, Lifestyle, Interpersonal, Cultural and Endurance/Enjoyment. Like a rope that is spliced together, we are splicing together the various parts of our lives to make a stronger link from the past/present into the future. The kids have their own classes. They are learning the same things we are but on their own level.

The facility is three stories tall (the bottom story is a daylight basement). On the top two levels there are large classrooms and breakout rooms as well as rooms we call home. There are no TVs in the rooms. The middle floor also has the kitchen and dining area. Downstairs there are activities like ping pong, foosball, air hockey and (yes!) a TV and VCR/DVD player with movies. During our afternoon free time I slipped downstairs to check on Todd and Ayliś. They were watching The Prince of Egypt on TV with a group of kids around their age. It was fun to eavesdrop on the conversation. Todd, of course, was leading the discussion and explaining to the rest of the kids just what was happening during the plagues and was pointing out some of the theology of the movie. I have to say it made a dad proud to hear it. He does listen even when it doesn’t seem like it.

Good news on the gastric front: The chef here is from Mississippi, so he knows how to make real, honest to goodness sweet tea with boiled water, tea bags and sugar (lots of sugar). Tonight’s supper was pulled pork, coleslaw and corn on the cob. Hmmm, tastes a bit like Georgia…

Have a wonderfully blessed night.

We made it to Colorado and the Mission Training International program here in Lake Palmer (just north of Colorado Springs). We’ve only had orientation and dinner, but can already tell this is going to be a fantastic part of our missionary training program. There are families here who will be going out from here across the globe to share the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ. After dinner we talked with people who are about to embark on ministries in Kenya, Ireland, the Yakima Indians in Washington state, Bulgaria, and many other places. In total there are seventeen different “units” (singles and couples going as missionaries — I hate the term but don’t know what else to call us) going to fourteen different countries. There are more than 20 kids (age 3 months to 17 years old) here as well. What we adults learn upstairs, the kids will be learning downstairs on their own level. What’s really cool is that we have already started making connections with these people. I don’t know how many different mission sending agencies are represented and how many denominations. I do know, however, we are all here to represent the love of Jesus Christ for the world.

Last night we stayed just north of Denver with my first cousin once removed (there’s a great chart on Wikipedia that helps you figure out your exact relationship with cousins. To see it click here). We saw her a few years ago and had a great time talking and listening to some of her music. Before leaving there to come here, we had a chance to visit my second cousin at his store in Denver. The last time I saw him, I was 16 (less than half the age I am now). To put it simply (and to not do it justice at all) he has a track where people can race remote control cars and trucks over dirt, up mountains and over boulders. It’s pretty neat and he has a great attitude and philosophy about business and people. He’s getting married this spring in Denver, and (I love how God works things out) we are going to be able to go to the wedding because we are here.

I’ve attached two pictures of what we have to see when we look out the windows. The one is from the back window, the other is from the front. Please keep on praying for us as we learn more about how to be effective ministers for Jesus Christ.

I went to a funeral this afternoon. The younger sister of one of my high school classmates died suddenly because of a heart problem. She was one month shy of her 28^th birthday when she collapsed while fixing fence on her family’s ranch here in south eastern Montana. I didn’t know her very well at all, but I remember her. Throughout the service the speakers kept talking about how much she loved and embraced life. That is so important. They told us that Katie wouldn’t want us to grieve too much. She would want us to follow our dreams and to live life to the fullest. “She wasn’t the type of person,” one of her friends said, “to stick a toe in to test the waters. She was one to jump all the way.” What a great message for every one of us to hear again and again and again. Live life. That is, after all, what Jesus taught us: “I came,” he said, “so that you might have life and have it in abundance” (John 10.10b).

The service itself was an experience. It was held in the largest building in town, the Baptist Church. Speakers included the wife of the Lutheran pastor (they carpooled the 40 miles to work at St. Labre Indian School in Ashland every day), the president of the local Mormon Church, and a Catholic Priest. Talk about ecumenical. I don’t agree with everything from the various denominations, but we were all bound together by a common believe in the resurrected Lord and the love of God. That is a start. You know, God is not going to ask our denomination. God’s going to ask what we believe. There is a difference.

It was a sad time, but also a celebration of life and positive attitudes. I’m glad I just happened to be here. Watching the service and looking at the pictures of Katie and her family, I realized, perhaps for the first time in a long time, what a beautiful culture we have here in the west. More than that, though, I realize much more now just how much this place and this culture is a part of me. We have lived in Georgia for the past 13 years and that is home. But so is Montana. The Great Plains and badlands—not the Rocky Mountains…the cold rain and snow…the wind that never seems to stop blowing…the rugged hills…the waving grass…the gravel roads that kick up dust in dry weather and are too sloppy to drive when wet…the wide open spaces…the hot fire in the stove…all this has played a big part in who I am.

Okay, I’m perhaps a bit melancholy now. I’m not sad, though. I’m happy. Life is good.

God bless you in all you do.

A few people have asked us what this country looks like.  We’ve started an online photo album to post some pictures.  If you want to take a look, go our “blogroll” in the column on the right, and click on the link that says “A few pictures of McEuen life.”

As I write this, it is snowing again.  Showers and flurries and sleet were predicted across Montana starting from the northwest and coming this direction.  Audra and I were in Billings (164 miles from Broadus) dropping my brother, his daughter and her friend off at the bus station for their ride back to Washington.  Because their bus left at one in the morning, Audra and I stayed the night so we could run errands for my parents.  (Here in Montana because the distances are so far, we make the most of every trip.  Everyone does.  We were at Costco and it was packed with ranchers from around the state and Wyoming stocking up for the next few weeks.) 

As we left the city, the snow mixed with rain and made the roads wet but not slick.  A few miles further, the hills were dusted with snow, but again as we crossed the divide it turned to rain.  This process was repeated time and again as the miles passed beneath our wheels.  The first forty or fifty miles were on the interstate.  At the site of the Battle of the Little Big Horn, the Interstate continued south to Sheridan, Wyoming, as we turned east onto Highway 212.  The wind had picked up again and wet sloppy snow fell in huge flakes.  Just beyond the place where George Armstrong Custer made his last stand, we crested a hill and drove past a man and woman walking down the highway carrying a large suitcase.  Looking ahead, there were no houses, buildings, or cars in sight. 

“Where are they going?” Audra and I asked each other.  There was nothing for miles. 

I know, I know…some of you are going to think we were foolish, but what else could we do?  We turned around and offered them a ride.  They gladly accepted.  They were from Rapid City, South Dakota (another 250 miles down the road), and had been in Billings to visit her sister who was under hospice care waiting to die from kidney failure.  He was Sioux.  She was Crow but reared in foster care with a Caucasian family in Seattle.  They asked to go as far as Ashland about 40 miles away.  The ride was quiet.  They were tired.  It was hard to hear one another talking.  As we neared Ashland, they asked if we could help them get a hotel room so they could get some rest (they slept the night before in an irrigation ditch…remember the snow was coming in).  We said sure and pulled into the only place in town.  With a vacancy sign in the window, Audra walked in to get the registration paper and brought it out to the woman to fill out.  As she was filling it out, the man stepped out of the car.  Immediately the hotel worker told Audra that the man might as well get back in the car because he would not rent a room to them…not even for one night. 

What could we do?  The man and woman were sad and angry, but said they were used to that kind of prejudice (we were just outside of the Northern Cheyenne Reservation).  We stopped at the sheriff’s office asking for any ideas of what to do.  He was very nice, but said that was the only hotel in town and the next closest were at least 40 miles away. 

“Just let us out downtown,” (a loose term since the entire town consisted of buildings on either side of the highway), “and we’ll find an Indian family who will help us,” said the woman.   What could we do?  They got out and began looking for someone to offer them lodging for the night because there was room at the inn… but not for their kind.  Please pray for Robert and Kaylyn. 

If you want to see some photos from Montana and lambing, click here.

Tomorrow is church.   Good night and God bless you.

It’s lambing season here in Montana.  In more temperate parts of the country, baby farm animals can be (and usually are) born at about any time of the year because there is no need to worry about the cold weather hampering their growth.  Up north where we are told the only thing separating us from the arctic winds from Canada is a barbed wire fence, we have to be careful to plan when the babies are born.   About 300 ewes (female sheep) call my parents’ ranch their home.   Most of them are pregnant and ready for the wait for the blessed day to be over. 

It is a process.  First, the ewes had to be sheared.  That happened at the end of February when a group of professional shearers came to shave off the wool.  This makes them more comfortable for the summer heat, but also makes lambing a cleaner process.  Once the ewes have haircuts that make them fit for the army, they go out to the fields again to wait a few more weeks.

During those weeks, the barn is prepared.  Cleaned of everything not needed, small pens called jugs are set up along the walls and down the center of the barn.  Each pen is about four feet by four feet in size and will serve as the first home for mom and lamb(s).   When the ewes began dropping their lambs (that is, having their lambs) about a week ago, they lambs are picked up by their hind legs so their mother can see them and follow into the jug.  Given fresh water and alfalfa hay, the mother is distracted while the lambs are given a quick medical check and iodined.  If everything looks good, the new family takes some time to bond. 

After a day or so, the lambs tails are docked (humanely with a special rubber band) and marked with paint with a number the same as their mother and left to bond some more.  When the match seems complete, they are moved into a larger pen with a few more ewe and lamb families.  This is to see if they can still find one another in a crowd.   Again after a few days practice to see if they can get the family thing right, they are moved to a larger pen with even more families together.  The process is repeated until they are ready to move out into the big world of the pasture. 

While all that is going on, the ewes need to be fed and watered, the jugs need to be cleaned and the refuse (straw and manure) spread out across the field for fertilizer, new straw put into the jugs.   The field where the ewes wait until they give birth (called the drop pen) needs to be walked every half hour or hour or so to see if any new lambs have shown up.  Then there’s breakfast, lunch and dinner to prepare; other chores to do, and on and on.  It’s a busy time of the year, but when the lambs start frisking around and when newborns know instinctively where to go for the milk and when the mother who’s lost her lamb looks until she finds it and when the circle of live continues right in front of our eyes…it is worth it.  In all that we can see there is indeed a God and all is right with the world…if only for the moment. 

My parents have a webpage for their wool and yarn with a couple of pictures of the area and the sheep.  If you want to take a look, click here. 

The kids worked hard all day (we did too, by the way), and now they are outside in the falling Montana twilight playing a game of hide and seek with their cousin Katie and her friend Alexis.  Katie, Alexis and Uncle Ty head back to Washington tomorrow evening. 

Have a wonderfully blessed night…and get some sleep.  It’s good for you…really.

After three days of traveling, we finally made it to Montana.   Waking up early, we drove and drove and drove across South Dakota, stopping only when we had to stop, so that we could make it here at a reasonable time.  The last three hours from Rapid City to the ranch is not fun after dark because of all the deer and the antelope playing on the edge of the road (forget about the open range…they like the edge of the road).  We made it here by four o’clock so the sun was still high in the sky. 

The kids have settled in.  Todd is begging for me to go up on the roof with him (the house is built into the side of the hill, so it is fairly easy to climb up there, although, it is not good for the roof).  He wants to look at the stars in the big Montana sky.  I do, too, but it’s cold here!  I forget Spring just sprung in Georgia.  It won’t here for a few more weeks.  Kia and Aylis are taking some time to get to know their cousin and her friend who are here visiting from Washington State.  Right now, I think they are playing a game downstairs.  They want to go out into the barns to be with the alpacas. 

The time change and the altitude here have made us a bit tired.  Oh, yeah, and all the traveling. 

Good night and God bless you.