We had a really great time for Danielle's birthday dinner.  It was the perfect time because the weather is supposed to get much colder as of tomorrow...this outside meal was just perfect!  Lovely is always the one that comes up with creative and fun things to do on birthdays  .  I just so much appreciate how she is always able to manage to make it a special occasion and everyone gets to be a part of it .  We had a huge plate of nachos and Danielle had her own personal pizza and the desert?  Oh, the desert was to die for .  Lovely made us a nice strawberry shortcake for the zoo last time we went and that was pretty darn good too...some of us were just a bit more enthusiastic than others!  Danielle is surely growing up now ...hard to believe this is the baby that was born to us 13 years ago !  I thought that I'd finish things off tonight with the sunset and field pictures I got.  It always brings me peace to stand out there and witness these kind of things .  We're called the Big Sky country and I believe it.  I love the plains and the sunsets that blow my mind .  It seems like there's always one more shot out there .  Well, that's about the extent of it tonight .  I guess all that's left is to bid everyone good night .

Another break in things today.  I have had some dark moments revisiting the past in the last blog but today I have great reason to rejoice in the birthday of my daughter Danielle who just turned 13 today !  I think of the day she was born.  Her mother and I wondered if she would even be born in America...it was a very near thing but she did arrive...if a bit early.  I was so concerned because of the stress surrounding my wife and I before we finally boarded our flight out of the Philippines.  I was so troubled and unsure if everything would be okay or not.  I remember thinking I'd count every single little finger and toe and make sure everything was where it should be. 

I'm so grateful in this country for the fact that you can be there as a father and witness the birth of your children.  Some of you may not I've had a terrible phobia with needles...always have .  I wasn't sure how I'd hold up through an actual birth but I was so thrilled and scared all at once that I didn't even have time to think about it before Danielle was already in this world.  Seeing that perfect little body, those perfect fingers and toes...those lips...why do they stand out to me so much still?  Holding her in my hands for the first time I thought it must have been what God felt when He looked on all He created and said:  "It is Good!".

Our first ultrasound was done in the Philippines and they said she would be a little girl...neither Lovely or I believed it.  We had it in our heads this would be a little boy but sure enough they were right and we were not disappointed one bit!  We named her Danielle...thinking of the female form of Daniel.  We had certainly felt judged of God by difficulties and so man circumstances that nearly left us forever in the Philippines but God moved us through that and we now were in America with our beautiful little treasure.

Now after all these years I realize the miracle of God intrusting us with Danielle, she's more than just my little girl...she's my dearest friend, she's my fellow missionary, she's my confidant, she's my fellow band member, she's my fellow gamer, she's all I could have ever hoped for in a daughter and more.  I just want to say how much I love her.  I can't imagine life without her and the rest of my family.  Danielle makes not just today but every day special.  Life without her would be a darker place.  Every time I see her I know that God loves us.  I know that there's good in life.  I know she will succeed at all she sets her hand to and I'll be there for her in any way I can be.  We love her so very much! 

Tonight we go out to eat with her for the a birthday celebration that will stretch throughout the holiday weekend...we've got something planned for ever day.  No pictures yet but I hope to get some.  God bless Dani today!

Our departure from the Blue Nile left us feeling better about things but all too quickly the euphoria of leaving the nasty bathrooms, strange sights and sounds, Ganesh and the Christmas tree...my room mate pounding on the radio and stewing his dried prunes to get his plumbing working again (seriously, how can you be constipated in India?!?) was turning to the realization that India itself was a lot like the Blue Nile.  It's a land of tremendous contradictions and filled with complete opposites that live side by side in a maddening harmony.  If you can find a faction dedicated to not even stepping on an ant because life is sacred (Jainism) you will also likely find a temple dedicated to Kali and all this will likely will be in close proximity...it's rather daunting and mind boggling.  We of the west find such things incompatible...we have no idea what a mixed salad the world really is.  India is the epitome of diversity some would say but I found it more to be the one place on earth where I've witnessed utter chaos in a society without everything being totally torn apart.  These constant evidences of contradiction drive the western mind insane piece by piece.  For me as a Christian I found that the walls of religion that I felt were as solid as the earth itself were being hammered...this was subtle at first but the alarming cracks in my walls would begin to widen as time went by.

You cannot travel in India without seeing the evidence of the millions of gods everywhere .  I know in the picture it's hard to see but atop this wall is a Buddha type character...my room mate never tired of going wild over everything like this he saw...thankfully his time with us was limited.  You will see little shops like this one everywhere and often there's a little statue of one god or another sitting with an incense burner.  I saw a man who owned a little shop like this and every sale he made he would come out when the shop was no longer busy and burn incense and do a little dance...he was very devout.  We had an excellent driver to help us get around in India when Samuel wasn't driving .  His name was Rajan...he had a sarcastic sense of humor and often brightened my days though his English was very limited.  The streets of India held many things to shock those that are unwary and inexperienced but not all the time...if I ever got the chance to breath a little I'd click a few shots and that's where these pictures came from .  It's a whole other world don't you think ?  I've seen some horrible things on these streets.  There was one railroad crossing that I remember crossing almost every day.  There were two tragedies here laid out for all to see.  One was a village of tiny huts that the very poor had there near the rail road tracks...not sure why they chose that spot.  Periodically the police would raid the encampment and drive the people away and destroy the huts...it was heartbreaking to witness.  Next to that on the other side of the road was a sight that I found utterly horrific.  Rickshaws are a way of life to many who cannot afford another form of transportation but as tragic as it might seem for some skinny person to haul you from one place to another could be there was nothing worse than what I saw here:  rickshaw runners that had leprosy!  Indians often wear sandals and so did these if they were not barefoot.  Many no longer had toes and were showing more and more advanced signs of the disease...which disfigures and maims as it rages through the body.  Isn't it contagious you ask?  Yes, actually leprosy is contagious but the biggest tragedy of all is that there is a cure for this horrible disease but many at the time didn't have access to the medication.  Preventable human tragedy was everywhere I turned. 

I remember once stopping at a government owned shop we sometimes frequented.  There was a beggar there asking for money.  The religious in our car demanded that something be given in spite of Samuel's advice to the contrary.  We gave some money and the man spat on the van and left the money on the van...not enough for him.  Things like this made my heart just ache...the immensity of the need but what could be done?  Another time we stopped and got out and child beggars where there...they were actually quite nasty and would torment you even if you gave because if you did give they figured you had more...they would grab your clothing and moan and this would draw more attention until usually it would be impossible to do anything but leave.  Once a group like this came to us and a little girl...perhaps nine years old was holding a baby that I knew was dead...I died a little myself that day.  Samuel told us that often times these groups of children would have a criminal adult over them that would break their legs for greater sympathy and then take their "earnings" of the day.  Just one of these sights would hurt you...many of them, often on a single day drive you to the brink of what sanity you may have left.  This was not the Madras of the tourist guides.  This was real life and death of the common man and we're were watching it all not from the TV in a five star hotel but down and dirty.

Seeing these things leaves you in a place where you feel violated and wonder what on earth could you possibly do for these people?  Over one billion people in this country and you're just one person.  Such terrible needs.  We wanted to make a difference to Samuel and his ministry.  He had a small orphanage and took on students to help with what he was doing and then after training them sent them home to do similar things...we so much believed in what he was doing.  To stand here in a city that seemed to have leprosy itself...the sick and dying being built over by the fresh and new...the decay mixed with the struggle to modernize was actually very morbid. It made me feel that in spite of my inability I had to do something, had to involve myself to do any good I could possibly do.  There is no room for an empty commitment, there's no place for faith without works here, this was a struggle that has killed many before.  It can be summed up with a night I was out looking at a structure far away...I had been living in India for some time at that point and Samuel came up to me and said:  you see that building?  I said:  "Yes, I see it."  Samuel said:  "That place is dedicated to Thomas."  I asked if he meant THE Thomas of the bible...doubting Thomas?  He said that was the very one.  I didn't know of the history of Thomas visiting India then.  There's much said about it if you read about it a bit.  I realized that the man they call doubting Thomas spread the Gospel even here, the doubting Thomas we all laugh at during our services.  The Thomas we always use as an example of weak faith had come here and tried to do some good.  I never used another example like that ever again in my teachings..."doubting Thomas" was a better man than I.  Like him I wanted to do something good for somebody else...not matter what the cost I added mentally...I had no idea of what I had just committed to.

The Blue Nile was listed as a reasonable hotel and in fact had a three star rating if I remember correctly....goes to show that these ratings in some countries can be a rather dubious when put in the harsh glare of reality.  Let me say foremost that I could easily have imagined greasy white people in white open necked suits dealing with guys where Bermudas and and Hawaiian shirts in the lobby of this hotel.  It had it all even the lazily turning fans that were squeaking softly and slightly unbalanced for the perfect touch to the stereo type.  The fellow at the desk when he was there didn't seem much interested in what you wanted and was unhelpful...maybe you need to slip him a fifty and he'd listen...I just don't know.  The facade of this hotel was sort of Arabic with ridiculous detail and archways shaped like the Taj Mahal.  The desk had a fake Christmas tree with lights on it next to a small statue of Ghanesh ...please follow the link when you click the name to see how weird this thing next to a Christmas tree would be.  I felt that all we needed next was a hunchbacked bell hop with an insane laugh and we'd be good to go. 

Every room in the Nile had a strange intercom/radio in each room.  Now my roommate was a very religious man...let me just say he couldn't get much more religious.  How does this tie in with the intercom you ask?  Well, the intercom/radio would come on and play the music many Indians are fond of...sitar and strange vocals...the works.  I woke up at around four in the morning once to see my religious friend pounding on the radio trying to make it stop...neither his prayer nor the pounding would stop it...poor, poor man...am I smiling a bit right now...ah yeah.  I think he felt it would have some terrible effect on him if he listened to much of that music...in my mind he couldn't get much worse.  The bathrooms were abysmal and I don't say this easily...remember I've seen some awful bathrooms in my time on this planet.  These were particularly dirty and disgusting.  My times in India have always led to conditions which caused me to frequent the bathroom often.  This condition has various names wherever you go.  Some call it Montezuma's Revenge or Hershey Squirts but in India it's often referred to simply as Delhi Belly so I've ridden the porcelain express often....you know, the thunder bucket...the...okay I'll stop.  The bathroom here had grime on the walls and floor and even the ceiling and the glasses looked like they'd been used to hold dirty toilet brushes...it was nasty and let me just say demoralizing.  As I've said before there are certain things that you hold to as your safety blanket...there's your suitcase and there's the place that you sleep...we had the suitcase but the place that we slept was a cesspool and it worked away on our morale.

Pastor Samuel's Wife Rumella brought us our first taste of Indian food.  Now when things are wearing down your morale it's easy for your health to go down hill too.  Having strange food when you're being constantly beaten down can upset the fine balance that keeps us feeling well.  I'm not saying that the food of India is bad, fact is once I got used to an Indian food diet I actually got sick when readjusting to American food again but at this point none of us had had anything like it.  Remember the smell of Sandal wood?  The food also has a very incense strong sort of smell.  The stages of cooking for Indian food all have a strong smell.  The thing is, I didn't mind the smell of incense but when I ate the food I felt like I was eating it...eye's, ears, nose and throat are all working together...cover your eyes and have someone offer you an apple while holding an onion under your nose...you'll taste onion and not apple.  We ate the food...we tasted incense...it was weird.  Thus began my struggle with my stomach that deteriorated as the trip went on. 

I actually don't have any pictures of the interior of the Blue Nile...mostly because I always wanted to get out of there.  This was the view outside our window  .  Every morning very early you can hear a loud slapping sound.  It's the women doing their washing of clothes before the heat of the day sets in.  Their spin cycle is pounding the clothes on a flat surface and this can be heard everywhere...if you're not used to it...you will wake with the roosters and the washing of clothes...this too works on your morale...at least it did on mine.   We were soon to leave the Blue Nile to stay with pastor Samuel...he would become more than a pastor we worked with...he would become my friend, my brother and my dad away from home.  The best site I can remember was the sight of the parking lot in the Blue Nile as we left .  India is such a funny place with it contradictions and strange things that you'll find.  Like Ghanesh next to the Christmas tree.  If there's someone that says they won't eat meat you will find another person that says they will not eat vegetables.  Contradictions abound so the mechanism that would try to find balance for you doesn't work well in India.  I have no idea how a western mindset would ever survive.  I had to do some real changing and I had that familiar feeling that the breaking of me had only begun.  The good news for now was we were out of the Blue Nile for good.

1. Attached or Single?  Attached now for almost fourteen years!
2. Best Friend?  My wife will always be my best friend.
3. Cake or Pie?  Lovely makes the best cake ever so that's my thing though I love pie too.
4. Day of Choice?  Thursday when it's summer break but then it's the old classic:  Friday.
5. Essential item?  The bible and my i-Pod!
6. Favorite color?  Green like my eyes.
7. Gummy Bears or Worms?  Whichever my kids have on hand, it matters not to me.
8. Hometown?  Born in Charlotte but have always been in Billings.
9. Indulgence?  Music and video games.
10. January or July?  July all the way baby?  This state is just way too cold in January!
11. Kids?  I've got three and will have no more...three's a good number....
12. Life's not complete without?  God, my wife and kids and travel abroad.
13. Marriage date?  December 17, 1994.
14. Number of brothers and sisters?  0, I'm an only child.
15. Oranges or Apples?  Yes please!  LOL!
16. Phobias?  None that I know of...
17. Quotes?  Too many that I like to put here...
18. Reasons to smile?  Hearing my wife of kids laugh.
19. Season of Choice?  Late spring.
20. Tag seven people?  No...LOL!
21. Unknown about me?  I've ridden on an elephants head during a trek in the Golden Triangle.
22. Vegetables?  Like just about any known to man.
23. Worst habit?  Staying up too late.
24. X-ray or Ultrasound?  This is a weird one...ultrasound.
25. Favorite food?  Almost all things Asian.
26. Zodiac Sign?  Aquarius.

I did this all for you Wild Cat...don't say I never did nothin' for ya!

This entry has been a long time in coming I know...well, long for me maybe.  I just finished getting the pictures I could find together for the next series of blogs.  I know there are some missing...I have no idea where they are but none the less there are several here that I hope will make this a richer experience.  The trips that we had to Africa I felt were all about getting the raw material together in my life so that I would have the faith to weather one of the worst storms I've ever endured in my life.  I'm not talking about a tornado or a hurricane, no this is about an internal storm that raged to the place where I felt nothing would ever be right ever again. 

I remember being quite young when the idea to go to India came into my mind.  I was actually watching a James Bond movie and I saw an Indian actor there and something just clicked and I thought that I had to go there someday...I didn't know how or when but I knew I wanted that with all my heart.  Ghana West Africa had a way of making everything seem possible.  Before that point who would have though a Montanan could go so far away and see such things?  It showed me that the things that happen to people in books actually can happen to an average person from a little town in the Western United States.  Funny how such a small thing could turn into something so huge later on.

We had a friend who is a fellow minister in my home state of North Carolina.  Her family had a pastor from India stay in their home for a while.  His name was Samuel Rajiah.  She said that maybe we would want to get in contact with him and see if we could perhaps visit his church in Madras and see what would happen with it.  I was onboard for the trip because I had graduated and was studying bible school via correspondence.  I was eager to do something that would put all I believed to the test.  It wouldn't interfere with my studies since the books and tests came in the mail and all I had to do is send them in to be graded...it was the perfect plan.

Our first trip to Madras consisted of my mom and some other ladies that had traveled with us before...including two sisters.  We were to meet a lady there and have some meetings in another area where we could meet some other pastor and for part of this trip another man named Terry would join us.  We felt relatively confident to do this trip with the experience that we had.  We figured that India would be more civilized if you will than Ghana and besides there was no war waging...at least not that we knew of.  We prepared as best as we knew how and before we knew it our visas were prepared and we were on our way .  We had a horrendously long journey with a stop in England one way and Italy the next...which we didn't mind and then a long stop over in Bombay (which it is no longer called) for nine hours .  The flight was one of the longest I can ever remember taking in my life.  It seems to me it was around thirty-three hours.  Flights like that test even the most veteran of travelers. Rome was something I thought would be great to see however the airport and how they behaved wasn't typical to what I was used to.  We had to transfer from one airport there to another.  The guy driving that bus must have though it was a Lamborghini because he drove that thing like it was a low to the ground sports care on a straight road with no speed limits.  We finally arrived at the airport and the weather was humid and quite hot actually.  We went in and bought some sandwiches in a little cafe feeling that it might be the last relatively normal food we'd eat.  We got the bill for several thousand lira...no Euros at that time.  We scratched our head and added up the bill which blew our minds...it was over a hundred bucks!  Most expensive sandwiches any of us had ever eaten.  Marching onto our gate we looked for any East Indians we could see to build the excitement for what we were about to do.

Now worth noting is the fact that one of our trips landed briefly in Muscat, Oman. It was a touchy thing since the Gulf War I was going on at that time and so they were very worried about someone trying to shoot the plane down.  It was a quick landing that only gave us a little time.  I remember coming down over the endless desert to see a little city out in the middle of nowhere.  It was like a mirage at first and then we were on the ground.  Some of the local cleaning crew came on board and were really not nice...likely judging correctly that we were Americans.  The said something in Arabic to us that sounded like "shabash, shabash"  don't really know what that meant at all.  The airport was really fancy...all about marble and all the nice stone work you'd imagine on a monument..very fancy.  What I never forget is that city rising like a mirage out of the desert...there was even some sort of carnival....just a white city out in the sand...very surreal.

Next stop was Bombay (now known as Mumbay).  There were things that struck me funny, maybe it was because I was tired to the point of being delirious, I don't know.  There was a statue of Lakshmi.  The breasts were bare and it was actually an erotic statue.  One of the ladies in our group noticed this as all the rest of us and said...hmm, funny place for a statue...avoiding the obviously more alarming features and instead commenting on the placement of the statue.  I couldn't help buy guffaw!  It was many long hours here...no decent food...and not a thing to do but let the weight of the time spent on the plane really sink in...ugh. 

The flight to Madras wasn't that long if I remember but it felt like an eternity.  The airport was not like Accra's before.  It was neat and orderly and this time instead of being the only white person there were others but I wasn't sure where they were from.  There were many Sikhs who were totally new to me at this point.  They are quite amazing to behold with their turbans and stately manner sets them apart.  They seem rather aloof many times however and I found them a bit intimidating.  We were checked through the Blue Lane  which was a very good thing.  Back in those days you wanted that because the Red Lane meant all sorts of extra questions and searches....this was a good start.  We walked outside pulling our luggage to see Samuel waiting for us...with all the hustle and bustle outside, he was a welcome sight . 

Before I sign off on this portion of the new adventure let me say that again the smells of India come to my mind.  India has the smell of incense burning.  It's a sweet smell that is not quite Middle Eastern nor is it Oriental...it's sort of both yet neither.  It can have almost a narcotic effect on you...the psychedelic stuff of the '60's and '70's comes to mind.  It's tripy, that's all I can say.  I later found that much of this exotic smell comes from sandal wood.  To this day I have strong flashbacks of India when I smell that, it can almost make me swoon.  Sometimes I get a set of incense at the World Market that's from India.  Perhaps it's my experience or perhaps not...nothing hits me like that smell to this day.  Finally we made our way to our little slice of hell that was called  "The Blue Nile".  Hotels like that could never make the tourist brochures.....to be continued.....

Many things that come up in life are things that don't just happen over and over again.  Africa was an experience like that.  I was a different person getting off the plane in Accra than I was coming home again.  Many times the journey and the things you go through don't stop working on your for a long time after the physical journey is long over.  I bet many people could see leaving Africa as a cause for celebration but I had no idea that my spiritual journey had just begun.  Leaving Africa was actually a very long process.  Ghanaians would show up and didn't leave with the customary goodbye rather they would come and just hang around saying nothing in particular.  This is a real strain on the person used to the western way of doing things.  At first I wondered why they would come and just sit there and I felt the need to fill that silence up with something.  Finally I realized they were drinking in the last moments with us and just letting us know that they cared enough to show up and show their appreciation for us.  Some things are too deep for words they wanted their presence to be a comfort.  Here so often our relationships couldn't endure such things.  We have our phone conversations but we can hang up, we've got our e-mail but we can sign off..we've got all sorts of things to aid in communication but that's one thing,  actually spending a bunch of quality time with a person is often what we would consider above and beyond the call of duty.  Overseas people actually often live with their family and extended family, that's how they survive the difficulties that they live in...they support each other in a real and tangible way that most of us would never understand.  We so many times leave our homes as young adults...just as soon as we can and that's how it is.  Many other nations you don't do that...you stay and let your income help where it can...it's a community thing.  The elderly are cared for directly...not via rest homes.  I am not glorifying one culture over another at all...I'm simply stating that you cannot understand other cultures with a personal and cultural bias...how clearly I see that now.

There are things that I look back on now and laugh about.  I remember Laurie...the one on the left side of the picture above.  She was observing the monkey in it's cage outside that they had on the compound...the one that met an unfortunate end at the edge of a machete.  This monkey would do some disgusting things and we'd watch and laugh at some times or simply be horrified.  Once he had done something particularly disgusting and then quickly reached through the cage and grabbed Laurie's front teeth...much to her horror and I admit to my delight.  She had this ridiculous look of surprise that she kept frozen on her face while she tried to ask for more of our blue antibiotic pills...to this day I still raze her about the "Spock" incident.  We all have incidents like that which we look back on and smile about at first and then get rather melancholy.  I remember how we would meticulously boil our tooth brushes to keep them from being contaminated after certain trips we had had within Ghana...our toothbrushes would end up having the strangest shapes...looked like modern art!  I laugh...I cry remembering it.  Some of us would cover our cup with our toothbrush in it with a washcloth to keep them cleaner somehow...once we found a bunch of legs sticking out from under the washcloth...a huge cockroach that covered most of the top of the glass...I have no idea how it got under there and managed to die but that toothbrush was not boiled this time...it was burned!  LOL!, I laugh and I cry...  It was time to go home again...I had no idea at the time that there would only be one more trip there and then no more....the sun was setting on my time in Africa...will we ever return again?  Only God knows.

Now for every trip there's a stopping point...sometimes before we go on the rest of the journey other times after.  I want to dedicate a bit of this time to talk about that.  Most of the trips to Africa I remember our main airline being either KLM or British Air.  British Air I have great respect for because in times of great trouble they really have been there for us and I salute their excellent service in this regard....KLM...well, KLM I remember had uncomfortable seats and bad food but to be fair it's been a long time so much is likely to have improved right?  I flew on Swiss Air once and that was mostly uneventful which can be a very good thing.  We sometimes held meetings in England with a Ghanaian pastor...his name is Kingsely.  His wife and children were very good to us and we had some interesting meetings with him.  I always loved the sites of England which were so different for me.  It had the benefit of having English spoken so after being in other places that were so foreign it was nice to have this place to let the experiences soak in and sort of unwind or prepare for the journey up ahead with the prayer support of the people behind us...not just from our home but from England.  I loved the public transportation and visiting the sites of London  .  We visited the HMS_Belfastand visited several sights and castles...I loved it all so much!  We saw Madame Tussauds and were thrilled and amazed...we even had fresh roasted chestnuts when it was snowy and cold .  We sometimes stayed in interesting little flats there that had less than perfect conditions but I relished the times we had and loved the sites we saw , .  I really did love England and enjoy the times there...oh how I miss those days .

The first trip home from Ghana had a stop in Zurich, Switzerland for 19 hours.  This was pretty much enough time to get off the plane and catch a few z's after site seeing a little.  The prices were very high even at the time.  It was the first time I had observed a hotel that used key cards instead of actual keys...we crammed in a small room and we just glad for a hot shower.  Walking there was really something.  I was so excited to get home and share the experiences we had had and so walking there really helped me reflect .  The immaculate gardens and orderly streets that were spotlessly clean were now a shock to me .  Passing by the WWII graveyard made me think of the sacrifice of others before us who had given so much that others might breathe free...I found it really inspiring .  I felt that I had chosen the course of my life at this point and there was more peace in that than I had ever felt.  I didn't question whether we'd be back...I honestly took it for granted....after all we'd been there once why wouldn't we go back again right?  I just had no idea the adventures that were about to unfold beneath me feet.  Africa was the first stepping stone into a large staircase that led I knew not where.

The summer is quickly coming to a close and before that happens I wanted so much to get a few pictures of the fair here in Montana.  It's become a tradition for us to go with our friends from the Camposan family...remember Steve is the one in Iraq now for the second time.  Usually when he's been here he'd go with us.  This year Steve couldn't be with us but his younger sister Kathy and his little brother Tim went with us and they've always been great to go with.  Our weather took a sudden down turn this year.  I could see it getting worse and worse and it spat rain often.  We couldn't go until the evening so we kept hoping it would lighten up....fat chance .  The good news was it kept the crowds down and we definitely didn't roast as we have some years.  Gabby was more bold than I've ever seen her this year.  She rode the "Cobra" with a little girl she didn't know and had no problem with that at all .  She seemed to have a really good time.  She likes to meet other children and can be a very social little thing.  Here she is coming around the bend

Luke 5: 31 says:  "Jesus answered them, Healthy people don't need a doctor-sick people do.  I have come to call sinners to turn from their sins, not to spend my time with those that already think they are good enough."  I believe I really needed to go on the trips I have to see where I needed a change or I never would have realized I needed to change.  I could have sat here living my life feeling that I was right on track.  I really believe that God wanted to bring me out of the things I was comfortable with to break the places where religion really had a hold on me.  Religion is like auto pilot...it doesn't require any thought and is never willing to be challenged on any level.  Did you know you don't have to be a church goer to be religious?  You can be in any mind set that is unwilling to think or change or show any mercy and you are in essence religious...ever heard of someone being religiously clean?  It means obsessed with being clean...religion is nothing more than a dead, and unchangeable way of thinking...obsessive, unchangeable thinking.   There is no mercy in it...there is never compassion.  It may have strong emotion but usually that emotion is anger and those that think differently are a threat...sorry for those that think Christianity has the monopoly on such behavior...it does not.

I never really saw myself as a religious person, I believed I was pretty much free thinking but many of my beliefs had gone unchallenged until I went to Africa.  I was used to being comfortable and unchallenged.  This is never a healthy thing and believe it or not it isn't even really peaceful to no be challenged...it's quite boring...there's a difference between boredom and peace!  The mind is a funny thing...it seeks to find a way to make your circumstance "normal" and help us feel comfortable.  It's not just the body that doesn't want to be exercised..the mind doesn't either...it must be disciplined to relish a challenge much as the body needs this with physical exercise.  I used to believe that no matter what happened I would know the good that came from trying to do the right thing.  Dying for what I believed never really entered my mind...not really...good things come to those that love Him right?  Problem is my idea of good and God's didn't always agree and instead of confront the possibility that things might not work out the way I had always thought I just didn't allow that challenge to come my way if I could help it. 

My comfortable little world had begun to shake up a bit.  I heard the knock of God on my door in a big way when I ran across things that I didn't know how to deal with...beatings at the airport and the suicidal driving of the Ghanaians accosted me at first but my mind quickly tried to shuffle these troublesome things to the back burner to preserve it's comfortable thinking.  I had begun to form another dream...maybe this was the life for me...maybe I love this...if this is God's will I'll be okay...right?  We had completed a meeting some way out of town and as commonly happened we found out there were more meetings scheduled next.  I didn't catch the fact that these meetings were to happen in a restricted zone where there were checkpoints that were far from easy to go through...just because you get an invite from some pastor doesn't mean that the guards know about it so what do they do?  Get a pass?  Ask some high ranking official for permission?  No, we take it by "faith" and figure we won't tell the missionaries...because we wouldn't want their fear or doubt to make it more difficult...my world was soon to get another rude knock on the door.  It was hot...the days were always hot, the nights were always hot, the humidity was always there and you get used to it...maybe that dread you feel building inside is nothing...it's just the weather getting to me...yes, that's it.  I see up ahead a little check point with some specks that appear to be guards in black uniforms with black berets pace their patrol route...I notice that African Joe is looking intently now ahead as we pull up to the check point.  Now I'd seen guards in Switzerland checking the airport out and keeping our security in mind....this was an entirely different situation.  These men with machine guns do not have my best interest in mind nor do they care if I'm American or not.  They begin to speak very harshly to African Joe and a twinge of fear turns my sweat cold.  One of the soldiers aggressively approaches the vehicle not with his gun down but up and ready to fire...I'm at the passenger side of the vehicle he approaches me and points the gun at me while looking not only suspicious but very, very cruel...Joseph is frantically speaking to the guard at this point and I realize that I could very well be shot right here...I could die right here.  Nobody would know about it, nobody would care...I'd be one more dead body on the side of the road because the security forces here have killed many of their own...what's another corpse to them?  My Christianity and my beliefs flash before my eyes as I look at the cold hard stare of the soldier pointing his weapon at me...I see my own death foretold in those cold, hard eyes....and suddenly the tension is broken and the guard in front waves us through.  I am sweating bullets and scared as I've ever been...in total shock.   African Joseph turns to us and says...I told them if they kill us God will punish them...they'll be cursed so they let us go.  We had all come within about an inch of being shot to pieces and it was their superstitions and God's clever dealing that just kept us alive.  We drive down the road to the little church in the military base and the Africans act like it's business as usual but my faith has taken another hard knock.

You see, I know God moved, I know He saved us all but the comfortable faith that isn't challenged...that faith has died...it was shot at that little check point.  Missionaries have died at check points like that...not everyone you pray for gets better...sometimes it doesn't work out like you'd want...sometimes people die in some unknown field...do you dare to still believe?  I made up my mind then and there that if I die, I will not die faithless...I'll believe to the death.  We had a full day and finally some things outside of meetings came up.  We were to visit an old Portuguese castle...the very castle where so many slaves were shipped out of Ghana around the world.  Approaching this castle was quite amazing.  It's a surreal feeling that  is enhanced now by the experiences we've had.  Now we don't know what might be around that next turn.  Deepest darkest Africa indeed...now I see first hand why they call it that.  The castle is quite an intimidating structure and there's a feeling of old and stale evil there and the longer you are there the more it grinds on you...even worse than the heat.  if you look carefully you see us huddled near the steps for this picture...obviously we didn't need to be close for the picture...something doesn't feel right here.  Imaginations run wild here as we are shown the condemned cell where chieftains were put to starve until their will was broken or they died.  Some would turn to their captors and betray their own kind to preserve their own lives while others simply died in those oppressive cells.  We are taken to the commandants main room on the top floor, here is where he took the best of the women captured and did unspeakable things to them...the room is empty but it's easy to feel the evil staining this entire place....outside a throbbing drumbeat begins to hammer it's way into our skulls.  We ask what is going on and they say it's voodoo drums where they curse the days these things happened.  It's a side that sleeps in Africa beyond the feral beauty and the gentle kindness that your friends have.  There's something wild and untamed in it...just waiting to be awakened.  I feel like an intruder here.  Our last part of the tour takes us to what looks like a plank that leads out to the ocean outside view.  I feel the wind on my face that seems to wash away the foul air of the castle...or is the smell just in my mind?  The breeze feels liberating and then I catch the irony of that feeling.  So many walked this plank to a slave ship with conditions that are hard to imagine...this was the last time they would breath the air of their homeland...I'm just so ready to get out of here.  The beaches here have seen so much evil though it's hard to guess that at first glance .  This is also where atrocities of the modern era have taken place.  Executions were held on some beaches.  Mom told me that on her first trip there were signs saying to go no further....you wouldn't want to be hit by a stray bullet from the firing squad now would you?  Today as we walk this beach I see African Joe and I see him hold his hands up...the palms of those hands are the color of the African soil...I see almost like a vision...the troubled feeling of that castle fades away as I see this African man stand on the beach breathing free...glad to be alive...I'm so gripped by it that I nearly collapse...this picture still makes me weep...I cannot describe what I feel  .

Our days often would not be complete if we didn't stop at the open market.  There is no Walmart or Cosco or any of the other stores that we had that made all things convenient.  You see there's still the old way of shopping that stands here like something out of a Swiss Family Robinson movie .  There are shops for everything...whole city blocks seemingly dedicated to one product or another...meats here, baskets there, vegetables over there...it's a lot of walking.  The heat bakes some things boils others but it never helps bake the smell out of the open sewers .  Notice the trench on the left there?  Smells that come from there are so awful that it's hard not to gag when a breeze blows right in your face...grey water with things...we all know what those things are rolling down with the flow of someone's flushed toilet.  Here the senses are assaulted all over again...sights, sounds, smells...everything completely out of context.  Today your mind might tell you that you've seen this in a movie or on TV but it still won't prepare you for it.  We didn't have any of the shows then that we have today so my mind again feels like an engine revving in neutral.  We find animals that I try in vain to imagine what they looked like when they were alive....one looks like the mix between a rat and a ground hog.  They call it simply "grass cutter".  This one has it's guts seeping out a large cut in it's belly...I guess this kind of meat is more desirable when it's early in the day...right?  It's bad and I'm sorry but I didn't have the heart to take a picture of this creature's indignity in death.  Sometimes there are people holding large bats by the wingtips.  I don't know if they barbecue them or what but if I understood it right it was a tribal thing.  Not everyone from every tribe would eat that.  It was a remarkable thing to witness I can tell you!  I think I was too amazed to even think of my camera the first time I saw that.

The day ended with us coming home to what had begun to feel like a real haven.  We had learned to really love our guard at the compound .  His name was Mumoni...I don't know how to spell it but it was pronounced Moo Moo Nee.  I guess he was Muslim...they have a reputation to fight to the death to protect their charge.  I never knew much of the dark side of him until our second trip to Africa.  I asked where one of the two monkeys had gone that were there.  His smile that normally could light up the brightest day faded to a dark scowl...he informed me that monkey...that we had called Spock because of his pointy ears...was a very wicked monkey.  This monkey had escaped and attacked him...he had a machete...the monkey didn't...I think you can guess who won the conflict.

The first meetings in Ghana will ever hold a special place in my heart.  I think that God really took the time to let His grace fall on me.  I'd had a lot of shock for only being in Ghana a couple days.  Now I was feeling something besides just abject fear and bewilderment.  There was the stirring of a feeling now I recognize as very similar as when I saw our first baby born.  There's the oh wow moment followed by the moment of fear where you wonder if you can even manage to raise a baby and then it's so beautiful it makes you cry.  I had oh wow up until I stepped out that door of the airplane in Accra and went through that airport.  The fear came as I witnessed a man beaten horribly now was the time where out of all this chaos would grow hope and something bigger. 

We sat waiting the customary hours past when our driver said he'd be there and when he actually showed up.  The man that came to be our full time driver I actually met when he was terribly ill with malaria.  His eyes were yellow, he was feverish and yet he had something in him burning hotter than the fever.  He was a fighter...in spite of being sick he told me in heavily accented English that he was a very good football (soccer) player...nobody was better than him he told me in conspiratorial tones...as if this were a great secret he'd just shared with me.  He told me his name was Adu (pronounced Ah-Doo).  The next time I saw him he was fit and quite ready to drive us wherever we needed to go  .  Adu started driving us through traffic...did I mention that man is an artist when it comes to driving?  He squeezes through spots that made me shudder and drove at speeds I wouldn't drive even here let alone there.  We would ask him all sorts of questions about Africa...we just liked his personality...even if we didn't understand all he was saying.  One time mom was asking him something and he was chatting in his best English as we came along side a bus.  There was a young man that was dangling his leg out the front of the bus...Adu abruptly read that man the riot act in Twi and then said...oh, sorry mum and proceeded to talk to mom his best English...we just couldn't help but laugh!  We get very close to our drivers because they go everywhere with us...I've always held a good driver in high regard...we treat them well because our lives are in their hands. 

Often times we would go far before reaching a meeting place late at night, other times the meeting would be the first of many.  we would not know just how many we had until we finished.  Entering into a meeting here can be pure magic....one in particular comes to mind.  We went far out to get to a little church.  During the night all along the roadside there are little stands that people set up to sell various wares.  They have a single oil burning lamp...usually a bottle with a wick and some oil, burning next to them as they peddle their stuff.  Looking out the window seeing these little booths stretched for miles is amazing.  It looks like it should be some kind of holiday or something...Christmas yet it's so hot...4th of July yet, they don't celebrate that here...still it looks so beautiful and somehow haunting.  Sometimes there are women there huddled over their items and that lamp is burning and it looks like it must be some kind of fortune teller clutching a glowing crystal ball.  Sometimes it feels like this must be another planet. 

The magic of the journey itself is on me at this point...it's too amazing and then we come to a little church where they are singing worship to God.  Nobody, but nobody can sing and move like the Africans in praise and worship...it makes you hair stand up and I'm telling you I had goose bumps no matter how hot it was.  Almost always there's percussion of some sort and various instruments.  It often seems to me that the African solution of having instruments out of tune is to simply turn up the volume and be as enthusiastic as you can be.  Sometimes you can sit there wondering if this could possibly be something that is even music but under it is a very pure gathering of hearts worshiping God, not whining about things they don't have...it's a simple, powerful and dynamic faith that I so envy.  This night however, there was a power outage...when this happens you can see things that are pretty horrifying.  Once I witnessed a man with a long screwdriver poking into a socket trying to work something loose...I just prayed we wouldn't see it come on and blow him all the way across the room then we could see if we could raise someone from the dead!  This night had no one was messing with the outlets...no electric guitars...nothing fancy just the voices of the people..at least that's what I remember.  They sang so wonderfully and in the thatched roof they had a portion of the roof that would open as they pulled a rope so you could see the night stars above.  It was like there was an opening letting the worship of these people go straight to heaven.  It blew me away, I'd never witnessed anything like it before. 

Meetings always had something special about them wether they were near or far.  One meeting was held where they were raising up young people for the work of the ministry and mom spoke for the graduation ceremony  .  Oh, those Africans can dance!  They always wear their best and in spite of that dance until the sweat pours...again I love that so much about them.  They take what they have and praise God with everything they have  and I'm humbled by their honesty.  I came here to teach them?  I think not!  They are so beautiful .  I stand as a witness to that purity and beauty .  I love them so much and my heart is just singing because I don't know their words...I don't know what to say but inside I recognize it. 

You know they may never write a book about these wonderful people but wherever I go I will testify of the power of the Ghanaian people.  These mighty men and women of God .  These whom the world thinks nothing of .  These are those who raised me up into something I love more than life itself .  These who many say are poor yet never come to God with their hands out .  These are the heroes of faith.  They take what they have...even a saw and make music with it...and I am broken...yet more alive than I've ever been before. 

Riding the roller coaster of emotion on the previous day seemed to be far away in the excitement of looking through the tangerine colored curtains to observe the sun already high in the sky in Africa!  Am I still alive? Is this a dream? Could I really be all the way around the world?  Stepping outside to the steamy heat of the day that was already moving on felt very exotic.  There are sounds to be heard here that I've never heard at home.  The snip, snip, snip of the people trimming their yards with large clippers or whacking foliage with machetes, the endless toil of those that sweep every leaf from their driveways and fanciful birds chirping everywhere...and of course the every present cacophony of roosters crowing to see who has the most annoying voice in the world...don't they know the sun has been up for a long time?  The road outside the compound was a road only in that it led somewhere I'm sure...I don't even think it's a major road but Ghanaians have an affection for blaring  the horns on their cars that I cannot even begin to explain even on little roads such as this one.  They drive by a house...they honk, they pass someone on the road, they honk, they honk for things I don't see and things I do see...it's a Ghanaian driver's trademark to honk and they exercise this freedom with great gusto!  We have a big day...see pastor Harry at his church after we visit the police to get the necessary stamps in our passport.  This must be done within a short period of time after arrival or you face deportation or worse...don't know if it's still that way or not.  I take what is the first of many "showers" that we begin to call "trickle showers".  I think you can guess why...little or no water pressure.  This is how you learn to be thankful for a flushing toilet and a shower that actually works in a hurry. 

Now to wait on our ride...have you heard of African time?  I hadn't before experiencing it...I've found all the countries we've lived in have their own slant on the passage of time and the keeping of appointments...in Ghana it was like this:  "When will you be here?"  "Nine o'clock."   Then they arrive and seem puzzled as to why you look frazzled after you've been waiting two to three hours in stifling heat.  There's another privilege I didn't consider...driving my own car when and where I want to go.  Needless to say you learn to take it easy or crack under the strain.  We spend a lot of time waiting on the porch of the guest house...from the look of things we weren't alone.  The dog and cat had the art of waiting down pretty good!  Occasionally someone on the grounds would bring their children and somehow they never looked anything less than perfect .  Finally pastor Harry came to take us where we needed to go...this is the vehicle we often traveled in Notice his family?  They were so good to us!

The roads of Ghana I've mentioned before are nothing short of disastrous...at least they were at the time the but the drivers there see it as an exciting challenge to weave through traffic, ignore traffic signals and avoid people, cows, goats, pigs, chickens and other cars...not necessarily in that order.  My first journey would have scared me to death if I wasn't so busy taking everything in .  I took a lot of shots right out the window of the car all the while telling myself that I'd better do it because this has got to be a dream.  All of it was a far cry from what I knew in Montana .  The dirt itself was so orange and red...nothing like our brown sandstone filled dirt.  The housing was like nothing I was used to either .  It's still hard to explain what my heart was doing as I was watching all of this. I was excited and scared at the same time...shocked at the beggars that you could see that were so horribly crippled that they looked kind of like human spiders...no Hollywood effects either...horrible deformities yet there was one that had gold rings on his fingers.  I asked Pastor Harry about it and he said that guy was a rich man and all of it from begging...I don't know what his definition of rich was but I figured the guy deserved it.

Finally we got to the police station.  We sat in what seemed to be a high ranking officials office as secretaries came and went and he continued his paperwork pointedly ignoring us while he had a big scowl on his face...pastor Harry sat with us after putting our passports on the desk.  It was weird to feel both bored and intimidated at the same time.  The guy never did speak any English to us but did actually look at us like we were very annoying bugs that would be better off stepped on than sitting here in his office taking up space.  I don't know how long went by before he spoke some things to pastor Harry in Twi.  Then we got the stamp that allowed us to stay about 21 days.  All of that for a little stamp.  Here's a picture of my visa and extension .  I collect these like stamps...very interesting to see these stamps and remember where you were when you got them.

We then proceeded to pastor Harry's church in North Kaneshie.  This is the church where I saw my first African service ...I'll go into detail about services later.  I met one of pastor Harry's associate pastors .  He calls himself African Joe now...I love that...he says I'm American Joe, he's African Joe.  Both he and pastor Harry have shown me what it means to be a great man of God.  They are powerful, faith filled ministers of God and to this very day they are my modern day heroes of faith.  They have overcome obstacles, accidents, suffering and even defied death and gone from there to tell others about Christ.  Never once have I seen them be anything less then an example to others.  The Ghanaian people had begun to work their way into my heart...they were inspiring me in a new way.  My presumptions and religion were being shattered while in it's place this great anointing on these men was building a new and stronger foundation that would usher me not just through the rest of this trip but many others in the future.  Pastor Harry set up a schedule for us to visit many other churches and of course show us some of the sights to see around Accra, Ghana.  I felt completely out of control of it all but at this point I figured that if God had brought us this far he wouldn't just let us die.  We were to witness these people, learn from them, walk with them, befriend them, love them and bring back home the changed lives that speak louder than words. We received our commission and had legal right to be here...we were ready to go!  To be continued.... 

I've heard it said by some that Africa is where the garden of Eden used to be.  I don't know if that's true or not but witnessing it as I stepped out the door of our plane was like nothing I'll ever forget.  I had the sense that I was witnessing a place both old and very much alive and wild at the same time.  I looked at the quickly darkening sky and saw various spots near the horizon that were glowing a fiery red and orange.  This was from what I later learned was slash and burn farming...where they raze the jungle to the ground by burning it and then proceed to plant on the ashes of the burned area.  The heat assaulted me like the heat from an open door to an oven that's already pre-heated.  The smell?  The smell was actually pleasant and wild as I look back on it now...just as it should be.  It was like the smell of some exotic wood burning and leather...that's the only way I know to describe it.  We left the plane and boarded the bus... It kind of felt like we were being taken to a maximum security prison.  We arrived at the airport terminal...seems a morbid name don't you think?  We arrive and again the fact that I can't just blend in with the crowd is glaringly obvious.  It's pitch black at this point with a few incandescent lights burning in various places...and I'm white and towering about a foot over everyone I can see.  We wind our way down the dirty corridors to the room where we have to pick up our luggage.  At this point the sweat is simply soaking through everything and I know I look scared...I can't help it.  There's men all around me that look different...wild like the country itself...maybe my stress amplified this impression...I don't know.  I see a conveyor belt spinning and unlike most airports this doesn't lead to a nice room where you simply bring your stuff off to a nearby cart...oh no, not in Ghana at this time.  The luggage simply is dropped on the floor in an immense pile of luggage, some suitcases are broken...people that have their luggage are having it roughly rifled by airport security.  Let me explain a couple of things here:  1) we had huge bags...not the restrictions on everything then unlike now so we had various things to let us survive if we needed it...you know essentials such as beef jerky, cheese and cracker things you can buy anywhere....you know...essentials...I laugh at that now.  2) that bag represents my security and all the sanity I have left...it's my portable piece of home...I'm flooded with the sense that I must get my bag.  Now I'm feeling very, very edgy at this point...my emotions are teetering on the brink...I'm upset.  Pastor Harry comes through to help us but I'd never met him at this point so he's no comfort at all.  We shuffle like cattle through the security with dear pastor Harry's help...they riffle our bags and begin to chatter in their own dialect as we move to the front of the airport.  The human eye is attracted to things in motion so my eye was immediately drawn to a flurry of activity in front of us.  There's a wall made of hollow core concrete and through the holes are hundreds...literally hundreds of arms and hands reaching out to grab anything they can get from all the arriving passengers.  There's a desperation to the frantic grabbing motions and all of these people are shouting in a dialect I can't hope to understand...I know I look wretched clinging to my suitcase but I just couldn't help it.  Now as we leave and there are some people from pastor's church trying to help but they can't cross the thin rope barrier without getting in big trouble.  There are men in brown uniforms and my guess is they are porters all vying for a fee that they'd get for carting luggage a few feet to the parking lot.  At this point a virtual riot ensues because it's obvious we're not Ghanaian.  I find out in the most horrifying way why you don't cross the rope barrier.  There are other men in uniform with long bamboo...I assume it's bamboo...rods that are poking and prodding people to keep them back but someone makes it through...why did he have to make it through?  Right in front of me he crosses and the men with the rods move in quickly...I expected maybe they'd push him back across the barrier but instead a savage beating begins...it goes on and on.  We think the things we see on TV are bad?  We think we've witnessed brutality?  This man is on his back frantically trying to cover his face and being endlessly beaten.  I feel my faith being violated...why oh why did I come here?  We're finally shuffled into a car...too small, we're separated heading to what I can only hope is the same destination...could it get worse?  I feel that I'm already in hell. 

Ghanaian roads....I smile as I type this now but I wasn't then.  These roads are roads only in that they lead somewhere and I guess they're not overgrown with jungle.  They have pot holes...seems inadequate to describe the trenches that could swallow whole cars.  I figure that if there was a map it would look something like the old maps sailors had before the world was so neatly mapped...you know the ones right?  They go north into the unknown and then just show sea monsters and stuff...that's how the roads of Ghana should be marked...or at least should have been.  We did make it finally to the A of G guesthouse.  I know I'm in trouble, I can feel my mind spinning and emotions going wild like a car in neutral with the gas pedal to the floor.  Then I hear as clearly as anything the still small voice of God and it makes it through the chaos I'm feeling and says simply:  "You can trust in me or go insane right here."  It was like cool water and a slap on the face at the same time...I snapped out of it...I knew somehow that I must.  I was a long way from Montana and all that I knew...I had to survive.  I notice the huge gate as it slams shut behind us...our own little safe haven.  There are trees everywhere even inside the compound.  In these trees you can hear...large bats making sort of high pitched chirps...I think they were some kind of fruit bat because the fruit they were chewing on sometimes fell to the ground.  I had taken no pictures up to this time...I just didn't have it in me.  There are some that I've found of the days following.  I trudged off to bed so very tired...more tired than I've ever been my whole life..we all did.  Here we were in the place that many have talked about, the place some call the cradle of civilization.  It's only been one day and already I feel that I've fought just to survive...what will the next days hold for us?  

It was 1988, I was still a Junior in high school here in Montana.  Mom had begun to express interest in going to Ghana, West Africa and I wasn't quite sure what to think.  This was before the time of my graduation and bible school.  Mom had brought me to many places in the United States and Canada where she had meetings usually during my summer break.  It had been a tremendous privilege to see her faith in me displayed...not just talked about.  I didn't do much in those meetings usually it was me helping with the equipment and running the overhead projector.  I listened to the bible a lot and saw how God moved on people and always brought hope and encouragement.  It wasn't always easy.  There were times of tremendous financial pressure and difficulty but through it all I witnessed the provision of God.  When mom first started talking about going to Africa it was big change for us all.  She wrote to a pastor there and got the tickets and had a small team assembled to go.  Right before they were going to pack up and get on the plane the pastor wrote back saying not to come because it was too dangerous.  This was the time of great changes in Ghana and it could be quite dangerous indeed...especially for a foreigner.  Mom couldn't see how to just throw away the tickets and the team agreed so they opted to go to Africa anyway.  They arrived to find nobody there waiting for them and were soon in desperate straights.  They made their way through customs and went to a hotel.  People at this time were often suspicious of Americans since they believed the CIA had been involved with various power shifts in the government.  There was a saying in Ghana in those days that if you weren't careful they'd "change your sleeping place" meaning you'd go from wherever you were sleeping to a not nice jail cell if you weren't careful.  Mom awoke to the reality of life in countries outside the US in a hurry and quickly realized that they must get out of that hotel and find a safe place.  She decided to open the phone book and see what there was for churches that would be like us in beliefs and see what would happen if they gave them a call.  The found an Assemblies of God church and called the pastor there...he said simply:  "Well...I'll come get you."  This opened the door to Ghana for us and began what would be the beginning of several trips to Ghana and working with Pastor Harry Insaido.  I waited with the whole church anxiously awaiting the safe return of the team.  They returned with testimonies and pictures.  I took one look at their pictures and was instantly aware that no matter what I had to do I would go back with them when they went back which at first they swore they would never do.

Ever feel like you've had electricity go through your body and ignite your heart?  That's the feeling I had seeing those pictures.  I never thought of going to Africa before that. It's not like there was a travel channel or Internet that I could look at it and make some kind of rational decision. An instant flash change happened inside of me that I couldn't explain.  Finally after about a year went by we prepared to return to Africa again and this time I was on board...freshly graduated and about as big of a green horn as I could ever be.  We got on the plane...I'd never traveled so far in my life...I was the only guy on the team too.  We left the United States and made our way to Switzerland.  Up to this point I was taking it in and having a good time...this was long before the tragedy of 9/11 and so it wasn't the mess it is now.  We landed in Switzerland to change planes and began our walk to the part of the airport with flights to Ghana and things started to change.  A group of elite police with sub-machine guns rushed by us and proceeded to enter the waiting room we were going to.  They emptied plants out of the pots, checked garbage cans....I'd never seen anything like it in my life.  One of the ladies that went with us wore some jewelry that set off the detectors so she ended up getting strip searched and was very, very upset as you can imagine...we finally got our carryons together and sat in silence...a sense of dread was on us all.  Boarding the plane another thing hit me that I'd never experienced before...I realized we were the only white people on that flight and not any of them were speaking English.  They weren't mean but it was a very, very weird feeling to stick out like that....I was eighteen and my world was being shaken up on a very deep level that I couldn't yet understand.  We flew for some time before finally landing on the airfield in Accra, Ghana.  This by itself was not what I was used to either since normally you would pull up to the airport directly but for whatever the reason this did not happen on this trip...we stopped out on the field as a bus came up to the plane that looked like a prison bus.  Mom turns to me and very solemnly says:  "You're about to appreciate the United States of America more than you ever have your entire life."  How very prophetic that was!  We are there late at night...night falls in Ghana like a ton of bricks...it's a blackness that can almost be felt and is disconcerting.  We shuffle to the open door to deplane and the for the first time my senses are assaulted with things so foreign that I cannot describe what I was feeling....this is the first step into a larger world......more to come....

Yes, it's hard to believe when tags come along so fast you begin to feel that you're back in grade school all over again!  I got tagged again and normally I would be hard pressed to find something to talk about.  Eight more things about me?  My gosh, what will I do?  I thought to myself that it was time perhaps to begin a saga of sorts that talk about some of the mission experiences I've had.  Maybe this is the best way to start that saga.  My time will be getting much shorter once we come to the end of August because I must spend a good portion of the day with my kids as I school them and I play guitar for our church group that tours around our city during the season...we usually start practicing in short order once the summer is gone and practice for our touring and the studio albums we put out yearly will put big demands on my time.  It's exhausting but very gratifying in many ways.  Maybe this is just the time to start things off with another 8 things about me then I'll see what I can do to put some of my history together for those of you that have expressed interest.  For now there will be a few more things to wet your appetite before the sun at last sets on this particular time of blogging .  If nothing else this could give you some reading material for those times when you've got nothing else to do .  First thing's first here...I must say who tagged me...thanks Julie!  Seriously, I don't know if I'd even talk about this stuff if I wasn't pushed a little once in a while. 

1. I was eighteen when I first had a machine gun pointed in my face in Ghana, West Africa.  We had arrived shortly after a coop de tat and there was a lot of military on the streets and check points everywhere...I grew up in a hurry.
2. I was beaten with a police baton in Cochin, India during a political rally.  The crowd got increasingly unruly and wild there were a few of us Americans caught up in it all.  I was the first that attempted to cross a police barricade because we feared for our lives in the crowd...the cop didn't understand English and I didn't understand Hindi so actions spoke louder than words...
3. I conducted a water baptism service in a small village in the Philippines in water that was contaminated by blood flukes.  I saw signs everywhere saying not to do it but the people would have doubted me if I showed weak faith.  I opted to ignore the signs and do the baptism and didn't get sick...don't think I don't know a miracle when I see it.
4. During a time witnessing in a small village in the Philippines there was a man shouting and carrying on...he then started shouting at me directly...the crowd all started mentioning the word "bolo".  An old woman intervened and came between the irate man and I and he left finally.  I later learned "bolo" is their word for a very big knife...that man wanted to kill me and it was his grandmother that was the tool of God to spare my life...the village was devoutly Catholic and considered my speaking the way I was a threat.
5. My Filipino relatives often refer to me as a "burn again" Christian because I'm not a Catholic...they are generally very good to me though...good thing since rumors abound that they've killed people over there...yes, that would be some of my Filipino family.
6. I've orchestrated more funerals abroad then I ever have here in the states.
7. I have actually ministered to the people called the Karen...ever seen the new Rambo movie?  They would be the ones...they can be very fierce and scary...take it from me but they can also be very kind.
8. I've been attacked by rats while sleeping...it's not pleasant...one very large one liked to chew out the pillow I had below my ear...he wanted me to know he could have taken my ear off any time he wanted....they say rats aren't smart?  Tell that to the huge one that kept doing that no matter where I moved my bed.

There, not let this be the last one for a while and I will see if I can put some history together.  You've been a gracious audience...let's hope you're not reading this from somewhere inappropriate .  Wherever you are, have been or may be in the future, there's always an eye of the storm and a silver lining to that dark cloud .  It may be a temptation to lose faith in these days and just walk around with humanistic ideals but I believe that if you just minister to the mind or body you miss the spirit of a person and that's the most important part because it is indeed eternal.  I know that my faith has been often tried, often times I thought shattered but when I thought it was lost God was right there giving it back.  There's a purpose for you life, you are loved and wanted of God, never give up, never surrender!

I know that I didn't do this all that long ago and truth be told I find it hard to think of things about me that you all don't know or things that you'd want to know.  Eight things about me?  Eight little things, how hard could that be right?  I'll give this thing a shot but I'm not passing it on like I've said before in my entry "Chain Breaker" I usually put these things to rest. 

1. I didn't just have a mission to India I lived there and never intended to leave but after getting ill enough to lose 45 pounds and have my emotional health shattered as well I was nearly buried there.
2. I spent some time on the Thai/Burmese border ministering in a Karen refugee camp...first night there a little girl died of Japanese encephalitis.  I was able to speak with the commander of the rebels there and heard the bible quoted to me by a man that had his hands blow off and eyes put out by a grenade...I've never forgotten that moment and this experience broke me and rebuilt me on more levels than I can explain.
3. Okay, this is a bit lighter...the only reason I have ear rings is because my wife wanted me to do it...I went with three to be different...these are not the tiny ones mind you but they're not grossly large...16 gauge if I remember right...my favorite pair comes from Tokyo.
4. I took three years of bible school via correspondence school and was a straight "A"student.
5. Living in the Philippines was something I really wanted to do forever but 9/11 changed everything.  My time that I was visiting or living there was mostly spent in Mindanao...I know some of the Visayan dialect.  Muslim separatists made life for me and my family quite dangerous...I got tired of looking over my shoulder all the time or wondering if someday we'd walk past a store that would get bombed or that my kids would be kidnapped.
6. I've come face to face with a cobra...I actually nearly grabbed the tail of one in Madras,  India...I had no idea what it was and was a very ignorant young missionary...the pastor I was with nearly had a heart attack!
7. I'm forever ruined to cold weather from living as I have in the tropics....winter makes me suffer though I've been raised in Montana and live here now.
8. My wife and I lost a baby a couple of years ago and were told it was unlikely we could ever have another.  Along came Gabrielle...a.k.a. Gabby.  She was a miracle born emergency c-section December 30, 2005.  I nearly lost my wife with the baby but God being who He is spared my wife and brought a baby to us...all I can say is wow!

There's a little more history for ya'll.  We can now thank MaDukes for tagging me and giving me some extra work this Friday morning!