My new African grand daughter

Lindsay adopted Resty while she was in Uganda. From the moment I saw her picture, Resty's eyes and her smile captured my heart. There's such a mixture of sadness and longing and patience and hope in her expression. I feel a deep connection and a compulsion to pray for her.
How is it possible to love a child you've never met and is half a world away?

Ahh, spa!

We are back to the real world. It was a wonderful get-away--not what we expected, but evidently what God thought we needed.

Highlights: hiking around Cascade Lake and spending an hour praying out loud with Ann. We saw deer, ospreys, chippies and a blue heron.

Fishing at Horsethief reservoir. One fish we released didn't survive and we watched an osprey circle around it for 30 minutes before swooping down right before our eyes and scooping it's dinner out of the lake. Awesome!

Playing in the Payette river: we kayaked, fished for ravenous (but tiny) perch and just generally lazed about on a sunny Idaho day.

Soaking at the Gold Fork hot springs: according to the care taker, the waters at this primitive resort are loaded with lithium (used in anti-anxiety drugs). She told us that even the wildest of youngsters mellowed out after soaking for 20 minutes in the warm pools.

This picture of Greg illustrates how we all felt at the end of our "spa day"!

Holy Smokes!

We were supposed to be spending the week at Allsion Ranch, a remote wilderness lodge in Idaho (Greg and George were going to work on sermons, Ann and I planned to read, hike and fish). We flew to McCall on Sunday and were to catch a small plane to the Ranch yesterday.

Wildfires changed all that, however.

Apparently, the smoke is so thick near the Ranch that the pilot didn't have enough visibility to take off. So, our stay at Allison Ranch was cancelled and I expected we'd head back to Portland.

But the kind folks at Allison Ranch are putting us up at a luxurious hotel for the rest of the week instead.
Greg and I were blown away--we think this could be about the nicest place we've ever stayed at. Jacuzzi tub, rain forest shower, fireplace . . .

Holy smokes! I love how God's plan B is always better than our plan A!

two thoughts on blind faith . . .

From Streams in the Desert:

To trust in spite of the look of being forsaken; to keep crying out into the vast, whence comes no returning voice, and where seems no hearing; to see the machinery of the world pauselessly grinding on as if self-moved, caring for no life, nor shifting a hair-breadth for all entreaty, and yet believe that God is awake and utterly loving; to desire nothing but what comes meant for us from His hand; to wait patiently, ready to die of hunger, fearing only lest faith should fail--such is the victory that overcometh the world, such is faith indeed. --George MacDonald

From Candyce:

i am alive and well! africa is amazing and crazy! the first day in kampala we had this opportunity (through a crazy set of cirmcumstances) to meet iwth a memeber of ugandan parliment. he gave us a tour and took us out for dinner and then asked us to be his special guests at a youth ralley he is putting on. we listened as he told us of his plans to bring more peace to uganda. God is so good.

yesterday was really hard, i am not going to lie. we took a car from kampala to arua and it took about 10 hours on wretched roads. but we did see baboons! the base here in arua is super primitive. no electricity execpt for a few lightbulbs in a few rooms. so i look like a crazy african woman alll the time, but its kind of great. i showered under the stars last night, and it was amazing, freezing, but still amazing. you would be proud of me. there are no comforts here, everything is rugged. so good for me. today, we walked two miles into town to find internet and bread for tomorrows journey into yei. please pray. they say crossing into south sudan is safe, but im still a bit nervous. God has kept us safe thus far.

Awesome possum!

A snapshot of the past 36 hours of my life:

Yesterday, at 6:30 am, I said goodbye to Candyce, who is heading off for the wilds of Africa. She's traipsing off to potentially dangerous territory with an overweight back pack and a friend. They say they are "trail blazing," scouting out several African countries for future mission trips. They told me not to worry.

I saved her last voicemail on my phone so I can listen to her sweet "goodbye, mum, I love you!" over and over again. For the next two months!

I arrived at work at 8:30, and was immediately hit in the solar plexus by a very nasty email from a co-worker. I tried to resign, but my boss wouldn't let me. He explained patiently that nobody likes being attacked and that everything would work out fine. I didn't even try to explain to him that I've been attacked so many times by my fellow "Christian soldiers" that I come unglued quite easily. I just nodded, and headed back to my office for prayer and chocolate.

Last evening, I talked Greg into buying a window airconditioning unit because it's 102 degrees and our bedroom gets really hot. He agreed, but while we were installing it in our bedroom window, it slipped from my grip and plummetted toward the ground. Did I mention our bedroom is on the second story?

Greg was holding the window open so I could position the unit, but when I called for help--I was frantically clutching a flimsy piece of plastic--he let go of the window which promptly fell on my head. So there we were, both hanging out the window, trying to wrestle the unwieldy 50 lb. airconditioner back into the house, yelling for Danielle to come help us. Of course, Scout was barking her head off!

I can't imagine what the neighbors thought! But they are probably used to us by now . . .

We were finally able to rescue the runaway air-conditioner, but by that time we had to head to the airport to pick up Lindsay, who was returning from two weeks of ministry in Africa. I was bruised and traumatized, but anxious to see our adventurous daughter. (And she had some amazing stories to tell. I am so proud of her!)

At 9 am this morning, Greg and I were able to finish installing the air-conditioner. It still doesn't seem very stable to me, but it works and at 102 degrees, that's all that matters. I was in the shower at 9:15 and heard Lindsay screaming.
It turns out that Greg had asked her to help him take the cover off our pool and they'd discovered a dead possum floating underneath it. The critter had been deceased for some time, apparently, and they had quite the time removing it (piece by piece) from the pool. By the time I got dressed and made it downstairs, Greg had disposed of the nasty, smelly creature.

"It's in the freezer," he told me, sounding rather pleased with himself. "I'll put it in the garbage on Thursday morning."

Yeah, I screamed. You would have, too, if you'd found out there was a decaying rodent in your deep freeze!

An hour later, Lindsay and I were enjoying massages at the Haven of Rest Day Spa, part of Greg's birthday present to me. I tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about the possum. We then got pedicures and generally pampered ourselves the rest of the day.

Only the Lord knows what tomorrow holds!
And I'm not going anywhere near the freezer until the garbage truck comes on Thursday!

the church of the redeemed

I had the great privilege of attending an unusual church service yesterday.

And I had the great joy of hearing the testimonies and witnessing the baptisms of about a dozen folks during that service.

What made this service so special was the fact that nearly all of those who were baptized in the mighty Columbia river were homeless. Or formerly so. The congregations was comprised of prostitues and preachers, sex addicts and Sunday school teachers.

And Jesus was there, too.

There was such a rawness in their testimonies and an exuberance in their confession of Jesus Christ as Lord. They welcomed that watery grave of baptism as death to their old lives and the beginning of something wonderfully new.

Joy exploded. Hoped abounded. Love knit our hearts together as we laughed and wept, often at the same time.

You could almost hear the angels cheering as each precious soul entered into the family of God . . .

freedom

My spazzy little dog, Scout, spent last night cowering pitifully in my jacuzzi bathtub. In her confused doggie mind, it represents a bomb shelter of sorts, shielding her from the barrage of fireworks that started yesterday afternoon.
The "booms!" and "bangs!" that delight the neighborhood children scare the poop out of my poor pup.

Literally.

We've given her doggie tranquilizers. We've tried coaxing Scout outside, to somehow prove that the fireworks won't hurt her. We've attempted to drown out the noise with fans or loud music.

But to no avail. Scout knows they are out there and she's terrified. So she'll hunker down in my tub until the neighbor's supply of Piccolo Pete's run out and the last boom is heard. It's traumatic for her--and stressful for us, since we have to live with a crazed animal for weeks on end.

And the really crazy thing is that she's in absolutely no danger at all. The threat is all in her doggie brain.

Kind of reminds me of the way I used to live. Shrinking back from invisible bullies, cowed by the whispered threats of the accuser, paralyzed by the spirit of fear. I can just imagine what the angelic hosts must have been thinking:
"Why is this spazzy Child of the Most High so fearful? Doesn't she know that every hair on her head is to be accounted for (even the ones that are turning gray and falling out), that no weapon formed against her will prosper, that she has the Holy Spirit to lead and guide her, and King Jesus Himself prays for her. Not to mention that we are on duty, watching over her, 24/7 every day!"

Yep, Scout and I were two petrified peas in a pod. But in His great mercy, the Lord caused His truth to penetrate my heart--and that truth set me free. My old nemsis, Fear, continues to taunt me from time to time, but now I recognize how impotent and empty his vicious lies are. The truth has set me free, indeed! (Although mean dogs and foggy plane rides still make me nervous!)

Poor little Scouters! How sad that our celebration of freedom makes her a captive of fear. Maybe someday the truth will dawn in her little doggie brain and she'll climb out of the bathtub . . .