Listing 2011

This week Green Girl has been posting an ongoing list of things she's grateful for in honor of Thanksgiving. Today, I'll start my own list of the good stuff:

100. Quiet moments
99. Speakers that fill a room with bass and sound that wash over one with the mood and emotion of music
98. Perseverance... the stuff that drives one to just. keep. going.
97. The laughter around our dinner table
96. Snuggling against my mister on a chilly night
95. Sharpies
94. The Birthday Girls: Denise, Joanne, and Lisa
93. Breakfast Dates with Meera and Sylvia that last well past lunch.
92. Kindness
91. Seeing my children try.
90. And fail.
89. And succeed.
88. Coffee
87. Grace that makes the untenable surmountable
86. Purple
85. Freshly laundered sheets
84. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
83. History
82. The mister's jobs that allow him to work from home and me to be at home.
81. Possibilities
80. Avant's short-cycle church plant team in Gdansk, Poland
79. Elena. Our sweet sponsor daughter in La Moskitia who prays for us, humbles me, and is precious in every way.
78. Claudia. Our feisty sponsor daughter in La Moskitia who challenges those that would help her, has a smile that lights up my world, and has great potential should she choose to use it for good.
77. The Waits Family
76. Ally, Susan, and Marsha who have adopted me into their family and treat me like one of their own.

Receivers

A package arrived today, and it could have been the mister's birthday gift. Except that it was not. This reminded him that right around my birthday earlier in the year, he brought home a bass guitar amplifier. (I do not play bass guitar. He does.) I'd completely forgotten about the timing on his amplifier addition, but he remembered because, just in time for his birthday, "we" have added these to "our" collection:

Wrestling

The pocket book and the calendar remain key clues to the state of one's heart, mind, and perhaps soul. Asked to "wrestle with God," over opportunities to give to various projects, forward surged the urge to justify where both time and money are spent. From "mapping" potential income in relation to planned giving, the mister and I also looked at where we spend our time. If considering our family's projected giving over the coming year, it is not only the cost in U.S. Dollars, Polish Zloty, or Honduran Lempira that needs counting, but also the hours, days, and weeks to take into consideration. Our time is finite while the finances are fluid- dependant on everything from price fluctuation to job status.
Despite hearts for ministry in Poland and Honduras, there is no calling to go live in either country, but instead to stay in our Pleasant Suburb. ShelleyinPoland keeps prayer requests coming across the internet and updates on the fledgling church plant in Gdansk while the countdown ticks away toward the next visit to the La Moskitia region of Honduras. Not only that trip, but also a flurry of activity surrounding the Waits Family during their current furlough between personal time and ministry-related events reveal dedication to God's provision for the often marginalized people in remote Puerto Lempira. Gathering for Worship services at our family's church, an evening spent in the front yard for an ice cream social with our neighbors, meeting in small groups or one on one, sitting alongside Little Bit as we share the task of helping kids with homework at an after school program, a fledgling prison support ministry, loving on preschoolers who have been placed in protective custody at the local shelter, playing bass and directing the church band... The list of places where, individually and as a family, we are called and enabled to serve God and our neighbors next door or across town goes on and on even while there are seeds sown in far away places. Pleasant Suburb is the place where this family been planted, and our roots are deep here.
In addition to time, we are privileged to be part of funding ministry and charity in those places thousands of miles away where seeds can be planted out of sight, but not out of mind. We give regularly to share in the day-to-day operations of our local church. These aspects of financial giving and our times to worship and serve are all budgeted and scheduled just like the mortgage is paid and appointments are kept. Our calendar is often full. Our pocket book is not typically empty. More importantly, our lives and hearts are often overflowing. The time crunch of the often over-committed is keenly felt some days, and it is necessary to skip or delay some purchases to stretch our available funds. Those conservation activities feel worthwhile because what we have to give is not running down the drain but accumulating like so many drops in the proverbial bucket.
The places where we must scrimp on spending time or money are so often to allow for word of God's saving grace or demonstrations of His provision to be shared with someone or allocated in some place beyond our means and availability. This is possible because of the multiplication of many giving from personal resources to provide enough for all. Without gifts from the many people choosing to put concrete valuations on faith and charity by volunteering, donating, and simply putting the needs of others in a place of worth documented in calendars and financial records, the whole world would surely be a poorer place.

I wonder, Gentle Reader, what calls to you? Where do you find joy and satisfaction in sacrifice? Because giving seems a choice between self and others... and it is fascinating to see how personal needs and wants can be put aside in the interest and love of others. What does your calendar and pocket book reveal?

Attending

It was going okay until she said, "This morning, Ralph said..." Because she won't be able to say that ever again. Tammy was referring to her husband. I stood on the screened porch staring at nothing while Tammy, those family members who live in town, Tammy and Ralph's pastor, several ladies (who are more sisters than friends to the newly bereaved), and two little children playing on the floor waited for the Medical Examiner to conduct the necessary business inside the house.  The memorial service will wait for January 18th at 2:00 p.m. It will no doubt be well attended because there is much to celebrate when considering the life of Ralph Adler.
Gentle Readers may recall that the Spring of 2008 was spent in preparation for a prayer team to travel to Poland, and that the team faced an unexpected challenge. Missionary to Poland Shelley (ShelleyinPoland) and short-term team member Lisa's father became gravely ill that March. There were huge prayer chains formed via e-mail across the globe to pray for Ralph, and for his family. Months later, when he returned home, I took a scrapbook documenting the months of his illness and recovery with the prayers of individuals pasted into a book along with the faithful updates sent out by Tammy. That book was a testimony to the power of prayer, but it was a small thing compared to the impact of the man who mentored countless men including my mister. Steve Lucas put it well today saying, "The world has become poorer, and Heaven richer."

Having been part of a team praying for Ralph, a team including two of his daughters praying for Poland, and a smaller team praying for Ralph's daughter Lisa to be blessed with a child, I contemplate an image of Ralph holding the hand of that daughter shortly before the birth of his granddaughter. It is an image that speaks of faith and the power of prayer, and of the legacy of a man who loved God and others.

May, 2010

Wash

In 2008, I flummoxed my mister with a crying jag over not having lice. Not because I wanted lice per se, but because ShelleyinPoland had ended up with a case while serving children suffering from the critters. Not having lice on that day meant that I had not been amongst the team loving on those children. It was a very real grief.

Salon Services

An answer to my prayer to be able to minister (as ShelleyinPoland and the team she served with had) came almost two years later. The opportunity to share in shampooing thirty-odd heads of hair to relieve the children at House of Hope of their itchy scalps was presented last March. It was delightful to finally get the chance to act on what can best be described as a case of Holy Discontent. The experience brought relief to the kids while highlighting the issue of a severe water shortage affecting those in Puerto Lempira for Katie and I (who are both very accustomed to turning on the tap without having to consider from whence that needful resource springs). The whole experience was overwhelming, but one that is a treasured memory of that week in Honduras.

When the Reach Out Honduras Thanksgiving Team was given the opportunity to collect 20 RID lice treatments and repeat our "Beauty Salon", there was no hesitation in agreement. It was delightful to contemplate the repeat opportunity to be part of again meeting the kids' need for relief from that too common pest. Out of the blue this week, Mama Tara asked Laura about lice treatments for the children who shelter with her. Last night, Laura e-mailed asking if it would be possible to purchase an additional 13 treatments. Trip Leader Amy immediately responded that her mother was in possession of $100 given that day toward the purchase of the $9-$10 lice treatments. It was with a happy heart that I followed up Amy's response with the news that I had received another $25 yesterday for the treatments as well. While not sure if we have the full compliment of the original 20 treatments pledged yet, I know of at least ten plus two promised by former Operation Prayer Surge (Poland, 2008) teammates ShelleyinPoland and Lisa.

I'm consistently amazed at the blessings that come in sometimes odd packages. Yet, I find an overflow of thanksgiving that this perhaps yucky ministration is the ministry which God offers again because the act of meeting this need for those we serve ministers to my own heart. Again, I find tears coming in response to children who have lice. It is with absolute gratitude that I contemplate the incredible gift of being one of those who will be serving in a way I so keenly missed years ago. Here's to taking our shampoo and comb out salon even further and reaching out to ever more people with a ministry that might not be for everyone, but means the world to me.

Opportunity

Raised in a household that held the often-expressed opinion that organized religion was all about snatching away one's hard-earned cash, I admit to being a bit squeamish about raising support for mission trips. While there is not the slightest hesitation to assume that others want to pray for us, it is more difficult to ask for money; yet, I was put out to discover that people do send out letters to ask others to contribute to the expenses associated with missional travel. Not put out by the requests, but because the people who we had known over the years that went on mission trips had often not sent us such requests.
The first letter I recall was from a former mentor sharing her excitement about heading to Africa. In fact, her letter was the inspiration for my own letter months later, but she was far from the first person we knew who was making a short-term or extended mission trip. The feeling of having missed out on the opportunities to be part of sending others out to places where we were not likely to go was akin to an emptiness in the pit of one's stomach. The realization that our known lack of ready cash had possibly been reason for others to withhold the opportunity to be part of their sending teams left a decidedly unpleasant hollowness. It also led to an added excitement in 2008 as support letters for Operation Prayer Surge in Poland were written and sent out. God provided every penny of the expenses related to that trip, and many people prayed from home as the in-country team moved throughout several cities and landmarks praying for Poles and those ministering to them.

White Christmas

The snow flurries of Christmas Eve failed to disappear overnight thanks to temperatures well below freezing. According to a Facebook post by an old acquaintance, it was colder in Pleasant Suburb than it was in Canada. Shelley in Poland reported rain in Gdansk while noting the freak snow in her home state. How very odd, and how utterly delightful, to creep from our beds to peer out the window at a field of scarcely broken white. Unbroken until we marched out into it for a Christmas morning snowball fight.
A good hour later, we returned to the house where a breakfast casserole and fresh biscuits awaited. Slipping back into our jammies, we each checked our stockings. Thanks to the snow outside, we have seen the first time ever in this household that stockings went unchecked on Christmas morning. Of course, it's also the first White Christmas in mine and the mister's married life--- and the first one in Pleasant Suburb since the 1920's.

Damage

Today's skype download allowed Shelley in Poland to call so we could talk face-to-face via web cam. My girls had a ball playing with different features such as causing me to appear to burst into flames on Shelley's computer screen 2,000 miles away. Shelley helpfully suggested that it was a bit distracting for her to carry on the conversation with me periodically catching fire so that little function was eventually turned off.
She gave a virtual tour of her new digs in Gdansk which led to a discussion of how she could not really drive a nail through the walls to hang stockings or decorations with ease. I decided to show her the Contact non-damaging hooks we use on our walls. Except that when I jiggled the hook, I pulled it too hard. Way too hard. Because the "non-damage hook" did some damage. In fact, my tug took the paint right off the wall. It also took the texture along with the paint leaving 3"X1" spot of smooth drywall showing where the hook's adhesive had been moments before.
The mister chose that moment to reenter the room. Hand covering my mouth, eyes wide with horror, I edged away from the site. The hook was not-quite-casually tossed under the couch. Don informed me later that Shelley-on-the-screen-from-Poland also had her hand over her mouth, but her look was one of pure glee. There was somewhat strangled laughter on this side of the Atlantic and flat out belly laughs from hers', but I do not think I made a very good case for the adhesive hangers.

Crash

Despite a couple of glorious sunny days in the past week, the clouds returned with their gloomy drizzle yesterday. Erin cruised the house with a baby blue balloon. Somehow, her balloon came in contact with the wall where Mommy's Polish pottery saucers live in perfect peace 363 days a year. (The other day involved the mister's bass guitar. It was an accident.) In my Terribly Calm voice, I asked Erin why she would possibly think it was okay to play with a balloon in the house while gesturing between the pottery on the wall, the bits of pottery on the floor.

Gathering the remaining seven saucers from their hanging hooks, I carried them off never to be seen again while we have children living at home. Returning, I measured the space on the wall covered in hangers spaced precisely for nine saucers. The measurements would ensure that I was not patching holes in the wall which would likely prolong my ire at Little Bit who was, after all, just behaving like a child who has been cooped up off and on for over a month between rain and the flu. Then I took my mad self off to the bedroom to glare at the t.v. until the mister bravely entered to suggest we go out in search of something suitable to hang over the accusingly empty Wall of Shame. The man knows me well. Filling the empty wall did wonders for my disgust with childhood foolishness. Besides, now I have somewhere to hang my apron.

Shoe Purse!

Last year, Lisa and I flew 5,000 miles to Poland to pray with our team for Poland in Poland. We stayed with Lisa's sister Shelley who happens to be a missionary to Poland. During the stay, Shelley and I visited an open air market with another team mate. There we found some likely looking pre-owned handbags for a reasonable price. Shelley chose one big enough to schlep around her stuff during our daily outings, and another for a friend of ours, Denise, who did not join us on the trip.
Shelley and I presented the bag to Lisa at dinner. She was equally bowled over by our fabulous find. There was no small amount of laughter as we talked about the bag's ultimate destination. (Denise is an accessory aficionado. The woman is like the Stephen Hawking of handbags and jewelry. I love her special sort of genius even more because it is not quite my own "thing".) Lisa and I eventually carried the purse back to the U.S. with us. I figured customs would confiscate it for sure, but they left our treasure unmolested to make the final leg of our trip back to Texas.
Months later, Denise's birthday rolled around. The group of women who I refer to in my head alternately as The Birthday Girls and as part of the collective of The Women headed off to our traditional birthday celebration of dinner and a movie. As Denise opened her assorted gifts, a special package "straight from our Fabulous European Vacation" was presented with Shelley's special gift lurking within layers of pretty tissue. Inside Denise found the multitasking accessory of her dreams--- Shoe Purse!

Witness

The work will make you free. These words pierce my heart and mind as few others can. With a stomach in knots, uncertain whether or not the spiritual and emotional upheaval to come would be more than I could stand, I walked beneath these very words months ago. Words echoing from cacophony into whisper in the recesses of the mind with a single word of accusation: "lie". These very words greeted those who entered the gates at Auschwitz-Birkenau and other camps like them in the bleak world of Nazi-occupied Europe.

A feeling of intense weight pressing one into the gravel-covered road necessitated an ordered and almost processional pace for entry into Auschwitz. Even gravity recognized the oppression of the place despite its neat exterior more closely resembling a scout camp than a death camp. The lie in the words overhead as we crossed into Auschwitz screamed out still louder across decades with recognition of the spaces between the fences stretching out away from the gates--- a killing ground extended between guard houses marked by twin sets of barbed wire and an expanse of cleared ground. The line of demarcation between Freedom and masses of people judged to be less than human. A line between darkness and light incarnate.

Within the structures inside those gates are memorials of every kind from extraordinary altars of candlelight and flowers offering appeasement for lost souls to the innumerable piles of the ordinary including items from shoes and eyeglasses to infant clothing. The mundane items that speak of the feet which were ever only intended to walk in through those gates, the eyes which were not intended to record the realities of the camps' interiors, and of ruthlessness and loss. Art, history, fiction, and memory have sought to somehow make sense of the lives both lived and lost within of Auschwitz-Birkenau's barbed embrace. The camp's remains house words, art, and photos documenting those who refused to give in to the horrors and those who could not help being swept away, and an endless line of those who would bear witness to the mute testimony walk the halls. This is not a place for forgetting.

Expansion

I'm looking for inspiration to write a brilliant, or at least passably appealing, recruiting message for volunteers to serve up a quick cup of coffee or hot tea along with a moment of conversation for a couple of hours one Sunday morning a month. The coffee shop in our church is looking to expand their volunteer staff, and I am hoping to be helpful in administrating the volunteer calendar for that expansion. I'm amused to be sending and receiving e-mail from an address including the tag "morethancoffee". Yep. Mmm-hmm. Because it is about more than coffee.
One favored former pastor used to say that giving someone a cup of coffee helped them to relax and feel more comfortable in an awkward or new situation. I started observing myself and sort of spying on others (in a surreptitious way of course--- otherwise it's called "gawking") to see if the coffee cup (or other beverage of choice) really did ease social anxiety. Sure enough, the most fidgety and uncomfortable social moments were repeatedly diffused by the seemingly humble cup of joe.
So. When we entered our new church home, what should I see? A whole coffee house just waiting for me. Well, it was not quite waiting for me, but I was drawn into it from day one. Only to discover that the coffee house has a global missions base and purpose. How cool. It is the very place I dreamed of as a mission field in Poland. Except that I do not have to build it. Or cross an ocean. And every weekend people already come. I can just show up.

Not Polish

Whoa. Shelley and I had some yummy Polish food at lunch yesterday because the sklep is also a restaurant. Everyone else... mmm. Not so much. Because the results of our hours shopping for ingredients and preparing a really... um, involved meal were not so good. I will spare the details of our thoroughly misguided attempt at preparing pierogis (dumplings) and sernik (Polish cheesecake). Thankfully, we did have kielbasa to salvage the dinner.

Unfortunately, we also had the cheesecake. I was sadly going to forgo eating any of the delicious sounding cheesecake topped with a layer of thinly sliced peaches, meringue, and finished off with a crumb topping. (The operative word in that sentence was "sounding".) Everyone at the table sampled a bite of the treat that oddly resembled scrambled eggs with peaches. Shelley looked thoughtful. Don proceeded to scoop up a bite of the stuff to offer me saying, "You won't be breaking your fast [from sweets] with this..." before putting the single most vile bite of food into my mouth ever created. Holee cow. I can now say that I have eaten something so vile that I spontaneously cried. Wow. Whoo. Oomph. Apparently there are two kinds of "twarog" cheese, and we did not use the right one. Imagine dry cottage cheese with (Oops.) twice the butter called for in a dish that ended up reminiscent of cake batter with cottage cheese, a hint of peaches, and finished off with a highly bitter aftertaste. Oh my, my, my.

I still stand by the company. Despite five hours invested in a meal that I would feel guilty serving the dogs, I can honestly say the day was fun. I am not a Polish cook. My appreciation of good Polish food grows every time I attempt to prepare it. But I would not trade the fun of watching Shelley try to get instructions from three women all speaking rapid-fire Polish as they each weigh in on how much bacon we need for the pierogi filling... only to discern that one of them is underestimating because there are two pounds left in the meat counter--- and she wants one pound. Or watching the girls roll out the dough and cut circles for the dumplings before everyone gathered in the kitchen to begin filling and sealing our little pockets of potato, cheese, and bacon, followed by all three kids anxiously peering into the pot to see if we had any "floaters" that were ready to eat. Or the combination of chagrin and laughter at the discovery that the carefully filled pockets had all stuck together on the plate while waiting for cooking. Any day filled with laughter is okay in my book even if I eat something that literally brings me to tears.

Polish American

Yay! My favorite Polish American or Amercian Pole is home for a bit. Last night Shelley and I met at my favorite coffee shop in Suburbia just to hang out for a bit... and make plans for today's festivities. Today is something of a "Celebrate Poland" day at our house. Shelley learned to make pierogis in Poland. I made some truly bad Zurek (a kind of soup) for our family after returning from Poznan last Spring. Today, the opportunity to make both will be part of our day as Shelley comes to visit. I'll meet Shelley and her Mom to go have lunch and fulfill our specialty shopping list at a Polish grocery (sklep) in a nearby suburb. (The grocery store photo is from a previous grocery trip with Shelley... except it was a Polish grocery that was in Poland rather than Suburbia.) Then Shelley and I will be attempting to duplicate the feat of making pierogis which will be part of our dinner along with what will hopefully be good Zurek.

In addition to Don and I, the kids, and Shelley, Shelley's sister Lisa and Lisa's husband John will complete our dinner party! Hooray! While I am sincerely hopeful that the dinner will be wonderful, I know the companionship will be the best. After our yummy Polish dinner, we will all load up for the drive to the church. Erin is performing tonight (along with her adorable friends from dance class) at the church's monthly artist's gathering where original material is shared. It is awesome that we are all sharing so much with one another tonight from our home, to Shelley's Polish cooking expertise, to John and Lisa's ready laughter, and the children's corny jokes and talent. Whatever we each bring to the evening, it's bound to be memorable. Both my glimpse into Shelley's Polish world and her American world will come together tonight. What's not to love?!

Footnote:

Last night Shelley shared the raw footage of her support-raising video with me. As we watched, it struck me that several talented people were in the building who might share their expertise with her to create a piece that would truly communicate the spiritual need in Poland. We showed the video to our church's generally brilliant programming director Jan who had a couple of helpful comments, but was not really struck by the images that had me turning away from the screen to avoid sobbing. The message was not coming across in the video. First thing this morning, my phone rang. Those images that were not communicating the needed message did stick with Jan. So much so that she was calling with a makeshift verbal storyboard communicating the very real spiritual starvation in Europe. Whoo-Hoo!!! I am hoping that Shelley will be able to communicate why she goes out through the images and words with the addition of Jan's keen mind and eye to the creative process.

Go Out, Send Me

It's likely to be a wild day at my usual Tuesday morning coffee date. There is a difference that makes today a not-so-usual Tuesday aside from the U.S. elections. I sort of invited a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses in to visit at a friend's house a couple of weeks ago, but then I had to leave. And I had an infusion last week which kept me at home causing the hostess to push back the planned visit. So we are having coffee with a pair of very nice JWs who wish to convert a batch of Christian women. Ought to be interesting.
I do not consider the visitors to be presumptuous. I am interested in hearing what they believe, and it will be held up to Scripture for testing. I do admire that the JWs go out and take the likely uncomfortable step of knocking on strange doors to share their beliefs even though I probably do not agree with them. Yes, having heard comments and arguments about "shoving religion down the throats" of those either uninterested or otherwise believing people, I am aware that witnessing or sharing one's faith is unpopular in our culture. It's considered largely intolerant. And yet. I say that I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God who died for my sins so that I could regain communion with God the Creator of the Universe and not endure eternal torment. If I truly believe this, and I say that I care about someone, how could I possibly consider their "comfort zone" or their desire for "tolerance of other beliefs" more important than their souls?!
The ladies in the photo are not unlike the JWs we will meet with today in their desire to reach out and share their faith. All three inspire and ignite me by simply living their lives. To Krista and Shelley who say both "I'll Go" and "Send Me" and to Janene who ministers closer to home, but in ways no less powerful, I can look for examples of whose I am.

Goodies

Yay! A batch of new Polish Pottery arrived last night. Shelley (who is now in Suburbia instead of Poland for the moment) and Joan did the shopping in Poznan, and a short-term missionary team member brought the goodies back over the Atlantic before mailing them on to Texas. So, today I offer three patterns not previously posted on this blog...

Dinner Date

Oh, my. I can hardly contain the "Whoo-Hoo!" of this mighty fine Tuesday. It started out pretty ordinary, but things have been picking up steadily all day long with tonight holding some serious promise. I heard from Sister, who was hunting a ride for the seminary student, and while I was not useful in that endeavor because there was, in fact, a left turn and a highway involved to my eternal chagrin, I am thrilled that Don and I will be joining Student and her hosts for dinner tonight. Did I mention previously that Student has spent the past few years serving as a long-term missionary in... (Hee!) Poland? I cannot wait for a dinner tonight!

Update: Bad Shelley! A certain Polish MISSIONARY sent me a greeting for our dinner guest that she claimed was a polite "Pleased to meet you...", but I was a bit concerned about what I thought was the Polish word for "horse". Luckily I couldn't remember the wahtever-it-was I had been instructed to regurgitate. I get home from dinner to find an e-mail with a tone that was clearly laughing saying that the real translation was, "I have to pee like a racehorse." Niiiice.

FIVE!!!

Holy WOW! Word came this morning that prayers for Poland are being answered in a huge way. A single salvation is rare there, and such is cause for celebration. Last week a team of thirty people arrived in Poland to minister through gospel music concerts and evangelism. There were FIVE salvations. Shelley commented this morning that the long-term team has never had a short-term missionary lead a Pole to Christ, and so it is with even greater joy that we can greet the news of such circumstances occurring five times in such a short space of time. What a wonderful beginning to this day to receive such great news! Whoo-Hoo!!!

Full Armor

Yesterday, I was looking up scripture from the trip to Poland to quote in my scrapbook. I am familiar with the verses on the "Full Armor of God", but enjoyed the opportunity for the familiar passage to be presented in a fresh way during the OPS trip to Poland last month.
Dale, who is currently serving in Poland as a missionary, gave an intriguing combination devotional and Polish history lesson to our prayer team. He and three young men (the sons of one of our hosts) appeared dressed in actual armor bearing shields and weaponry! (How cool is that?!)
The scripture reference began with Ephesians 6:10--- for those who are not immediately familiar with the passage:
The Armor of God 10Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might.
11Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil.
12For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.
13Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.
14Stand firm therefore, HAVING GIRDED YOUR LOINS WITH TRUTH, and HAVING PUT ON THE BREASTPLATE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS,
15and having shod YOUR FEET WITH THE PREPARATION OF THE GOSPEL OF PEACE;
16in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.
17And take THE HELMET OF SALVATION, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.
Dale's teaching was an awesome time of preparation for our team before we headed out on our road trip that included the visits to Auschwitz and the Jasna Gora monastery where the Black Madonna is housed. One of our team members became ill on the return trip, but we had Dale's visual of the guys locking their shields together in order to present a stronger defense to inspire us to pray together for the health of our team mate. Our prayers for him were answered with his ability to rejoin us. He said later that he was feeling better after our prayers, but that his full restoration came about as we travelled on down the road singing our praise.

Exploratory Venture

Hmmm. I talked with Shelley (in Poland) this morning. Don and I have been actively seeking a short-term missions trip that would let us head for Poland as a couple. Shelley e-mailed earlier today, and Don told me I should just call rather than trying to contain my response to her in an e-mail. During the conversation she mentioned that a team may be coming in November for a variation on English Clubs. That team will be in transit on our youngest daughter's birthday, and I would prefer not to leave the country on Little Bit's eighth birthday.
As the conversation went on, we turned to the possibility of an exploratory trip. Don and I would potentially head for Poland outside of an organized group. We would stay with Shelley as Lisa and I did this Spring. Because we would not be in country with a larger team, Don and I would have the opportunity to be fully immersed in Polish culture and daily life with Shelley. It's an exciting prospect, and I wonder if it will become a reality.