Interestingly, between moments of seeing my life flash before my eyes, there were moments where I saw a picture of missons in Africa; Where the world, all massive and awful, shouldn't seem to be gaining ground. And the Church, vulnerable but inherently sound, should really be in better repair and a step ahead of the chaos. Read More...

There’s an empty place in the AIM AIR pilot’s room at the hangar. The vacant desk is neatly arranged. All the Jepp books are set uniformly on the left side. To the right, a couple of endearing notes written in a child’s hand are placed in such a way that indicate they are intended to be saved, and cherished. A dymo label sticks to the bookshelf in the center. It says “Frankie”, and this was his spot. Read More...

Like a bullet that has already left the barrel of a gun, there are few things in our human experience which so emphasize the forward arrow of time as an airplane without power. There is only one eventual outcome. Down. And if you could snap a picture and hold it in your hand - freeze a moment of time when things still hung in the balance - you could not escape the fact that what you held was a picture of what was before. Before the world changed. Before, perhaps, it all caved in. Read More...

The fifteen-day journey was exhausting, leaving us with a pile of filthy laundry and a few new parasites. It also left us, not surprisingly, with heavy hearts. But also ideas, and a new sense of excitement to be joining God in His work—however hard it may be.
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So my bags are a strange mixture of survival gear, pilot gizmos, and cool cameras. In fact, just looking at them now, I'm reminded of what a great job I have. Read More...

I suspect that she might mistakenly gauge her life by the hairstyle she can't quite control, or the dinner that didn't come out quite right, or the unfinished or unrealized dreams she tucks away inside. Instead of the many other things that make her remarkable, like being a mother. Read More...

Today I flew in an African sky that was sometimes rough and rain-swept, sometimes velvet blue and crisp and smooth. I watched the little white clouds tick by below my wings, and below them, the muted green hue of scrub brush and new grass interspersed with Kenya's Mars-red soil. In my left hand I held the yoke of an old friend, and with a light touch, steered the Caravan on a homeward course. Read More...

I wonder sometimes how we walked away. From that feeling of security, and the "promise" of a good life. But those thoughts don't last long. Because right now I can't think of a better place to be, glancing over my shoulder to see if we're ready to board the plane, following the Lord and finding courage for the day. Read More...

Thank you for your hospitality and kindness. Thanks for the good meals and the encouraging words. For listening to our stories and sharing your lives with us. For your generosity. And most of all, for your prayers. Read More...

Each furlough after, we would carve out a similar circuit cross country, racking up thousands of miles over what might appear to be a haphazard course through a dozen states east of the Mississippi. First one, then two kids in the back seat. But always pretty much the same route. The lines on the map were like a connect-the-dots that, once finished, revealed a picture that only we could truly appreciate. Read More...