Letters, stories, and other stuff
132 stories
Jun 1, 2005 · Essay
The uncertainty, apprehension, and lack of control are all part of the package. But, even at the onset, there is a suspicion that what a person takes away from two weeks in Africa will be much more than what he leaves behind.
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Oct 1, 2004
We sat hunched over on goatskins, in a dark, steamy, somewhat smelly hut of sticks and grass and cardboard. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, after coming in from the blazing sun of a Kenyan afternoon. Renee and I…
Continue readingApr 1, 2004
Home again – in the familiar pew of a hometown church, I touch the wood and upholstery and then look down to see the scuffed leather of my familiar shoes set against the deep, clean carpet. My mind wanders for a moment and I imagine these…
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Nov 1, 2003 · Essay
As for me, I get down to see Sudan as God does from time to time. It is a rare privilege to walk with some of the Christians here when I do, and always a joy to have a few scruffy, smiling children at my heels. Once you have walked here,…
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Jun 1, 2003 · Essay
These were my teammates at AIM AIR, some of the best men I’ve ever known. What struck me standing there was not so much the satisfaction in watching them, but the privilege in being counted among them.
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Mar 1, 2003
Tired, cold, and eyes full of wonder, I thought about ol’ Ludwick and me. What we had in common was more than coming to Africa or preaching the good news. What we had was perhaps a moment in time when we had both looked upon this same…
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Sep 1, 2002 · Essay
The reports had put me through a range of emotions… anger, sadness, disbelief, insomnia. I thought about those who were tortured, and about the poor woman and her four-year-old child (who was probably very much like my four-year-old child)…
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Jul 1, 2002 · Essay
Behind me are my wife and two precious children. Before me are two thousand miles of war, poverty, unbelievable need, treacherous jungle airstrips, and bad weather. Just another day (or two) on the job.
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Jun 30, 2002 · Essay
Out my window are only the pale green tops of hundred foot trees. No fields, no roads, no clearings. I come to the realization that “going down” out here would mean being swallowed up by the rain forest and very likely never being found.
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Feb 1, 2002 · Essay
The noise of my typical flight is the throaty rumble of our smaller Cessnas, and the snap, crackle and pop of the HF long-range radio. It is the voice of Nairobi Air Traffic Control giving instructions in a curious form of English with…
Continue readingJun 1, 2001
So much road. So many white lines ticking away aside our little Honda at 65 miles per hour. Two thoughts constantly cross my mind. Where do we get all this asphalt? And why can’t we send some to Africa? For seven weeks this Spring, the…
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Jan 1, 2001 · Essay
It’s about flying and fixing airplanes, mastering them and making them useful tools. And it’s about opening your heart to things beyond your control – being, at times, afraid or discouraged.
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