Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 2

Summer Trip, Day #4 – Finally, Another Good Day

             Friday morning, two weeks ago, we left our Airbnb inNewberry, Michigan, at 7:25 am, eastern time (which is 6:25 in the morning backhome). Don’t know why we got up and got moving so early, but we just looked at eachother and said, “we might as well leave.” Hubby was still not in too much painfollowing his fall with multiple injuries two days before.

            Our big plan for the drive home was to stop at Kitch-iti-kipi(more on that later), but we had to drive through Manistique to get there. Abouthalf-way through the town, we drove past this old water tower, and I was like, “Igotta stop!” as I nearly slammed on the brakes. (One of many reasons why Hubby usuallydrives, but I took the wheel since his fall.)            

           The grounds included a period log cabin and museum.            

            But on to the “big show”.       

            Kitch-iti-kipi or the “Big Spring” is in Palms Book State Park. It is Michigan’s largest freshwater spring, 200-feet across and 40-foot deep.          

            Visitors ride an observation raft, powered by a rope pulled by whichever strong rider volunteers to show off their skills, across the pond. The scenery around the pool was beautiful that morning, but the scene under the water was fascinating and impossible to describe.

            Looking through the opening in the middle of our barge.

                            

            Fishes – they tell me they are trout – swimming past where the spring water bubbles up through the sand.

            I’ve been wanting to visit for several years. Hubby had just heard about it from some friends just the week before we went. Definitely worth the side trip there. 

Summer Trip Day #3 – A Mediocre Day

            You may recall that two weeks ago, while on vacation inthe UP, Hubby took a tumble and ended up in the ER. I thought we should end ourvacation then, but we decided that we could sit around the Airbnb as well as wecould sit around at home.

            So, Thursday morning, after I made pancakes forbreakfast, Hubby convinced me to take a ride with the dog for a couple hourswhile he relaxed alone.

            I drove up to Grand Marais, a cute little town along LakeSuperior. On a sunny day it would have been an intriguing place to explore, butalas, the clouds, which were in the sky when I left the house, opened up andset down the showers.

Hannahand I still walked around a little bit. Had to get a picture in front of thePickle Barrell House Museum, which was unfortunately closed that day.

Nextwe headed over to Sable Falls. Had the weather been better, I might have triedthe hike down and back up, but I just wasn’t feeling it.

Onthe way back to the Airbnb, I ran across this little rest area. Not sure ifthey plan on fixing up this place or not, but I thought it was cool.

Wegot back to the house and had something to eat for lunch. Then I convincedHubby to take a short ride with me. He was feeling pretty good, and I told himwe would take it easy. Also, the weather had become more acceptable.

Inthe tiny tourist town of Germfask is Northland Outfitters and Campground alongthe Manistique River. A walk past the campsites and cabins takes you to Bennythe Beard Fischer, who is a wooden troll created by artist Thomas Dambo in2023.

Veryunique.

Wedrove back to the house about half an hour later and settled in for the night.Not quite the day I had planned, but it was an okay day anyway.   

Imprisoned

 

I’vebeen sharing stories of the Apostle Paul here, and I only have a coupleepisodes left, so bear with me.

Paul,as well as many of those sharing the faith, was arrested and imprisonedmultiple times. It was for the same reason that Jesus was arrested – the Jewishleaders saw him as a threat and the Roman leaders just didn’t want to deal withthe disorder they blamed on him.  

So,here we have Paul and his partner Silas in jail in Philippi, in the book of Acts,chapter 16, verses 24-34, from the Good News Translation.

24 Upon receiving this order, the jailerthrew them into the inner cell and fastened their feet between heavy blocks ofwood.

25 About midnight Paul and Silas werepraying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening tothem. 26 Suddenly there was a violent earthquake, which shook the prison to itsfoundations. At once all the doors opened, and the chains fell off all theprisoners. 27 The jailer woke up, and when he saw the prison doors open, hethought that the prisoners had escaped; so he pulled out his sword and wasabout to kill himself. 28 But Paul shouted at the top of his voice, “Don't harmyourself. We are all here!”

Paulknew that the earthquake was an act of God, and he knew that God had a biggerplan. The jailer didn’t know that. All he knew was that if the prisoners escapedon his watch, he rather kill himself, before his bosses would do it in a muchless humane way.

29 The jailer called for a light, rushedin, and fell trembling at the feet of Paul and Silas. 30 Then he led them outand asked, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?”

         

31 They answered, “Believe in the LordJesus, and you will be saved—you and your family.” 32 Then they preached theword of the Lord to him and to all the others in the house. 33 At that veryhour of the night the jailer took them and washed their wounds; and he and allhis family were baptized at once. 34 Then he took Paul and Silas up into hishouse and gave them some food to eat. He and his family were filled with joy,because they now believed in God.

Thejailor was so relieved to see Paul and the other inmates still in their cells,that he knew he had witnessed a miracle and was ready to turn his life over toChrist.  

Ithink we witness acts of God every day. Just because these miracles aren’t asdramatic, doesn’t mean that God’s hand was not there.

(The picture above is at the old Florence County Jail in Florence Wisconsin. Even though it was built in 1889 and does not look very friendly, it was still a much nicer place than the prisons during Biblical times.)

Summer Trip - Day #2 – A Good Day Gone Horribly Wrong

            Wednesday morning, our first full day in the UP, our planwas to visit Tahquamenon Falls State Park, followed by Whitefish Point.

            We arrived at the Upper Falls and walked the paved path to several overlooks. It was quiet and peaceful, with not too many people out and about yet. The falls were beautiful.         

            We pulled into the Lower Falls parking lot about an hour and a half later.    

            We hiked the boardwalk, taking plenty of pictures. 

     

           And then headed across the bridge over the river to the island. There, we followed the dirt path that looped around the island and back to the bridge.

           We got to the far point in the trail, where the optimal photo op was a downed tree near the water's edge. I walked out that far and took a picture, but thought we should do the tourist thing and take a selfie of me, Hubby, and the dog. I picked my way across the rocks back to Hubby, just as the Brady Bunch Family showed up, so we had to wait for them to get all their pictures in.

Then we went out and perched on the log, trying to figure out how to get a selfie that included the unphotogenic dog. A sweet lady saw us and offered to snap some shots.

The last ones before tragedy struck.

            As I was walking back to the trail,holding Hannah's leash, out of the corner of my left eye, I saw Hubby flyingacross the ground, his arms over his head like he was Superman without a cape.Until he landed with all his weight on his face and chest. He had tripped on a tree root. 

Idon't know. For a moment, time stood still. What had I just seen? Was that myhusband laid out on the ground? Was he alive? How badly was he hurt? Or was hehurt at all? Surely, he'll bounce right up and be fine, as if my husband hasever bounced up, even on his best days, since I have known him.

Bythe time I was kneeling at his side, a woman had taken Hannah's leash from me,and two men were kneeling on each side of him, ready to hoist him up. As Iwatched him start to push himself up with his arms, I saw the blood drippingoff his face.

"Stop,don't get up," I commanded. I don't know what the men who were therewilling to help thought of this bossy wife. "Let me get your handkerchiefout of your pocket. You're bleeding all over."

           Or did I really say those words? I thought I said them, but I don't remembersaying anything. I just remember trying to get to all of his pockets in searchof that hanky.

           Once I had it stuffed up against his nose, he pushed himself up and turnedaround to sit on the ground, the two men each holding a shoulder. And thereHubby sat with a face that looked like – well – looked like it had beensmooshed into the pebble-strewn ground. His shirt did too, covered in sand anddrops of blood.

Iasked if anyone had a container of water, and a bottle of water appeared in myhand, along with a purse-size packet of Kleenex. I washed him off as best Icould, while he held his hanky against his bleeding nose.

           When he said he wanted to get up, those two guys lifted him to his feet andguided him to a bench, which was right next to us. All these things – thosekind people, whoever it was who took care of Hannah, the bench being rightthere. A person could look back on this and say, "Oh, your vacation wastotally ruined", but I said, "Thank You, God, for having everythingwe needed to take care of him."      

           When he seemed okay, I walked cautiously to the river's edge to wash mybloodied hands and rinse out his handkerchief. Hannah was sitting next to thebench, concern on her gentle face, and the woman handed me back her leash.

Someoneasked if we wanted them to get a cart to take him out – it was more than ahalf-mile walk through the woods to get back to the car. He said he'd be fine.At the time, since faces always bleed so much that it makes it look like thingsare worse than they are, I thought he was just banged up and nothing was brokenor needed stitching.

            The crowd slowly dissolved. When hewas ready, we started the slow walk back. I told him to keep his hat down overhis face and not to look up, so as not to scare the crowds of people we met aswe plodded along.

Atone point, I told him I thought we should go to the ER just to get checked out.When he instantly agreed, I thought, "Shoot, he really is hurt worse thanI thought." He hadn't told me yet about the pain in his chest. 

Sowe made it to the parking lot and he washed himself up a little bit more in therestroom, before we headed to the car.

            The half-hour drive to the hospitalin Newberry seemed to take much longer than that. But we finally arrived atHelen Newberry Joy Hospital. The staff there were all wonderful, and eventhough it's a small hospital in a small town, the ER was busy, but our waitwasn't too long.

TheER doc ordered a CT of his neck, head, and chest, and regular X-rays on hisleft hand – all places that were hurting.

            The doctor finally came in with theverdict – a fracture on each side of his nose, a fracture on that hand, twofractured ribs on one side, and three fractured ribs on the other side. So atotal of eight broken bones, which meant insurance would pay for an overnightstay, the doctor said, to which we said, we're sure we can handle this back atthe house.

            And off to our Airbnb we drove,stopping at the pharmacy for a prescription of pain pills, which I knew Hubbywouldn't take, antibiotic ointment, and bandages.

           What a nightmare of a day! But, looking back, it could have been so much worse. And the only thing I could do to make it better wasto run back to the store after supper for some ice cream for dessert.  

Summer Trip Day 1 - a Good Day

 Asyou may already know, Hubby and I took a short trip to the eastern UP lastweek. It was a long-anticipated trip, and we had high hopes that it would be awonderful and relaxing time. Many of you know how that turned out, but let me startwith the first day on the road, as that was a pretty good one.

            It was Hannah’s first big road trip with us, and she wastotally onboard with it.

            We took a lot of short potty breaks, but thefirst big stop we made was at Fayette State Park, just under 220 miles fromhome.  I’ve been there two or there times before, but any placethat has historic buildings is fascinating to me.

            Between 1867 and 1891, Fayette was an industrialcommunity that manufactured charcoal pig iron. It is located on the Big Bay deNoc of Lake Michigan, between Snail Shell Harbor and Sand Bay, about nine milessouth west of the tiny town of Garden.

Theblast furnaces at Fayette produced a total of 229,288 tons of iron during 24years of operation, using local hardwood forests for fuel and quarryinglimestone from the bluffs to purify the iron ore. When the charcoal iron marketbegan to decline, the Jackson Iron Company closed its Fayette smeltingoperations in 1891.

Overthe years since then, the property had several owners, but in general, the oldbuildings fell into disrepair.  

In1959, the state of Michigan acquired the site, restoring many of the buildingsand turning it into a state park. The town has been reconstructed into a livingmuseum, showing what life was like in this town in the late 19th century.

Geyser or Bust

Journal of Our Journeys 

Chapter 9 - Yellowstone 

In1872, Yellowstone National Park became the first ever park of its kind. It wasdedicated to the American people to be preserved for the enjoyment ofgenerations to come. At the time, however, since there had never been anational park anywhere before, the government and those put in charge of itdidn’t know what to do with it.

No one had allocated any funds for theupkeep and furtherance of the area. Poaching was common in that faraway place.At the time, the Wyoming territory was in what was considered a very remotearea of the country, so the public the park was created for had difficultygetting there.

Before long, however, railroads and roadsfound their way into the park. Though visitors on horseback were the first toexplore the park, automobiles began arriving by 1915. It is estimated thatstarting in that year, tourists drove 1,000 cars through the park a year.

When my family and I traveled toYellowstone in 1969, many more than a thousand vehicles were in the park. Itwas and still is the most visited national park. Still, the American populationwas also much smaller in the late 1960s. There were no hordes of people, justthe same hordes of bears that still hang out alongside the roads, blockingtraffic and looking for handouts.

Old Faithful was already very popular andeasily accessible. A crowd would gather when it was predicted to be due toerupt. The other geysers were just as fascinating, even when they weren’terupting. Just the thought that, at any moment, they could spew hundreds ofgallons of steaming water high into the air was enough for me.

Morning Glory Pool was gorgeous, and itwas hard to fathom that hot water bubbling out of the ground could attract suchamazingly colored algae and other organisms. Who knew that these microscopiclife forms could thrive in the hot water? The blues, greens, and pinks seemedto glow in various other pools under the nearly boiling water.

Some of the other geysers and pools were ashort hike from the parking lot. So, at one such place, Mom wasn’t feeling upto the walk and wanted to stay in the truck while Dad took me, Pat, and thecameras – both the regular one and the 8mm movie camera – to wander theboardwalks winding around the hot ponds and steaming pools.

We took our share of pictures and homemovies, Pat and me scampering in front of the camera for Dad. Even though wedidn’t view any other geysers discharging, we still had fun. When we returnedto where Dad had parked the camper along the far edge of the lot, Mom was allexcited. She pointed to a small lake not far away.

“A moose came right out of the woods andwent through the water,” she exclaimed. “He was just a couple hundred feetaway. His antlers were as wide as this camper is long. And you missed it, and Icouldn’t even take a picture because you had both the cameras.”

Sure, Mom.

And since we did have the cameras, therewas no way to prove it. As I said, the crowds were small, so no witnesses couldback up Mom’s story. We believed her but continued to give her a hard time,mainly because we were jealous that all we had seen was hot water.

Shipwreck

I’mstill writing about the Apostle Paul here on Sundays. He preached in the citiesof Ephesus, Corinth, Philippi, Thessalonica, Athens, Rome, Antioch, Iconium,Lystra, Jerusalem, and Damascus, and more. I’d love to write about theremarkable things that happened in each of these places, but you’ll just haveto pull out your Bible and, starting in Acts 13, read about all this yourself.

Duringmany of these visits, the leaders of the local Jewish churches accused Paul ofcausing trouble and spreading lies. He was run out of a lot of towns andarrested multiple times. At one point when he was in prison, he asked to go toRome to be tried. As a Roman citizen, he could appear before the Roman emperorto get a fair trial. This meant a long, long ship ride through theMediterranean Sea. 

Here'sthe story beginning in Acts 27, with Paul’s travel companion, Luke, narrating(and with me deleting a lot of it as the whole story gets pretty long).

7 We sailed slowly for several days andwith great difficulty finally arrived off the town of Cnidus. The wind wouldnot let us go any farther in that direction, so we sailed down the shelteredside of the island of Crete, passing by Cape Salmone. 8 We kept close to thecoast and with great difficulty came to a place called Safe Harbors, not farfrom the town of Lasea.

Paul told them, 10 “Men, I see that ourvoyage from here on will be dangerous; there will be great damage to the cargoand to the ship, and loss of life as well.”

 Butthose in charge ignored him.

13 A soft wind from the south began toblow, and the men thought that they could carry out their plan, so they pulledup the anchor and sailed as close as possible along the coast of Crete. 14 Butsoon a very strong wind—the one called “Northeaster”—blew down from the island.15 It hit the ship, and since it was impossible to keep the ship headed intothe wind, we gave up trying and let it be carried along by the wind.

         18 The violent storm continued, so on thenext day they began to throw some of the ship's cargo overboard, 19 and on thefollowing day they threw part of the ship's equipment overboard. 20 For manydays we could not see the sun or the stars, and the wind kept on blowing veryhard. We finally gave up all hope of being saved.

21 After everyone had gone a long timewithout food, Paul stood before them and said, “You should have listened to meand not have sailed from Crete; then we would have avoided all this damage andloss. 22 But now I beg you, take courage! Not one of you will lose your life;only the ship will be lost. 23 For last night an angel of the God to whom Ibelong and whom I worship came to me 24 and said, ‘Don't be afraid, Paul! Youmust stand before the Emperor. And God in his goodness to you has spared the livesof all those who are sailing with you.’ 25 So take courage, men! For I trust inGod that it will be just as I was told. 26 But we will be driven ashore on someisland.”

Thestorm continued for fourteen days.

33 Just before dawn, Paul begged them allto eat some food: “You have been waiting for fourteen days now, and all thistime you have not eaten a thing. 34 I beg you, then, eat some food; you need itin order to survive. Not even a hair of your heads will be lost.” 35 Aftersaying this, Paul took some bread, gave thanks to God before them all, brokeit, and began to eat. 36 They took courage, and every one of them also ate somefood. 37 There was a total of 276 of us on board. 38 After everyone had eatenenough, they lightened the ship by throwing all the wheat into the sea.

39 When day came, the sailors did notrecognize the coast, but they noticed a bay with a beach and decided that, ifpossible, they would run the ship aground there. Then they raised the sail atthe front of the ship so that the wind would blow the ship forward, and weheaded for shore. 41 But the ship hit a sandbank and went aground; the frontpart of the ship got stuck and could not move, while the back part was beingbroken to pieces by the violence of the waves.

42 The soldiers made a plan to kill allthe prisoners, in order to keep them from swimming ashore and escaping. 43 Butthe army officer wanted to save Paul, so he stopped them from doing this.Instead, he ordered everyone who could swim to jump overboard first and swimashore; 44 the rest were to follow, holding on to the planks or to some brokenpieces of the ship. And this was how we all got safely ashore.

Idon’t know. It sounds like the plot for a Hollywood block buster. It could havebeen Jack Dawson clinging to one of those planks, with Rose riding on top ofit. Or I hear the haunting tune of Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the EdmundFitzgerald”, especially when I read about the men on Paul’s ship not eating forfourteen days.

Justlike the sinking of the Titanic and the Edmund Fitzgerald, Paul’s ship sank as well.But the crew and all the passengers survived! God had so much more planned for Hisservant Paul, and to prove that God is God over all, He saved everyone else onthat ship as well. 

(Of all the pictures I've taken on so many lakes, I didn't have any with a boat being tossed about. Probably a good thing. The photos above were both taken at Cave Point County Park in Door County in October of 2020. It was a brisk day.)

Don't Tell Mom

Isaw this meme on Facebook and had to steal it. I hate doing that; almost all ofthe pictures in my blog posts are ones that I've snapped at some point oranother. But here we are. I give full credit to whoever came up with this one.

Sure,my sister Pat and I had our share of "don't tell Mom" stories. Thetime Pat shot herself in the foot with an arrow or the time I got a nosebleedplaying "How high up the basement stairs are you willing to jump from tothe cement floor below?"

Butthe times that I remember most are when I was minding my own business on many asummer afternoon, and Dad came in the house and grabbed me. He'd drag me intothe bathroom, saying, "Don't tell Mom." Then he'd hold up his hand,wrapped with black electrician's tape securing a wad of paper towel to afinger, blood beginning to ooze through.  

I'dunwrap the wound and shove whatever was bleeding under a faucet running coldwater. The sink quickly turned pink with the mix of water and blood.

Eventhough Mom worked at a doctor's office, she didn't stock the linen closetnearly as well as I did mine in my adult life. No Coban wraps, gauze rolls, or evendecent medical tape. The only tape in any first aid kit back then was thick andunyielding, rolled on a metal ring in a metal case, which required Herculeanstrength to pop off. I could scrounge up a stiff piece of Telfa, but theantibiotic ointment was always expired. (But I must admit, my antibioticointment in my house now is always expired too.)

WhateverI managed to wrap him with, Dad was always satisfied and would sneak back outto his wood-working shop to see if he could cause any more damage.

Gofigure that I ended up working in the medical field.

Virginia I

Journal of Our Journeys 

Chapter 8 - Virginia I

Mymom's mom, born in 1893, was the oldest of nine children. One of her brothersdied at only eight months old, but several others lived relatively long lives. Onegreat-uncle beat out all of them, dying only two months shy of his 105thbirthday. He and his wife had been married for over 75 years when she passedaway at 94. And though they lived 1,200 miles away in a small papermill town inVirginia, we visited several times during my childhood.

          Mom and Dad had been there with myother siblings, Tom and Judy, before. I have a black and white photograph ofTom and Judy on the veranda at Monticello, and another one with them, Mom, and arelative in someone's backyard, dated 1954. As I write this, I have justvisited Judy in the assisted living home where she now resides, and she showedme that same picture. I don't know how we each ended up with a copy of it, butthat's all right. Better to have too many photos than none.

          It was a long ride in the camper toget to Virginia, driving through a few national parks and stopping at variouscampgrounds along the way. But once we pulled into their yard, we set up campright in their driveway. I never questioned why we couldn't sleep in theirhouse, but as a kid raised in the sixties, I didn't question much.

          The homes of most of our relatives outEast were long and low to the ground, sprawling estates to my six-year-oldeyes. One great-aunt and great-uncle had a formal flower garden by the backdoor, a carport instead of a garage, a formal living room, and a formal diningroom, besides a family room. There was even a shed in the backyard where Uncle hada woodworking shop. That must be why he and Dad got along so well; Dad had asimilar shop in our garage.

          But anyway, at that point in my life,I'd never been in a house with rooms that weren't used daily. Another great-uncleand his wife even had a fascinating room called a den. I don't remember muchabout it, except that it was down a couple of steps, the walls were paneled,the floor was covered in sculptured avocado-colored carpet, and taxidermedanimal heads were hanging on the walls. Okay, not so different from rooms inmany homes of the time, but it was still new to me.

          One of my mom's cousins and herhusband rivaled that. They had a room above the garage for his train sets. Andthis was a grown man!  He would stand in the middle of the room holdingthe controls and, with the push of a button, command trains to travel aroundthe room's perimeter.

          The best thing about their house wasthat they had kids who were close to the ages of Pat and me. This meant thatinstead of spending our vacation days inside with the female adults, as theyshared tea and stories, we could be outside where our young cousins dared us tocurl up inside a tractor tire so they could roll us across the yard. Okay, Pataccepted the dare; I was too chicken to try it.

          At night, we caught fireflies in apint jar in the backyard and then released them in their bedroom. With thelights on, the drab insects disappeared into the room's furnishings. When wethrew the room into darkness with the flip of a switch, the fireflies wouldappear as if by magic, bringing a glow to the room.

          Mom's other cousin raised horses -trotters, actually - and lived in a restored plantation house. Riding up thelong driveway was like entering a different era. I always pictured ScarlettO'Hara walking out the front door, her wide hoop skirt sashaying. The interiorof the house seemed to go on and on and on, the formal dining room leading tothe formal living room leading to the family room, antiques everywhere. Sheeven had a housekeeper.

          One year, when we were there, they hadjust finished building a new barn. This building had so many amenities – a fullkitchen, full bathroom, office, padded stalls for the horses. Nothing likebarns I’d been in back home.

          The animal life at this farm was quitevaried. In addition to the beautiful sleek mares and their gangly foals, therewere several riding horses along with a small herd of round furry burros. Apair of Great Danes was offset by a pair of Welsh corgis, with their Germanshepherd-type heads and short, stubby legs.

          Everywhere, exotic-looking peacocksroamed. In their occasional absence, their long, iridescent feathers or theirdroppings reminded me that they were still around. The birds would constantlyemit their loud cries, scaring those of us who had never lived with thesecreatures before.

          The homes of the Virginia relativeswere awesome when I was just a naïve kid, but there were so many more wondersto witness throughout our great land.

(The first picture is Pat and me on someone's porch in Virginia in 1968. You can barely make us out on the far right side. The picture just above is one the peacocks on the "Farm", when Hubby and I were there in 2019. A place full of memories.)

Plant the Seed

He went straight to the synagogues andbegan to preach that Jesus was the Son of God.

All who heard him were amazed and asked,“Isn't he the one who in Jerusalem was killing those who worship that manJesus? And didn't he come here for the very purpose of arresting those peopleand taking them back to the chief priests?”

But Saul's preaching became even morepowerful, and his proofs that Jesus was the Messiah were so convincing that theJews who lived in Damascus could not answer him. (Acts 9:20-22, Good NewsTranslation)

LastSunday I wrote about how Saul, who had been persecuting the early Christians,was called by God to spread the word of salvation through Jesus Christ. It wasan amazing conversion, and Saul (soon to be known as Paul) took off on hismission. He shared the story of Jesus with anyonewho would listen in city after city.

In the church at Antioch there were someprophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon, Lucius, Manaen, and Saul. While theywere serving the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said to them, “Set apart forme Barnabas and Saul, to do the work to which I have called them.”

They fasted and prayed, placed their handson them, and sent them off. (Acts 13:1-3, GNT)

Hardto believe but just twenty years ago this weekend, I heard about a mission tripto Kenya, and one year later that trip to Africa changed my life. And hopefullychanged the lives of at least a few of the Kenyans I met. But it was nothing – Imean NOTHING – like what Paul experienced during the remainder of his lifetime.

Ican’t share with you here all the places Paul traveled to, all the people hemet, all the time he spent in prison. All the people he saved.

Butthat doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. Just one person at a time. Show them the loveof Jesus Christ. Plant the seed. Watch it grow. 

(The first picture is a group of school kids we encountered in one of the slums. The picture above is of one of our team members, Amanda, planting a tree with her Compassion child. I didn't imagine at the time that seven years later, I would be doing the same thing with my Compassion child in Kenya.)