Sunday, May 21, 2006

Wounded

I'm not sure where I am in the longitude and latitude of the world, or why the sun comes up at 4:45 am here, but it does. The anticipated beginning of my long journey home kept my brain working and my eyes open at that early hour. "24 hours from now... (I'll be headed to the airport)48 hours from now... (I'll be back snuggled down in my own bed with noises of the city nights (horns, police, brakes, etc..) to remind me I am not in Kansas (or Bosnia), but I am at home, again."

It was a bright and sunny day, already warming with the spring sun. In the ten days I have been here the temperature (in my un-airconditioned) room has risen 10 degrees - from a comfortable 74 to 84 - time to get back to my modern conveniences.

We had time for a filling breakfast and prayer over the Harvest. Afterwards, I asked Ante what the sermon would be about this morning. He told me it would concern how all the young people are leaving Bosnia in search of wives, money and a future - leaving the scarred landscape behind. He said, "Now, they don't care about their country or their people. They are only caring for themselves."

The winding roads through the mountains and hills was a far cry from the death-defying drives I have experienced in Sri Lanka. Not too many chances are taken when on occasion you are stuck behind a slow-moving bus or trailer. With Spring comes a thousand shades of green - I held my breath for the beauty, no fear.

The road to Sarajevo cuts through the front line of the war zone. Villages that once dotted the landscape are now only remnants of mortar and brick, blasted by ethnic hatred hundreds of years old, that erupted in civil war in 1992. Several large cities are along this road. Apartment complexes right near the highway, all scarred by mortars and obvious rounds of repeated shelling. Even ten years after the negotiated peace, the wounds of the nation are very much in view. Many of the buildings are in the process of "face lifts". The holes filled in and the plaster and paint preparing to erase the evidence.As I traveled down this former "front line", I had to think if the buildings, inanimate concrete edifices of society STILL are this scarred, what about the wounds of the people?

As politicians and historians take sides, draw conclusions and military personnel draw front lines and strategic strongholds, ordinary people are not only caught in the crossfire, they are left in the rubble, when armies have retreated, governments have retracted and life decides it must go on.

Ten years and still...

Halfway to Sarajevo, we stopped for a stretch, a coffee, and yes, a "break" into the proverbial roadside "pit stop". The first place we pulled the car over had a big red sign with a skull and cross bones. The warning was not for poison ivy or oak, but deadly land mines still buried in the forest.

As I contemplated my family, being contacted over my undignified, untimely demise, (she was blow to pieces peeing), I was instructed as long as I stayed on the paved road there was little danger (other than mooning passing motorists).

Comical and horrible.

There is no casual stroll through any woods - there are warnings - you know here

there was war.

Friday, May 19, 2006

In Sickness and in Health


There are some definitives worth repeating. In traditional marriage vows the man and woman agree to stick together "for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health." I thought about that today, as I made my last performances at the hospital and at the Fenix Out Patient Center for Mentally Challenged adults. Somehow, we don't make the same vow when we profess our faith and enter into a covenant relationship with our God.

We want our life of faith to shower blessings, happiness, riches, health, and confident assurance we are favored by God. Anyone will tell you the "honeymoon" good times in marriage relationships are short lived – expect the unexpected, hardships to come, disappointments abound – but remember the vow – "till death do us part." It's a good thing God remembers His part of the relationship, when we forget ours.

The hospital corridor teemed with doctors, nurses, patients waiting to be seen, patients making their way to their next treatment or procedure, relatives watching, all wondering – what is a clown doing here? There were grins, but most were too consumed with the current problems, illness, and prognosis to crack a smile. A bleak reminder, seeing one of the vast differences between first and third worlds – the availability and quality of healthcare.

We walked to a small foray, where a group of young mothers were there waiting with their children. Two had to be escorted away from the bright red intrusion into their already confusing space out of fear. Not a good way to start the day. God makes up for it by providing delight in one tiny girl, enchanted with such a sight. She giggled, pointed, blew kisses, and with her mother's help wobbled over to me. While we waited for additional patients to be brought down we took pictures. Most of the children were not mobile and I would carefully (in the least possible threatening posture) stand behind them while they sat in their mother's lap. One girl would have nothing of it, vigorously shaking her head back and forth, teetering on the brink of an all out breakdown (we had already had two).

The children were young and sick – so their interest was not going to hold for long. I hurriedly grabbed the coloring book (that got a few grins) the three colored ropes (humm, this is curious) and finally the 'Change Bag' with the colored scarves that turn into one 30' long scarf! I was looking straight at the girl who was not interested at all in CARE EE. I told her this was my special 'smile' bag. So we all have to give a smile – a tiny grin came across her face. I went on to make faces, and grins, and smiles and turns and hoots all to get a grin. Finally, when I started pulling out the one long long scarf – SHE SMILED! And then she couldn't stop smiling! She came over, sat in my lap, wanted her picture, and kept on smiling and smiling, like I was her new best friend. Although my audience was small (in stature and in numbers) they enlarged my heart!

Ulla, had been calling various disability associations to arrange programs prior to my arrival. One of the last places she called was for mentally challenged adults. Most are post-trauma syndrome from the horrors they faced through the war times. Ulla spoke to her friend saying if there were not any young people, perhaps they would not be interested. The director pleaded for a visit saying 'we all need to feel young again'. And so after the hospital, we went to the town center and to the building housing the 'Fenix' program. We entered the delapitadated building unsure if we were in the right place. An older man came down the stairs (in the dark) and assured us we had the right place – follow him. 'Be careful' he emplored as we made our way through the pitch black hallways up the staircase to the second floor to our awaiting audience.

Nothing like a small space with 15 smoking adults to make a claustrophobic girl feel right at home! I made my way to the corner and prepared to woo them and wow them and woo wow I did. They laughed, had a good time and were amazed at it all. It was a fun way to end the week. We had just enough film left to take their pictures. When the last gentle gentleman rose from his seat and took his stand beside CARE EE – he wanted his picture planting a kiss on her cheek.

In sickness and in health
For better for worse
Wherever He leads I will go

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Reality TV

It is late evening here in Tuzla (10:30 pm). From the living room, the TV is blaring with voices singing in many languages. On occassion - I will hear some familiar American tunes - with a few American words but not quite. It is the popular show "EuroVision" the exported version of American Idol.

We have set an example for entertainment industries globally. The popularity of such "reality" TV has transferred across the ocean and into the homes of those trying I suppose to escape their own real 'reality'. Every third world country is represented on the program, and when I mentioned that I hear English on occassion, it is a funny version of singers trying to phonetically imitate their American idols. It scares me to think

... thou shall have no other gods before me...

America, and its "idols" are going global.

This morning, we traveled through the mountains and hills outside of Tuzla, to a public school with the largest Roma population of any school in Bosina-Herzegovina. The director explained this township, has long sought to integrate the Roma population in the schools and out of 330 children 80 are Roma. It was a wonderful example of integration working. Kids, just being kids towards one another, with each other, and having some kind of FUN. These places are quite remote and you may well imagine they don't see many outsiders come around. Even if we didn't do ANYTHING it would still be something! But as it is - it is a day to remember for a long time.
We returned to Tuzla for a break (and small lunch) then off to the orphanage of 180 children that is just down the road from Ulla and Ante's house. It was late in the afternoon and the children were all enjoying the sunshine and playground. It was such a beautiful day, we decided to hold the program outside. It was great, except for the fact that the 'stage' in cases such as these oftentimes shrink until the children are practicallty sitting in my lap (or at the edge of my feet.)

They had quite a time and were eager to participate. By the time we got to the "moral of the story" at the end of the show - the younger ones attention had waned, they began fighting and pushing and edging closer to the 'stage' and my feet and it was time to wrap it up. We passed out the little gift bags, with bracelets, lollipops and balloons and they were running around showing off their new prizes. The director thanked us, and the children all shouted "when are you coming back?"

As I walk away again(and again)my heart aches with the "reality." One of my friends wrote I should take a documentarian with me to show the 'sights' I see around the world. This would be a "Reality TV" show. But few want to participate in this kind of reality, much less be reminded there are people who experience life on less than three meals a day, without fast food and few modern conveniences.

You however, have chosen to walk alongside in Spirit, with the Truth, helping to show the Way to those who are seeking Life. Over the last week, you have given me the strength to press on, lean in and love those the world looks the other way. I pray as you have chosen, you heart has been enriched by the exposure and the experience of interceding for some of His lost sheep.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Found and Lost

I haven't experienced much of the seasons this year. I closed out the winter in Africa, then on to tropical Sri Lanka and now here I am, springtime in Bosnia. The hillsides are covered with greenery, people are cultivating small plots of land, and the growing season has begun. The days begin with a grey cast to the sky, showers come in spurts, but the afternoons are clear, crisp and the sun breaks through the menacing clouds. While there are still many tell-tale signs of being in the 'third-world' (trash, graffitti covering the buildings, and numerous delapidated structures) there is much here I find quite beautiful. I remarked to Ulla on the landscape, and she was pointing out the impoverishment. I explained in Dallas, there is little green, mostly concrete and all flat!

Today, we returned to the site of the Joni and Friends wheelchair distribution six years ago. Not much had changed, many new children, but there were familar faces there as well. Most of the audience were Down Syndrome, with a few CP adults. They were thrilled! Several in the crowd chose to stand next to me during the entire performance. I made use of their enthusiasm and used them to help with the storytelling. One young Down Syndrome man was our chosen King. When I handed him the scepter, and he donned the crown and the 'Groucho Marx' glasses – he began a Kingly oration for his subjects. My interpreters could not really understand him, but what was definately conveyed in his message – he was having FUN! Oh that we could all be Kings!

We finished up the program, took Polaroids and handed out little gift bags with the frames, lollipops and stickers. An older girl came in at the end, sheepishly hiding behind several of the others. I recognized her immediately. Elena, now grow into adulthood (she was perhaps 15 six years ago), appeared on the national newsletter cover of Joni and Friends with CARE EE for the year-end report of faces of Joni and Friends. I spoke to her and asked 'don't you remember me?' She laughed, and admitted she remembered but wasn't so sure I would remember who she was. She came around, had her picture made, and was excited to see it develop into a lasting memory. As we prepared to leave – Elena ran up behind me and gave me a big hug. She squeezed tight and said 'come back again soon.'

Late in the afternoon, we headed back to the hillsides for another Roma village performance. What a difference compared to the last one. With the daily showers, the roads and driveways are quickly converted to mud puddles. Our final destination was no exception. The children were rushing towards the car, shoes covered in mud and clamoring to get closest to the door before I made my exit. With varying heights and ages, you can imagine the small ones quickly are overrun and pushed aside by their larger more aggresive counterparts. It was a situation out of control, and not getting any better. I stepped from the car with hesitation, as none of the adults traveling with me seemed to be willing to take control of the children. The building where we were having the program seemed small for the growing crowd, however, I knew inside it would be easier to maintain some control of the situation, than if we were left out in the open, easily surrounded!Once inside, the children did settle down some, and showed eagerness to encourage everyone to be quite and listen and learn. There were only a few occassion that we had to stop, while fist fights were stopped, and arguments quelled, and crying babies removed. One last 'trick' to share came too late. The villagers had now heard there was something to 'see' and if you can believe this – opened up the windows and started climbing in to the already overcrowded one room! More and more and more came through, laughing, shouting, smoking, carrying on, standing on chairs, crashing through tables – it was chaotic. When every warm body that could fit into the space was squeezed, pushed, pulled, prodded, shoved inside – I continued. Much of the 'lesson' was lost but....

We explained that we had small gifts for the children and to make their way slowly through the door. We might as well have shot a gun in a herd of cattle – to see the response. Those that came through the window, went back out that way, those that were up front, were being trampled by those rushing forward for their trinkets. A mess hard to get your mind around. What this culture is really like.

As CARE EE made her way outside, I could already see the sacks discarded, trash strewn about, and they were waiting for the next handout. Is this all there is? The Bosnian project director was explaining that the children are improving in their behavior, however, the difficulty is in the fact they are for the most part unschooled, abused in their homes and spend the days begging on the streets. An organized 'program' is too unfamiliar of an occurence. They have no 'model' for what to do in such situations. The workers are struggling, making slow and determined progress. They haven't had the opportunity to teach them about Jesus – yet.

The difference between the Roma village on Sunday and the one today was striking. The hillside village has several young Roma believers who are attending church (when they can make there way the one hour to town) and their testimony within the village has great influence on the children. Because they 'belong' to the community, the things they share is more readily received, there is accountability within their group. The children are listening to their older friends. They have found Jesus.

The dedication of the tireless missionaries, both the foreign ones and the locals to go into these enclaves is humbling. Roma are an unruly, unwilling, unlovely people group. The hillside started the same way, in fact didn't we ALL start the same way?

I praise God for the village today. Jesus has found them! I know they won't be lost for long.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Lord There is None Like You


The song begins: "my Jesus, my Savior, Lord there is none like You. All of my days, I want to praise the wonder of Your mighty love."

Today, is one of those days.

The program at the Catholic School for over 400 children went amazingly well. In fact, most of the children spoke very good English and were eager to use it with an unusal English speaker. One young man, friendlier than most, approached and said, "hello my name is Benjamin and these are my friends." He was proud to introduce me around, announcing the names of his friends and whenever a new child would approach, he would pull them forward (some reluctantly) and give their name. This is my friend Tony, my friend Joseph..." and on and on.

The children roared with laughter, eyes popping with amazement at the tricks, and lots of applause when theprogram was finished. They were well behaved andattentive and enjoyed the day as much as I did performing for them. I was able to share a vision offriendship, a world where people are valued by who they are inside and not by their outward appearance.This is something critical in a nation torn apart by "ethnic cleansing." A place where hatred runs deep and religion the reason.

We finished the program, came home and had a visit by some missionaries who have just arrived from Finland. I sat with their young daughter while dinner was being prepared and colored picture frames. The mother sat at the piano and began playing a song. It took me a few moments to realize what she was playing.

"Lord there is none like You..."

I had to smile, as this is one of my all-time favorite songs! It always reminds me of the Joni and Friends Family Retreats, and the special people who have chosen it as a talent show entry year after year (yes,they know who they are) In my mind, praises rang forth for such a time as this. And tonight, as I was checking my emails, reading through the wonderful responses, I received another special "message" the prayer read: "Lord there is none like You..."

Yes, boys and girls (as the old man on thirty-fourth street said) there is a God! (well, he said Santa) What a privilege we have to share in the Kingdom work at home and around the world. We are only a small part of the work going forth. There are 10K Bibles going to Ghana for Vacation Bible school (we are still waiting on some of them) there is work being done in Russia, in China, in Israel, in Africa, in France, in Bosnia, all around this great big world - and God does not miss ANYTHING.

Tonight, as you retire in comfort and security, praise HIM for allowing His message to go forth, and for His faithfulness to YOU! I treasure your prayers, your heart for missions, your obedience and participation. He is on the move - He is coming back.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Steps of Hope

This morning our program at the "Korci Nade" center for disabled children was a big hit. Returning after six long years, you can imagine the children had grown feet not inches and there were many new young faces as well.

One of the most memorable features of the center is the HUGE hillside it rests upon. Most of the vehicles here are "standard" so once again I was having my daily drive "aversion therapy." Once a car starts up this hill - you must maintain the momentum to make it into the driveway, otherwise you begin to head downhill again. This was a bit nerve racking, however in only two attempts we negotiated into the driveway and into the arms of the waiting children.

"Korace Nadi " (Steps of Hope) is the only facility for children with disabilities in the region. It is a place where parents can bring their children to receive physical therapy, needed medical treatment, training in job skills and after school help. The all-volunteer staff serve tirelessly with great love and affection for the children. After the program, Ulla inquired after several of the older children who were not there. The staff had reports on all of them, keeping in touch on a regular basis even though they are not coming to the center anymore.

One sweet precious girl, was totally enamored by CARE EE. She thought the red nose was the funniest thing since .... well, it was funny. She would approach with some degree of caution, but when she held out her little finger to touch my nose - I gladly guided it gently to the tip of the red-rubber heart and she burst into laughter. She would shake her head and laugh, come close again and back away over and over, never tiring of the joy she was experiencing.

What a treat. For the program, one of the male aids played a gleeful King and a young autistic boy a busy buzzing bee. The Queen arrived right on cue (a youthful girl with Downs Syndrome) running to embrace the King. The crowd of children burst into laughter at the site of the new King and Queen.


There is a timelessness to days like today. A slice of joy and delight oblivious to the outside world. In fact, the atmosphere of happiness quickly dissolves the realities of disabilites, disturbances, and political discord into a day for eternity. I am reminded of the proverb, "a cheerful heart doeth good like a medicine."

Today, we all had a good dose.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

From a Hillside In Herzegovina

I celebrated Mother's Day today, in the warmth of the Spring sun. First we worshipped at the local church my friends have started for the Roma (gypsy) youth. There is still much prejudiced among the people towards Roma (who are dark skinned and well... different). To make them feel welcome in the church my friends began a congregation for them to worship in with freedom without prejudice and judgment. There were around 20 youth, and when I was asked to share my testimony, I explained I was old enough to be mother to them all (they were all under 26.) They laughed, but I am happy to have the privilege to have many children all over the world to share such a day with.

After the service, I returned to prepare for CARE EE to come out and play with the village children.

WOW - we were driving into the mountains for around 1 hour and then turned up a dirt road to reach the village. The young man who was with us, asked if I had seen such a "road" before. I had to laugh - I have seen MANY such roads that are hardly roads.

The village makes money by collecting iron and steel, burning and cleaning it and then reselling it for cash. You cannot imagine the piles and piles of old cars, broken refrigerators and machinery, tires, pipes, anything that was once something - now waiting for the fire!

It was hard to negotiate through the narrow pathway, passing men young and old kindling fires of all sizes, and avoid killing any animals that may cross the way. A wide variety of chickens, goats, cows, dogs and cats casually crossed without fear.

At the top of the hill, at the end of the road stood a house (sort of). Like many structures in third world countries, half of it is finished, and the rest is waiting for funds or families or furniture. Of course our approaching vehicle, caused quite the stir, stirring up more than dust as we got out of the car.

Not so curiously, CARE EE caused a crowd immediately, as the children hurried to open the door and let the stranger out into their midst. What would I bring them, why was I there? Some spoke enough English to say "what is your name?" "my name is..." "how are you?"

And when CARE EE spoke - grins broke out across their faces, laughter erupted and happiness was widespread. Their grins were a mixture of broken, missing and decaying teeth. But they were grins none the less. Their clothes, were not much more than rags, the shoes found only on a few were oversized, mismatched hand me downs barely staying on to protect their small feet. Their hair had most likely not been combed this week (or month), and as for baths, the dirt that covered them, covered them!

And while this sad physical state exists among these Roma children, they are still at their heart children. They are still laughing, smiling, having fun playing the 'King and Queen' in the stories I tell them. And, through the work of two dedicated Finnish people committed to living in this former war zone - they ALL know about Jesus!

As I told the story, high on the hill, overlooking an impoverished landscape, that was more like a series of junkyards than a village for humans to reside - I asked the questions to the wide-eyed crowd "do you know who the baby in the manger is?"

JESUS
They yelled back - some with hand raised enthusiastically.

"Do you know who calmed the sea in the boat?"
JESUS

They laughed wondering why I would ask questions with such an obvious answer.
"Do you know why the cross points the way to heaven?"
Because He died for our sins!

"On a hill far away...."

There is knowledge of the old rugged cross. There are children who know, who trust, who believe in the Name of Jesus. There are illiterate parents who learn of the Savior because the children come home from Bible lessons and tell of His love. There is hope in a place where hope is forged in the fires, because they know there really is only His hope that saves.

It may not save them from poverty, it may not remove them from the pit of forged found ironwork around them, it did not save them from being caught in a war, but it will save them in the end.

Praise God for THIS indescribable gift! As Paul wrote to those back home in Jerusalem ' brothers I want you to know what is going on in the field' I write back to you - I want you to know what YOU are a part of. Some through financial gifts, some through prayers but all will share in the Harvest of souls in the joy shared and the love brought to this hill! We are ONE in the body of Christ.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

My 1:00 am arrival in Tuzla took more out of me than I realized. I easily slept until 10:45 and even then was not all that eager to rouse myself from hibernation. The children were not arriving until 4:30 so CARE EE had plenty of time to make up the gift bags and get herself made up.

I had a nice talk with Ulla and Ante, learning about what they are doing and how God is using them here in this forsaken place.

Right on time our guests began arriving. An international bunch indeed. Two missionaries (1 American, 1 Ukranian) and their children, a Roma motther and her two children, some neighborhood kids – all total 13. They were anxious to see the show!!

They had a great time seeing the magic and hearing stories. We took pictures and then decorated frames with stickers and markers. As they were leaving the oldest American girl (11) said "you know what you were saying about being friends... I don't have any friends at school – I feel different just like you."

There is a sacrifice in service.

For families who follow the leading of the Lord into the foreign mission field, many times the sacrifice is the children. Suffering through language, cultural and appearance issues, they just try to fit in.

As the girl hugged me, she said "I know Jesus is my friend, but I'm glad you're my friend too."

My sacrifice of service comes in spurts. I often hear "I don't know how you do it." But on days like today, knowing I've been offered the privilege to show a child special attention – to remind them, really we are all the same in Christ-

Well, that is a sacrifice I am always willing to make.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Missed it in Munich

After my anxious phone calls to Lufthansa regarding the very short connecting times between my two flights – I should have recognized the tell tale signs of a bonafide premonition. After all, six years ago I had been left behind in Sarajevo to fend for myself, catch the local bus in front of the bombed out terminal and head to Tuzla. The experience has served me well through the subsequent years, knowing that if I could make it through THAT "Lost in Sri Lanka" was no problem.

Our flight was delayed out of Dulles due to heavy thunderstorms. We sat them out and with each passing minute the realization of catching my next flight became and impossibility. Nothing to do but sleep and figure it out when I arrived.

Munich is far better to be in a mess in than Frankfurt. Fewer crowds, not as big and quite manageable. Of course, I was not the only one who had problems. Fully a hundred passengers found a similar mess in Munich! We were told to make our way to the service desk and all irritated, angry and jet weary souls descended on the lone agent behind the service desk. Her eyes widened and the sense of imminent attack loomed as the old Russian enemies found just cause for barking at their former nemesis.

The rest of the crowd was told to move to the next counter found farther in the terminal. Ah is there a German 'Murphy' lurking around the corner – or should I maintain my position? It seemed the more impatient those of us in the line grew, the more had to be typed, corrected, entered, pounded, investigated – finally Murphy or no Murphy I went to find the next line.

It wasn't too bad and the agents were helpful even directing me to a service desk where they would place a phone call to Bosnia for me. My memories of trying frantically to purchase a phone card, dial the right numbers, and finally get through to Ulla only to be informed I should overnight in Sarajevo and then take the first bus out.... haunted me.

Today, it went much better in Munich.

The agent dialed the number, Ulla was at home (having sent one of the workers on this errand) and gladly communicated he would be waiting the NINE hours until I finally arrived.

I found a spot to stretch out and voila' another four hours sleep under my belt. Tomorrow I should be good to go.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Never Dull in Dulles

Our pilot announced we were starting our descent into Dulles International Airport. "Please fasten your seat belts" has become an all too familiar mantra these days. We started down through the clouds and inclement weather surrounding the capital city - 25 minutes to landing.

It is strange flying through stormy weather. Aside from the turbulence, looking out the window surrounded by thick clouds with zero visibility can be a bit disorienting. To be totally reliant on someone counting on instrumentation to guide them (and their passengers) safely to a ground they cannot see, is humbling.

Our 25 minute descent turned into a 45 minute diversion as air traffic controllers tried to direct the pilot around the worst part of the storm. Of course sitting in the back we didn't know exactly what was happening. Long gazes out the window weren't helpful either - no glimpse of sun, sea, land or city in sight.

I had to wonder in the passenger seat of my life - the "delays" unexplained, the inconveniences and heartaches endured and thoughtfully persevered, are not the "Grand Pilots" way of keeping us out of far more dangerous storms?

Arriving in the terminal with hours to kill between flights, a headache, sore feet and a 10 hour journey ahead I made an executive decision. Passing by a "bar" kiosk (massage not alcohol) I decided to treat myself to a 15 minute bit of indulgence.

Ah... there's the rub

The Massuere was enthusiastic to have a compliant client and I settled into the comfortable chair and prepared to relax. I knew when she greeted me she was not from around "these parts." In fact, she was French as her accent would soon indicate. My relaxation lasted approximately 45 seconds. I had 14 minutes and 15 seconds left to be punished at the hands of an aggressive, grunting French woman. Perhaps it is because she is at the heart of the political system in America, her merciless pounding, rubbing, pressing techniques have developed. But I am sure between her quick-paced hand motion and the friction of my thin t-shirt the top layer of my skin was burned off. I was being "French-fried" while innocently occupying the chair set to deceive the next victim.

It took great self-control to keep from bursting into laughter at the predicament I found myself in. Gutless against the onslaught of gutteral enthusiastic groans, my eyes would periodically pop out of my head, peek at my watch and pray for a quick end to my punishment.

Oh Dulles - you were far from DULL!

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

BOSNIA - Calendar of Events


MAY 11
Departure

MAY 12
Arrive Sarajevo

MAY 13
Performance for local children and missionary families

MAY 14
Worship at local congregation

MAY 15-20
Performances at 4 Gypsy villages, local Schools, 2 Disabled Children Homes, a hospital and rehab facility for war victims

MAY 21
Travel to Sarajevo

MAY 22
Departure for DFW