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Monday, November 3, 2003

Missionary pilots are my personal heroes - especially since the incredible job they did moving our Native American team across Alaska recently. Often there really wasn't much of a runway to land on or good weather to fly in, but they always got us there safely. Now, on one flight, I was in the co-pilot seat in our little six-seater aircraft, and our pilot, Gary, was flying us to a Yukon River village through some low visibility, low ceilings - just generally lousy weather. And as we neared our destination, he said, "I hate this part. We're in the dead zone." Now "dead zone" isn't exactly what I want to hear from a pilot when I'm flying with him, so I asked Gary what he meant by that. He described that part of a flight where you cannot communicate with the tower or with any other aircraft. You're kind of all alone. It doesn't last long, he explained, but if you're in trouble or you're going down, nobody knows. It's a lonely stretch. Well, after a couple more minutes, Gary broke into a big smile and he said, "Good. We're back." I smiled, too.

Friday, October 24, 2003

The first hijackers I remember in the headlines were terrorists who kidnapped airplanes and their passengers and released them if and when their demands were met. But since the events of September 11, 2001, the word "hijacker" has taken on a new and more deadly significance. Now we know it can mean someone who takes over a plane and its passengers with the intent of using that plane as a deadly weapon. On a smaller scale, some of our big cities have had to deal with the relatively new threat of carjacking, where a criminal forcibly takes over the car of some unfortunate driver. I think most of us would agree, hijacking in any form is wrong, and it should be punished with serious penalties.

Wednesday, October 22, 2003

It drove our kids crazy. In the countdown to Christmas, the basement door had a sign on it, banning our children from going down there. And every night, Mommy and Daddy would disappear downstairs. And, off and on, the kids would hear hammering sounds in the basement. They knew some kind of "Christmas business" was going on, but they didn't know what. The first year, the surprise turned out to be a doll house that our daughter discovered on Christmas morning under the tree. We'd built it for her. The next year, same scenario - closed basement, vanished parents, building sounds. Man, did they bug us, wanting to come down there, wanting to know what was going on. Hey, not until Christmas, kids. That's when our oldest son got the barn that we had built for him. Following year - they were frustrated again by the waiting and the not knowing. And on Christmas morning, our youngest son got his general store. They loved - and still love - what we made for them. But the waiting drove them crazy!

Thursday, September 25, 2003

We met Dan and Rita and their dog when we took our Native American team to a reservation in South Dakota. They live in this dusty little village, doing their best to make a difference for the people there. They have this little dog named Gal. Now most dogs are pretty aggressive in meeting strangers - they come right up to you, even on you. But not Gal. She retreats when she sees people. She cowers, she trembles. Dan and Rita explained why. Their dog had been severely abused by several previous owners before they got her. So she has a hard time trusting even people who want to treat her right, but she's missing a lot of loving that way.

Friday, September 5, 2003

I call her my "little darlin'" -- she's actually her Daddy's little girl. She's the newest member of our family, our six-month-old little granddaughter. Now, being a father, it's a special joy for me to watch my son being a father for the first time -- and to see the bonds that are already clearly developing between Daddy and daughter. She has one precious little habit that I noticed after being around them for a few days. At every opportunity, she loves to grab the leather necklace that my son has around his neck. It's the one with a little wooden cross on it. In fact, if that cross is at the side or back of our son's head, our little angel will grope until she's found it ... not just the necklace, but the cross. And she hangs onto it like she's never going to let go.

Monday, September 1, 2003

In recent years, there's been a stretch of Oklahoma, including Oklahoma City, that has seemed like "Tornado Alley." On the Weather Channel, many Spring and Summer days show that part of the country colored in the bright red that indicates severe weather. The most powerful tornado America ever had roared through the Oklahoma City area just a few years ago. As I drove through that area on a spring day between storm systems, I couldn't help but be impressed with what I saw as I drove by a church. Right in front of the church you could see an open door sticking up out of the ground. The church actually has a storm cellar right out on the street -- and the door was wide open!

Friday, August 8, 2003

I've got to tell you, it was a nostalgic time when we drove away the last time from our home of 24 years. We left behind a lot of memories in the walls - and a couple in the tree in the far corner of the backyard. See, when the kids were little, my wife and I decided we wanted to build the kids a tree house there. So we made a plan, got some lumber, and started our little project. We laid down a couple of boards between two branches - it was the beginning of a floor for the tree house. Then we took a break. And we never went back. Oh yeah, we intended to finish that house - but right up until the day we moved out, those boards were all that ever happened.

Thursday, July 31, 2003

It was September of 1999. A Cambodian pastor had made his way to a remote corner of his country to bring the story of Jesus to an area he had wanted to go to for years. But that area had been under the control of the brutal Khmer Rouge radicals until then. As far as anyone knew, this pastor was the first person to speak of Jesus in that isolated area where most people were Buddhists or spiritists. Surprisingly, as told in the book The God Who Hung on the Cross, when the pastor arrived in one village, the people welcomed him warmly and seemed to hang on every word of his messages. Then this old woman bowed and grabbed his hands and said, "We've been waiting for you for twenty years."

Wednesday, July 30, 2003

My young son had gone to the trouble of making a card and a gift for me for Father's Day. And there are no gifts more special than those that have been made by the person giving them. Unfortunately, my son tried to give his creations to me at a time when I was really busy. So I said, "Can you wait a few minutes? I want to have time to appreciate it." To which he said wistfully, "Oh, you mean like the candleholder?" Some months before, he had given me a handmade candleholder one day and I was, as usual, on the run. And I totally neglected to show any appreciation. I'd forgotten about it. My son hadn't.

Friday, July 18, 2003

Our daughter was five years old when she proudly announced that she was about to bake her first cake. Well, being a firstborn, she, of course, didn't need any help, right? So, Mom cooperated by staying in the living room, listening to these clattering pans and cabinet doors opening and closing. Pretty soon, we could smell baking aromas coming from the kitchen. Hey, maybe this first baking project was going to be successful after all. Well, finally, our daughter entered the living room, carrying her masterpiece - with her lower lip almost dragging the floor. The cake looked more like a pancake - it was just like plain old flat. Upon later analysis, we learned that, yes, she had put in the flour, the milk, the eggs - but she had left out one ingredient - the baking powder. So things didn't turn out the way she hoped they would.

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